The airport was a graveyard of missed connections and forgotten announcements, all muted under the low, endless hum of fluorescent lights. Somewhere near Gate B47, Tal sat cross-legged on a row of unforgiving plastic chairs, hoodie up, earbuds in--though he wasn't listening to anything. Just trying to block out the world. His connecting flight had been delayed overnight due to some mechanical issue, and the airline's generosity extended only to a lukewarm meal voucher and a stiff apology.
He should've been in Chicago by now, checking into his hotel and prepping for the interview that might actually change his life. Instead, he was stuck in limbo, dry-eyed and restless, surrounded by other stranded travelers making nests out of neck pillows and exhaustion.
He didn't expect someone to sit directly next to him--especially when there were dozens of empty seats nearby. But a backpack dropped with a soft thud, and then a deep voice said, "You look like you've seen some things."
Tal blinked. The guy was tall--broad-shouldered in a soft denim jacket, brown skin catching the low amber glow of the overhead lights. Handsome in an offbeat kind of way. Sleepy eyes, tousled black curls, a sleepy smirk that probably got him into all kinds of trouble.
"You mean like the inside of Terminal B for the past six hours?" Tal replied, dry.
"Exactly that," the guy said, settling in beside him like they'd planned to meet. "You got the thousand-yard stare."
Tal tugged out one earbud and gave him a side glance. "You always talk to people who clearly want to be left alone?"
The guy grinned. "Only the ones who look the most annoyed. I'm Kian, by the way."
"...Tal."
"Kinda cool. Like talisman?"
"Like Taliaferro, actually. Old family name. But no one can spell it, so... Tal."
Kian let out a soft laugh. "Well, Tal-from-Terminal-B, looks like we're stuck here together for the night. What's your poison? Airport bar, overpriced bagels, or... sitting in soul-crushing silence until sunrise?"
"I was going with Option C."
"Very emo of you."
Tal rolled his eyes but didn't look away. Kian had one of those faces that made it hard to. Strong jaw, lazy charm, a quiet confidence like he owned his space--even if that space was currently a gate seat under flickering fluorescent lights. Tal couldn't decide if he was amused or annoyed. Maybe both.
"So," Kian continued, leaning back like he had all the time in the world, "Where you headed?"
"Chicago. Job interview."
"Oh, damn. Big deal?"
"Maybe. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. My flight was supposed to get me in tonight, but--" he gestured vaguely around the terminal, "--now I'm hoping I make it by tomorrow afternoon."
Kian winced. "That sucks. What's the job?"
"Nonprofit. Environmental storytelling. I'd be doing media work--video, writing, documenting conservation efforts. It's kind of a dream gig."
"That actually sounds... cool as hell. I'm just going to Santa Fe to help my cousin move into a new apartment. Zero dreams involved."
"Still more productive than whatever this is," Tal said, gesturing to the slowly-dying waiting area.
"I dunno," Kian said, eyeing him with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Seems like we just made this place slightly less soul-crushing."
Tal snorted, caught off guard by how casually charming he was. "Do you flirt with everyone during layovers, or am I just lucky?"
"You're lucky," Kian said, without missing a beat.
Tal arched a brow. "You move fast."
"I move with purpose."
Their eyes held for a second longer than they should've.
And maybe it was just the fatigue, or the nothing-left-to-lose edge that came with being stuck in a place between destinations--but Tal didn't look away. He didn't want to. Kian gave off that easy, sun-warmed kind of energy Tal hadn't realized he'd been craving.
Kian broke the silence by rummaging in his backpack and pulling out a granola bar. "Want one?"
Tal glanced at it. "What kind?"
"Salted caramel and not quite disgusting."
"I'm sold."
He took the bar, their fingers brushing briefly. Kian grinned again, and Tal wondered if the guy ever didn't smile like he had some delicious secret.
They sat in silence for a moment, munching, watching the neon map screens blink red with delay after delay. The world had slowed down to a crawl, but in that pocket of stillness, something about this felt oddly comfortable.
"You from around here?" Tal asked, unwrapping the crinkly plastic.
"New Mexico born, LA raised," Kian said. "You?"
"Baltimore. Born and raised."
Kian looked over at him again. "You've got the quiet, serious vibe down. Like you're always two seconds away from telling me to shut up."
"I am," Tal said, mouth twitching.
"You're hard to read," Kian said, but not like it was a complaint. "I kinda like it."
Tal should've been more guarded--should've shut this down before it spiraled into something that would cling to him longer than a night--but he didn't. Maybe it was the way Kian leaned in when he talked. Maybe it was the way his laugh made the world feel less sterile. Or maybe Tal was just tired--of airports, of always being the one on edge, of never letting anyone in.
"Why do you even want to talk to me?" Tal asked after a beat. "I'm not exactly... chatty."
Kian tilted his head, eyes scanning Tal's face with open curiosity. "I dunno. You've got this... energy. Like there's more going on under the hood. You seem like someone who notices things. I like that."
Tal felt warmth creep into his chest. It was stupid. This was probably just some bored extrovert passing time.
But something about Kian felt different.
"You always talk like that?" Tal asked.
"Like what?"
"Like a walking romance novel."
Kian grinned. "Only when I meet someone cute who clearly needs a distraction from their misery."
Tal rolled his eyes--but this time, he smiled, too.
Tal had never been one for small talk. He didn't enjoy the fake smiles or the easy, forgettable chatter that people filled time with. But Kian didn't seem interested in that either. He asked real questions--softly, easily, like they were just meant to be answered, not deflected.
"So, Tal," Kian said, stretching his legs out in front of him and tipping his head against the back of the uncomfortable plastic chair, "you always this intense, or is it just airport delay rage?"
Tal raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm intense?"
"Yeah. But like...in a good way." Kian turned to look at him more directly. "You've got this very serious, quietly-simmering-with-thoughts energy. Like, if someone made you smile too hard, the world might tilt on its axis."
"That sounds dramatic."
"I'm a photographer. We dramatize everything."
Tal blinked. "Really?"
Kian nodded. "Yeah. Mostly freelance stuff--editorials, portraits, sometimes weddings if I need the money. I do a lot of travel gigs lately. Been on the road more than I've been home."
Tal tilted his head. "That explains the heavy-duty camera I saw poking out of your bag."
Kian looked pleased. "You noticed."
"I notice things," Tal said.
They shared a small, warm silence after that. The kind that settled between people who were still strangers but maybe didn't want to be.
"You know," Kian said after a while, "I don't usually talk to people like this."
"Like what?"
"Like...this. Easy. No filter. You've got good listening energy."
Tal huffed a small laugh. "That's a first."
