Short Trip, My Ass!
~RAVEN~
Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong so perfectly… it almost feels planned?
Yeah.
That was today.
“Move—move—move!”
That was me. RUNNING. In an airport I didn’t understand, chasing a gate that felt like it was personally trying to escape me.
My bag kept slipping off my shoulder, my breathing was a MESS,
And the stupid overhead signs made absolutely no sense!
Left. Right. Gate B something. Or was it D?
Who designs these places? they surely lack common-
“Raven.”
Of course—
Calm. Controlled. Unbothered.
I turned my head just enough to glare at Serena, who was walking behind me like this was a casual stroll and NOT ME FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE!
“You’re overreacting,” she said.
“I am not overreacting—I’m about to miss a flight.”
“We still have time.”
“No, you think we have time. There’s a difference.”
She didn’t argue.
Just gave me an “I told you to leave early” look.
Annoying.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
The worst part?
This wasn’t even the beginning.
I had already spent ten whole minutes CoNvInCeD I lost my ID.
My luggage? Gone. Somewhere. LIVING ITS BEST LIFE WITHOUT ME.
And my phone had died at the exact moment I needed it most!
Yeah........
Peak. life. experience.
SOoooo,
I RAN.
Ran past people holding coffee—pretty sure I spilt some.
Ran into shoulders, bags, attitudes—like move, for fuck’s sake!
Ran through a maze of signs that contradicted each other, like it was a personality trait.
And yeah—after bumping into that many people, stopping wasn’t an option.....
So I just RAN FASTER……..
Until I finally spotted it.
Gate B12.
I slowed down, breathing hard as if I had just survived something dramatic—which, to be fair, I HAD!
After all that blood, sweat, and tears, yeah… I was probably looking like a tomato right now.
~A ripped, overheated tomato with a very questionable relationship with sweat.~
I dropped onto the edge of an empty waiting seat, leaning forward, trying to get my breathing under control.
“See?” Serena said, catching up to me. “We’re fine.”
I turned to her slowly.
Gave her a look.
The kind of look that clearly said, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
She just shrugged.
Of course she did.
I exhaled, gave up, and turned back around.
Relaxing just a little, I looked up.
Calm.
That’s all I saw.
People sitting peacefully, scrolling through their phones, completely unbothered—like their lives weren’t on the verge of collapse.
‘Were these people not worried about their flight?’
Or was I the only one having a full survival experience here?
My eyes drifted to the big screen above the seats.
10:20.
My brain stalled.
And then—
“What the actual fuck—”
I shot up from my seat, turning to Serena.
“Serena! What are you doing? Our flight is about to leave—you need to freaking move, bitch!”
Panic hit all over again. I was already reaching for her luggage.
I’d already lost mine. No way I was losing hers too!
Not today.
Serena didn’t move.
Not even an INCH.
I turned back to her—and that’s when I saw her face.
Calm… but not completely.
There was something there.
A sharp edge. A silent, ′shut up right now before I shut you up’ kind of look.
But I was too high on adrenaline to care.
It blurred in a second.
“Serena!” I snapped again, louder this time. “Move!”
And that’s when I noticed it.
People staring.
Right.
Great!
Now I was the problem.
Embarrassment crept up fast, burning hotter than the run had.
Serena caught it instantly.
Of course she did.
She leaned in slightly, voice low, controlled—
“Boarding starts at 11:30. Relax, Rave.”
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
My grip on her luggage loosened slightly.
“…What?”
“We’re early,” she said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Silence.
A dangerous kind of silence.
‘She’s joking, right?’
“You told me the flight was at 10:20.”
“Yes.”
“You said we were late.”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
Really stared this time.
‘What is going on in that nut-sized brain of yours?’ ‘Like—wow, okay, we’ve officially lost it!!’
“…You MADE me run across the EnTiRe AiRpOrT like a maniac—”
“You would’ve gotten distracted.”
She didn’t even blink.
“You always do,” she added.
“You stop, you observe, you ’investigate,’ and then we’re actually late.”
“…That is not true.”
(Okay… maybe sometimes. But that doesn’t count.)
Serena tilted her head slightly. Not arguing. Just… like she was replaying my past ten disasters in her head and confirming a theory I didn’t know I was part of.
“You tried to follow a random argument at security last time.”
“…It looked interesting.”
And there it was.
The EXACT moment my argument lost all credibility.
I blinked again.
Processing.
Reprocessing.
Re-evaluating.
“…So you straight up lied about the timing.”
“Correction, I adjusted it.”
“You manipulated me.”
“I managed you.”
This wasn’t even the first time she had done something like this. I should’ve known better by now. TBH, I did. And I still let her get away with it every time.
I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down my face.
‘All that running.’
‘All the panic.’
’All that near-death, survival-mode bullshit—′
For this.
“…You do realize I almost died back there.”
“You didn’t.”
“I emotionally did.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I huffed out something between a laugh and a complaint, shaking my head.
This was ‘Serena’
Everything calculated.
Everything controlled.
