The Flight [H.S] - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

My eyes open slowly thanks to a sound coming from next to me. I feel disoriented out of a sudden. I don't know how long I've been asleep but when I fully open my eyes the movie is still playing in my screen, which tells me it wasn't that much time. I blink a few times, still feeling a bit light headed from my nap.
After a few seconds I take notice of my surroundings. A blanket is covering my body and I don't remember covering myself with it. Is now that I notice my cheek is resting somewhere warm that moves up and down slowly. When I look down I notice the AC/DC logo lying under me, making me sit up straight right away.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I run my fingers moving my hair out of my face, my brows frowning deeply and my cheeks tinting red. "I'm so terribly sorry."
I don't dare to look at him, I flush instantly hiding my face in my hands, still feeling a little numb from my sleep. I can't believe I just fell asleep on top of Harry Styles. Oh my dear god. Can I just embarrass myself any deeper? Did I drool over his shirt too? I touch my cheek feeling it dry, letting a huge breath out. At least I did not drool. I still feel terribly embarrassed, I totally invaded his personal space.
"It's okay." He says, his voice is low, almost breaking at the end.
"I really am sorry, I..." I turn to look at him with the nerves consuming my face but then I notice his red cheeks, his puffy eyes fighting back tears even though his cheeks are a bit soaked already. "Are you- Are you crying?"
"No!" He says dryly, biting his bottom lip. "Well okay, maybe... Yeah." He moves the back of his hand under his eye cleaning the dampness in there.
"Ow, but... Why?" His eyes never move from the screen so I turn my eyes to the same direction. A scene where Clint Eastwood is inserting shots in Maggie's arm is rolling, she is in a hospital gurney. I don't understand the scene because I clearly missed the whole climax. "Because of the movie?"
"Don't look at it, you're missing out." He presses the pause button, leaning in front of him while cleaning the rest of his tears.
"Is it that sad?" I ask with a bit of humor in my voice, moving the blanket out of my body.
He doesn't respond, he just rest his elbows on his knees cleaning his tears with his hands but the tears doesn't seem to stop. He sniffs, moving his eyes to the ceiling trying to make them stop and running his hand desperately through his hair. He protests, groaning while pulling from his hair slightly. I'm paralyzed, I have always been terrible to console people when they are crying. I move next to him placing my hand on his thigh, unsure of what to do.
"Hey, hey... Is everything okay?" I speak lowly, for only him to hear. The whole cabin is quiet, apparently we are the only ones awake.
"Yeah." He moves my hand away roughly, making me feel more uncomfortable than I am.
Okay...
"Do you... Want to talk about it?" I wait patiently for his answer but he doesn't respond, he just pulls from his hair while his head is down.
"Uhm, do you want some water?" I ask, not knowing what else to do.
"Fuck, just give me a break." He stands up after kicking the seat in front of him, walking to the bathroom and closing the door loudly, waking up some passengers on his way.
The passenger in front of our seat turns around sending me an annoyed look, I quickly apologize but I doubt he understands my words. He starts cussing under his breath - or so it seems - because he is speaking another language. He then turns back to his seat accommodating his sleeping mask, leaving me alone.
I sit still in my seat, letting everything sink in.
What the fuck just happened?
I was just trying to be nice, he was crying - almost sobbing - and I didn't know what to do. I know I'm terrible at consoling people but I wasn't doing anything inappropriate for him to treat me the way he did. Did I cross a line? I clearly did not. I'm still wondering why was he crying. Was it the movie?
Was it something else?
Maybe he really is the person they describe on the news, the person he was when he first arrive to the plane treating everyone with a snotty attitude. The obnoxious self-centered and fame absorbed rock star that only cares about himself and only himself. He was so nice before, so talkative and outgoing; but now that he treated me this way I doubt it. He may be a stranger but I'm not taking this shit for anyone.
His attitude reminds me of the people I want to leave behind in Los Angeles. Those stupid kids thirsty for fame and glory, just like my ex boyfriend Ben. Empty people with empty brains living fake lives trying to control everyone around them. All they care about are their likes on Instagram and the amount of followers they have. They are just annoying spoiled little brats. It makes me so angry.
