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buckyarchives · 7 months

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Maybe I should actually try to finish this

EARTHQUAKES CAN BE A FLIGHT RISK, TOO. [1/3]

modern obi-wan kenobi x female reader

w/c: 8k

!!!: obi-wan is referred to as ben. family trauma, jealous asshole men, anakin is dead and it comes up a lot.

heavily inspired by im with you by wkemep

ao3 / masterlist

“...ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention? We regret to inform you that the current blizzard in Chicago has delayed several flights… for more specific information, please go to the customer service desk for your respected airline assistance. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

The airline speaker announces like a mantra to a less-than-pleased crowd at O’hare international airport.

Watching as sun-kissed families that are more than ready to go home sit around barricaded by the feet of snow piling up on the floors, and behind and ahead of you people with permanent scowls as they come to the realization they'll be stuck in this airport for more than expected.

The line to the few customer service desks has loomed and looped around the place, from where you stand it looks like it never ends. You look forward and at the back of a pitch-black head of hair, a tall man in a suit taps his fingers on his leather briefcase and groans for the 10th time in the past few minutes, (yes, you're so bored you began to count). The snowfall outside was more of a blessing rather than a curse for you, you wear a small smile, completely unbothered by the long line ahead of you.

New Year's Eve is tomorrow, and tomorrow is your annual new year's party.

Your friend group has done it since high school, it's like a sort of reunion, and the only thing keeping your friend group alive. It seems no matter how far apart or distant any of you've grown, everyone manages to make it back to this party. You’re sure some of the reason is for the fact the girl, your best friend, that throws it every year is absolutely loaded. You're less than excited to go this year, though.

A loud, stressed yell of a man in a tacky Hawaiian button-up makes your head shoot up. You'd been watching the family at the front desk for a moment now, the stress of the toddler whining and the teenager complaining has probably gotten to the father. You understand, yet it still doesn't give him the right to yell at the customer service attendee just doing his job. You shake your head in disappointment.

“A bunch of barbarians.” is whispered with a thick accent behind you, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to where it might have been directed at you.

You think to turn around to find out, but you don’t and keep looking ahead at the father yelling and successfully keeping the line looping around the airport.

“Honestly, I can't tell if the yelling is more embarrassing or the absolutely disastrous excuse of a shirt he's wearing.” the man behind you comments and even if he isn't speaking to you, you can't stop the snort that leaves you unprovoked.

“The socks and sandals combo, I think,” you mutter back, hoping in lands. It does, a small breathy laugh comes from the man behind you. Smiling to yourself, you still haven't turned around, yet.

You do - instead - shift your eyes to the large windows. The world is covered with snow and the bright lights of the city. A dystopian feeling washes over you that you're sure only comes from being at an airport this late, or so early in the morning. Time is irrelevant in the sense you only need to know how long it will take you to grab gum and some caffeine while also being able to make it to your boarding gate on time.

You snicker to yourself, accepting the fact you'd be completely okay with your flight being canceled or missing your boarding time.

The line erupts into chaos, it happens so quickly. The Hawaiian shirt must have blown his top, taking a step back and causing a domino effect to the line. The businessman with no bits of patience falls back on you and before you can even get a yelp out, hot coffee pours down your sweatpants and solid arms brace your fall.

The world moves on though, everyone's eyes don't stop looking annoyed, at their phones or flight board. The man in the Hawaiian shirt continues to yell, and apparently, so do you.

“Asshole! I spent a good 4 dollars on that!” you push yourself out on the arms of the mystery funny man behind you and barrel forward like a goddamn tank, you'd barely got a few spits out of that drink! Grasping at his shoulder to get his attention, the man whips back fast.

“You got your coffee on my shoes, you bitch!” his finger raises to your face, he's tall. You should feel intimidated but irritation blinds you and your rage doesn't stop your shouts.

“Me! You're the one with no sense of surroundings and bumped into me!”

“Listen here, young lady – “ he begins to step into your space, tower over you and fear suddenly washes over you. Flinching as his pointer finger waves around, you shut your eyes and an arm from behind you brushes past your shoulder.

Blinking your eyes open, 5 fingers are spread out and pushing the businessman back, whose gaze is looking past you now.

“Please back off the girl, sir.'' His voice is stern, an interesting contrast to the sarcastic tone from moments ago. It sends a chill down your spine and you haven't even seen his face yet.

Your eyes trailed from his hand down to his cream hoodie sleeve, slowly he steps in front of you and between the man. You notice his side profile, a large mole on his cheekbone and then the back of his sandy blonde hair as he speaks to the man.

