⌁ Thunder ⌁ Lana Del Rey Fanfiction

chapter one: thunder

June, 2022.

"Grande Americano for Alejandra?" A slim, overworked barista abruptly called my name before placing the drink on the counter.

The coffee shop at the airport was so full, that I practically had to push my way through in order to reach my drink.

In the process, I quickly learned that carrying around my suitcases and the little amount of belongings that they contained seemed like I was walking around with the entire world.

I had just left home. Took an 8-hour flight from Madrid to New York City—and my travel didn't even end there. I took one more short flight closer to my destination of upstate New York, in some town I didn't know the name of quite yet.

The place I'd make unforgettable memories in from then on.

Walking through the busy, long, white and sunlit halls with my coffee and luggage, I eventually found the arrival gates. A step outside and the air breezed across my face. It smelled vaguely of car fumes and gasoline.

America.

I didn't even know how to scan the crowd, looking for the one person I knew.

What if he changed? could I still spot him?

Fuck, facetime isn't the same as real life, I groaned in my thoughts, feeling myself grow anxious as the fleets of fellow travelers rushed past me.

Then I heard my name, and he flagged me down. I felt the sick, nervous feeling I felt when I left home.

He hadn't changed much, save for a few hardened lines, an overgrown stubble, and a hint of silver peeking through the strands of his hair.

I rushed over and he quickly embraced me with the shocking amount of love I didn't know I needed.

It'd been eight years since the divorce and well, my mother didn't take it easily. The only time I came out to see him in all of that time, was six years prior on my birthday. He was still living in the City then, in a tight borough, and I didn't stay longer than a week.

Since then, now at 21, I made the decision to break free. For once, I moved on. Against my mother's possessiveness, I booked the flight and only told her I was leaving until the day-of. I didn't even let her speak, or even give her time for a reaction.

I had to leave. I was suffocating back there, it was getting to—

"I'm so glad you're here, honey!" My father repeated several times through his teeth, as we practically clung to each other. It didn't feel real to the point that I savored what love there was between us like it'd be gone in an instant.

"It's been so long," I separated us before I could start crying out of happiness.

"Hey, your english is still perfect!" My father joked, even though we'd talk on the phone at least once a week, for god knows how long.

Phone calls aren't the same as real life, either

"Y tu español?" I mocked back, wanting to test him.

"Eso nunca se olvida." He replied bluntly with a small accent that lingered in his pronunciation.

Still though, quite fluently. I laughed and rolled a suitcase towards him which he picked up and put into the trunk of his car.

Just seconds earlier, at the height of the reunion, it felt like we were the only ones on the planet. Once I began to adjust to the environment, the sounds of the pickup zone were abundant and chaotic. I came to realize that I hated the stress of airports.