planes - jonathan & jongdae
jonathan
Sharp, grey bullets of rain pummel at the airport’s high roof without mercy, the sound echoing down the packed waiting rooms and ticket offices. There’s thousands of grumpy faces an squalling children and the blue-eyed, red-haired woman behind the counter that Jongdae is stood at is smiling at him carefully: he can see the strain in the corner of her painted red lips, and the way her eyes dart around the long queues around him where everyone’s asking for answers, just as Jongdae’s trying to. He sighs, shaking his head for a fourth time when he doesn’t quite catch what she’s saying. It’s not her fault and he knows that, but dammit, there’s just so much noise - that stupid rain constantly banging against the roof, the people all talking at once around him in their collectively monotonous buzzing of words he can’t comprehend, the call out repeatedly telling him his plane is delayed. He only wants to know why, and perhaps for how long, but she’s looking at him simply, shaking her head, her mouth wavering as if she wants to say something but doesn’t know how. “It’s... it.. the plane,” he attempts to make a plane motion with his hand, his English beginning to sound alien even to him under his heavy accent. “Where..” He trails off, fidgeting a little on the spot. “Why is it delayed?” He asks out in Korean, but the woman only stares back at him still, then comments that he should wait, their translator is busy but will be there shortly. His lips are close to pouting, and he’s about ready to thunder on out of here and walk back to Korea if he has to.