“Do you know how much these shoes cost? Just for coffee to be spilled all—”

“I suggest you settle down, turn around or you'll have to argue about your cheap shoes to airport security,” he speaks with a stern, calm tone. “And with this layover, you do not want to be stuck in airport security.”

You're not sure if it was the threat itself or the intimidating aura this man suddenly gave off, but the businessman turns around with a stank in his eyes and a grumble leaving his lips. You're impressed, to say the least.

“Are you alright?'' The sandy blonde hair turns around once the threat is seemingly gone, his voice is less stern and replaced with a surface-level worry. You notice his eyes, they're piercing through you.

Your fingers run down your wet pants, it's warm but bearable, not noticeable.

“Uh, yes, I think so.” just startled and damp, you almost say.

“I'll get you another cup of coffee once we survive this line,” his Atlantic blue eyes dart from your hands to the head of the line, and then back to you.

“You don't need to, you weren't the one to bump into me.” you wave his offer off, “anyways, you did enough with that dude.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, with a surprising amount of concern in his voice for a stranger that literally fell into him.

“Yes, I'm sure,” you say, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights as he stares at you. You reach your hand out, offering your name.

His smile catches you off guard, it's warm and reaches his blue irises, and the sides of his eyes crinkle. It's genuine and very, very pretty.

“Ben Kenobi, it's nice to meet you.”

The line moves, thankfully, and you're reminded of the fact Ben had technically stolen your spot. He notices as well.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to step in front of you.'' He gently pushed you in front of him, with a gentle hold on your upper arm. His hands are impossibly warm, you don't like physical touch, much less from a stranger at an airport. But this was okay. He coughs and you turn around, he might as well disappeared then, except for the fact his presence loomed over you to an uncomfortable extent.

Time is still irrelevant and you notice how quickly the line begins to move now, the airport has seemed to get a grasp on the situation as the flight plan board begins to flicker with dots of green and another customer service worker starts a new line. You almost forget about your coffee-soaked pants until you begin to move to break off into a new line, conveniently having a suitcase full of clothes.

The boy behind the desk looks barely eighteen, maybe just a babyface. Either way, you can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. His ears and cheeks are tinted red in stress and his eyes dart wildly in anxiety, you do your best to be considerate.

As he begins to punch in the number for your flight, you wait patiently, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Ben at the desk next to yours. Glancing over, he glances back with those piercing blue eyes. Have you ever seen something so blue? You smile kindly, one of those smiles you give to someone whom you're not friends with, but not strangers. It's fitting.

“Thank you for your patience, ma’am.” you hear, he clears his throat and you notice his anxiety diminishing. “We are still watching the blizzard before we can get a confirmed time of departure for your flight from Chicago to San Diego. Please be patient and keep watch on the flight information boards and announcements going forward. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

You nod and thank the man for his help, he smiles at you, watching his shoulders slack a little. Honestly, you'd rather stay camped out around cranky kids than step foot in the state of California right now. You have no complaints and an unusual bounce in your step as you go to find a place to rest until you hear more news about your flight.

A part of you wonders why you even agreed to go this year, a moral obligation to the unspoken tradition that's been going on for over a decade now? Probably. To see your best friend? You see her normally, you don't need a stupid New years party to see her. You know he will be there and just for that fact you're dreading it.

Seeing him by choice should be considered self-harm at this point. Especially since the last time you saw him, because you know once you see his stupid smile the cycle will repeat and you'll be head over heels. Your eyes dart back to your flight schedule. Delayed. Good.

Your name is shouted from behind you, faintly you hear it and have to let yourself hear it again before turning around. Ben comes walking close with a military backpack slung over one shoulder. He's still calling out your name before you ground yourself enough to respond.

“Hey, Ben. Updates on your flight?”

He shakes his head and wears a bittersweet smile, he doesn’t seem so down about the blizzard either. You wonder for a moment if he too is versed in the art of balancing on earthquakes just to fall, because that's what this is, whatever you're doing right now.

“Nope, off to terminal D to wait it out.”

Your eyebrows perk up in surprise, “terminal D, huh?”

“Would that be where you're headed as well?” he catches on, the end of his lip quirked up slightly. You notice the freshly groomed beard. It suits him but you also notice the razor cuts lower on his neck, it makes you want to laugh.

“It would be.”

“In that case,” his eyes darted to the terminal entrance, a sense of familiarity was in his eyes. “I think you should let me buy you a new coffee.”

Wow, this man is stubborn.

An amused smile paints your face, and you almost laugh. Not sure why. Thinking to protest, but you remember a conversation you had with your therapist. Looming over your shoulder telling you to say yes to good things more, even if you believe you don't deserve it. This could be a good thing, or this could be nothing and you steal a latte from this man and never see him again. Either way, caffeine does sound good.

