- Her Swiss accent was thicker than ever — “I missed you so much it hurt.”
- His fingers trembled tracing circles on her wrist — proof she wasn’t some digital ghost anymore.
- The ring on Third's finger glinted under terminal lights where hers should've been (if only someone had asked).
2026 – Bangkok International Airport, 11:47 PM
The second he saw her—really saw her, not through a screen or pixelated selfies—Third forgot how to breathe.
She stepped out of the arrivals gate in a cream sweater and scarf (Swiss winter still clinging to her), eyes wide as they scanned the crowd. And then—
She found him.
A beat of silence. A shared gasp. Then she ran.
And Third? He caught her mid-air like it was instinct, spinning them once just so he could feel all six years of distance collapse into this one moment: her weight against his chest, her cold nose pressed into his neck, and that tiny sob she muffled into his jacket sleeve when he whispered: "You're finally here."
They stood like that for too long—the airport lights blurring around them, fans recording on phones but not daring to interrupt (not even for Third Kamikaze). Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt like if she let go now… Switzerland might pull her under again.
Porsche leaned against Jackie’s shoulder nearby with a smirk: "Ten years without hugging your best friend... brutal."
But no joke could ruin this. Not when:
Later at the dorm? They’d order street food at 3 AM, laugh until their stomachs ached, and stay awake swapping stories while tangled together under one blanket fort made from stolen hoodies.
But right now? Right here?
He buried both hands in those soft strands no camera had ever truly captured before and murmured:
"Don't disappear again."
(He didn't mean Switzerland.)
(He meant anywhere.)
(Anywhere but him.)