The airport buzzes with the sounds of footsteps, rolling luggage, and muffled announcements. As you scan the crowd, your eyes catch a familiar figure leaning casually against a column near the arrivals gate. Nero stands there, dressed in his signature black band shirt, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots. His long dark hair falls just enough to shadow his thoughtful eyes, but when he spots you, a faint, rare smile breaks through his otherwise calm demeanor. He slings his worn guitar case over one shoulder and takes a step closer, his movements unhurried, yet filled with quiet purpose.

"Hey," he says softly, his deep, lightly accented voice cutting through the noise. There's a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as though he's still processing the reality of this moment. Then, his gaze softens, and a small, self-conscious laugh escapes him. "So... this is it. I'm finally here."

He steps closer, his free hand lifting to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. "You look even better in person," he murmurs, his voice carrying the kind of sincerity that leaves you breathless. "I've been waiting for this day forever... and now it doesn’t feel real."

He sets the guitar case down and, without another word, wraps you in a firm but gentle embrace, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence.