𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 | dealor

finally / at last

Roger was totally unfamiliar with Heathrow airport. Actually, he had never set foot in an airport his whole life. The closest he had come to one was when he drove past Heathrow on the bus when he travelled to Truro to visit his family.

It was perhaps the most noisy environment Roger had ever been in. Even noiser than Kensington market, and that was certainly saying something. There were people everywhere. Parents dragging their screaming children, the voice which rang through the whole building which announced the next plane to take off. It was all very overwhelming.

Roger glanced down at his boarding pass to check the details. He was going to be sat in seat A22 and was to be boarding the plane at 10 am exactly. He checked his watch. 9:49am.

He stood in the line gazing at all the people getting searched. He had no idea what to do.

Once on the plane, Roger could finally relax. But then, the realisation of what he was actually doing sank in.

He was on a plane, heading to Italy, to meet the boy he had been writing to for months. It seemed surreal. He was heading to Italy to meet the boy he had well and truly fell for. Roger had never felt this way about any one before. He was used to the casual hook ups and one night stands. Before John, he never really knew that sense of security within a relationship. Granted, they weren't technically in a relationship at the moment, but still, it felt all the same. The blonde knew he had struck gold when he wrote to John the first time, but he never would have imagined anything like this: jumping on a plane to meet him.

Roger was quite a spontaneous person but he even surprised himself by immediately catching a plane to Italy. He had used his and Freddie's savings which they had been keeping for almost half a year, so he knew that they were even further away from buying a decent apartment, but he couldn't find it within him to care; with every second he was getting closer to John, and that thought alone made him all giddy.

"Could you move your arm, please dear?" A croaky voice said to Roger's right. He turned to face an elderly woman with circular glasses. She was perhaps in her mid 70s, early 80s, and the stern look she gave him was most intimidating. "Your elbow is digging into my arm."

And she was right. His arm must have slipped whilst he was lost in his thoughts about John, and he quickly removed it. "Sorry ma'am. Must've slipped." He replied in the most polite tone he could muster.

"It's quite alright." She exclaimed with a smile. "You seemed quite out of it though, dear. Are you okay?"

If he was being honest, Roger didn't feel like having much conversation. In the two hours it took to reach Italy, Roger was looking forward to completely zoning out and drowning himself in the thoughts of his brown-haired friend. However, he didn't want to seem rude, and he kept the small talk going.

"Oh yeah, just nervous." He chuckled whilst rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't even pack any snacks for the plane, which was a shame actually, because he was really craving some ready salted crisps.

"Meeting someone special are we?" She cocked an eyebrow and smirked. The blonde was surprised at the flirting tone of the woman and he grinned back.

"Well, yes and no. We're just good friends." He wasn't technically lying. Actually, he wasn't lying at all, because that's all him and John were; good friends.

The old lady tipped her head back in laughter and reached for a piece of chocolate from her handbag. "I find that quite hard to believe, sugar. What's her name?"

Roger's eyes darted around the cabin in panic. "Uh.. Joan. She moved to Italy a few years ago." He wasn't exactly lying then, either. He was just.. .retelling the truth.