Garrix & Me (Martin Garrix Fanfiction)

Chapter 47

Songs:
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer (Jacob Whitesides cover)
Drop the Game - Chet Faker & Flume
I Need You - M83 (ESPECIALLY FOR THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER.)

Martin's POV

After swearing the cab driver who ripped me off for $50, I walk into the airport feeling less than happy. I check in at the self service counter and take a seat in the waiting area. My flight leaves in two hours and I decide to catch a nap.

I try closing my eyes but I can't. There's a bundle of nerves forming in my chest and since my father called about the deposition, I've tried suppressing them. But they won't leave. I swallow and put my head in my arms, trying to steady the anxiety. It comes in waves, then eventually subsides before starting up again. The water bottle in my hand makes a noise and when I look up, it's crushed in half, right down the middle.

The man seated opposite me looks at me from above his iPad. He's wearing glasses and a suit, with a briefcase right beside him. I gulp - those lawyers.

"Something wrong, son?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, with a small smile on his face.

I shake my head and he nods before his eyes shift back to his lap. I slide down in my seat and stare up at the huge, white ceiling panels, from which hang large industrial sized lights. I examine every inch, my mind shifting from my father to Zoe to Nick, for God sakes. Eventually, I sigh and decide the best thing to do is eat.

The best thing about Burger King is that no matter where you go, it will always taste the same. I eat quickly, glancing at my watch a few times. My phone vibrates with a text.

Zoe Lorden: When's your flight?

I type a response even though I don't want to.

Martijn Garritsen: Hour and a half.

The iMessage shows as read almost immediately. I stare expectantly at the screen for a while until I switch it off frustratedly when I get no reply. I swear myself internally for feeling deflated about it.

I wonder about what her father told her about me leaving. He can't possibly know the truth could he? I don't think he knows that much and I doubt my parents would've told him. Even so, I worry about Zoe finding out anything. Fuck knows how she'll flip out.

Someone taps my shoulder and I turn around in annoyance. I hate when people get my attention in that way.

"What?"

"Oh sorry, if I'm disturbing you or anything- I just wanted to know if you're actually Martin Garrix? Or like, some crazy look alike-"

"I am," I reply curtly to the girl now standing in front of me, across the table. In her hands, she holds a notebook and pen as well as a Starbucks coffee cup. She's blonde and wearing glasses with a yellow headband that looks ridiculous.

"Oh. Okay. Sorry, I just wanted to know," she says.

I sigh. She doesn't seem too annoying.

"It's fine," I reply, smiling slightly and I notice her breathe out, relieved, slightly.

"Uhm, where are you going?"

"Home. Amsterdam," I add, when she looks at me confused. What kind of fan doesn't know where I'm from?

"Oh God!" she says, her eyes wide.

"What?" I turn around, thinking something happened behind me.

"Me too!"

"You too, what?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"Amsterdam. I'm going there too. I have this job there that I applied for. I don't know if you've heard of Diane Von Furstenburg? Well I'm going to be working in her shop soon," the girl rattles on, with a smile on her face. She kind of reminds me of Zoe when she gets passionate about something.