Work Text:
Five Feet of You
Airports were never quiet—but Lev Haiba’s arrival somehow made them louder.
[Name] stood by the arrivals gate, scarf tucked up over her nose, eyes scanning the crowd with a fluttering heart. It had been three long months since she last saw him—months filled with timezone math, blurry video calls, and “look at my outfit today ” photos from hotel hallways in Paris and Milan.
Lev was a model now. A real one. But even in sleek editorials and runway shows, he still sent her selfies with captions like “am I fashionable or did I accidentally join a cult?”
And then—he appeared.
All 6'5" of him, long-legged and grinning, with his coat slung dramatically over his shoulder like a runway had followed him off the plane. His hair was tousled. His scarf somehow still artfully wrapped. He spotted her instantly.
And lit up.
“[Name]!!”
He didn’t walk—he ran.
And she braced herself just in time for impact.
He dropped his bag and coat, and swept her off the ground like she weighed nothing, wrapping his arms around her with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief.
Then the onslaught began.
One kiss to her cheek.
Another to her temple.
Then her forehead. Her nose. Her other cheek. Back to her forehead.
“Lev—Lev!!” she squeaked, face heating as her legs dangled midair. “What are you doing—”
“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbled in between kisses. “I’m making up for all the days I couldn’t do this—one per time-zone missed. That’s fair, right?”
“That’s not a thing!”
“Shh,” he said, smiling against her jaw. “I’m in the middle of a deeply emotional moment.”
She hid her face in his shoulder as he peppered another kiss to the crown of her head.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m romantic,” he corrected, puffing out his chest. “Hopelessly, tragically romantic. And also very tall. Which means I get kiss access anywhere.”
She let out a giggle, the sound muffled by her scarf and the heat rising in her face. Her hands were still pressed to his chest, partly holding on, partly trying to contain him.
“Lev…”
“I know, I know,” he said, voice softening with dramatic regret. “If I don’t put you down, you’ll overheat and pass out from blush overload.”
“Yes,” she muttered, cheeks blazing. “Exactly that.”
With a long, theatrical sigh, he finally lowered her back to the ground—gently, like he was releasing a priceless work of art—and kept his hands settled on her waist like he couldn’t stand to let even an inch of space back in between them. She looked up at him, heart still racing. His grin was wide and so full of joy it made her stomach flip.
“Hi,” he said softly.
She huffed out a breath, trying not to smile—and failing. “Hi.”
They stood there for a beat longer, surrounded by the airport bustle and announcements and carts rolling by—but none of it touched them.
Not really.
“You’ve been home for two minutes,” she snorted, brushing her fingers over the front of his coat, “and I’ve already been assaulted by all your kisses.”
“And they’ve been the best two minutes of my life,” he said without hesitation, eyes gleaming. “Can’t help that you’re so cute and I missed you.”
She rolled her eyes, lips twitching. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m in love,” he declared, clearly proud of it. “It’s a chronic condition.”
“I’m going to need a buffer zone if you keep acting like this in public.”
He immediately stepped forward, closing whatever space she’d just asked for. “Impossible. You are my person. I have three months of emotional starvation to undo.”
She tilted her chin. “I thought models were supposed to be cool and aloof.”
“I am cool,” he said, bending down to whisper right by her ear. “I just reserve all my uncool, clingy, dorky behavior for you.”
She felt her face flush all over again, and he pulled back with the smuggest grin.
“You’re blushing again,” he sing-songed.
“You’re obnoxious.”
“And yours,” he said sweetly, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose.
She groaned into his chest as he wrapped her up again, rocking them gently side to side in the middle of the airport like they weren’t in anyone’s way at all.
“I can’t believe I’m dating a skyscraper with the emotional restraint of a golden retriever,” she mumbled into his coat.
“I love you too,” he said brightly.
And honestly?
She wouldn’t change a single inch of him. As they finally began making their way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with their fingers laced together, [Name] gave his hand a little squeeze.
“So,” she said, tilting her head up to him, “do you want to stop by your family’s place first? I can come with you.”
Lev blinked down at her, visibly horrified.
“What?” she asked, confused.
He stopped walking.
“I already told them I was coming home to see you,” he said, lower lip sticking out in a full-on pout. “That’s the whole point of this trip.”
Her eyes widened a little. “You… you didn’t want to spend time with your family?”
“I mean, I love them!” he added quickly, gesturing with his free hand. “But they get me all year—FaceTimes, group chats, Mom tagging me in weird skincare videos. You haven’t had me in person since September. It’s your turn.”
