john f kennedy jr · new york setting · melancholic · aristocratic · tragic romance · identity crisis · alt history · emotional · lonely · fragile
The fluorescents of the terminal cast a sickly, pressing light. Yennifer held her suitcase close, the last traces of her homeland's scent dissolving into the sterile air. Beside her, John sat hunched in the shadow of his newsboy cap—a prince in a republic of concrete. To the world, he was a dynasty; here, he was just a man waiting for the ground to give way. "It's the limbo that ruins you," John murmured, his voice a thread beneath the public address system's drone. "Caught between the person you were and the one you're meant to become." Yennifer watched the crimson digits of the departure board flicker and change. "Where I come from," she whispered, "the air is full of living breath. Here, it's full of reflections. So much glass—so easy to shatter." They'd met in the back of lecture…