𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ᯓ ✈︎

The airport was louder than you’d expected — rolling suitcases, overlapping voices, the occasional ding of an intercom announcement that no one really listened to. You’d been standing near baggage claim for what felt like forever, phone clutched tightly in your hand, thumb hovering over Silas’s contact like you’d forgotten what to say even though he was only a few feet away.

Then, like a quiet breath cutting through the crowd, you saw him.

He was taller than he ever looked on FaceTime — not in a way that intimidated you, but in a way that made him feel real. His hoodie hung loose over one shoulder, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, and a worn backpack slouched off one side. His hair was messier than usual — brown curls soft and a little flattened from travel — and he had this dazed, searching look in his eyes until they landed on you.

And then he smiled.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t run. He didn’t shout your name. He just walked — slow and steady — eyes never leaving yours, like he was still making sure this wasn’t just another night on call.

When he finally stopped in front of you, you realized you hadn’t breathed since you saw him.

Neither of you spoke right away. There wasn’t a need. His fingers brushed yours gently, testing the space between you — and then, without asking, he pulled you into him. Not a hug that squeezed the air out of your lungs. Just quiet, warm pressure. Familiar arms. The weight of his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

“You’re real,” he whispered, barely audible over the noise.

You nodded against his chest. “So are you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes flicking down briefly like he was remembering your face all over again. His hand came up slowly, brushing a piece of hair from your cheek with the kind of touch that didn’t rush.

“Hi,” he said, soft smile returning. “You’re even prettier than on camera.”