The time is 4:36 pm on a Saturday afternoon in Seoul, South Korea. It's crowded at the arrival gate of Gimpo International Airport. Groups of people exit, pushing luggage carts or pulling along their suitcases. There are businessmen, students, a couple of families.

A twenty-five year old, magazine editor, Kim Hyojoo looks on in boredom as each of them pass. None of them are who she's waiting for. Hyojoo is dressed stylishly as always. She works for a Fashion, Lifestyle, and Wellness magazine after all. She stands a few meters from the automatic doors, clicking the heels of her Jeffrey Campbell Belair booties against the linoleum almost impatiently.

She fiddles with the white leather clutch purse in her hands, contemplating whether or not to text him and see if he even got on the plane or not. He's been gone for six years, after all, he could have changed his mind. Decided to stay in China, decided not to come back to Seoul. It wouldn't be the first time. She sighs, adjusting her flared ox-blood mini skirt and checking her sheer-black pantyhose for any runs, as the final batch of travelers arriving from Beijing exit the arrival gate. When she looks up she's greeted by the sight of her old friend coming towards her.

The twenty-six year old stands at five feet and eleven inches and is dressed in a white tee shirt and polka-dot denim shirt, under a grey jacket and his fitted jeans are the same shade of ox-blood red as her skirt. She chuckles at that, they always did have similar tastes. There's a cap over his short, brown hair and red sunglasses over his eyes, but she knows him far too well to mistake him as anyone else. He stops short a few inches from her, backpack slung over one shoulder and passport in one hand. He removes his sunglasses with his free hand, showing her the same crinkle-eyed smile that she remembers, and extends out both arms.

Hyojoo doesn't hesitate to except the hug that he's offering, because it's been years since the last one and she's never sure when the next one will come along. "It's been a long time, Hyo." The Thai-Chinese man says into her burgundy hair, arms locked around her shoulders. She laughs, "Way too long, Khun."

A/N: Some visuals, since I'm not as fashionable as my writing would claim me to be. Photos are not mine, no copyright infringement intended.

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