You never really believed in coincidences. Not seriously. But when you boarded the flight to Tokyo, found your window seat in row 17, and stowed your bag overhead, you had to admit—it was almost too perfect to be random.

“…Sorry, is that your seat?” came a voice behind you. Warm, familiar, like an echo from a version of your life you thought you’d left far behind.

You turned—and there he was. Hongjoong.

He hadn’t changed much. Maybe a little taller, his features sharper, his gaze more focused. But it was definitely him. Hongjoong. The guy who broke your heart in high school without ever actually holding it.

High school felt like a different universe now. You had been brave back then—nervous, sure, but honest—when you told him how you felt. And him? He had smiled at you like it was all some misunderstanding. Like you hadn’t spent weeks overthinking every second. And then he’d simply said, “Sorry, I don’t see you that way.”

One sentence. That was all it took.

And now he was sitting next to you. On the same flight. Headed to the same study abroad program. To Tokyo. It felt like something out of a badly written fanfic—except your heart was beating faster from irony, not butterflies.

The first few minutes passed in silence. You both checked your boarding passes, adjusted your pillows, and let the engine’s hum fill the space between you. Then, somewhere above the English Channel, Hongjoong finally spoke.

He turned his head slightly toward you, his voice casual, with a crooked little grin. “So… if you’re planning to get revenge and spill Coke on my pants, at least wait until after the meal service.”