“Okay, Ben. Lead the way,” you say and Ben smiles, he tells you there's an okay coffee shop in this terminal he swears by. You trust him and watch the back of his head as you walk down the terminal.

Your palms are slick as you grasp at your suitcase handle, the clicking sound as the wheels hit the grooves in the airport floor turning to white noise. Trying to cast out any thoughts of this party, or actually attending it.

“Where are you going? If you don't mind me asking,” he asks, the sounds of the world come rushing back and Ben’s walking next to you now.

He must have slowed his steps for you, his eyes are still so blue even under the dull lights. You didn't realize you made it to the cafe already. It smells warm of vanilla, a stark contrast from the artificial smell of cleaning products the rest of the airport gave off. Ben is still looking at you.

“San Diego,” you answer plainly as you step into line. Two blonde-haired teen girls stand in front of you, giggling about something. In Front of them is a college-aged student with heavy bags and headphones over her ears, she's ordering something with too many shots of espresso.

Ben laughs, “Me too. La Jolla.”

“Clairemont.”

A beat of silence. Ben rocks on his feet and puts one hand over the other in front of him, his eyes darting to the menu. “What will you be having?”

You hum, overwhelmed by all the options. Maybe this is the time to try something new, you think.

“just an iced latte with espresso.” old habits die hard. You always get that drink, no matter the cafe, no matter the state, no matter if a handsome and polite stranger offers to buy you anything you’d like. Maybe you should have gotten a matcha or a cappuccino to make yourself more interesting.

“Alright.” he nods.

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“It's no problem,'' Ben smiles and it's so genuine, it feels strange to be on the receiving end of such a genuine smile from a man you met only a few moments ago. “If you want – you can grab a table or change out of those pants while I order.”

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants are practically dried now and you really didn't feel like digging through your bag in the middle of this cafe. “Thank you, again.”

Ben just nods and you roll your suitcase and yourself to a table, it's sitting next to the glass window and looking at a middle-aged man passed out on a bench. You hope he doesn't miss his boarding time. A group of adults with fruity drinks laugh together, surrounded by luggage.

your fingers brush your hair out of your face, taking a deep breath in and just settling, only for a moment. Glancing back to the front, Ben is ordering and the barista has a smile on his face. With a look of familiarity in his eyes as he speaks to Ben, it's obvious they are speaking about more than just coffee order, he must be an old friend.

Quickly, the unknown but apparently familiar barista glances towards you, and back to Ben's face once he notices you were looking too. That was embarrassing. His face is painted with surprise, and happiness when he looks back to Ben, just before you could look away and dwell on your own life.

Ben comes walking back, you sit up straighter so maybe he doesn't get the impression your rethinking all your life choices up to now. You know? Bad first impressions and all.

Well, you may have already checked that box now. Great.

“So,” he smiles, setting two cups down. A piping hot chai with lavender and honey and your drink, a simple latte. “What's in San Diego that you've decided to travel to during a blizzard?”

“Uh,” you stutter, do you lie so as not to get into the dread of why you wish to not be going? Hmmm, he is a complete stranger as well. “Well, I didn't technically choose to travel during this. Mother nature as her own mind.”

Ben chuckles, “That is true, I guess.”

“A party.” you spit out. “A New Year's party, I've had it every year since sophomore year.”

“Oh, college or high school?”

“High school.”

He sits back, an amused smile, maybe even a little shocked as you’re in your early 30s now. “Wow, long-time tradition.”

“Yeah.” you breathe, sipping at your latte. It is pretty good, you are glad you followed this stranger into this cafe. Better than Starbucks, god, you could roll your eyes.

“Excited?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “excuse me?”

“Are you excited about the party?” he clarifies.

Are you this out of your mind? Nothing feels real right now.

You pause, almost choking on your own words. Do you lie?

“Yes.” you keep it short and simple, gritting your teeth.

Ben hums, seeming not too convinced. You had never been a good actor before.

“Sorry,” you say before Ben could even ask if you were lying, “I'm not good at small talk.”

“That so?” his eyebrows quirks up, “big talk then. What first? Politics? Religions? The meaning of life? Pineapple on pizza?”

You smile, “It's criminal, fruit doesn't belong on pizza.”

“Oh, have you tried it?” a cheeky grin falls to his face and he leans forward.

“I don't feel I need to, I know it will taste horrible,” you say.

Ben just laughs at you and it's warm and genuine and it's nice enough to wear it rings in your ears and for a moment, muffles out any thought of him. You think, maybe you can get used to this. Once again, your eyes find the world around you and you begin to notice more and more stressed passengers scrambling for their brains and flight times. You sigh, a part of you wishes you could care so much.