She stared at him.
And he doubled down.
“I didn’t fly twelve hours, do three layovers, and eat airport granola bars just to hang out with my sister’s cat,” he said dramatically. “I came here for you.”
Her heart twisted. And maybe melted a little.
“You're ridiculous,” she murmured.
“Ridiculously devoted,” he corrected.
She laughed, a little breathless. “You told your entire family you were skipping a welcome dinner to come straight to me?”
“They understood,” he said with a shrug. “Mom cried a little. Told me to give you a kiss from her.”
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “That one’s from my mom.”
Then another on the nose. “That one’s from my sister. She says hi by the way.”
And one more on the forehead. “And that one’s from me. Because I missed you more than anyone else possibly could.”
[Name] was blushing again. She couldn’t even hide it anymore.
“Fine,” she said softly. “Let’s go home.”
His face lit up. “To your place?”
“Yes.”
“You mean our place for the next two weeks?”
She sighed, smiling. “Yes, Lev. Our place.”
He pumped a fist in the air like he’d just won a championship and immediately tried to kiss her again—on the top of her head this time, because it was the only place he could reach quickly.
And as they stepped outside into the soft snow, bags slung over one of his shoulders and her hand still tucked securely in the other, [Name] realized something: It didn’t matter what city or what season it was. Wherever he was—That was home.
*****
They tumbled into her apartment in a flurry of coats, duffel bags, and winter air. The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the outside world. Lev froze in the entryway like he’d stepped into a sacred shrine. “Whoa…”
[Name] raised an eyebrow, already unwrapping her scarf. “Lev. You’ve been here, multiple times.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes wide. “But every time I come back, it hits me again. It’s just… so small.”
She blinked. “Are you insulting my apartment?”
“No!” he gasped. “It’s perfect. It’s cozy and warm and smells like you and—like—how does everything fit? Your kitchen could fit in my suitcase.”
“That’s not something to be proud of.”
“I’m not! I’m fascinated!” He wandered into the living room like it was brand new, eyes darting between furniture pieces. “It’s like… you live in a dollhouse. A beautiful, enchanted dollhouse.”
She rolled her eyes. “I will actually shove you back onto a plane.”
He grinned, spinning in a slow circle as he took it all in. “When I was in Milan, I’d sit in those huge hotel rooms and just… imagine you there. Sitting on the edge of the bed with your feet dangling because they wouldn’t touch the floor. Holding one of those massive mugs that looks comically normal to me, but would look like a soup pot in your hands.”
Her heart stuttered.
“I’d look at the armchairs and think, ‘She’d get swallowed whole by that thing,’” he added, eyes warm and unfocused now. “I wanted you there so bad it hurt sometimes.”
She didn’t say anything at first—just watched him, a familiar ache blooming beneath her ribs. He always said the softest things when she least expected it.
“Lev…”
“But now I’m here,” he cut in, suddenly throwing himself dramatically onto the couch. “And now you have to be the one to come to me. I have claimed the couch. I have laid the emotional groundwork for cuddles. This is your cue.”
She tilted her head. “You just got off a plane.”
“All the more reason to snuggle.”
“You smell like airport.”
He gasped in true betrayal. “That is a harsh accusation.”
“You smell like recycled air, questionable airplane food, and at least three different terminals.”
“I smell like adventure and romance!”
“You smell like international legroom struggle. Go shower.”
He groaned into the throw pillow. “Unfair. I fly thousands of miles for my love and am met with slander.”
“You’ll be met with clean clothes and a warm blanket after you smell like lavender body wash and not stale customs.”
“Rude,” he muttered, but rolled off the couch in defeat. As he trudged toward the bathroom, he turned dramatically in the doorway. “If I drown in your tiny shower, tell my mom I died loving you.”
“You’ll survive.”
“It’s like a shoebox with a faucet!”
“And yet somehow still manages to contain your ego.”
His laughter echoed as the bathroom door shut and the water started.
And even though they were only a few steps apart, she was enjoying his chaos.
*****
The bathroom door creaked open with a puff of steam, followed by the patter patter of long legs trying to move quietly but failing miserably.
[Name] didn’t look up from the couch. She was curled into the corner, a throw blanket over her lap and a small bowl of snacks in hand, idly munching as the end credits of some comfort show played in the background. But she could feel it.
The presence.
She peeked over the rim of her bowl as Lev stood in the hallway, freshly showered, wearing a hoodie, sweatpants that bunched around his ankles, and his damp silver hair sticking out in every direction like a half-dried dandelion. His eyes were locked on her like a man with a mission.
