Within/Without

chapter thirty-two.

Simon

Airports are supposed to be busy, impersonal places, always in constant motion. People look through you rather than at you; there's nothing to listen to but the rumble of suitcase wheels against tile and the faint babbling of voices over intercoms. Boarding, boarding, boarding. When I was little, I hated it. Whenever we were in an airport, it was usually my fault. A doctor we were going to see or an expo we were going to attend. I hated the airport because all it ever meant was stress and more stress to come.

And yet, glancing sideways at Val as we walk through the terminal, at the glaze of wonder in her eyes, the quiet peace in her face, I've never been more excited to be in a place like this.

Considering it's nearing four in the morning—it was the soonest flight I could book—the airport's relatively subdued. Flight attendants and receptionists standing red-eyed behind the counters, white-collar men and women dozing off in their chairs, the air traffic control tower blinking steadily in the black distance. I may be running away, and I may not have told Val that's what we're doing, and yet I still feel oddly...calm.

Val chooses two open seats (most of the seats in the gate, actually, are open) by the broad glass window, where we can see the planes taking off and landing. I turn, pressing my hand to the window; the glass is frigid beneath my palm.

There's the gentlest of touches upon my knee. I glance up, meeting Val's gaze: blue and brown and hypnotic. "Simon?"

"Mm?"

"I have a burning question."

I exhale, stretching my legs to rest them on the top of my suitcase. Placing my hands behind my head, I close my eyes. "You're not going to ask me if I can change into animals again, are you?" I say. "Because, wow, that was awkward."

Val swats at my leg indignantly. "You said you're a shapeshifter. All the shapeshifters on TV can change into animals."

"I know. I tried, once, when I was little," I tell her, my face flushing at the thought of it. It was the summer before first grade, and considering both my parents were at work and Noah was shut up in his room and Rose was busy watching my baby sister, I was impeccably bored. When I looked out the window and saw a squirrel scuttling across the roof, my curiosity got the best of me.

Needless to say, Noah found me hours later trying to figure out how to give myself more than just the buckteeth. He laughed for twenty minutes straight.

None of these details are something I particularly want Val to know, so I just say: "It didn't end well. Anyway, your burning question?"

"Right!" she says, brushing her locs over to one shoulder and pivoting to face me. Something in her expression changes, becomes more introspective, more wary. Suddenly I'm not so sure I want to answer this question anymore. "So if we've really known each other, you know, all this time..."

My eyebrows furrow, slightly. "Yes?"

"And when I met Kenzo in junior year, it was actually, you know, you..."

My eyebrows furrow a lot. "Yeah?"

Val pauses a moment, hesitating, pouting her lips. It's a terribly cute expression, but I get the feeling she wouldn't appreciate it if I told her so. She wavers for long enough that I consider changing the subject, but then she lets it out in one breath: "Prom night. Junior year."

My face turns a positively vibrant shade of red, I'm sure. Doubly so because I'm so pale. "Oh."

"Kenzo—you—said he was...you were...in love with me," Val says, her gaze drifting towards the floor. She knots her fingers, cringing a bit. "Did you mean it?"

For a second, I'm not sure what to say. Surely she already knows the answer. I told her just a few nights ago, when she was on edge and I was on edge and everything just sort of boiled over.

I lean forward, rest my forehead on her shoulder. I feel her breath soften beneath my ear. "Of course I did," I whisper to her. "I wouldn't have told you if I wasn't sure."

"I guess I just don't get it. All these years—"

I shake my head, still leaning into her. "What isn't there to get? You're amazing, Val. Everything about you. You'd drive anyone crazy."

She laughs, curling her hands underneath my chin and tipping my face up. She's so close that the only things I can see are her eyes, fringed by dark lashes. The faintest hint of floral perfume tickles my nostrils; Val kisses me, gently.

"You too, Simon," she says, grinning. "You drive me crazy, too."

"Oh, I'd imagine. Noah tells me the same thing all the time."

She laughs again, a sweet, bubbling sound that should count as the eighth wonder of the world. I sit up, sweeping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me, stretching over the armrest between us to kiss her again. For a moment, both of us our drowning, mouth on mouth, skin on skin, until Val leans away and cast a self-conscious glance around the sleepy waiting area.

"Simon, I'm not going to make out with you in an airport," she says, though she's smiling. "There's nothing sexy about that."

"We have half an hour until boarding, though," I say, reluctantly doing as she says and sitting back. "What else am I supposed to do?"

Val thinks for a moment. "Go get me coffee. You could do that."

I roll my eyes. "Most of the coffee shops around this terminal are long closed at this hour, Val."

"If you found a bakery that was open at this hour," she replies, narrowing her eyes at me. "You sure as hell can find a coffee shop. Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

Exhaling, I fumble around in my backpack until I find my wallet, slipping it into my pocket as I stand up. At the edge of the gate, I glance behind me. Val's smiling ever so slightly, her legs crossed underneath her, cheek leaned into her palm. She gives me a thumbs up.

At some point I find myself wandering. All of the storefronts are dark, gated off by fences. The few other people that roam the terminals are night owls like Val and me, and janitors.

I've walked one terminal away, which is further than I even wanted to go, when the earthy smell of freshly brewed coffee fills my nose. Caramel and vanilla, steamed milk, chocolate. I crumple a little with relief as I turn the corner and find a small, corner coffee shop, operated by a single person.

That person is an older man, with a scruffy, salt-and-pepper beard and a Red Sox ball cap. He smiles at me as I approach. "You look like you need some coffee, young man."

"That would be lovely, yes," I say, already shelling out whatever cash I can find in my wallet. "My girlfriend and I are here for a late flight and she demanded I find coffee for her."

"Sounds like a girl who knows what she wants."

I smile a little to myself, remembering her telling me: I'm at least sure enough to try. "Yes sir."

I get Val a simple vanilla latte because that was always her drink order back in high school, and get black coffee for myself. I think I've done it, done the impossible, and I'm headed back to the gate with two hot to-go cups and a smile on my face when everything starts to shake.

Not the building around me. Not the floor. Me.

It's a slight twitch in my hand first, what I think is a muscle spasm. Then it grows, and grows, and grows, and I've lost control. My shoulders are trembling, my legs like jello. My heartbeat's a jackhammer underneath my skin and my head feels like it's about to split into a million pieces.

It's been years.

Years.

Why now?

Blood roars in my ears, plunging me into silence. Not now not now not now. Gotta get back to Val. Gotta—

My fingers stretch longer and shorter again, my hands mine for a second then someone else's. The coffee hits the floor, steam still rising from it.

She can't see me like this. No one can see me like this, but she can't see me like this.

With what little I have left, I find a place to disappear.