ᯓ★

"I'll wait days for you, just to see you again"

₊˚⊹♡

The airport was buzzing—delays, announcements, the hum of tired travelers. You sat near gate B12, hoodie pulled up, earbuds in but no music playing. Just watching people come and go.

𐙚⋆°.

He dropped into the seat across from you. Hair damp from the rain, backpack slouched at his feet. Your eyes met for a second. Long enough to notice. Not long enough to mean anything. He pulled out a book. You sketched in the corner of your journal. Silence, but not awkward.

An hour passed. Then two.

His flight was called. He didn’t move. Your was too. She stood. Your eyes met again. This time, longer. He smiled, not with his mouth, just his eyes. You returned it.

No words. No pressure.

But as you walked past him, you tore a small page from your journal, pressed it into his palm.

A name. A city. A coffee shop.

An invitation.

He watched you go. Then quietly packed his things.