Ben observes everything too, he looks almost nostalgic. You've known this man for only twenty minutes and he's been the most interesting or mysterious man you've encountered in a while. You're not sure which word is best to describe him yet, you haven't decided.

“All hell is going to break loose soon, we’ll have to make a game plan,” he says, deadly serious and it makes you smile. It's never been that easy.

“Game plan?”

“Of course.” Ben sits up straighter. “We’ll need to find food, shelter, chargers, and entertainment. In order of importance.”

The question slips off your tongue, “You seem familiar with this, do you travel a lot.”

An emotion flashes across his face, it's unknown to you, but it didn't seem very positive. You'd wish you held your tongue, instead, you sip your coffee.

“Somewhat, more as a kid than now.” you're trying not to overanalyze the way he sounds sad when he said that like it was a pain to come back. It's probably nothing. You sip your coffee again and so does he.

Ben's eyes glance to the clock, “well, we should probably get to it.”

It's funny, you don't realize this now but the way he doesn't need to ask, or you need to request teaming up on surviving the O’hare international airport blizzard. But you do, you get up and follow him again as he begins to ask you about your favorite food, if you're vegan or gluten-free. Maybe it is the bonding over coffee and assholes that molded this, an unspoken bond within 30 minutes. It's quite impressive, you think.

You just hope he doesn't turn out to be creepy or some serial killer luring you in with his charm and blue eyes, it seems like a recipe for another Ted Bundy. But within those piercing blues, you see kindness and a sort of pain you would only be able to recognize in yourself. Maybe you have a strong intuition, or maybe you're stupid, but you continue to follow him into a small convenience store.

The air still smells like a cleaning product, you catch a whiff of garlic when you walk past a certain aisle and then cold air once you reach the back. You grab a water and soda, a few strides to the right and you turn around, one thing of pringles and gum. You look up and see Ben's hair bobbing up and down as he walks down another aisle, just before he shows himself in front of you with handfuls of his own snacks.

“All good?” he asks you, checking up on you. It's sweet.

“Mhm.”

The cashier rings you both up, once again, Ben knows the cashier.

“Haven't seen you around her in awhile, Ben.” her raspy voice speaks, she looks to be in her 60s with a head of shoulder-length gray hair. She balanced red glasses on the tip of her nose and wears a soft, apologetic smile as she greets him.

“Can't stay in Chicago forever,” he says, you think about what that means. He said he traveled a lot. Maybe you think too much.

Her hand grazes over the bag of m&m’s, the yellow-colored pouch ones with peanuts. Her face goes sour, a stark and surprising contrast from the happy customer service mask you recognize. She holds them in front of her like it was a flaw, but she doesn't say anything and lets Ben notice it first. He does.

“Oh,” he says, almost like he surprised himself that'd picked them up and carried them all the way here. “Habit. I'll put them back.”

Habit?

You watch the interaction with a solid confusion from start to end, feeling like an outsider watching from within, an inside joke you can’t seem to grasp. From the apologetic, embarrassed, and solemn faces – it definitely isn't funny though. Ben speeds up, grasping the package all too tightly with his eyes trained on the ground and then he disappears around in isle.

The cashier looks back at you, she doesn't know you but she knows Ben. She smiles, it's a sad smile and she understands your confusion.

“They were his little brother’s favorite.” is all she says, you're still confused and your brain urges you to ask more. It feels way too personal though, and Ben is already back with empty hands.

He pays, you pay. You try not to think too hard about what it means and why she looked so sad telling you that, you don't think to ask either.

________________________________

Ben's palms are hot and sweaty as he wipes them on his pants, he's doing better. He's talking to new people, new people being a very pretty stranger during a flight delay. Only one small slip-up, it wasn't his fault really, muscle memory because normally Anakin would kill him for not getting his m&m’s. Maybe he should have just bought them anyway.

He passed the terminal D sign, he could navigate this place blind. Your railing close next to him looking around curiously, shelter. That was the next part of the game plan.

“Over here,” he mutters, glancing at you. Show you a mostly deserted corner, a free outlet (rare), and close enough to a flight board so each of you'd be able to keep up to date. Not like Ben really wants to see those red words turn green, shamefully.

You settle in, you drop your backpack, and park your suitcase against a wall. Ben goes straight for the outlet with his charger, got to hog them before any iPad kids can. You follow and sit next to him on the large window sill, his phone buzzes alive and he's met with a picture of Leia and Luke crawling onto his shoulder. It was when they were only 5 years old and they'd taken a trip to the beach for Ben's birthday, it was also the last time he'd seen either of them. He bites back a frown.

“Cute kids.” your voice brings him down to gravity, and his head started spinning in the convenience store. Forgetting you were looming over his shoulder. “They yours?”

