CHAPTER 2 I trembled, guided through the line like a lamb into the slaughterhouse -a large plane that would take me to my first connection flight, Minneapolis after a two and a half hour flight loomed in the landing area. I avoided eye contact from others, paying no attention to my surroundings other than turning in my ticket and going to my assigned seat by the window. My hands were shaking and I felt pathetic, like a bath soaked cat. I kept my head down, even trying to tug my hood fully over my head -minutely bothered that its hem couldn't reach my eyes. Instead of letting my backpack rest in the upper compartment of the plane above my seat, I hugged it against my front within my arms and settled into the seat. The plane was nice -clean and spacious. A small flat paneled screen was mounted on the back of every seat’s headrest with a pair of black over-the-ear headphones. . I had room to stretch my legs, and air conditioning and heat at my disposal. My mind was hardly focused on the comfortable commodities of a premium economy flight; all that I truly wanted to do was sleep, and cry. The very image of my mom's back turned from me, walking away, replayed itself on repeat in my mind. That haunting whisper echoed with it, 'you have to'. So trapped within the cage of my mind, I'd almost failed to notice the tall male that had placed his luggage over head -standing in the aisle beside the empty seat next me. Dressed snazzy in a black crisp suit and tie -legs never ending. He was lanky with broad shoulders, a rounded face and plump lips. Asian, like me. I tried not to allow myself to get caught staring from the corners of my eyes; I'd remained seated and still, my arms clutching around my backpack. My interest was piqued with caution, wanting to find out who he was and if he was sitting with me on the flight, and when he'd ducked under the low compartment to glance at me, his lips stretched into a simple, flat lipped smile -accenting the dip of dimples that curved into his cheek. "Hey," The male said to me casually, undoing the top two buttons of his collared shirt and tugging the tie loose with long fingers. He appeared to be a businessman; professional, well-kempt and rather wealthy, judging from his attire which I could only assume was a luxury designer brand. His hair was a perfectly styled, slicked back blonde. I'd never imagined that someone could be both intimidating -by the confidence of his demeanor, and potentially friendly by the Pillsbury dough-boy of a smile he presented to me. When he settled down beside me, I bowed my head back to him in greeting and forced myself to say back to him in a soft voice. "Hi". Despite my worries, he'd hardly seemed concerned by my lack of conversation, instead offering to shake my hand in his own. A glint of gold caught my eyes beneath the cuffs of his sleeve, and for a moment I wondered so much about him. Who was he? What did he do? A world of curiosity fluttered in my mind as I looked him over intently, and I attempted to peel away the veil of mystery that surrounded him. Thinking he would at least give his name when I shyly accepted his hand into my own -hand incredibly miniscule in comparison to his; he gave me a firm shake. "Nice to meet you, I'm Namjoon." ".. Alex," I said back after a moment's hesitation, deciding to go with my English name over my Korean one - Youngmi. 7:49AM (MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA -SAINT PAUL INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT) The gentle tap onto my shoulder signaled for me to jolt awake -I had found some comfort in using my backpack as a pillow to lean against the window, curled up, and no sooner had I dozed off to sleep. I heard the intercom instructions through cotton-filled ears, feeling a little panicked by how I’d felt as though I were swimming underwater. Glancing around frantically, I caught sight of Namjoon -one long leg crossed over the other in perfectly calm and peace nature. He'd glanced over in my direction, that adorable dimple smile returning to his features. He gestured to his ears with the point of a finger, as though he could read the body language I was presenting –my panic. "It's just pressure, it'll go away," he reassured me with the jazzy sound of his voice. Rough around the edges, but comforting. The way he spoke reminded me of 'hip hop swag' -something I hadn't even 1% of. Was he a rapper? Was he from the big city, like LA? I'd slept well, and the moment my motors began churning again, I was able to think more clearly. My slumber was dreamless, yet I had stopped crying and shaking. I felt safe, even being beside a stranger. I recalled momentarily, the way he asked for water and snacks from the attendants during the flight -who'd all seemed entirely charmed by speaking with him. They never seemed remotely agitated when he beckoned them over. Quite the opposite. He had that effect on others, even me. He was nice, explained how things worked, and repeated the instructions when I seemed lost over them. This place was the last place I'd expected to make a friend. Well, a temporary acquaintance. I'd probably never see him again. Korea was a big place, for starters, and chances were his end destination was not the same as mine. "Are you going to Korea?" The question slipped out of my mouth, and for a moment I wondered if I could stick by him during the duration of the trip. Maybe even pack myself into his luggage so that he would continue feeding me peanuts and juice. At least I'd have someone away from home that I was familiar with -as stupid as it was to cling so dependently on an utter stranger. I had broken one of the most important rules my mother had taught me in childhood; don't talk to strangers. But my mother wasn't here anymore. "Mmhmm, we have a layover here for about an hour, then it's off to Seattle. The early flight's always the longest," Namjoon informed me, knowledgeable as usual about these sorts of things -like traveling, and guided me through the crowded line of passengers with his bag to exit the plane. He waited for me, surprisingly, once he entered the airport through the bag check. He’d seemed to pack light –with only one piece of baggage to take with him, while I had crossed over to pick up my luggage –needing to carry it to the next plane’s gate. My mother made carrying the big duffle bag look like cakewalk, while I struggled to hold that, my backpack and pull the rolling luggage with me. Catching sight of his sleek blond hairstyle a top of his height was simple, and I remained quietly behind him as he guided me. Like a gentleman, he had even offered to collect the heavier bag for me –but I declined with the polite shake of my head. I didn’t want to burden him with something like that. When I lagged behind, he glanced back to make sure I was there with him -and I could tell by the way he tipped his head for me to 'come on' that he hadn't minded me tagging along. I was grateful, as stupid as this might have seemed to anyone to be so trusting of someone I didn’t know. Namjoon was quickly on his phone as we travelled into the more vast area of the airport -where there were food shops and stores. I was earnestly surprised to hear him speak Korean -rattling it off into the android as we made our trek to a small gift shop. Truthfully, I was fully of Korean Ethnicity –yet I was born and raised in the United States. There were only bits and pieces of the conversation I could pick up on; I was barely fluently -only really hearing my mother speak it when she communicated with friends and family, or switched between English and Korean when she was excited. We spoke English within the household, and the only true connection I had to being Korean were the occasional dishes my mom cooked up, or when we visited family, or my mom’s Korean friends. I was expected to speak Korean around family members, though, and often opted to stay quiet instead. My heart skipped a beat when I thought abou