The Strangers in Apartment 32

Heights

The pilot announced that it was time for take-off, and for everyone to prepare to buckle up. I reached over to my lap strap and connected it to its awaiting pocket.
"Fuck," I heard a faint whisper coming from the seat beside me.
Axel's back was straight against the seat, his eyes glued to the seat in front of him. He clutched the armrest on either side of him, his knuckles turning a soft white color. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.
I stared at him, puzzled for a long while, "Are you okay?"
"I don't like this," he responded, "I've never flown before."
His eyes were wide and darting. He closed tight them like they were about to fall out of his head. He was calm, he didn't jerk or jolt. He stayed stagnant in his fear.
"It's okay to be scared," I said to him.
"Thanks for the permission," he half laughed at me but remained planted.
"You just have to learn to work through it," I said to him.
He looked so shy, so venerable. The cocky boy, I saw moments before was slowly fading away. It was sad to see. I felt this weird need to comfort him. I extended my hand to him, "Here,"
"You serious," he asked.
Suddenly the plane began to move forward, I laid back on the seat and wanted to take off. Axel snatched my hand and squeezed a bit. His hands overpowered mine, nearly covering all of the space on my skin. They felt soft on the pads but calloused around the edge. Scars covered the tops of his knuckles and buried themselves deep in his olive skin.
"Thank you." He told me, "It's the height. I'm afraid of the height."
"A tall boy, afraid of heights," I evaluated, "that's peculiar."
He choked a weak laugh, "I don't want to fall, you know?"
The wheels of the plane were up. The plane became slightly vertical shooting me back into my seat. Axel clutched my grip. He again squeezed his eyes shut, taking in big steady breaths.
His grip was strong, very strong. Pain shot through my wrist. I could feel the pulse of his palm fast and bold in my grip. He was really scared.
I rubbed my thumb on the back of his hand, an assurance to him, as we pushed on further into the sky.
Then all at once, it stopped. We had reached a cruising speed and were steady in the air. It was calm for a minute. I looked at him, his eyes were still screwed shut.
"Axel," I said to him.
His face relaxed a bit, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Axel," I repeated.
He opened his eyes slightly, I watched his deep deep breaths shallow. His eyes were ablaze as he focused on the headrest in front of him. He looked wild like he had just been pulled from a sinking pool. He looked as if his whole world flashed before his eyes.

His grip was strong. It was crushing the knuckles in my hands. My fingers were bending in on themselves.

"Axel," I whispered, "Axel this hurts."

He whipped his head back towards me, those same wild eyes looking directly through me, "Have we fallen?"

"What? No." I said to him, "We are flying, see."

I pointed to the window. The plane was cruising above the soft white clouds. He looked for a moment, then back to me. His eyes shot done to my hand for a moment before he let go. His grasp left suddenly as if my touch burned him, and from the moment it left I felt it missing.

"I'm sorry," He breathed, "About your hand I mean. I'm sorry if I hurt your hand."

"That's okay."

We were silent for another moment. The air was thick between us.

"Oh, and um thank you," He said, "Just....thank you."

I nodded, "Of course."

We traveled for a long while, I tried to sleep. I wanted to dream of Dominic, and of a time that I could be with him again.

How long would we be apart?

I wondered if was thinking of me like I was of him. I hated this; being away from him seemed almost unbearable. The day break was just starting above the horizon. The pink sun was beaming through the early morning clouds.