The altitude was steady, blurs of clouds and blue hues haze passed the window as she gazed down at the welcoming greenery of England. It had been a long flight, but she was restless, her mind racing and playing out a thousand different scenarios all at once. The background noise, simply static in her ears. She covered her mouth as she yawned, her eyelids heavy but her mind resisting the temptation. She was physically exhausted, her whole body ached from the long time she'd spent in that seat. But she was nearly there, almost home.
He adjusted in his seat, his hands fidgeting, impatiently yearning for the next hour to pass quickly. The train rumbled along steadily, the urban sprawl unfolding before him through the streaked glass. He was lost in thought, distracted by the sweet promises of her fast approaching embrace. Mouth dry, he swallowed, reaching for a drink to quench his nervous throat. The other passengers were naught but silhouettes, faceless and meaningless. Only one face could he see, vividly painted behind his eyelids. He closed his eyes, a comforting smile finding his face at the thought of her.
The descent had begun, the plane slowly bowing as it circled the airport. She shifted in her seat to gain a better view of the buildings, the runway inviting her. Her heartrate increased, the sound of blood in her ears, thump... thump... thump. Endorphins were flooding her system, awakening every inch of her senses, heightened and instinctively aware. Was he already here? Was he truly really that close? This was happening. Shit, she thought. Do I look okay? She ran her hand through her hair, straightening up her outfit, conscious of her appearance. Those butterflies had arrived so suddenly, swirling beautifully and chaotically inside her tummy.
He watched as the plane touched down, his heart jumping into his throat at the very same moment. His breath caught in his lungs, overinflating until he released a lengthy audible breath, attempting to steady his nerves and compose himself. This was it. She was actually here. Fuck, she was actually here! The prospect of seeing her before him was both overwhelming and terrifying. What if I'm not who she expects me to be? What if we don't click? What if she doesn't like my clothes, my hair? A million more what if's raced through his mind, as he paced back and forward on restless legs.
She walked through the boarding tunnel, her hand luggage trailing behind her. She could feel her legs already buckling, already nervous at the mere thought of the upcoming meeting. Her clothes felt tight, a warm flush on her skin, prickling as she felt flustered and overcome with a mixture of emotions.
He pushed forward through the crowd, nervously yet excited. It had been a long 11 months of waiting, impossible to recollect the amount of times this very scene had played out in his mind. A sea of people emerged into the arrivals lounge, a disarray of colours, and shapes and sizes. Blonde hair, brown eyes, a green jacket, a red suitcase, an Asian male, a Chinese female, a...
Their eyes met. The room fell silent, the people fading into irrelevancy. Blood rushed deafeningly through their ears, smiles emerging simultaneously on both of their faces. In a matter of seconds they were stood inches apart, his cologne and her perfume infusing together. Their eyes stayed locked, refusing to look away, to lose this perfect moment. His arms reached around her shoulders, hers found their home around his waist. His chest was just the right height for her head to rest against, where she could hear his heart racing. He kissed the top of her head softly, his hand on the back of her head, fingers in her hair, holding her against him like he never wanted to let go.
She was home, and he was complete.
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