Even me.!
I glanced around again.
Same people.
Same calm faces.
Same stupidly peaceful atmosphere.
Like nothing had just happened.
Like I hadn’t just fought for my life five minutes ago.
~Unbelievable~
“You do realise I lost my luggage because of this, right?” I muttered, shooting her a look.
“Like seriously—what was the plan here? Just traumatise me into being punctual?”
I paused, then added under my breath—
“I was in such a rush I might’ve worn my underwear inside out.”
She held my gaze.
Calm.
Steady.
Completely UNAPOLOGETIC.
And then—
She laughed.
Brief.
Barely there.
But real.
Her mask slipped—just for a second.
And then it was gone.
Like it never happened.
“Your luggage isn’t gone,” she said, like she was correcting a fact, not calming a person. “It’ll be boarded. Relax.”
I blinked at her.
That… wasn’t just control.
That almost sounded like reassurance.
Weird.
Serena didn’t do soft.
Not out here.
“Passengers for flight 247 to—”
The announcement crackled overhead, cutting through the moment.
I exhaled, leaning back in my seat.
Right.
Normal life again.
Airports.
Flights.
No chaos.
SURE!
Boarding was… surprisingly uneventful.
No running.
No near-death experiences.
Just a line of people moving like they actually had their lives together.
I hated it.
By the time we got to our seats, I was still half-expecting something to go wrong.
But nothing did.
Serena took the window seat like she owned it.
I dropped beside her, still side-eyeing everything like the universe was about to pull something.
Seatbelt.
Overhead bins closing.
Safety announcements I wasn’t listening to.
Calm.
Too calm.
I leaned back, crossing my arms.
“If something explodes mid-air,” I muttered, “I’m blaming you.”
Serena didn’t even look at me.
“Statistically unlikely.”
Right.
That definitely helped.
‘Hmm’
Yeah, so—
Life’s been GREAT!
By great, I mean… SHIT.
Pure, concentrated, deluxe-level shit.
‘Indian.’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘Female.’
‘Unemployed.’
Which sounds bad.
And okay—fine, it is bad.
But in my defense—
I’m a medical student.
Which somehow makes it worse.
Furthermore, I don’t attract opportunities.
I attract… situations.
And then—
There’s Serena.
My best friend.
My personal crisis manager.
And ALSO the reason I just sprinted across an airport for no reason.
‘Twenty-two.’
‘Calm.’
‘Calculated.’
‘Doesn’t talk much.’
People look at her and think she’s kind.
Soft.
Which—
She might be.
But in reality?
She’s just like me.
Just… better at hiding it.
I glanced at her.
Sitting there quietly like she hadn’t just engineered my entire breakdown for efficiency.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“I’m thinking,” I muttered.
“…That’s new.”
I scoffed.
Yeah.
Exactly like me.
The engines kicked in with that low hum that makes everything feel slightly less important than it actually is.
I leaned back in my seat.
“So this is the ‘short trip’ they were talking about.”
By ‘they’, I mean the same people who also think instant noodles are not a full meal plan.
Parents logic.
Serena adjusted her seat like she had personally designed the aircraft.
“It is short,” she said.
I tilted my head at her.
“Yeah, and I’m emotionally stable.”
That got nothing from her. Of course it didn’t.
I sighed and stared at the seat in front of me.
“I like how they say ‘short trip’, like we’re going to pick up milk and come back.”
Serena finally glanced at me.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
I gasped lightly.
“Me? Exaggerate? Neverrrrr.”
She didn’t respond, just went back to staring ahead as if life were a documentary she had already watched.
I leaned back again.
“Honestly,” I muttered, “this already feels like a beautiful disaster waiting to happen.”
Serena paused for half a second.
Then—very flatly:
“It always does with you.”
I turned my head.
“Wow. Supportive!.”
“Accurate,” she said.
I snorted.
“Same thing in your world, huh?”
She didn’t answer.
But I could tell she almost smiled.
Almost.
Serena shifted slightly beside me.
Not restless. Just… adjusting.
Then, without looking at me—
“You ever think about how this is going to go?”
I turned my head.
“That’s a very vague question.”
She exhaled softly.
“With them,” she clarified.
Oh.
I leaned back into my seat.
“No,” I said simply. “I prefer surprises.”
A pause.
“You won’t like this one,” she said.
I snorted.
“That’s bold of you to assume I like anything.”
That almost got something out of her. Almost.
“I’m serious,” she added, quieter now.
I glanced at her again.
Calm face. Same as always.
But not entirely.
“They’re going to react,” she said.
“They always do.”
I shrugged.
“Good. Makes things interesting.”
Another pause.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
I smiled slightly.
“Relax,” I muttered. “Worst case scenario? We match their energy.”
Serena finally looked at me properly this time.
Just for a second.
“That’s not reassuring.”
The plane started rolling forward.
I stretched my arms slightly.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s see what kind of chaos this ‘short trip’ turns into.”
Serena didn’t correct me this time.
Which honestly—
was more suspicious than if she had.
