airplane ﹙short story﹚

eleven

Theo's eyes narrowed.

The blond, who he had totally not dedicated half of his morning glancing at him, was not awake. He'd flashed his phone and done his fourth check of the time, noting how it was past lunchtime already, by at least an hour and a half.

He was still peacefully snoozing, without a care in the world, despite the fact that the plane was lively again, bumbling with conversation. He frowned.

Was he concerned over what time Atticus had gone to sleep? Maybe.

Did he care? He wished he didn't.

He cared enough not to ruin the lads face, anyway, since his pen was in arms reach, resting on his open tray for grabs. Theo huffed under his breath, and pressed his back against his seat. He was bored. He hated to admit it, but the movies were turning his brain into complete mush, and he didn't have it in him to watch anymore.

His gaze found the blond once more. He'd never noticed how long his eyelashes were. Theo's eyes darted back and forth conspicuously, before he slowly leant forward, and gently pushed some of his blond hair from his forehead. Yes, definitely long. And blond, too.

His finger traced down his temple, before reaching his right cheek, which he noticed at a closer glance, was riddled with fine scars. Theo's lips parted, running his finger against them softly.

They were rough to the touch, probably old. Theo almost felt upset such a face had been spoiled like that.

He leaned in closer. He wondered what else the blond could possibly be hiding.

Atticus' eyes flew open.

Theo leapt back. "Wait–" His mouth was opening and closing, the blood rushing through his face instantly. "–I wasn't–"

The blond's eyes squinted against the bright light of the day, his finger pressing against his cheek where Theo just was, and sliding his gaze over to him knowingly.

"What was that?" He whispered, but Theo was well aware the blond already knew the answer to his own question. He was smirking again, and humiliation burned through Theo's chest faster than fire.

"There was something on your face," he blurted, hands gripping his armrest with so much force, his knuckles had turned a ghostly white. "Don't think it was anything weird!"

Atticus' cheeks were notably pink, as he pressed his head against his seat and flashed Theo a warm smile. "I was awake the whole time. Have been for a little while. I was going to save you the humiliation and let you finish, but you were touching me for so long, I just–"

"Ah, d-don't phrase it like that!" He cut him off abruptly, slapping his hands over his face. "Just shut up."

The sweet sound of his laughter filled the air, followed by: "If you wanted to get intimate with me, angel, you could have just asked."

Theo gave a groan, and slumped down into his seat, just hoping the sweet embrace of death would take him before he had to face him again.