“Oh, no.” Ben gulps, “my niece and nephew, they're twins.”

You just smile and not, not saying anything else.

“You should probably change out of those pants. Do you have something else to change into?” Ben asks, eyeing your stuff.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for reminding me.” you jump down from the window sill and zip open your suitcase. Ben watched as you rummage through your clothes to pull out a pair of black shorts, “I'll be right back, save my spot?”

“Of course.”

And you headed to the restrooms.

Ben looks back down at your wide-open suitcase, he's not nosey or creepy, but he notices the short and sparkly dress laid out on the top. It looks incredibly fancy and even a little skimpy. He thinks you'd look pretty in it.

You come back in no time, legs on displacement and Ben notices your beat-up converse, little doodles along the soles. Ben smiles to himself.

“Do you mind if I ask?” the words leave his mouth without permission, and he glances back to the sparkly fabric absolutely intrigued. He's probably crossing some personal line right now, but his mind can't stop thinking of your face - compared to now, at least – when he asked if you were excited. You say yes with a disappointed look while sitting in a long line knowing your flight will be delayed with a satisfied look in your eyes. It's curious, but Ben thinks he understands fully.

“Are you actually excited for this party?”

You look like you've been hit with a brick, for a stranger to be able to suspect your real emotions so well, to be able to read you, to detach that carefully crafted method of acting. You look down at your shoes, clench your fist and look back up at him. Smiling, it's not genuine, but it's what he would call a smile, “no, not really.”

Ben nods, he understands.

You huff and shoulder slack, sitting next to him. The secrets out and the boulders on your shoulder begin to lift, slightly. The overbearing weight that you could still be eating on a slight soon still hangs heavy over your head.

“It's horrible, but I was actually so excited to find out about my flight delaying.” you laugh to yourself, it's self-depreciative. “It's just…” the words begin to slip out of your mouth, “I've known these people forever and obviously, you go through a lot with people you've known that long, but we still make an obligation to go to this party no matter what. This year though, some of my relationships with people there are a bit shakier than usual.”

“I understand,'' Ben breathed out. His voice shakier than usual, now he won't let the water break the damn, he's sure of it.

“You do?” you light up ever so slightly, looking at him with sudden curious eyes. A sense of understanding and someone to bear your burdens with, your shoulders look even more relaxed. Ben wants to curse at himself when he notices your lip quirked up when you start to speak. “What troubles face you on the other side of this stupid flight.”

Maybe he won't let himself crack, maybe.

Ben gulps, “Yes, uh.” he thinks, should he? “My family–”

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” You seem cautious, but Ben would be a hypocrite if he didn’t even vaguely explain his situation after you practically spilled your guts in the wonderfully terminal D of O’hare international airport. “I know how some family drama can be.”

“No, it's okay.” he laughs off your incredible consideration, breathing heavily. Why does he do this to himself? Just don't mention Anakin, he tells himself that it's going to make any difference once he opens his mouth. The damn always breaks.

You nod and sit patiently, attentively and it makes Ben's chest thump. What is wrong with him? He frowns with pink-tinted ears because what good has come from learning to pretend?

“My sister-in-law and I don’t have the greatest relationship, currently…” Don't mention him, don't say his name. “So I haven't seen my niece and nephew for a while.” your eyes widen, not because of the simple fact of what he said. No, you feel bad about asking, obviously, it's a sore subject. You think you should have known, but you didn't. “And no good has really come from that either, I've pretty much been digging myself a hole with her and the kids over the past few years and well, their tenth birthday is in a few days so I'm trying to make steps to apologize for my absence.”

You don't say anything, but you understand. Ben can tell by the way you're looking at him, you know there more though. You don’t push or prod, you wait.

“But it's very scary, as you can tell,” he says, avoiding eye contact and looking at his sweaty palms, he's still sitting on the window seal with blinking city lights just past you two. The cold feeling on the large glass panels calms him and single-handedly keeps him back from breaking down. Ben learns to find comfort in the dangerous blizzard, strange, isn't it? He's never liked the cold before.

“I feel guilty for being happy about the delay, I should be excited to see them.”

A beat of silence, he shouldn't have said that. A failure of an uncle, a bad listener, and a bad person. He's just laying it all out too, ironic. Just as he called himself a hypocrite.

“Well all my best friends are at this New years party and you don't see my moping around about this flight delay, hm?” you say like it's just that easy, maybe it should. “Don't feel too guilty, you are nervous, you're human.”

You're human.

______________________________________

It's been an hour, you think.

