𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 - 𝐣𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥

     "flight 3965 has been delayed until five a.m., we apologize for the inconvenience."

'the apologies started feeling insincere after the first two.' i thought. i shift in an attempt to get comfortable in this stiff plastic chair i've been sitting in for the past few hours, impatiently waiting through what seems like an eternity of delays. i was supposed to be on a plane ride to san diego nearly six hours ago. usually i would avoid planes at all costs because of my noisy brain saying i would get pulled into the bermuda triangle and end up just like all the other passengers on flight 19, but sadly there was no way i was going to drive all the way from new york to san diego. i've lived in new york for most of my life, my mom and i moved there when i was still a kid, after the messy divorce involving my parents. needless to say, new york has really grown on me. so when a company in san diego offered me a job, i was reluctant to take this opportunity, but i knew it would be worth it in the long run. i could use a fresh start anyways. 

snapping back into reality, i realize there were a few other people waiting around near me. playing a game of 'how many bald men are here' seemed like a good way to pass the time. 'there's one looking at terrible souvenirs'  i turn my head slightly to try and find any more baldies. 'gotcha. another one walking out of the bathroom'   i was doing  pretty good. looking behind me, i spot the scariest looking bald head. 'oh god. his head has like, a face in the back of it.'  i wonder if it ever whispers to him like professor quirrell in harry potter. i decide that's enough for this round. after trying to repress that guys misshapen head from my memory, i put in my earbuds and listen to my laid-back playlist in an attempt to rid myself of the anger i had from the endless delays. for a while, i'm in my own little world, just me and my music. no delayed flights, no uncomfortable chairs, no shitty souvenir shops, and no scary bald heads.

 after a few songs, i return to the real world and notice a man about my age with interesting facial hair and a ballcap who took a strange picture of himself furrowing his eyebrows and proceeded to type aggressively. in any other situation i would pay no mind, seeing people do stuff like that was pretty normal these days. but i was just so bored, and he looked so angry. i imagined countless situations that would cause him to be so upset. 'a crazy girlfriend? a clueless man on reddit? some political post on facebook? another useless instagram update?' i make a foolproof plan to spark a conversation with him. getting up to find the bathroom, i open the door and splash water on my face. it smells like shit. entering one of the stalls, i piss like there's no tomorrow and finish my business. after washing my hands i go back to the familiar section of the airport and sit in a different seat, closer to the angry man. reaching into my bag, i pull my notebook out and try to think of a way to say 'who pissed in your cereal' without seeming like a nosy stranger. i was exactly that, of course. i just didn't want to be that blunt with him. i ponder different greetings, eventually scribbling out 'hi i'm bored pls talk to me', simple enough. sliding it closer to the boys thigh, trying to signal to him that it was meant for him. i avert my gaze to my phone to play it off like i wasn't paying attention. out of the corner of my eye i notice him reading over the note.

i jump when i feel a tap on my shoulder. he mimicked writing, trying to show me he didn't have anything to write with. i finally understood after staring at his hands for a good 20 seconds, i'm not the brightest. i immediately put a hand in my bag rummaging around for one of my pens. after fiddling with my bags zipper i extend my arm to give the stranger my pen. he takes it, nodding a silent thank you. i scroll through my twitter feed and stop when i notice the piece of paper being slid back to me. i unfold the lined sheet, scanning over his messy handwriting. 'i'll talk to you when you learn how to spell out 'please'.' i looked at him and rolled my eyes at his smart ass comment, getting another pen from my bag. 'sorry einstein, will you please talk to me?' repeating the back and forth process i'd hoped would go on for as long as i wanted it to. as he handed the piece of paper back, we started to getting the hang of the note-passing.

'fine! i'll humor your little middle school fantasy'

'it is not a middle school thing, high school at least.'

'you would do this shit in high school? i would bully you.'

'this is like a normal thing?? people do this pretty often i think you're just mean.'

'yeah yeah say the man's the bad guy. typical WOMAN behavior.'

i laugh at his reply, 98% sure he's joking. he returns the smile and gives me a thumbs down.

'i think it's typical MAN behavior being mean to people you don't even know!'

'woah woah missy, no need to hurt my little man heart.'

'sorry, just thought you deserved it.'

'did you hear that? i think my heart just shattered.'

'sorry 'bout it.'

'tell me name so i can scold you like a white mother.'

'its y/n. very excited for your inner white mother to come out.'

he reads my response, looks me in the eyes and gets visibly upset. i grimace at his expression as he opens his mouth to whisper yell at me with a vaguely minnesotan accent. 'y/n, i don't know how many times i have to tell you. stop acting like a little brat or else i'm taking away the ipad! i've been asking politely the whole time and you just keep on ignoring me! if you keep doing this, we aren't getting sonic for dinner." i attempt to hide my laughter behind my hand, failing horribly and making my laughing fit worse. i wipe away a tear, that was the hardest i've laughed in ages. "that was pretty good!" i chuckle. "well i'd hope so, otherwise all those hours of toddlers in tiaras went to waste." he replies with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. i giggle at his sentence, imagining him putting all his effort into watching toddlers in tiaras was a fast way to make you laugh. "you're pretty funny, huh? what's your name?" i asked, realizing i hadn't gotten it earlier. "it's johnathan, but call me schlatt. i'll curbstomp your head if you call me by my first name." i smile at him, already knowing what his response to my next statement will be. "nice to meet you, johnathan." "i hate you already."  

a/n 

first chapter pogchamp!!!!! 1.8k words too. comment stuff i'll kiss you on the mouth.