When We Meet Again (Kiani)

Eighteen

{Jordan's pov}

fuck. FUCK. FUCK.

'Wow, hasn't this been quite the trip?' The voice cackled.

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE? HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH? JUST LET ME LIVE MY LIFE I DON'T NEED HIM, OKAY?" I screamed and pulled on my hair.

I was on my way to the airport, I just couldn't bring myself to eradicate myself in Will's apartment.

Walking with my head down, I pulled out my phone. I thought about calling him and telling him what I was going to do.

No.

Instead I would wait until I was at the airport in one of their uncomfortable chairs and out of plain sight.

People stared at me as I walked to the airport. They were probably wondering what was wrong with me seeing as though I was in a sweater and jeans.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard a little boy ask his mum. When she didn't reply he walked up to me and tugged on my sleeve.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, he couldn't be older than five. The mother rushed over, horrified.

"I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed.

"It's okay, really." I said, the boy tugged on my sleeve again, this time more eager.

I crouched down so I could be eye to eye with him before answering.

I sighed and ran a hand threw my hair, "I don't know."

He must've thought that was either the dumbest answer or the best because without another word he left.

When I finally reached the airport I plopped down into a chair and dialled Will's number, "Hi, Will." I said softly.

"Hello, Jordan." He replied, his voice cold. It was almost like he had to force himself to say my name.

"I just wanted to call and tell you that I booked a flight home. I'm getting on the next plane going to Seattle. It leaves in an hour." I said, still wondering if I should board.

There was a pause and the line went dead.

And now we wait.

{Will's pov}

I raced the streets of London to get to the airport. Because I was still obeying everyday laws and regulations, it took me at least forty five minutes to get there.

After another fifteen minutes of airport navigation, I rushed to the front desk.

"Hello! When does the next plane to Seattle leave?" I asked in a rush.

The lady behind the counter typed on her computer before replying, "It took off five minutes ago. I'm sorry."

I sighed but I was also very angry. I threw myself into one of the chairs and put my head in my hands.

Behind me I heard a couple men talking about the news. "It's a bloody shame." One of them said. I turned around.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you, but what happened?" I asked, my eyes probably red from crying.

The other man pointed at the TV, "Look."

I stared at the screen as a news reporter talked about a plane crash.

"That's right, James." The woman spoke, "A plane from London heading to Seattle crashed. There were no survivors."

The rest of the talking from both the men and the TV became more like an adult in a Peanuts cartoon. "Wah.. Wah.. Wah.."

Jordan's dead.