2020H 032517

Tokyo Narita International Airport

It's an intersection of sorts, various people from different walks of life. Passing by each other in the most nonchalant way possible, and yet interconnected deeply and inevitably. Kids running, mothers shouting, couples sharing last of goodbyes. A kiss, a hug, a glance, a smile.

A moment. Or a collection of moments, all adding up into one big scenery.

Now zoom in.

Pause.

Enter the hero: He's sitting at the airport cafe, fingers lightning speed fast as he scribbled on a piece of yellow pad. Chords, a mixture of capital letters and musical notes, haphazardly scribbled above lyrics. His headphones are tight against his ears, and his head subtly bobbed up and down to the beat of his music. The oversized sweater he wore snuggled his toned body as a light protection to the cold air conditioning of the cafe, and his jeans are ripped in just the right amount and in just the right places. Every now and then a dimple on his cheek will show, lighting up his uncharacteristic face.

How ordinary, you might say. Here is an ordinary man in an ordinary airport in an ordinary cafe.

But maybe there is something extraordinary in this ordinariness. Let's see.

Enter the heroine: She walks into the room, backpack on her shoulders and red beanie on her head. The black-rimmed glasses that she was wearing hung precariously at the tip of her nose, almost falling to the tiled floor as she let go of a yawn. Her hooded jacket fits her nicely, sleeves pushed up to her elbows revealing intricate art on skin. Under her eyes are bags that could be blamed on her delayed flight, but she knows too all well it's her insomnia's fault.

Not really show-stoppingly beautiful, no luscious locks of hair or flushed cheeks, or cherry-red lips. Her skin is a little bit gaunt from the lack of rest, her cropped hairstyle in a disarray under the beanie.

But there must be something, underneath all that. Because approximately 5 minutes after she sat down on the table seat across the ordinary man in an ordinary airport in an ordinary cafe, he couldn't help but stare.

Everyone has heard of it: Chance meetings on unexpected places, eyes meeting and sparks flying. It's written in the books and in various novels, fairytales, songs, with cheesy as hell opening lines that could make you gag. But he has never really believed in those, and neither did she. And this one might not be like that. At all.

"Hey, I know you."

He calls, slipping his headphones out of his ears. Her head shot up at the sound, and the confused expression slowly morphs into something akin to recognition.

"Yeah, I think I know you too." She replied with a slight smile.

He figured out what it was. It was familiarity.

--

A few years ago, this happened:

There was a wedding in Seoul, situated in an uncharacteristic building in the middle of Gangnam district. The couple, both westernized Asians who established their adult lives in South Korea, have invited friends, family and acquaintances to celebrate this joyful occasion. It was kind of a traditional slash modern wedding, they've gone through the whole Korean style shennanigan, and adapting only the fun parts of a western one: Maid of honor and best man included.

And a buttload of booze in the after-party, but that's for another story.

So here they were in the middle of winter, celebrating the love of two people who are being joined in holy matrimony. The couple were smitten, like all newly-weds are, drunk with the night's festivities, sharing laughter and giggles with the various guests who were enjoying the sumptuous meal.

But this isn't about them.

This is about her: Amber Liu, best woman.

And him: Henry Lau, man of honor.

Maybe this wedding is more modern than initially thought.

"So, you're Ani's cousin."

"And you're Brian's best friend."

They sat there side by side on the assigned table, half eaten course on their porcelain plates. The music is loud, deafening and echoes in their eardrums. By all means this should be a friendly conversation in a social event. The thing is, there's these big silences in between that just screams awkward.

"I'm Henry, by the way." He said. She scrunched up her eyebrows. "I know. We've been introduced to each other? Like, a few nights ago?"

He tilted his head. "Really?"

"Uhm... yes. Rehearsal dinner at that yacht."

"Huh. I don't remember that. Funny."

And it was, really; hilarious. Because after that, a girl whom Amber called 'Amy' hauled her to the dance floor, leaving Henry to sit there with half a conversation. He never really thought about it, just shrugged and took a sip of the wine.

Well, he thought. This is a wedding, you'd expect to meet a multitude of different people and never get to see them again for the rest of your life. Never mind, don't think too much of it. Oh look, there's cake!

But then again. In an ordinary airport in an ordinary cafe.

Funny, isn't it?

--

"I remember not liking you the first time we met." Amber muttered. Her glasses are fogged up by the coffee-induced mist, disallowing Henry a glimpse of her expression. He chuckled. "I remember not liking you much, either."

