He's walking directly behind her towards the stage, saying single words into his in-ear, words she's heard a hundred times. She can kind of see him in her peripheral vision but she tries not to look at him directly too much, she doesn't want to act out of the ordinary but it's hard to remember what ordinary is after sleeping next to him.
She's hardly been away from him for more than an hour since, giving her very little time to actually digest what happened. But she spent her morning shower with her eyes closed, aching all over as her mind kept coming back to the memory of his hands on her body. She isn't quite sure what to make of it. They have crossed boundaries before, she has leaned on him in situations that were far from professional, he has held her as she cried. Not like this of course, nothing like this, nothing that felt like this anyway, and even when he's not talking, even when she's not looking, his presence feels intensely persistent now. It's like he's always just been there, she's never questioned his intentions or her own, never thought much about anything other than how grateful she is for his loyalty and now it's like it's impossible for her to not be constantly conscious of him.
But she doesn't want to overthink it. She doesn't want to make something of it that it isn't.
She looks at him, actually allows herself to look at him as she puts in her own in-ears and adjusts them. He's very close, close enough that his body heat transfers and he reaches out, his hand on her upper arm, just lingering there, and he nods a little, as if acknowledging everything she's feeling, everything that's different. Her skin feels a few degrees hotter where his fingers are, as if they are leaving a mark. She can feel them even as he lets go.
"Ready?" He asks, his lips barely move but she focuses on them, focuses on the way they felt the night before against hers and she shivers a little, it's involuntary but it helps her get rid of the urge to relive it, to lean in just a little. She frowns at how absurd it is that the thought of doing that doesn't feel absurd at all. But it isn't about that here, it isn't about him now, she's seconds away from going on stage and yet, it's all she feels, it's all she takes notice of.
She nods, she is ready, ready to focus on something else, focus on what she's here for, ready to be reminded why being so far from home is worth it. And she hears them out there, hears them chanting her name, feels the electricity of the crowd enter her body, smiling as she lets it entice her, lets it guide her into the lights.
But the weight always looms at the end of the music and she feels it intensely as she walks down the aisle of the plane at the end of the night. She's in a sweatsuit, hood up, finding the spot she wants to claim, in the back, with her back turned so she can be alone. Her body feels jittery, yet exhausted, she could stay awake for days or sleep for weeks and it wouldn't matter. This is the hardest part, it's still hard, the gap between the highs and the lows is steep and she is falling as the plane rises. It's pitch black beyond the windows, no stars tonight and they are flying farther and farther away from home.
He appears as if on queue when she feels the lowest. He has always had an uncanny ability to read her energy, in a way it's his job but she wonders now if there's more to it. She removes her headphones as he sits next to her, folded laptop and binder in hand. There's half a smile remaining on his face, telling her there's a different vibe from the one she's feeling going on with the rest of the team. She doesn't feel left out, she needs the quiet but she feels grateful that he sought her out.
"Tired?" He asks and she nods, every bone in her body hurts in one way or another and the seat is just not comfortable. She plans to spend every hour of their upcoming day off lying down.
"Do you have to work?" She points her head in the direction of his laptop, hoping he doesn't, hoping they can just sit there for a little while together and maybe things will feel a little less heavy.
He hesitates for a moment as he reads what she means by that, then shakes his head. "I don't have to."
He sits back in his seat instead and faces her, looks at her in a way that reminds her that she can be honest with him about what's on her mind. She feels compelled to lean against him, lean her head on his shoulder and she does, exhaling deeply and unexpectedly, noticing her shoulders relax a little. He's always had this effect on her but she is more aware of it now than ever.
"I don't even know where we're going." She admits.
"Atlanta." He says. "Have you called your mom lately?"
She thinks for a minute. It's been a while since she's talked to anyone, not just her mom. She hasn't stayed out of touch on purpose, sometimes it's just easier to disconnect, not feel so much, not process anything or make any decisions. If she isn't talking to anybody, nobody will ask how she's doing and she won't have to check in with herself, won't have to know. Her autopilot can keep running. Sleep, eat, perform, repeat. Sometimes just perform.
"I should." She concludes.
The material of his hoodie feels soft against her cheek, he smells clean, fresh and so familiar. It feels so obvious, being close to him like this, it's the most natural thing in the world and she feels closer to him than before and yet further away because she isn't sure how he feels, if he has ever looked at her as clearly as she's seeing him now, if he feels the same pounding in his chest.
"I had a dream that you came into my room last night." She nearly whispers against his shirt, not wanting anyone else to hear.
He chuckles lightly and the sound makes her stomach flutter.
"What'd I do?"
"Eased the pain." She says. "But not the way you usually do it."
He's silent for a moment but she can feel him smiling. Part of her wants to hide from the vulnerability but she reminds herself that she didn't start this, and if there's anyone she can be vulnerable with, it's him. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer and squeezing a little, making her sink further down in her seat so she is fully leaning on him with her whole body and a warm, comforting feeling spreads throughout her.
"That sounds nice." He says quietly into her hair, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm hoping it might be a recurring one." She confesses reluctantly.
"I'm sure you can make that happen."
She looks up at him in surprise, to make sure she's heard him right, biting her lip to suppress her smile. But he smiles back at her, nodding affirmatively and this time she does hide her face in his shirt.
