Manic [h.s]

#015

"Wait, he said what? He'll start a war"

Oh No :: He Said What? | Nothing But Thieves

February 08, 1999

IRIS XANDER

I groan as a faint light touches my face, jolting me awake. For a moment, I think I'm back in my bedroom, nestled among a pile of junk. But the thought vanishes when I realize I'm no longer home. Instead, I find myself thousands of feet above the ground.

I gradually open my eyes, greeted by the view of the airplane window directly in front of me. Sunlight floods in through the glass, prompting me to sit up straight in my seat and blink away the remnants of my sleep.

Niall is seated to my right, his head bowed down until his chin almost meets his chest. His blonde hair spills over his forehead, and his eyes remain shut, making me assume that he's sound asleep.

I stretch my arms, feeling the stiffness from sitting for so long. Carefully, I lift Niall's hand, making sure not to disturb his sleep as I glance at his wristwatch, which reads 8.30. It's been nearly six hours since we boarded the flight to Portland.

We left for the airport around three in the morning with the rest of the crew. After the passport check, or should I say checking our 'fake' passports, I vaguely remember stowing my duffle bag into the overhead compartment before passing out.

I had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that I'll be forced to leave Nashville no matter what. And as much as I hate to admit it, stubbornness can only get me so far. I have to make sacrifices if I want the money. And so, here we are.

Scanning the plane cabin, my eyes land on Harry and Meredith who are seated a few rows ahead, probably passed out like the rest of us. Behind us, the remaining of our crew occupies seats further back.

I stay put for a moment, feeling the sudden need to use the bathroom, Slowly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand up, successfully managing to walk past Niall without disturbing his sleep.

My eyes flitter the space as I walk through the aisle, taking in the sight of the passengers. It's more crowded than I expected, with most people either dozing off or engrossed in their own world, oblivious to their surroundings.

In the back of the cabin, I locate the bathroom. There are two doors, perched opposite to one another. I push open one of them, stepping inside the cramped space. Despite the limited room to move, I focus on relieving myself, eager to finish quickly and return to my seat.

After finishing up, I open the door to exit the bathroom. But I stop when I find a man standing directly in front of me, his back facing me.

I catch a glimpse of his brown hair and estimate him to be in his early fifties or so. He's too focused on trying to figure out how to open the bathroom door to notice me. I almost consider helping him, but I abruptly stop when I catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Do I know him from somewhere? My mind is screaming yes, but I can't quite put my finger on it. He looks very familiar as I turn away and start walking, trying to brush it off as my imagination. But then, it hits me like a ton of bricks and I look over my shoulder, my eyes widening.

He's the man from the bar 'Dirty Habit'!

He's one of the guys that called me over to play a dumb game of poker. He saw me shoot that pervert with the blonde hair. Shit, he probably remembers my face! This is bad. Really fucking bad!

I quickly look away as he slightly turns towards me, hurrying back to my seat, putting as much distance between me and him as possible.

It's been over a month since I stirred up trouble at that bar. I can barely recall the details, but I pray he doesn't recognize me. I never paid attention to him among the passengers since I was asleep. Does he even know I'm here? I sure hope not. But seriously? Why do I have to run into him on a fucking plane of all places? Even if I try to avoid him, there's nowhere to hide. I'm stuck, and this is not good.