Actually, you're not sure about it all. having not checked the time in a while, much more occupied by beating Ben at uno. It's been borderline embarrassing having handfuls of cards as he yells uno for the 8th time. But hey, you're learning things about each other whilst doing it, and how bad is getting to know a charming, handsome stranger with a toothy grin even if he's absolutely killing you with +four cards.

“Uno!” you look up to see a cheeky grin and unfortunately, one uno card in his hand.

“You have to be cheating!” you murmur.

“Sorry, I'm just very good at reading people.” he quips back and you hate the shine in his eye as he speaks, it's making it very hard to be mad at him.

“You know, if the shoe fits.” you nervously put down a green five, eyes glancing up at him as Ben watched you intensely. His face is empty and calm, but Ben puts down his last card and you erupt into a pained groan. “This is horrible for me!”

Ben just laughs softly, grabbing the deck of cards and yours and beginning to shuffle them once more. You originally planned to sleep off or even finish that book you've long neglected during this delay, anything to not think, but this. This was an alternative you were okay with.

Most of the airport got the memo, keeping watchful eyes on the flight information and listening ear to the announcer. For those that could – slept, read, snacked away. Parents did anything to keep their children quiet or entertained. It was a sort of humility you'd only ever see during such a situation, it helped the doom brewing in your chest.

“So what did you say you did for a living?” you ask, as Ben hands you another seven cards.

A new discovery was made soon after you got to know Ben. Small talk is much more bearable whilst multitasking, so those awkward beats aren't filled with even more awkward little “interesting” or “that's so cool,” which are most of the time, very ingenuine.

But the small talk you started with had slowly snowballed into big talk, or whatever Ben has called it in the cafe. You'd learned Ben's favorite color was blue, he was thirty-nine. obviously, he's very good at uno. That one you figured out on your own, besides that, it's been purely basics.

“Well, I am currently unemployed.” Ben swallows, putting down a red nine.

You put down a red-three, “almost forty and unemployed. You're brave.”

“Are you shaming unemployed people?” he deadpanned and his certain sarcastic demeanor makes you giggle.

“No! I've been there once, you know,” you add, leaning back to get a good view of your cards before getting another down. “I just mean, what do you do with your life?”

“Mope.”

“Be serious, Ben!”

“Okay, okay.” he settles, putting down another card. “I am currently living off the government's money, army back pay. I read books, and visit cafes. Read books in cafes, draw pictures in them too, but only sometimes.”

“Army?” that would explain the military bag, the non-humanly straight posture, and definitely the traveling.

Ben looks away, almost embarrassed when he speaks, “Twenty years.”

You want to gawk, but that'd be rude. Should you say thank you for your service? Based on his demeanor now, you don’t think that's a great idea. It's always forced and no one really means it anyways.

Instead, you ask probably an even worse question. “Why'd you leave?”

Ben's figure taps rapidly on his card in hand, he's trying his best to keep eye contact with you but you can tell it's hard for him. You regret asking him that, maybe you should have stayed in your comfortable small talk area.

“My brother,” Ben starts, barely holding himself together by grasping at the uno card. “He passed almost 10 years ago and I decided then I would leave since he had just had children.”

Oh, that’s what the moment in the convenience store was about. You think about this place and everyone that seems to know him, assuming they knew his brother as well. This airport must bring some conflicting memories.

“That was very considerate of you, Ben.” You answer honestly, your mouth feels dry as the syllable leaves his mouth.

“It was hard.” Ben looks down at his hands and shuffles the few uno cards in his hands. “I’m not a patriotic person but the military was my life. I left to help my brother's wife and didn’t realize I would need help after making that decision.”

There’s a beat of silence. You feel an uneasy rage for Ben, rage towards the corrupt military system and how it treats its veterans. That’s definitely something that can be hashed out another time.

“I failed her.”

It scares you how sincere and accepting he is of the phrase that he spoke, too comfortable with his failings like it’s a second skin.

“What are you doing?” You ask softly.

Ben's head shoots up, confused, caught off-guard. “What?”

You nod ahead, urging his response because you know he heard you.

“I, uh,” Ben stutters for the first time since you’ve met, which arguably, isn’t that long. “I’m getting on a plane, to see my nieces and nephew for their birthday.”

You smile, not bothering to say anything, hoping he gets what you were getting at. Maybe you’re an optimist for everyone but yourself, or a fool. Ben looks ahead at you, intense eye contact grows and you feel his stare in your stomach. It’s strange.

Ben knows what you’re saying, knows that you see he’s trying, and do not believe he’s a failure. You see it, and you’ve known him for less than a day. Scary.

“Uno.”

Ben looks down at your hands and sees one card, he smiles.

_______________________

“Do you have any pets?”

A few more hours pass, and an empty uno card and another solo trip for caffeine later. The careful question games continue.

