platonic, 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

ten

Y/N stared out of the plane window at the wispy clouds below that stretched as far as the eye could see, swirling around beams of sunlight cutting through them. She imagined lying on the soft cloud bed, sinking into the surface as every worry just floated off into the sky. It was a silly thought, she knew that, she just preferred to be dissociated than face true life.

It was 3 hours into the flight when Y/N actually did anything. She had been staring out of the window for the first part of the journey, fixated on the slowly shrinking towns and cities whilst slipping in and out of consciousness. Y/N had a weird relationship with flying. She hated the idea of sitting in a 80,000 KG piece of metal, held up by two longer pieces of metal, 38,000 feet in the air, but was completely obsessed with the views she got when in the sky. From the plane's vantage point, Y/N could gaze across the beauty of the earth, every rolling field and colossal mountain stretching across miles and miles. Her heart and eyes softened at the sight of a non-disturbed world. It was quite ironic, if she thought about it, gushing over the natural world whilst travelling using the most polluting form of transport.

"Can I get you anything, Miss?" a voice from behind Y/N asked, and she turned to see a flight attendant standing by a trolly and smiling down at her.

"No thank you," Y/N replied politely but shortly.

The flight attendant, who's name tag read 'Thomas', didn't move after Y/N's rejection, just stood leaning against the trolly and looking at her skeptically. Y/N looked back at him, smiling awkwardly.

"You're Y/N Kunis," he said slowly with realisation, "aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me," Y/N replied, nodded steadily and feeling a little disconcerted under Thomas's unblinking stare.

"Wow," he breathed, titling his head and still surveying Y/N's face intently.

Y/N shuffled uncomfortably and Thomas seemed to notice.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I don't mean to make you uneasy or anything. It's just... my daughter has idolised you for the longest time."

Y/N settled a little then, breathing out and nodding more enthusiastically now.

"Oh," she said in understanding. "That's wonderful. I hope you don't mind me asking what your daughter's name is?"

"Oh, yes," Thomas said, caught on the spot, "her name. It's... Isabella."

"What a beautiful name," Y/N said gently, smiling properly.

"Yes, thank you," Thomas replied a little oddly.

Y/N gave him one last smile before turning her head back to face the window and stare out of it again, expecting Thomas to move on to the plenty of other first class passenger, but when she didn't hear the wheels of the trolly moving away, she turned back.

"Is everything okay?" Y/N said testily, attempting her hardest to sound patient.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me asking but," Thomas said sheepishly, "what's going on with you and Oscar Whitlock at the moment?"

Y/N froze, staring up at this middle aged man's expectant face. She actually wasn't aware that it was that obvious to the public that her and Oscar weren't in a good space. Guess not commenting on each other posts means relationship termination, she thought.

Y/N wasn't sure what the say. She just sat stone-still, staring up at Thomas. The more she stared at him, the more she realised how untidy he looked. His uncombed hair was not the even blonde colour she had first thought it was but instead a sludgy yellow, like he had dyed it and it had gotten all dirty. He had uneven stubble lining his jaw and chin, the tips of his teeth were browning slightly, unkempt nostril hair was peeking out of the nose, his eyes were watery and red, and his shirt had brown, yellow and red marks of coffee and egg and... the red wasn't something that Y/N wanted to think about.