You were finally back home after spending Christmas and the New Year with your family. After a twelve hour flight, understandably, you were a bit out of it and exhausted—definitely jet-lagged, too, and you wanted nothing more than to head back to your apartment to catch up on the hours of sleep you lost. It hadn't been the most comfortable flight for you.

You collected your belongings from baggage claim, mindlessly plucking your bags from the conveyor belt without second thought before wheeling it down towards the exit. After crossing immigration, you headed towards a nearby café to get some needed caffeine into your system.

Having settled for a while, you then received an unsuspecting phone call. Surprisingly, it had been one of the airport staff, informing you that you've picked up the wrong luggage. Giving the bag a glance, it was only then you realized that yeah, that definitely wasn't your bag. It was the same suitcase—the same colour, model and everything, but it didn't have the right padlock.

You made your way towards the customer service desk as instructed, on the other side of the arrival's bay. There, you see a man standing by the counter, idly talking with one of the staff. He sees your approaching form, his expression perking into that of relief as he sees you lugging his suitcase behind you—he had yours with him, too.

"I am so, so sorry," You apologized, offering the man a sheepish look as you stopped in front of him, "I didn't realize I took your bag. It was such a long flight, and I didn't even think to check twice—"

"—Hey, it's okay," He reassures you, giving you a crooked smile in response as he raises his hand in a placating gesture, "I get it, really. It was a pretty rough flight. Simple mistake."

His smile distracts you for a moment, and you catch yourself staring. You think to yourself that maybe you really were that tired. Or, he was really just that good-looking. Hell, maybe both.