Why Don't We One Shots

Airport, Corbyn Besson

"Hey babe," I whispered softly as I shook him very lightly, scared to scare him.

"Mmh," he mumbled in his sleep. He stirred and stretched and for a second, I actually thought he was going to wake up.

But he still had his eyes closed and he was conscious enough to know that he wanted to go back to sleep but not conscious enough to realize that he really needed to get up.

We were running late, as always. Except this time it was serious and we couldn't just "be late". We had a flight to catch. We were going to visit his family back in Dallas, Texas, for Christmas.

He loved his family. He loved his childhood home and neighbourhood. He loved the holidays. Why couldn't he make an effort for once and make sure we could make it to the airport?

We were running out of time.

I stared at him. I don't like waking people up, it makes me feel guilty. Should I wake him?

"Corbyn," I said. "Wake up, we're late."

I got him to open his eyes, which was already a huge victory. I smiled at my success and got dressed. I put some last-minute things in my bag and walked back to our bed.

He had fallen asleep again.

"Corbyn!" I yelled. He jumped and his eyes opened like I had never seen them open before.

"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled, again, rubbing his eyes with his right hand.

He sighed. "Why am I up, again?" he asked, hinting at me to remind him.

He can't be serious, I thought.

"Kanye West is coming over, remember?" I lied. I'm good at keeping a straight face and his expression was priceless.

"W-what?"

It's like all of a sudden he had never been more awake in his life.

"We've got to get to the airport," I started.

He looked utterly confused.

"We have a flight to catch?" I hinted, raising my eyebrows like I couldn't believe what I was seeing; because I couldn't. I really couldn't have made it more obvious at this point, but he still appeared to have no idea what I was talking about.

"We're going to your parents' for Christmas, Corbyn. Wake up already," I blurted. Don't get me wrong, I love him and everything he does for me and for himself. Everything he says sounds like absolute heaven to me and every time we're apart, he's all I can think about. But running late really pisses me off, just because it makes me tense.

My anxiety was through the roof and I didn't want to take it out on him but, to be fair, he was the only reason why we were late.

I stormed out of the room and decided that watching everything he did made even more nervous. I went to the kitchen and made myself a coffee and a sandwich. I looked at the clock on the wall.

3:27 am.

It's okay, I thought.

The flight is scheduled for 5 am which leaves me exactly 3 minutes to get Corbyn ready, drive 30 minutes and 60 minutes to do everything else at the airport.

I sighed.

I can do this.

I was about to ditch the food and go upstairs to check on my boyfriend but, to my surprise, he was already coming down the stairs. He knows I get nervous pretty easily when it comes to traveling. He walked up to me, dumped his things on the floor and his arms flew wide open to engulf me in a tight, warm, and much needed hug.

"It's okay, baby," said Corbyn. "We'll make it," he stated.

He kissed the top of my head as I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that what he was saying would be true.

He gave my body one more small squeeze before letting go of me and grabbing his bags again. We walked out of the house and got into the car.

3:32 am.

I looked out the window and focused on not throwing up. Corbyn sneaked his right hand over the console and put it on my thigh, just above my knee, without ever looking away from the road.

I know it sounds dumb but it felt like his touch was the only thing that could really get me to calm down at all. My brain started to focus on his hand and only his hand, were it was, what it looked like, what it felt like.

He started rubbing the fabric of my pants with his thumb and I couldn't think about anything else. I loved him. I loved the moment and I loved to feel the love through his fingers.

We arrived to the airport in a matter of minutes and it felt like it wasn't the same anymore. I felt numbed by him; everything about him. He got our bags out of the trunk and we did all the paperwork. We then sat and waited for somebody to call the number of our flight through speakers.

He started talking about his past Christmas experiences and about how close he was with his family. He was narrating an anecdote and he moved his hands along with his mouth to explain his words furthermore. I know I should've paid attention because he seemed excited, but I just couldn't bring myself to concentrate. My eyes wondered from his hair to his eyebrows, cheekbones and lips, from his nose to his neck and yet I didn't hear a single word he said.

We were sitting close to one another, even though there was a metal bar meant for our arms that was separating us. I leaned closer and made an effort to listen to him. I forced myself to look into his eyes and I noticed he started laughing, so I laughed too; I don't even know what at.

I couldn't hear anything, and if I could, my brain wasn't registering it. It was like I wasn't even there, I was watching a movie from the comfort of my own living room. He stopped moving his lips and stared back at me.

"Take a picture," he said, smiling smugly. I snapped out of it but still felt drunk. I smiled knowingly, lightly rolling my eyes.

I leaned in even more and grabbed both of his cold, big hands in mine.

He leaned in too and let go of one of my hands to cup the side of my face, right next to my ear. I could feel his soft breaths on my lips and I soon closed the gap between us. I kissed him and he kissed back. I felt loved and secure in his arms. I felt like I could trust him. He made me feel cared for and important.

"Flight 556 to Dallas, Texas, please board on Gate 9," the loud and firm voice of a lady beamed through the echoey walls of the building.

We pulled away but still stayed close together. I smiled with my eyes closed, I felt happy and the anxiety was long gone, or at least for now.

A few minutes passed and we were on the plane.

I sighed and rested my head on Corbyn's shoulder smiling contently.

"I told you we would make it," he whispered.

I looked up at him with "are you kidding me" eyes.

He giggled funnily and I couldn't help but give in to laughter as well.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too, baby face," he kissed my forehead.

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AN: Cringe ew pls