The airport terminal buzzed with the low hum of travelers, the occasional announcement echoing through the speakers as people rushed past with rolling suitcases and tired expressions. The scent of fresh coffee and jet fuel lingered in the air, a strange but familiar mix that came with long travel days.

You stood near the gate, shifting your carry-on over your shoulder as you glanced at the departure screen. Delayed. Of course. With a sigh, you turned toward the nearby seating area, scanning for an empty chair. Most were taken, occupied by weary passengers scrolling through their phones or lost in books.

Spotting an open seat near the window, you made your way over, setting your bag down before sinking into the chair. Just as you reached for your headphones, something brushed against your foot—a duffel bag, slightly worn, shoved beneath the chair beside you.

Before you could process it, the person next to you leaned forward, reaching to adjust it.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, sitting back.

You looked up, and for a second, everything around you seemed to fade. Dylan O’Brien. Dressed in a hoodie, jeans, and a baseball cap pulled low, he looked like just another tired traveler waiting for his flight. But there was no mistaking those warm brown eyes, the slight scruff along his jaw, the way he shifted with easy familiarity.

He caught your gaze, blinking once before offering a small, lopsided smile. Then, with a casual tilt of his head, he nodded toward the departure board.

“Let me guess—delayed too?”