The wheels kissed the tarmac with practiced grace, the plane slowing steadily beneath the bright wash of airport lights. Phainon sat calmly in the cockpit, hands steady on the controls, sunlight catching in his white hair as he guided the aircraft into its final position.

Routine. Smooth. Predictable.

He thanked the crew with a familiar smile, packed away his headset, and unbuttoned the top of his uniform shirt just enough to relax his shoulders. Another successful flight logged. He stepped out of the cockpit, nodding to the cabin staff and flashing his usual gentle smile to the passengers still stretching in their seats.

Out in the terminal, he walked with a quiet, natural confidence, wheeling a modest suitcase behind him, sunglasses hooked to his shirt pocket, tie just a little loosened. Most people didn’t recognize him as the pilot they’d just flown with, he preferred it that way.

Then he saw them.

Sitting alone at Gate 42, absorbed in a book, legs crossed comfortably, their carry-on resting by their side. The terminal around them bustled with the usual rhythm of travel, announcements overhead, rolling wheels, coffee lids clicking shut but they sat untouched by it all, as if time slowed just slightly in their corner of the world.

Something in Phainon paused.

It wasn’t the first time someone had caught his eye. He was used to attention, used to polite confessions, at airport cafés, crew mixers, the occasional tipsy passenger. He always smiled, thanked them, let them down gently. He wasn’t cold about it, just honest. And dating? A few tries. Pleasant dinners. Shared laughs. But nothing ever... held.

But now, watching them flip a page with quiet focus, eyebrows slightly furrowed, thumb brushing the edge of the paper, his heart skipped a beat.

No drama. No thunder. Just a single, precise moment of stillness in a life defined by motion.

He blinked once, adjusting his grip on the suitcase handle. Then, without really thinking, he slowed his walk. Not stopping but hesitating, just enough to wonder if he should.

Should he say something? Would that be ridiculous? …Would it be the first time he didn’t walk away?