Camisado (not fanfiction)

one

It's such a weird feeling, being in a plane that you know's about to crash. I felt the floor shake, more than usual turbulence, and then the oxygen masks came down, which was a for sure sign that we were about to go down. I'd basically shoved my face into the mask, breathing heavily, clutching the arm rest.

It was actually happening. The plane was gonna friggin' crash. We were going down. All these people, who had families, and jobs, and neighbors and friends and pets and lives, were gonna get hurt. Maybe die.

I looked out the window, noticing that we were over the sea, but there were small islands dotting the blue ocean. I didn't know whether to be comforted by that or feel immensely terrified that we'd end up crashing on an island, the impact harder than it would've been on water.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience—" the pilot started, but didn't get far in his mandatory and scripted apology and the usual 'Stay calm, it'll be okay!' lie before the co-pilot grabbed the mic.

"We're going down!" she shouted, sounding shrill and on the verge of a meltdown. "Everyone, if you have family or friends, now would be a good time to text 'em and tell them you love them!"

Gee, that made me feel better.

A baby started crying. My eyes immediately flitted to her direction, where two men were trying to comfort her. A tan, blond haired man with sparkling green eyes and another, with intense blue eyes and black hair. The man with green eyes cradled the child, looking like he was about to cry. I was about to cry, too. For them.

The man with blue eyes looked around nervously, putting his hand comfortingly on the other guy's shoulder. The baby cried louder, and I almost wanted to jump out of my seat and sit with them, comfort the three of them. Or protect them.

I couldn't hear their voices over the sounds of the plane, but I saw the blue-eyed man look at the green-eyed man, and I read his lips. He was saying, 'I love you,' and they kissed. I decided it would be creepy to keep staring at them, even if it didn't really matter at this point.

I looked out the window again, my heart pounding. The reality that we were actually crashing hadn't set in very much, but when I saw the ocean coming closer and closer, I began to go into a state of panic. This was really happening. We were actually going to crash. That man and his husband or boyfriend and their child were going to get hurt, or worse, killed.

Everyone here was going to get hurt or die. And there was nothing I could do.

Not a thing.

I started to cry. Not for myself, really, because I wouldn't even realize if I was dead, but for everyone else. Their families, their friends, everyone. That little baby, how short her life had been, those two men, how they wouldn't get to grow old together, that group of college kids in the back who would never finish their education and grow up to be lawyers or scientists or astronauts or writers, that young, engaged couple next to me who would never even get to get married.

I cried heavy tears, the oxygen mask inflating and deflating quickly with my breathing. Why these people? They were all young, had so much still to do, had lives to be lived. I glanced out over the plane one last time, catching the eye of the green eyed man. I wanted to say something, say that I was sorry. That they should be able to raise their child together, but nothing came up. Especially because of the mask, but also because I couldn't put words together. Everything was happening too fast, one big rush of emotions and words and sorrow.

I simply waved to the man, tears rolling freely down my cheeks, and looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two men trying to console their child, speaking in happy tones. It wasn't fitting. All up until the blue-eyed man just started to sob, and rested his head on the other man's shoulder. The green eyed man was strong for the baby, kept smiling and telling it that everything would be okay.