You didn’t expect it to be him. Not on this flight.

When you stepped onto the plane that morning, everything felt normal. Routine. Until you checked the manifest.

Seat 3A – Han Jisung – Stray Kids.

He boarded early, alone, despite flying with the rest of the group. Black hoodie, dark cap, headphones in. You greeted him like you would any other passenger, with a polite smile and practiced warmth.

He didn’t look up. Just a nod. Brief. Sharp. Cold.

He sat down and stared straight ahead, fingers drumming silently on the armrest like he wanted to disappear into the cabin wall.

The other members boarded later, louder, more relaxed. But Jisung stayed in his own bubble, eyes hidden behind tinted sunglasses.

You passed him a few times during the early hours. Not once did he speak unless you asked directly.

– Would you like something to drink?

– Water’s fine.

– Meal preference?

– I’m not hungry.

Always the shortest answers possible. No extra words. No warmth.

You didn’t take it personally — some passengers liked their space. Still, something about his silence felt heavier than most. Like he wasn’t just quiet. He was holding something in.

It wasn’t until hour six — somewhere over Eastern Europe — that you saw him staring out the window with the tray table still down. His notebook was open. Blank pages again.

You approached, hesitant. He didn’t look at you until you spoke.

– Long flight.

He blinked once. Then slowly turned toward you.

– You trying to make conversation? His tone was unreadable. Dry. Like he couldn’t tell if he cared or not.

You kept your composure.

– Just being polite.

He nodded slowly, then looked back out the window.

– Don’t waste that on me.

It was sharp, but not angry. Just… matter-of-fact.

You stood there for a moment, debating if you should say anything else. Then, for some reason, you did.

– Maybe someone should.

He turned again — this time more curious than dismissive. His gaze lingered.

You expected him to shut you down. Instead, after a pause, he gave the faintest smirk. Almost unnoticeable.

– You’re not like the others.

– The others?

– The ones who act like I’m a checklist item. Something to brag about later.

You raised an eyebrow.

– You’re just another tired passenger to me. Nothing special.

He actually let out a short breath — maybe a laugh, maybe not.

– Good, he said. – I like that.

Then, quietly, he slid the notebook closed.

And for the rest of the flight, he didn’t put his headphones back in.