“No, but I used to have a husky.”

You gasp, almost choking on your spit since the dynamic of hanging your head upside down off a bench didn’t agree with that exasperation. “That’s so cool.”

“She was very pretty,” Ben says, he sounds a little occupied but not annoyed. It’s nice and helps with your overwhelming boredom. “Do you?”

“I wish,” you say. “I think my landlord would crucify me, my plants will suffice.”

“Do you name them?”

“What?”

Ben laughs like he knows the question itself sounds a little ridiculous. “Do you name your plants?”

“No, I don’t think I’d be able to keep track.” You look at Ben from the corner of your eye, he lay covered in a tan-colored shawl.

The airport had started to grow chilly and your choice of camping out by the large windows maybe wasn’t too practical, the pretty lights make up for it. Ben looks comfy, his black sweats and crème colored sweatshirt make him look too good, way too good. A man that knows color theory is dangerous. Hoping he doesn’t notice your lingering glances.

“I’m assuming you name your plant then.” You taunt.

“Oh, yes.” He pauses to yawn, “any sane person would.”

“Are you calling me insane?” You spring up, blood rushing to your head and leaving you a little dizzy. Shooting playful daggers at Ben, failing to hide the quirk on the corner of your lip as you speak.

“What? Never.” He’s dripping with sarcasm. Rolling your eyes, you get to your feet and make small strides to sit next to Ben.

“I thought about being a landscaper,” Ben adds.

“Oh, so you like plants that much?”

He chuckles under his breath, “I guess you could say that. Being able to design spaces and make nature more beautiful than it already is – deeply interests me.

“I say go for it.”

Ben's head cranes and he looks at you, looking for something in your features. He must have found it because he looks satisfied when he turns away and says, “I might have to.”

Ding!

Both of your heads shoot down to your phone as it lights up, just some random email, probably about work or some store you signed up for sending you more 30% coupons.

“Are those your friends?” Ben says, eyes still looking at your phone. Not the email, your wallpaper. In photos from last year's party, everyone sat on the couch, some on the floor in front, and some laying on the back above everyone. “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, despite the sting in your chest thinking about the memory. It’s fair though, considering you were in the same scenario earlier, prodding about his life and generally being nosy. You had forgotten that photo was even in your wallpaper album, the phone turns off and back on to re-notify you of the email, and a new photo is replaced. “And yes, those are my friends.”

“You seem awfully happy and close to dreading this trip,” Ben adds.

“We are close but,” you drag out, contemplating your words. Bens watching you so attentively, almost zoned in on your face and lips. His eyebrow quirks with curiosity and anticipation.

“But?” Ben prods, not that you mind.

“It’s stupid.” You drop your head shamefully.

“I doubt that.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Oh, I doubt that even more.” He says under a breathy life, an amused smile dances on his lips.

“You’re laughing right now!” You accuse him, but Ben's eyes dance around your face first, looking for something. His mouth opens to speak, he knits his eyebrows and draws back.

“Excuse me then, I’m serious and definitely will not laugh,” Ben says, you want to smack the grin on his face.

You also really want to know what he was going to say before that statement.

Groaning, “Fine.”

You breathe in once and another out, “there’s this boy, we’ve had a complicated relationship for many, many years now. Last year it kind of all came to a stop after some… decisions. We haven’t spoken for a year now and I’m just, I don’t know, dreading seeing him.”

Ben hums, and you watch for a response. For him to laugh for being so stressed out over such a silly reason, especially in comparison to his problems. Not that it’s a competition.

“That’s certainly not stupid.”

You want to roll your eyes, sarcastically you murmur, “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” Ben affirms. He does sound incredibly serious, you shift nervously in your seat. Your knee brushing against his thigh as you sit with your legs crossed, Ben tenses slightly. “Don’t undermine your feelings. I understand your nervousness, I know I do not know the full story but may I share some advice?

“No one is stopping you.”

Ben yawns once more, excusing such actions before continuing. “This boy, no matter what experiences you’ve had, he’s just a boy. I don’t think you should put so much weight on it and let him ruin your happiness. You shouldn’t worry too much about the past, it’s happened and you can’t change it, focus on the now.”

You snort, “Easier said than done.”

Ben makes a sound of agreement before facing you, leaning in way too close. He raises a hand and taps the temple of your forehead, “It's all up here, once you put in the work, your mind will fill in the blanks and adapt.”

You feel his breath as he speaks, much less focused on his words of advice and rather trying not to drown in the pair of Atlantic blue’s absolutely staring you down. You feel vulnerable and stripped down under his glare, but warm and seen.

With another yawn, Ben and you share another knowing glance. “I think your mind wants to sleep, Ben.”