Just by thinking of them puts me in a bad mood. I grab my bottle and take a drink, taking my phone out of my bag and texting my sister.
* Me: Now I understand why people dislike him that much... He's an asshole. *
I put my phone down, focusing my eyes on the open window next to me.
The sky is pitch black by now, the only thing you can see is the sudden light clouds illuminated by the light of the plane. I cross my arms on my chest, the sleeves of his oversize hoodie on me hang on the sides of my armpits. I was being really nice to him, I even agreed to change my cute sweater because it was 'hideous' for him. I really thought he was nice.
I hear the door of the bathroom open and low steps coming out of it. He sighs before sitting down, I don't move my eyes from the window. I think this is going to be a long flight after all.
"I... I'm sorry." He says with his voice down. "I shouldn't have let it out on you."
I don't pronounce a word, I don't want to waste my time with people like him anymore.
"Are you mad at me?" He asks, placing an arm on my leg making me turn to look at him sending him a look.
"Please don't touch me." I say moving his hand away gently, unlike him.
"I really am sorry Frances." He says with his voice serious now but still in a low tone.
"You better be." I look away, biting the inside of my cheek. "I was just trying to help you."
"I know and I apologize. Its a hard thing for me." He clears his throat, frowning slightly. "I... You wouldn't understand."
"Understand what?" I can't help the little attitude in my voice, but he kinds of deserve it.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes moving down to his hands. "Why I was crying." He clears his throat, playing with the ring on his finger. "The movie... It reminds me of my sister."
"She likes boxing?" I ask uninterested, still looking at him.
"No, she hated it." He chuckles slightly, taking his phone out of his pocket. "I used to make her watch the movie with me all the time and she only accepted because she knew I like it so much."
"She's a good sister." I simply add.
"Yeah, she was." He half smiles, browsing for something on his phone.
Was?
"There she is. This is the last picture she took before the accident." He shows me the phone, a sad glimpse is hiding before his eyes.
I look at the picture, a beautiful girl with ombre hair and beautiful smile is posing in front of the Christmas tree. She really looks, or looked, like him but more beautiful. Is now that I'm noticing she is wearing a sweater like the one I was wearing an hour ago, but her sweater is red with the same little white mustaches. Maybe that's why he wanted me to change. I swallow hard, feeling guilty of being mad at him.
"What happened to her?" I dare to ask, my voice is almost a whisper.
He takes a moment, putting his phone inside of his pocket once again and turning his eyes to look front, like trying to keep it together.
"A week after Christmas when she was driving back home..." He makes a pause, pressing his lips together. "A truck lose control on the snowy roads and crash in front of her." He bites his bottom lip, moving his eyes down.
"Oh my." I look at him, wanting to do something to comfort him. He rests his hand on the armrest and the only thing I can think of is to hold his hand, so I do.
"She arrived in vegetative state to the hospital, there was nothing they could do to save her." This time he doesn't move my hand away, he accepts it squeezing it gently. "A month later we disconnected her. It was the right thing to do." He swallows hard, his eyes glossing a little. "That's why the movie makes me so emotional."
I take a moment to respond. Somehow I know he just told me something he doesn't tell often. Considering he is just a boy I met two hours ago this just makes him less of a stranger. I have a knot in my chest, I can't imagine for what he's been through. Losing a sister. A little part of me would die if I lose Jay, she is everything to me and it seems he feels the same way towards his sister.
"I'm so sorry, Harry." I give him a sympathetic smile, looking directly into his green orbs. "That must have been so difficult."
"Its okay, it was a while ago now." He adds pressing his lips together in a smile. He then glances up at me, his mouth tilting in a one sided smile. "I'm sorry, too. I barely cry, much less in public. It was bad of me for treating you like I did."
I return the smile, never breaking eye contact with him. "Don't worry, Its alright. I understand." I squeeze his hand in mine, noticing how his eyes turn back to normal leaving the glossy look behind.
"Thank you." He says lowly, meaning the words.
I was wrong to think about him like I did. He opened up to me and he apologized for what he did, he is definitely not what I expected. I give his hand a final squeeze before pulling my hand out of his, feeling a little closer to this person that I met just hours ago.
