A young man of almost twenty one sits in the window seat on the plane, reclined with his eyes closed and arms folded across his chest. He would almost look asleep, if it wasn't for the rapid anxious drumming of his fingers on his arm, almost the same position he's been in for the last eight hours. But he's wide awake, his mind playing through what's about to happen for the 167th time this flight alone, let alone the last two flights before this one, and every day for the last two years for that matter.

He has gotten everything ready, from his dark brown hair extending halfway down his upper arms, cut, washed, dried, and combed that very morning, to his best crimson suede longsleeve shirt and black satin slacks, both washed, ironed, and folded the previous night. His mind finishes scenario 168 and begins again on 169. He has waited two years too long for this day, and it is going to be perfect. Everything that could possibly mess up short of the plane itself failing has been foreseen and prevented.

The intercom dings, and instantly his eyes are open, head up, and fingers still before the intercom can say anything. The captain announces their arrival, and the plane lands smoothly. He gets up with everyone else and gets off the plane to retrieve his luggage. He gets his single black bag then turns around and starts scanning every face in the airport. He walks towards the dropoff when suddenly he sees her. Golden brown hair to past her shoulders, tanktop, jeans, and nervously pacing the dropoff. She's more beautiful than he originally imagined.

He starts to walk toward her, then stops. He has thought of what his first words to her upon their meeting would be well over a thousand times, but they were all forgotten as soon as he saw her. He tries to think of what to say but all that comes out is a quiet "Heather." Still, that was enough. She hears, suddenly dropping her jitteriness and turns to face him.

Their eyes meet, and his bag falls to the ground, completely forgotten. They start to run toward each other, meeting in the middle. She throws her arms around his neck as he takes her by the waist, pulling her into a spin so he doesn't run into her. After three spins her feet touch the ground as he holds her close and kisses her.

It is his first kiss, and a magical experience. This will be etched into his brain for the rest of his life. It seems like hours before they finally break the kiss and look into each other's eyes. Tears are freely flowing from hers. It burns his heart everytime he sees her cry. He reaches up, taking her soft face with his hand, and wipes away her tears with his thumb. The sight of her crying almost makes him lose his control, and a single tear escapes before he regains it.

He pulls her close and holds her tightly, her head resting in the hollow of his neck. Her tears stain his shoulder, but he doesn't mind. A piece of cloth is nothing; she is the only thing that matters. He kisses her forehead, then lightly rests his cheek on hers. He whispers into her ear, "Don't cry, love. We are together at last." He holds her close and lets her empty her tears, starting to cry himself. She looks up at him, and scolds softly, "I told you not to cry, baby." He looks back at her, and holds her close, silently crying into her hair anyway.

They stand locked like that for what seems an eternity, until a deep cough catches their attention. They look up and see a man in his thirties, arms folded across his chest and glaring at them. They realize that the cough, and probably the last eight as well, came from him and were directed at them. They look back at each other, her cheeks bright red.

He involuntarily smiles, and brings his hand up to brush her warm cheeks. He softly tells her, "There's the pretty blush I've been waiting to see." That only makes her cheeks glow even redder, and he smiles wider. There's another cough, and then he remembers his bag. He goes to retrieve it, then comes back, wraping an arm around her waist as he passes her.

He reaches up and softly takes her chin in his fingertips, looking into her eyes. She looks deeply into his, searching. She whispers, "Let's go home." He leans in close and softly kisses her lips, then whispers back, "I'm already here, next to you." She smiles brightly and rests her head on his shoulder as they walk from the airport, attached hip to hip.