Ben purses his lips, as to protest before realizing he is defeated. Before he can reply, you reassure him, “I’ll watch your flight.”

So you do, and Ben sleeps. Pretty quickly he had fallen asleep and your shoulder burned when eventually his head dropped on it. You didn’t mind, quite the opposite, it was just a new sensation you weren’t mentally prepared to hash out in the particular circumstances.

Looking down you see his scruff, sandy hair with blonde highlights that look way too tempting to run your hands through. His lashes are long, you're jealous. The colors he wears make him look warm and comfy, you see a scar on his forehead and cheekbone, next to his

Mole. If you looked closer and maybe if it wasn’t winter, you’d see freckles littered across his nose.

Thinking about how he called himself a failure, kept his niece and nephew as his wallpaper despite how long it’s been since he’s seen them. You wonder what his plants' names are and if he has a favorite, you hope he gets to become a landscaper. Imagining him in a cozy sweater, at some warm cafe with a cappuccino and sketchbook drawing beautiful gardens and decorated patios, just to turn them into reality.

You fully understand what you're doing is a dangerous game, you know this routine in and out. The wondering, the gawking, and imagining. You’d always romanticize and fill in gaps with romance, it’s what brought you to your current dilemma. Now you sit with a stranger, in a Chicago airport with him sleeping on your shoulder as you imagine yourself sitting across from him in coffee shops.

_______________________

“....Flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

You shifted your head, eyes blinking open to the fluorescent lights above you.

“Last call for flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

That's your fight, you sprung up, not realizing your head has been resting on a still-asleep Ben’s lap. His neck rolled back onto the edge of the uncomfy airport benches. You ruffled your hair, looked at your watch. You'd been asleep for maybe an hour, your eyes searched for your flight on the board. It was indeed boarding, finding Ben's shortly after. You would probably jump out of a plane right now if you missed it because you fell asleep.

Ben needs to see his family and if you're the cause of that not happening… you'd never forgive yourself. Your eye found the number 215, Still delayed, which is still unfortunate but good for now.

You wished you had time to bask in the innocence and calmness on Ben's face before having to wake him up, you were on a time schedule though.

Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his sweatshirt was way too inviting. “Ben, Ben, come on sleepyhead. Wake up, Ben,” you spoke softly, you saw his eyes begin to lull open.

“Anakin?”

Your eyebrows knotted, reeling back, “What? Ben, wake up. I have to go.”

“Anakin, i'm sorry.” his voice was rough from sleep, and sorrow filled. His voice almost cracked in his dreamlike state.

Looking at your watch again, You need to go, but you weren't inconsiderate enough to leave without saying something. Your hand grasped his shoulder and shook him gently, his eyes shot open and his breath caught up. For a moment, you wondered if you should mention the name, better not.

The life came back to Ben, frantically looking around to check where he was before his eyes found you, fully conscious this time. His name left his lips quietly.

“I have to go, they did the last call,” you babbled, beginning to gather the small amount of things you had out. Phone, charger, snacks… check, check, check.

Ben was shifting awake and to his feet above you, you noticed him peering at the flight plans as well. “Uh, do you need any help?” he came to your aid as you somewhat frantically stuffed and zipped your bag up.

You found yourself stuck in a gaze with him again, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed with sleep still lingering and he swallowed nervously. Suddenly, your mouth felt cotton dry.

“Don't forget what I told you, okay?”

Your chest feels heavy, a strange feeling creeps up your neck that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Reeling up and preparing for this to end, like some fucked up story or abruptly ended song. Slick palms grasp your backpack strap and suitcase handle, as you now stand face to face.

“I won't.” you swallowed, “thank you, Ben.”

Ben smiles, it's small but so genuine and so sweet that your teeth begin to ache.

You think it's appropriate to say goodbye now, but it feels wrong, so wrong. Maybe you’re selfish and the thought of saying bye to him despite the circumstances leaves a bad, yearning feeling in your mouth and doom deep in your chest.

“Good luck,” you decide, the implication doesn't hurt any less but it feels like you're letting yourself down easier.

“And to you too.” Ben nods.

You begin to turn and find your gate. It feels like your body hit a brick wall, your knees don't move except to let you turn around and look back.

One last look.

“Hey, Ben,” you say, and god, his eyes are piercing. Even with so many feet between you, this was a dangerous tightrope you were balancing on now. “You haven't failed anyone, and don't dig yourself a hole and give anyone a reason to think you have, yeah?”

“I promise.”

Then, you turn back around and prepare for the flight ahead.

Comment to be added to the tag list to be the first to hear when part 2 and 3 come out!!

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buckyarchives · 9 months