in which kit rook is a reckless boy angry at the world, and he learns that not everyone is out to get him.
| ᴋɪᴛ ʜᴇʀᴏɴᴅᴀʟᴇ + ᴛʏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴛʜᴏʀɴ |
| ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄᴇs / ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs |
| ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ |
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IF THERE WAS ONE THING KIT DIDN'T LIKE, IT WAS AIRPLANES. (Of course, there were many, many things on Kit's do-not-like list, and planes weren't actually anywhere near the top, but the atmosphere of the plane itself had already hightened Kit's hate for them about a hundred percent.)
It wasn't that he was afraid of heights, or got airsickness, it was just the general suckiness of being stuffed into a hot plane full of screaming toddlers and gag-worthy smells for hours on end.
And it didn't help that he'd been on a plane many times before in his life. If anything, it just made it worse because he should've expected what was going to happen and charged his phone before liftoff.
With his phone dead and the few magazines by his chair featuring only the Kardashians, Kit was left with nothing but his depressing thoughts.
Kit usually didn't fancy thinking a lot. Hi life was a long chain of impulses and not thinking of any consequences, and though he got into more trouble than he'd like to admit, he was content that way. Someone would come up to him and ask, "Hey, do you wanna help set fire to that building over there?" And he'd shrug and say "Sure."
Though he was definitely drunk in this circumstance, you get the idea.
But sitting in a stuffy plane for twelve hours, surrounded by screaming toddlers and a fat bald guy that could definitely use a shower, Kit would rather think than observe anything around him.
His father certainly circulated his mind quite a bit, along with a bit of guilt for not saying anything in parting to his "friends." Though he had sent a quick text to his friends with benefits guy which read:
Some stuff happened, and I'm leaving the country. Hope you have a nice life. Sayonora sucker
Though he wasn't that guilty.
By the time the plane landed, Kit was positive he never wanted to travel in a plane again.
The next half hour was a blur— Kit was pushed out of the plane, he waited in a long line to get his stuff, and was soon dumped into the main part of the large airport.
Grumbling, he hoisted his single duffel bag onto his shoulder and looked around. He hadn't been told where to go, or who was picking him up, so he figured that wandering around aimlessly seemed to be his best bet.
After about ten minutes, he finally caught sight of a large sign reading CHRISTOPHER ROOK. It gave him very strong cliche romantic comedy vibes.
At this distance, Kit couldn't see who was holding the sign, so he headed forward reluctantly, shoving aside a hugging couple that got in his way.
He finally stopped near the sign, who he could now see was being held by a dark-haired man with obvious Chinese roots. Beside him stood a brunette woman with kind eyes, holding a dark-haired toddler, maybe two or three years old.
