Passengers || An Adrienette Fanfic

Part Three || Introduction

I groggily crawled towards the chair closest to the window and buckled my seat belt. My hands automatically reached for the window blinds and tugged them up. After my eyes prickled with tears, and mouth erupted with a foul chain of curse words caused by the brightness of the sky, my eyes started to adjust to the brightness causing my jaw to drop. A sea of houses composed of old and new stretched as far as the eye could see, some painted in tones of beige and brown, others pastel and white. Old bridges that flittered with busy Parisians were stark against the houses, but the thing that caused my breath to hitch was the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower stood strong and proud amongst trees and houses. Its intricate framework shined and caught the sunlight in the right places. I felt blood rush up my cheeks as I took in the truth that I was in Paris.

The plane descended faster and faster, making the buildings look bigger until the plane was at eye level with them. The cups and luggage rattled across the plane as we made contact with the runway. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. As the plane was towed towards the docking area, another announcement blasted through the cabin's speakers.

Good afternoon. This is your captain speaking, and on behalf of the cabin crew, I would like to welcome you to Paris. It is currently fifteen minutes past two, and the ground temperature is 18 degrees celcius. Please remain in your seats until the seatbelt sign is off, and kindly check your baggage to check if you have left any valuables behind. Your luggage may be claimed at carousel number 13. Again, on behalf of the cabin crew, welcome to Paris and thank you for flying with ML Airlines.

After a few minutes of drowning in silence, the seat belt sign clicked off. I instantly shot up from the chair and bounded towards my carry-on baggage that I lazily packed a few hours ago. I hurriedly left the cabin after checking left and right if the coast was clear of any blond bastard.

My footsteps were light and quick as I made my way through Thomas Astruc International Airport. The shiny white tiles clicked against the bottom of my shoes. Apparently, they release the passengers from the first class first before the business class and the economy ones, so the tube was only a little bit populated as I followed the sign towards the immigration booths. After the boring immigration process, I walked to carousel number 13 to claim my luggage. Sweet Parisian music played across the airport. Some of the people wore designer fur coats, others wore soft sweaters, others wore thermal jackets.

The service in this airport was very efficient, because all the luggage of the first class and business class passengers were on the conveyor belt. How do I know? Well, each class has a corresponding colored tag on their bag. Red for first class, Black for business class, and Green for economy. Red and black tags swarmed the carousel, making it look like a sea of polka dots. Kind of like the ones on ladybugs. After a few minutes, I spot my bag with a red tag. I hauled both of them up on my cart and walk through the automatic doors. A faint and distant memory of Adrien pushing the cart while I sat on it - exhilarated and breathless - made its way up, but I forced it back down. My gut twisted in protest, but it was the only thing I could do.

I looked for a taxi to that could drive me to the apartment that I rented out near the infamous, Paris: School of Fashion and Design. My heart fluttered a bit at the thought of entering those doors and creating clothes to my heart's content.

But first, I needed a damn taxi.

After a few minutes of working up the courage to use the skills I got from my French lessons, I managed to haul over a taxi.

"Where to, miss?" asked the driver in French.

"To Les Appartements Rouge et Black please," I reply fluently in French as well.