She scoffed, replying with sarcasm. "How could you not like me, I'm lovable." Gesturing to herself in slight mockery. "And you didn't even remember being introduced to me. I thought you were such a jerk."

Henry took the red plastic stirrer and aimlessly dipped it in his cup. "Oh yeah, that happened."

She rolled her eyes and he stifled a chuckle. "Okay, in my defence, we were like bat drunk at that rehearsal dinner. Can't even remember giving a speech."

"It was just 8 pm and you were already drunk?"

"Brian was also pretty drunk."

"Oooh I remember that. He was all red and kinda out of it. And you were weirdly stuck to each other."

"I wasn't planning on getting slammed, to be honest. Brian wanted a few drinks to let go of a little jitters. He couldn't ask you because you were busy preparing for the party and I was the closest male thing he could find, and I thought, hey, a few glasses in wouldn't hurt. Maybe I'll even get to know my future cousin-in-law a little bit more." He shook his head in emphasis. "But that friend of yours could surely hold his liquor. I couldn't even stand straight by the time we walked out of the bar."

Amber cackled. "Just imagine how my first night in Korea was. I woke up the next morning hugging a hen."

"Now that's a story I would like to hear."

"That's going to take us a long, long time. A cup of coffee won't cut it."

Henry smiled at that, looking at her intently, and honestly, a little bit creepy. "What time is your flight again?" She looked at her wristwatch. "I still have a few hours. Why?"

He cleared his throat. "Here's the thing Amber Liu. I get really bored during this layovers, and Tokyo has such a rich night life, it's a waste not to see it. So how about it, huh? And you said so yourself, a cup won't cut it, and I would really like to hear that story. And maybe another one of these lattes."

Amber leaned against her wooden chair, arms folded across her chest. She considered his offer, looking at him through her glasses. A smirk formed in her face, and the metaphorical light bulb lit up with an idea.

"Only if we don't do it over coffee." She answered with a smile.

--

"Now I see why you and Brian are best friends."

"Hey, you were the one who was talking about Tokyo’s night life. Lo and behold, only the best it has to offer."

Henry and Amber stood in the middle of the bright club. The strobe lights blinked rapidly in front of them, momentarily giving them a glimpse of exposed skin on skin. Grinding, bopping, jumping, heads thrashing, arms and limbs intertwined and jutting out of skimpy, tight outfits as the crowd danced to the beat of the DJ's music. There was a heavy stench in the air, a mix of alcohol, second-hand smoke, and midnight chaos all rolled into one hot mess.

"Not really what I thought."

"Come on it's going to be fun. Wanna dance?"

He looked at the dance floor and cringed. The amount of sweat is appalling. "No I don't think so."

He tugged at the collar of his shirt as he aired out the sweat that has clung to his back. They've ditched their jackets at the club's entrance, leaving them with their cotton shirts, but everything was just too warm, too hot. He'd like to think it's because of the current atmosphere, but then again he surveys Amber in her shirt and fully exposed tattoos, and the air becomes just a little bit suffocating for his taste.

"Let's go get some drinks instead." Amber tells him with a nod of her head, smirk in place. Henry couldn't help but gulp.

'Some drinks' turned out to be 4 shots of tequila each, consumed bottoms up at the bar counter, a can of beer and a suspicious glass of iced tea. They drank synchronously, interrupted by bouts of laughter from stories shared back and forth. By the end of it, Amber was a giggling mess against his shoulder, and he has already developed a slight pink on his cheeks.

He could feel her hot breath against his neck, ragged from the alcohol in her system, her fingers unmoving on the counter. He couldn't help but stare as the rings on her hand glistened slightly as it reflected the flashing lights. There was a beat reverberating inside his head, making him acutely aware of her cheek against her shoulder, his sweat trickling his skin.

"A few minutes from now." she whispers. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Something will happen. My hands, from where they are now, will inch up to yours. You'll feel the softness of my fingers against your arms, and in response, you're going to snake yours on my waist. There is a magic, brought by the night club lights and the alcohol and beating music, that’ll prompt you to bury your nose unto my hair. My breath will hitch, my heart will race, there are distances closed up by a few scoots and smiles. A touch; here and there. It's going to be electrifying, space-defying and exciting. Unless-" she shifted, looking at him this time. "Unless, you have something better in mind."

He smirked.

--

"Life hack: Ramen is always the better idea."

Bowls of Ramen came up with mists in front of them, momentarily blurring Amber of her view. The heavenly scent wafted thro