airplane ﹙short story﹚

sixteen

He chose to initiate the conversation not a second later.

He couldn't deny the frustrating urge to keep the boy talking, to get to know him, to learn all of his secrets. It annoyed him to great ends, but he would be lying if that part of him wasn't intrigued.

"What are you writing on there?" Theodore questioned, tilting his head against the neck pillow to get a better look at the screen. The blond noticed his interest and smiled softly, carefully edging the Mac in his direction.

"I study music at college," he answered, his tone full of admiration. It was clear to Theodore just how much this meant to him, within the first few seconds of hearing him talk. If it had been anyone else, Theo would have already made a nasty comment and mocked taking such a useless A Level. "I'm just studying some theory. It's–" He let out an exhausted sigh. "–much more difficult than I had anticipated."

Theo snorted, and he folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against his seat. "What? You wanna be a musician, or something? Can you play an instrument?"

"I main guitar, I suppose. With a little bit of singing," he replied shortly afterwards, an undeniable smile still on his face. "But I can play a few more. I took enough examinations to play the drums well enough. I can play piano, too, plus I was in a jazz band for three years."

Theodore watched him intently as he spoke, his usually hard eyes having softened tremendously. A smile broke out across his lips, and he gave a sweet chuckle. It made him feel girly, but he couldn't help it. His heart was fluttering so much, and in that moment of listening to him reminisce, he was certain he had fallen hard.

"I'd like to hear you play, sometime."

Atticus stared at him with a longing look in his eyes. "It's a date."