Airplanes in the Clouds

“What do you mean she’s not here?!”

Joonmyeon stared at Changmin in shock.

The older man just looked down at him with no emotion on his face. It was so different than the overprotective, brotherly figure that he’d seen only a few days before. “She moved somewhere else,” he replied simply. “It’s not my place to say where. Try somewhere else, kid.”

Red Midnight’s door shut in his face, leaving Joonmyeon out in the cold.

He could feel his hands curling into fists. “And you say she’s the most important person in your life,” he managed to spit out. Changmin couldn’t hear him, but honestly, Joonmyeon didn’t care.

He wouldn’t have let Sunhwa out of his sight if he was Changmin. He wanted to know that she was okay. He wanted to make sure that she wasn’t living on the streets, sleeping in an alleyway.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Joonmyeon unclenched his fists, feeling the tense muscles in his hands relax. He breathed in, then out, and repeated the action until he felt his entire body relaxing. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his favorite jacket, looking around for someone who might be able to help him find Sunhwa.

If he wasn’t going to be able to see her at Red Midnight, he would at least attempt to find someone who could help him find her new address.

He looked back up at the neon sign, Red Midnight, that wasn’t lit up like it had been the first night he’d seen it.

Sunhwa had said she’d lived in Red Midnight for a long time. Surely, someone who worked there, one of the other girls, must know where Sunhwa had gone.

Pulling his schoolbag off his shoulder, he pulled the flap open and grabbed his notebook. He ripped a piece of paper from the book and found a pencil in his bag.

After he wrote a short note, he stuck it under the closed door of Red Midnight.

It was just a hope that someone else would see it.

And hopefully, it wouldn’t be Changmin.

Only a few hours later, Joonmyeon sat in a small café in Hongdae, Yixing across from him. The two friends were doing homework together. Yixing flipped through his notes on the history of dance while Joonmyeon continued to type out his term paper, coffee in front of both of them.

“Excuse me?” Joonmyeon looked up from his paper to see a pair of girls in front of him. One was taller with brownish-blonde hair while the other had darker hair and a more confident expression than her friend. It was the blonde one that spoke. “You’re Suho, right?”

Yixing looked up sharply, hearing the nickname that only Joonmyeon’s close friends were allowed to call him.

He’d honestly expected Joonmyeon to protest, say that he wasn’t Suho, but to his shock, his friend nodded. “Yes, I am.”

The blonde sighed in relief. “I was worried we had the wrong guy. Stupid Tiffany here brought us to the wrong place like, five times. Listen, can we talk in private?” she asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Sure.” Joonmyeon stood, closing his laptop. “Yixing, I’ll be right back.” Yixing nodded, although he looked rather confused.

The two girls led Joonmyeon to the back of the café, the darker-haired one waving to the manager, who was helping to wait tables. Joonmyeon looked around, waiting for the girls to speak.

The blonde held out a piece of paper with some neat writing scribbled on it.

“This is her new address,” she said bluntly. “I put her cell number at the bottom, too.”

Joonmyeon gratefully accepted the paper, folding it and stowing it in his pocket. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”

She just grinned. “No problem. I’m Hyoyeon, by the way, and this is Tiffany.” She her heel and began walking away, raising her hand in a wave. “See you around, hotshot.”

Hotshot?

Joonmyeon shook his head with a small smile.

“You’re the guy she left the club with a few weeks ago, right?” He turned to Tiffany, the dark-haired girl. She had her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. “She’s talked about you a little.”

He felt his heart warm at her words. “She did?” he asked, almost not believing it himself.

She nodded, uncrossing her arms. “Yeah. You’re the first guy in a damn long time whose name she remembered. We’ve all had some bad experiences with guys. I’m sure you’ve noticed she’s a little tougher around guys and she doesn’t like being touched?” He agreed, remembering the tenseness in her body when he’d ruffled her hair and grabbed her wrist. “I’m guessing you can understand why. So, let’s make this clear. If you hurt her, I will end you slowly and painfully. By the time I’m