Why did he told me that story? I don't know but I'm glad he did. It showed me a side of him I'm sure not many people have the chance to see. He cried next to me grieving his sister, knowing that he cared that much about her just warms my heart. He is definitely not the person they describe. From now on, every time I hear or read something negative about him on the news, I will have this moment in my mind, his soft caring side.
We go back to our usual postures. Him laying his back on his seat with his legs spread on front, and me with my legs crisscrossed on my seat. I grab the pillow behind my head and place it over my thighs, using the pillow as a table for my phone and my book.
"So... Do you prefer using a chest instead of a pillow?" He says after a few minutes of silence, making me blush a little. It seems he's back on being his usual self.
"Do you always put blankets on people while they are sleeping?" I ignore his question trying to fight the nervous feeling inside of me. I just can't help it, he sets my nerves on fire. I'm doing a good job at hiding it, though.
"Only if the person is sleeping on me." He smirks, making my cheeks turn pink again. "You were shaking, I had to."
"Really?" I say while hiding my hands in the sleeves of the sweater. "Well, it is kind of chilly right now."
"It is not?" He tilts his head to a side. "Its like fifteen degrees right now."
"Celsius? How much is that in Fahrenheit?" I try to make the math in my head but the truth is, I'm pretty bad at math.
"I don't know. You Americans and your crazy measure forms." He chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.
"Everyone uses Fahrenheit." I defend myself and the rest of my country.
"Literally, no one." He turns to look at me with a playful smile. "And what about using miles instead of kilometers? That's insane."
"Okay, okay, we may use different measures but you are not perfect either," I turn my torso to face him. "Your steering wheels are on the right side of the vehicle. Why? So you can drive on the left side of the street? I'm sorry but it doesn't make sense."
"That's a fair point." He chuckles, caging his bottom lip between his index finger and thumb. "I have asked myself the same thing my whole life."
"I will have to get used to it though, I'm going to spend some time in there." I say moving my eyes down to my book, playing with the surface.
"Why? Are you moving to London?" He asks interested.
"No." I simply say.
"Then... Are you on holiday?" He asks, crossing his hands on his chest and resting his head on his pillow, shifting his body to my side of the booth.
"Something like that." I bite my bottom lip, I really don't know how to explain it. "I'm just taking a break, I guess."
"A break from what?" I feel his eyes on me and for some reason I find this whole thing amusing.
"You are asking a lot of questions." I chuckle moving my eyes meeting his green ones.
"Oops." He chuckles as well, showing me his dimple. "Let's take turns then."
"Of questions?" I rose an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah, let's kill some time." He accommodates in his seat, moving one of his legs against his chest, his boot on the seat.
"A question game? Really?" I can't help but laugh.
That's such a lame idea. The last time I played it it was with a boy in high school and the whole point of the game was to find out if I was a virgin or not. I'm not sure if I want to play the game with him, I don't know what are his intentions. I don't know him that much but I do know he likes to be indecent.
"Why not? I'm bored, you don't have much to do apart from reading..." He moves and grabs my book checking the title out. "The Great Gatsby, that I bet you have read a thousand times. You can read it later."
I stare at him narrowing my eyes, taking the book from his hand and placing it down again. He has a sleek look on his face, maybe this will be fun. And he is right, I have not much to do. I finally roll my eyes, giving in.
"Fine." I move my eyes away from him, turning my body to face him. "But keep it PG-13 or I'm not playing."
"Okay, I'll try." He gives me a smile, knowing he just convinced me to play this silly game. "You start."
"Mmm, let's see." I move my hand to rest on my chin, thinking of a question. "What's your favorite color?"
"Is that really your question?" He asks amused.
"Yes, we are just starting." I nudge his arm playfully.
The first round of questions are simple and common. Now I know what his favorite color is, dark military green. His favorite animal is the tiger and his favorite place on earth is the bed on his mother's house. The last answer put a smile on my face, he keeps showing me that cute side of him. You can't go by appearances with him, on the outside he seems like a pretty bad boy.
