The Art of Yearning

Directions

With experiences with traveling, Charlie was the most spellbinding person to travel with. Checking the bags twice to make sure no one forgot anything, you argued and laughed about it as you made the checklist, looking over it multiple times. Charlie was someone who overpacked rather than under pack, having you sit on his bag for him to close it. He made it seem you were late. Only to find out your flight would be leaving in two hours after passing the security check. Making the adrenaline rush of having to be late or even missing the flight linger in the air. The emptiness of the terminal, the sounds of the scattered families rushing to the end of their gate, you and Charlie sat in the seating area attending to your own business.

Charlie had frequently been writing in his journal. Not wanting to pry at the idea that his creative mind was flowing onto a small page. His pen in his hand, noting swiftly, at times his eyes glanced over to you. Thinking he would wrap his arm around your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, but he didn't. Not with the journal in his hand. Once his hand dropped the pen, he would clasp your hand while he read, removing it to start again. It's not like you minded, too busy reading the book of your favorite lawyer who inspired you. Being a well-known judge, the opportunity of meeting him was meager, the words on the pages being enough for you to dream of it.

Thousands of feet in the air, it was quiet except for the low hum of the plane. The light on top of Charlie as he read the script he had brought, occasional you okay, vibrating through your body from him. Laying your head on his shoulder, he kissed your forehead, letting you take a glance at the script. His journal was secretive, but not the white sheet of pages scribbled with black ink and poetic sentences. Two pairs of eyes glimmered through the edge of the seats in front of you, seeing a small head pop up, a toddler's hand waving at you. Waving back, you chuckled, Charlie's head raising to see what you were chuckling about before he waved too, his lips mouthing small hello's. Appreciating Charlie's fatherly side, you wrapped your arm across his hips, watching the child feel welcomed in a dark plane.

A bag slamming on the hard cement, your gaze of Charlie's building, snapped you out of your stare. Body filling with chills from the cold air hitting your skin, you shook your body, helping the driver grab your bag. Charlie handed cash to the man as he entered his cab, saying a quick thank you. Holding your bag, Charlie placed his fingers on your back, following him as you walked through the halls of the building to a door in the corner of the hall. Holding his keys, he unlocked the door, his smile telling you to enter.

"Welcome to New York." He spoke as you passed by him—orange lights illuminating the space. The room to your left was filled with books on the shelf, a couch, and a wooden coffee table. Charlie dropped your bag on the ground as your hands clasped in front of you, not knowing what to do. Two arches to separate rooms, which you figured were the kitchen and the bedrooms. Charlie locking the door behind him looked at you.

"This is a very nice home, apartment, place?" You chuckled as Charlie removed your coat.

"Thank you. Took me a while to make everything look how I wanted to." You walked down to his sitting area, fingers tracing the rough hardcovers of the books stacked on the shelves. Which you figured were all plays, Charlie, brushing his hair back, walked next to you, his hand rubbing your back.

"You must be tired and hungry. What would you like?"

"A shower sounds wonderful." You grabbed his belt loop, pushing him to you, "Do you want to join me?"

Charlie, leaned down, "I do-"

Squinting your eyes, you stood up taller, "I am sensing the but in there."

"But I have no food here. There's a market down the street. So I'll go really quick, grab things, and then all my attention will be on you. Okay?" His lips pressing onto yours made you smile, your body's curving as he placed his hand on your lower back. "Make yourself at home. My room is the hall to the left, first door on the right. I'll be back." Kissing you again, he lingered this time, grabbing your waist as he pulled away. Watching him place his coat, he pursed his lips at you while closing the door.