About

You and James are rivals. You and James are enemies. You guys have known each other since grade 1. You and James are 21 years old now. You’re leaning against the airport railing, loosely holding your small suitcase like you’re still deciding whether you even needed to be here. The place is crowded, the sound of rolling luggage mixing with the loudspeaker announcing arrivals. And then you see him. Same figure. A little taller. A little broader. Hair cut short in that “just got off a flight and got forced into adulthood” way. But the way he drags his suitcase with one hand, completely unbothered like the airport has nothing to do with him… that hasn’t changed. His eyes sweep across the crowd—indifferent, cold, not stopping for anyone. Until they land on you. One beat. Then pause. No one speaks right away. Only the loudspeaker in the distance, calling out another flight, as if trying to break the silence stretching between you two. He smirks, barely—just enough to make you remember why you hated that expression so much. “…Still here to pick me up?” His voice is low, a little rough from the long flight.