“Don’t say it,” she warned, already smiling.
“I’m clean,” he said, lifting his arms slightly as if to show off.
“I see that.”
“And comfy,” he added, flopping dramatically onto the other end of the couch. “And smelling amazing, if I do say so myself.”
She sniffed the air. “Okay, you do smell better.”
“Thank you,” he said proudly, crawling toward her like a sleepy jungle cat. “Which means I am now ready for the main event.”
“Lev—”
“Cuddles,” he declared, cutting her off and pulling her snack bowl from her hands with exaggerated gentleness. “I will take these. You—”
He slid beside her, arms looping around her waist as he pulled her into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “—go here.”
She let out a squeak of surprise. “Lev!”
“Shh. No resistance. I have waited months for this moment.”
“You were literally just on the couch thirty minutes ago—”
“And I was dirty then!” he argued, squeezing her tighter. “These are sanitary snuggles. High quality. Five stars.”
She wriggled slightly, trying not to laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Yes, and emotionally needy.”
She relaxed into him with a soft, contented sigh, his arms already wrapped snugly around her middle, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder. His long legs were draped across the couch, one hooked around hers, the other stretched to the edge like a blanket-wrapped vine.
His damp hair still smelled faintly of her shampoo, and it tickled her cheek with every exhale.
“Better?” she asked softly.
“Perfect,” he murmured into the curve of her neck. “You’re warm. You smell like snacks. I’m never leaving again.”
She smiled. “Good. Because I’m not getting up either.”
“We live here now,” he said with a contented sigh. “This couch is our new country.”
“We’ll starve.”
“We have snacks. And love. We’ll survive.”
She laughed and reached up to run her fingers through his freshly washed hair, smoothing the silver strands away from his forehead. He melted into her hand like it was second nature.
“I love you,” he said—quiet, raw, real.
“I love you too.”
Silence wrapped around them like a blanket, soft and full.
Then, after a beat, Lev whispered, “Hey.”
She tilted her head. “Yeah?”
He looked down at her, something fragile in his gaze.
“I know I’m gone a lot. And I know the time zones suck, and you act like it doesn’t bother you when I fall asleep during our calls, but…” His voice cracked faintly as he reached for her hand under the blanket. “You’re still the best part of all of this.”
Her chest tightened.
“I get to see the world,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Designer clothes, magazine shoots, hotel views that don’t feel real… but none of it matters if I can’t share it with you.”
She didn’t speak. Just listened.
“When I think about the future,” Lev said, his voice low, almost reverent, “it’s not the magazines. Or the runways. Or the hotel suites with ten pillows and no soul.”
His fingers gripped the edge of the blanket a little tighter.
“It’s this. You. Your tiny apartment. That terrible sink that sprays like a hose. Tripping over your shoes. Falling asleep next to you while the snacks go stale on the table.”
He let out a quiet, wobbly laugh. “That’s all I want.”
Her throat tightened. “Lev…”
He glanced over at her, eyes shining in the soft lamplight. “I don’t know why you put up with me,” he whispered. “With the distance, the chaos, the missed calls. Like I’m not making it harder by being everywhere but where I want to be.”
She didn’t say anything—just reached up, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him.
Slow.
Sure and steady.
The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything.
Only offered everything.
Lev let out a tiny, breathless sound against her lips, like his whole chest had finally unclenched.
When she pulled back, her hands stayed right where they were—framing his cheeks, gently brushing away what little remained of the tears that threatened to fall.
“You’re not something I put up with,” she whispered. “You’re someone I choose. Over and over.”
He exhaled shakily and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, arms wrapping around her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
And then, quietly:
“Then let’s get a place together.”
She froze.
He pulled back just enough to look at her—earnest and serious, but still a little scared.
“Let’s get a place,” he said again, steadier this time. “So I have a real home to look forward to when I come back from overseas.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles beneath the blanket. “I want to come home to you. Not just through a screen.”
She stared at him, heart pounding in her chest.
“I want us to have something that’s actually ours, ” he said. “One that fits your shoes and my legs. I want to belong somewhere that feels like you.”
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them.
“…Okay,” she whispered. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Lev broke into the softest, most relieved smile she’d ever seen—and leaned in to kiss her, laughing a little into the kiss like he couldn’t believe she’d said yes.
And there, tangled in each other on a too-small couch in a too-small apartment, they made a decision that would shape the rest of their lives.
Not with a grand gesture.
But with quiet love.
And certainty.