oh, anna [-hs]

burden

a/n hellllooooooooo :)

62.

The nonstop flight to Tokyo is about 13 hours. But Harry didn't want a layover. He wanted to get there as fast as we possibly could.

I'm obliging him because he seems emotionally wounded, but the thought of being on this plane for 13 hours is starting to eat at me. When I flew to France, I broke it up into two days. And I barely survived London to LA. I didn't even technically complete that flight. We had an emergency layover halfway through.

The second he sits down, Harry puts on a sleep mask. He passes out on my shoulder. I have a feeling he hasn't slept in a while, despite my advice.

He hugged me really tight in the airport, flew from LA to New York today so we could take the flight together. He got off a plane to immediately get onto another. The man is unbreakable.

He really wants to get to Japan.

We didn't say much. I asked him how he was and he lied. He asked me how I was and I lied. And now he's asleep on my shoulder and I have 13 hours to kill... unless they kill me first.

I watch three movies and then finally doze off.

He shakes my shoulder and wakes me up. They're offering us pretzels and water. I set them on the tray in front of me, groggily opening the bag and stuffing a few into my mouth. The cabin is unbearably dry, and I feel sore all over. I want to stand up and walk so bad I might rip the upholstery of the seat in front of me. The bell dings and our pilot starts speaking in Japanese over the intercom.

"They said we're passing into the Philippine Sea right now" he offers, translating as best he can the announcement from the speakers. A second later the same message is delivered in English. He sits back and huffs.

"Well, you were right. That was what he was saying." I try to cheer him up. He shrugs and opens his bag of pretzels.

Thirty minutes later he passes out again. I'm beginning to wonder if he's slept at all since I left him on New Year's. I run my hand through his hair a few times and peek out our window at the ocean. It's endless, barren, blue. The sun reflects off the water and makes spots in my eyes. I close the shade and sit back.

Somehow I fall asleep again too. The flight attendant wakes us when we're starting our descent. Harry shoots up, hair battered from laying against me. He blinks slowly and buckles his seatbelt.

"Why do you do that?" I wonder. He turns to me.

"What?"

"On planes. You always unbuckle your seatbelt at cruising altitude."

He shrugs. "I don't like how it feels."

We land in Tokyo. He pulls down our carry-ons, and after a quick cab ride, and a lot of waiting around, we're standing in front of the pink, wooden door to our hotel room. I pull one of our plastic key cards out of the envelope and swipe it at the door. The handle chimes and unlocks.

"That's fun," Harry grins, a real grin. It's a relief. I was starting to worry that he'd forgotten how to genuinely smile.

We step into the room and drop our bags onto the shelves built into the walls. I run my hand over the soft, yellow trim, the headboard backed with led lights, the gray wallpaper covered in dark cherry flowers. It smells like expensive soap and clean linen. I'm afraid to touch anything. I don't want to ruin how peaceful and relaxing it feels here.

"Wow."

"Yeah," he agrees behind me. I feel his arms snake around my waist and pull me into a hug. He sets his chin on top of my head. I play with the rings on his fingers.