He then asked me about my hobbies, which I responded with reading, sketching and surfing. He also told me about his secret passion for art, which I find very endearing. Is something we have in common, I guess.
The next round of questions were a bit more deep. I wasn't expecting those kind of question coming from him, so I had to take a moment to respond. Somehow the words come out of me easily. I'm not uncomfortable around him anymore and the nervousness seem to be vanishing by every minute passing. Now is his turn to ask again, so I listen carefully.
"What is your most treasured memory?" He asks, I've been thinking for a moment and I can only think of one. It really puts a smile on my face.
"I think way back when my grandpa taught me how to swim. I was four years old and I remember it like it was yesterday." I play with my fingers while speaking, I miss my grandpa so much. "I had a cute red swimsuit and piggy tails, the day was sunny and the beach was almost empty, it was the perfect day. He also taught me how to ride a surfboard."
"That sounds awesome. I guess you really like your surfing." He adds, giving me half a smile. I just nod, agreeing with him. "Your turn."
"Okay." I think for a moment, pursing my lips pensive. "Is there something that you've dreamed of doing but you haven't done already?" I rest the side of my head in the seat, still looking at him.
The lights of the cabin are dimmed, the light of our booth is on only illuminating our bodies but not so much our faces. His skin looks a bit tan thanks to the warm lights and his eyes shine in the space even when the light doesn't touch them, such a beautiful color of green. The rest of the people in here are sleeping, causing us to speak in a low tone, almost whispers.
"Mmm." He takes his bottom lip in his fingers, furrowing his brows thinking about my question. "I have always wanted to go sailing. Just me and a boat for an unknown amount of time."
"So, technically you want to be a pirate." I joke in a soft laugh, making his lips turn into a smile.
"Technically." He chuckles, darting his eyes down for a second.
"Why haven't you done it, Jack Sparrow? You can easily go." I ask as I hug my knees in front of me, he chuckles again.
"One question at a time, sweetheart." He says making me roll my eyes. "Its my turn." He says, clearing his throat and placing his other foot on his seat. He took his boots off a few minutes ago. "Are you single?"
"Why would you want to know?" I ask in a gasp, my face blushing slightly.
"You can't answer with a question, Frances." He blinks his eyes waiting for my answer, totally avoiding my question.
I narrow my eyes, this makes me turn red but thank god the lights are not strong enough to show it. "I am." I shortly respond, going straight ahead. "What about you?"
"You can't ask the same question I did." He, again, avoids my question.
"Oh, stop with the rules." I let a small laugh out, giving him a look while sitting straight. "Answer."
"Fine. I am, too." He rolls his eyes, moving his head away. "I thought everyone in the world knew."
"Well, excuse me Diva, for not knowing that already." I use my sarcasm, is the first time in these short hours that he brings something like that up.
"You really didn't know?" He looks at me again, his voice is hinting something I can't quite point out.
"Is that really your question?" I mock him with his previous words.
"Frances..." He remains with a blank expression but I can see the humor in his eyes.
"Yeah, I really didn't know." I say, frankly. I'm not the type of girl that reads every single magazine in the market and checks the showbiz news every minute. "Should I?"
"No." He grins, looking straight at me. "It feels good to finally meet someone who doesn't know me that way."
Is now that I'm noticing he is talking about me. The truth is, I do know a bit about him, I would have to live underground to not know him. But I wouldn't go that far to know about his personal life. As I say, I'm not the type of girl focused on magazines, I prefer books. Everything I have heard of him comes from my friends - or ex friends - they loved talking about celebrities and I have to admit I was never eager to join them. Just the thought of him feeling good to have met me bring butterflies to my stomach.
His eyes are hiding an expression I can't quite tell, shining green eyes taking my breath away. He doesn't break the eye contact after a few seconds which makes me feel a little nervous inside, my stomach tensing without me controlling it. Then his mouth forms a tight smirk, his gaze moving to look at my lips, making me blush deeper.
"Uhm... Next question..." I move my hair behind my ear, moving my eyes down feeling shy out of a sudden.
I'm ready to ask something but just when I'm about to speak, he cuts me off.
"Have you ever kissed a stranger, Frances?" He asks with his voice deliciously slow, making my breathing stop.