Hans waited near thearrival gate, doing his best to look calm while his thoughts jittered like loose papers in a draft. Each time the doors opened, a gust of hope scattered them all over again. Passengers streamed out—families, business travelers, a guy juggling two suitcases and a toddler, but no Adrik. With every face that wasn’t his, a tight knot pulled a little harder in Hans’ chest.
Don’t you dare change your flights. Please don’t get stuck in Siberia. Please just be here.
He rubbed his palms on his jeans, trying to shake off the nerves. Then—just when he’d convinced himself something had gone wrong—Adrik appeared.
He walked through the gate with his shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the floor, looking like he’d been wrung out and left to dry. Exhausted. Drained. Not even scanning the crowd.
Hans didn’t think. He just moved. “Adrik!” he called, breaking into a run before he remembered where he was—Russia—and that touching Adrik in public might not be the smartest idea.
But Adrik’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and the moment he saw him, something in his expression cracked open. He closed the distance fast and pulled Hans into a hug before Hans could second-guess anything.
“Hans! How did you get here?” Adrik’s voice was rough, like he hadn’t slept in days.
Hans held him tight, breathing him in, grounding himself because Adrik was here, warm, real. “I booked the same flights for me you’d booked for your return,” he said into his shoulder. “Then I called and changed your seat assignments, so you’d be next to me. The I flew here to meet you.”
Adrik leaned back just enough to look at him, disbelief flickering across his tired face. “I can’t believe you’d do that. All that money just to ride back with me?”
Hans shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his chest felt too full. “Don’t worry about money. We’re together. That’s what matters.”
“When I heard you call my name, I almost cried. You don’t know how much I needed to hear your voice. That was the best surprise in a lifetime.”
“I needed to be with you too. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Hans watched Adrik’s eyes soften, and his anxiety seemed to vanish into the air. Whatever hell Adrik had just walked through, he wasn’t walking the next part alone.
Hans fell into step beside Adrik, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline from seeing him walk through that gate. “Come on,” he said, trying to sound casual instead of wildly relieved. “Our next flight is to Antalya.”
Adrik stopped just long enough to squint at him. “Let me see your ticket.” There was disbelief in his voice, like Hans might vanish if he blinked too hard.
Hans pulled up the confirmation on his phone and handed it over. Adrik checked the seat numbers twice, then a third time, as if the universe might correct itself if he stared long enough.
“I don’t understand how you pulled this off,” Adrik muttered, shaking his head. “You were in Germany. I was in Russia. And now we’re… on our way to Turkey.”
Hans shrugged, but inside he felt a warm, shaky pride. “We’ll be sitting together for the next twelve hours. I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone.”
Adrik’s expression softened in a way that made Hans’ chest tighten. “I need you more than ever right now. You don’t know how much this means.”
They reached the gate and waited to board. Hans kept sneaking glances at him—at the exhaustion in his shoulders, the way he kept rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to push away the last forty-eight hours. When they finally got to their seats—first class, because Adrik never did anything halfway—Hans buckled in and turned toward him.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Adrik let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in him for years. “I’ve been through a lot. But things are better with my family. And I’m safe to go to New York now.”
“New York?” Hans tried to keep his voice steady, but his stomach dropped anyway.
“To visit my mother and my nephews,” Adrik said. “Just a visit. For Christmas.”
Hans hesitated. “Do you… want to go back there permanently?”
Adrik shook his head immediately. “No. I don’t want to live anywhere near my father.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a picture, and handed it to Hans.
“Who are these people?”
“My family when I was ten years old and my brother Burian was twelve.” Adrik pointed out which one he was. “That’s me. Adrik Marvinov.”
“You were so cute.” Hans smiled. “So, it’s nice to meet the real you, Adrik Marvinov.”
“Thanks.”
