The airport was crowded, a sea of strangers rushing past, but you only had eyes for one person.

Damiano.

He stood just beyond the arrival gate, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, dark curls messily falling over his forehead. His eyes scanned the crowd, restless—until they landed on you.

And then, everything else faded.

The exhaustion of long flights, the months spent apart, the empty space in your bed—it all disappeared the moment his lips curled into smile.

You barely had time to breathe before he closed the distance, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest like he was afraid you’d vanish. The familiar scent of him—cologne, cigarettes—hit you all at once, and God, it felt like home.

"You have no idea how much I’ve missed you," he murmured against your hair, voice rough with something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. "Then show me."

His lips crashed into yours—desperate, claiming, as if he was trying to make up for every second lost between you. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the airport nothing but white noise.

When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless. "Next time, I’m going with you."

And this time, you weren’t going to argue.