You Might Be The One (A Fan Fiction) - Luke Hemmings

Chapter 21• Our Song

Leyla's POV

The paper airplane flew, a perfect, graceful dart against the impossibly blue sky. It soared higher than I had expected, twisting and turning in a gentle breeze, a beacon of promise. I watched it, my heart in my throat, not daring to hope that it would make it as far as I wanted it to. It was a stupid, beautiful thing, a small piece of paper that held all the weight of my future.

"It's a good one," Luke said, his voice a quiet murmur beside me.

I didn't answer. I just watched it fly, until it began its slow, inevitable descent. It didn't crash; it just drifted, a final, beautiful flutter before it landed softly on the grass, a hundred yards away. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

We walked to it, the silence between us filled with a quiet satisfaction. He let me pick it up. I held the smooth, cool paper in my hand, feeling its clean edges and the faint impression of Luke's folds. The plane felt light, but the feeling it gave me was heavy and real.

"It flew a lot farther than the other one," I said, a small, genuine smile on my face.

Luke grinned, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "The other one was a mess. But this one... this one was made to fly."

He wasn't just talking about the airplane. He was talking about me. About us.

We left the park as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The world around us was settling into a quiet rhythm, a soft contrast to the chaotic energy of the day.

"I'm starving," I said, my stomach rumbling loudly enough for Luke to hear.

He laughed. "Me too. There's a taco truck a few blocks from here. Best in the city."

The thought of tacos, of something simple and delicious, made me feel completely at ease. This wasn't a conversation about our past or a confrontation with someone else. This was just us, making a new memory.

As we walked, a comfortable silence fell between us. The air was cool, the city lights were beginning to flicker on, and the paper airplane was tucked safely in my pocket. I knew the questions would return. I knew the fears would try to creep back in. But for now, they didn't matter. For the first time, I wasn't waiting for a story to be told. I was living a new one, and I knew, without a doubt, that it was going to be a good one.

~

The aroma of sizzling meat and fried tortillas hit me as we rounded the corner, instantly making my stomach rumble with renewed purpose. The taco truck was a bright splash of color against the darkening street, with a small line of people waiting for their orders. A cheerful woman with a wide smile took our order—two carne asada tacos for him, three al pastor tacos for me. The normalcy of it all was a comfort, a simple transaction that wasn't weighed down by a missing past or a complicated present.

As we waited, leaning against a low wall, the quiet between us was no longer a void to be filled, but a space to be shared. The paper airplane in my pocket felt like a warm, solid promise. I could feel Luke's gaze on me, but it wasn't the heavy, searching look from before. It was just... Luke.

He handed me my tacos, the steam warming my fingers. I took a bite, and the flavors exploded in my mouth. My eyes widened, and I looked at him, my expression a silent testament to the deliciousness. He just laughed, a quiet, knowing sound. It was in that moment, over something as simple as tacos, that I felt a true, profound connection. It was a language we didn't need to learn.

"You like them?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

I nodded, unable to speak, and took another bite. He ate his own taco with a quiet satisfaction, and for a few minutes, we were just two people enjoying their food. The bustling street, the distant music, and the low chatter from the other customers created a perfect backdrop to our shared silence.