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This time, I know it's different

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This time, I know it's different. The air hostesses have returned to their hideouts. Not a single person is up. Letting my eyes travel a few rows ahead, I see, and my chest hurts, that every other face is grim. Just like Royu's. I hug the book to my stomach. Dum. Dum. Dum. Heartbeat in my ears, it sounds dark. And ominous. Like, very soon, something is about to happen

Screams.

The plane jumps. Up-down. Left-right. A pair of arms shoots up from the first rows, tearing through the air. I'm not able to close my mouth. Trapped here, I feel. In. Out. In. Out. Breathing is useless. With every jump of this machine, I think I go one step closer to death.

Death.

They say, don't they, that your whole life flashes before your eyes? In that split-second before you're gone forever, you're shown a movie of all that happenedso why, why am I hearing the sad echoes of all that never happened? The art competition I skipped, thinking I wasn't talented. The game of cards I refused when my family wanted some time together. Songs I never listened to. Movies I thought were a waste of my time. Old friends I didn't bother staying in touch with. So many chances missed. So many connections lost. I think I'm gonna burst.

"Felix." He whispers, and I know, instantly. Regrets—these are called—and I have so many of them.

When I turn my head, Royu is smiling at me. My heart stops. Because this isn't the tight-lipped one, and I see his teeththey're anything but straight, one in the front is crooked. I want to run my finger over it, and whisper, don't you hide away again. When the plane jerks this time, I'm shaking for a different reason. He told me he was scared. This is, probably, one of those times he isn't. Or maybe he is. Scared that there won't be a tomorrow. That the day he peels his lips apart might never come, so today is all that he's got. And today, Royu is smiling with his teeth.

Screaming. Yelling. Praying.

A baby begins crying. Please God, someone behind me pleads, please stop. I turn, abruptly, my forehead slamming into the plane's side. Let us land safely, the man goes on. Clouds everywherethis machine is just one huge toy packed into a box of cotton. The lid is on. I want peace. Please God, the man begins again. I want this to stop. Please stop. My head bumps into the wall, again and again and again. I must be doing it on purpose. There's blood on my tongue. I love my family, the man says, I love them so much. Why? Why is he saying it like he'll never open his mouth ever? Shut up. I want to scream. Shut up, will you? Once more. Please God. Stop. Stop. Stopstopstopstop.

Stop.

My hand is taken.

Eyes flying open, I look down at my lap—and there it is, a tangle of fingers. His and mine. I feel my body go slack. Royu isn't looking at me when I turn to the side; his jaw has sharpened, he stares off into the distance with a gaze, so focused, I find myself following it too. Then I feel a squeeze. It's gentle, but firm, his hand reminding mine that we're here—and we're here together.

Click.

I fall forward. My seat-belt is still intact, but this hasn't got to do with turbulence. I fall forward—because, it's inside my head that something clicks. And the fire blazes in its truest form. Not just red. Those flames weave into each other like strips of colour streamers, from violet to green, and pink to yellow, a glittering splatter of fireworks. Erupts in my stomach. And they don't sputter. It's a massive concert, of whooshes and clangs and whistles, that makes me want to dance. With him. I don't want Royu Snowdrop below me. Just stay by my side, like this. This moment, everything clicks. The fire inside me doesn't want to burn him down as much as it wants to warm him up. Surprise.

I yelp. Royu gasps. My body trembles without a break. It gets bad. Then it gets worse.

I can't seem to stop my head from rocking back and forth—it feels like someone has grabbed it, slamming it into a pillar on purpose. The only thing keeping me anchored is his hand. And I wonder, if we were to hold on tight enough, would we be inseparable as corpses? The thought rips open my eyes. They're stinging. Drop. Rise. Left. Right. Maybe there is such a thing as "the end"—who am I to decide when it happens? The man starts again. Please God, please stop. I cry. I cry, because I don't know if there is anything after life. I have no fucking idea if I'll get to see them again. See him again. And maybe this is where it all ends—on a plane. I love my family. Will I never get a chance to say it again? I love my family so much, the man chants louder. And I realise, lurching forward, that no, I might never get to say it again. I haven't even said it yet. We're going to die. I cry harder, bringing our locked hands to my mouth.

"Royu." His name on my tongue, I want to swallow this sweetness. Take it with me to the grave. I feel his eyes on me. I hold that hand. Tighter. Harder.

"Felix?"

This is the end. It really is. And the words leave my mouth before they enter my head.

"I like you, Royu." I sob. "I like you. I like you. I like you." I say it for all the times I won't get to say it now. I like you. I like you. Ilikeyouilikeyouilikeyou.

It's still a mysteryturbulencewhy did I say it now?

It can hit you even when the air is clearturbulencewhy didn't I see it coming?

The plane shakesturbulencemy heart does too.

I like you, Royu Snowdrop.

Fifteen minutes later, when the Pilot makes a smooth ass landing on the runway, everyone clasps their hands and cries tears of joy

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Fifteen minutes later, when the Pilot makes a smooth ass landing on the runway, everyone clasps their hands and cries tears of joy. I might've been the only guy screaming inside my head—

You were supposed to cRasH, stupid plane!

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