Chapter 1

HUUUGE thank you to @dotoliwrites and @iuchamjohta for beta reading and the amazing advice! You two are literally the best!

You always hated the airport.

The PA blared again, calling the same passenger for the sixth time. You unzipped the small pocket of your backpack, feeling your passport for the seventh.

It wasn’t so much the building itself you hated. It was just… everyone acted like you felt. Like the airport was a house of perpetual anxiety, its people buzzing with stress. They moved too quick, double-checked too often. Even those sitting down exhibited the signs. The old lady across from you compared her ticket to the screen at the gate three times in a row.

Vacations were ironic. You saved up, willingly going through hours of stress at an airport just to relax for a week. Then you’d have to go through that same stress on the way back to your regular stress, life. Thinking about it gave you a headache.

Maybe the vacation would be good, though. Because your regular stress was hell. Life as a civil engineering student had drained every last remnant of fun from your life for the past three years. And for what? Three men in suits worth more than your tuition walked past, carry-ons in tow, rattling something about ‘quarterly meetings’ and ‘new HR docs’. Would this be your life after school? Would your regular stress compound once you graduated, slowly morphing you into some corporation? You’d rather be a gym bro.

It’s not like you had a choice in the matter anyway. No matter how long you’d been avoiding them, your cousin made it very clear if you missed her wedding in Mexico you’d be dead to her and the rest of the family. Which was why now, in the middle of your final year of school— just before your midterms— you sat at gate 104 waiting for your flight to Cancun.

The flight, though. You could look forward to that. 7 hours cut off from the outside world. The plane like a little capsules, closed off from that stress. 7 hours where you could slip your headphones on and turn your brain off. At least you could look forward to that.

You pulled out your new sketchbook and a finely sharpened pencil the border agent definitely gave you trouble for. You looked in front of you— you’d been staring at the airport seats for an hour and a half, so long they morphed into desks. And you could’ve sworn that old guy didn’t look like your professor half an hour ago. Maybe you needed a change of perspective.

You grabbed your bag (checking your passport was there one more time of course), before switching to a seat facing the opposite direction. You plopped down with your sketchbook.

And suddenly, the airport didn’t seem so bad. A group of girls sitting 3 rows from you huddled together, staring at a phone. The one with the deep red hair guffawed, clapping her hands together as she laughed, followed by the other 3. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, laugh piercing the stale air. You watched as her legs lifted in the air from laughing so hard. Her face lit up, not only her expression, but the room.

One of her friends tapped her shoulder, showing her the phone again, and another outburst came. The four of them seemed so carefree, even joyous. Their fun was a far cry from what you thought airports could be. And yet, even the PA seemed happier, singing its little jingle before it called for a passenger for the seventh time now.

You looked away, conscious of your staring. You looked down at your sketchbook. This seemed like as good a place as any to sketch, especially considering the view. Your eyes occasionally (putting it lightly) flicked to the girl. Even while she sat, idly scrolling on her phone, she looked so comfortable. She was slid so far down her chair her head rested on the back of the seat, her shoeless feet plopped on the carry-on in front of her.

Meanwhile, you sat in your chair perfectly straight, carry-on neatly in front of you. You tried taking up as little space as possible, despite having the entire row of seats for yourself.

You looked down at your sketch. It wasn’t good— you’d totally messed up the glass roof. There were 6 rows of support beams running through, not 8. That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that there were missing details everywhere— a pillar too wide, a clock not round enough. Oddly enough, the chairs were the only thing that looked picture perfect. You ripped the page from the book, crumpling it. A buzz from your pocket vibrated, and taking your phone out, a text from your Aunt read:

Can’t wait to see you! We just arrived. Have a safe flight!

You swiped the message away, looking at the time. 8:27. Still another hour before boarding. You picked your sketchbook up again, starting over. You sat up a little straighter, shutting your eyes for a second in concentration. This time would be different— you’d produce a picture perfect sketch of the gate. You silently sketched, eyes flicking to the red-haired girl occasionally. You silently hoped she’d be going to the same resort you were.

It’s even worse than before, you thought an hour later as the first boarding call came in.

–

Of course, back of the plane. Right next to the washrooms. You plopped down in your window seat, tucking your backpack under the seat in front of yours. It seemed the plane had filled up, save for the two seats in your row. Lucky. You plopped your shoes off. It felt wrong, but— vacation mode, you justified. You took your earphones out of your pocket, about to slide them into your ears when-

“Bathroom seats”, a voice sighed. You looked up. The red-haired girl stood at your row, eyes flicking to yours. “At least we don’t have to go through it alone, right?” She said, sliding into the aisle seat. She kicked her shoes off as well, sliding her hoodie off her arms so it hung off her shoulders, hood still covering her head.

You sat there shocked. Wasn’t this everyone’s dream? Wasn’t it a classic trope to see a cute girl at an airport and hope they sat next to you on the flight? And it was happening to you and oh god she was talking to you.

“Ever been to Cancun?” she asked casually, as if you weren’t strangers.

“Oh… first time”, you responded after the initial shock wore off. You quietly slipped your shoes back on. Hopefully she didn’t notice.

She stretched her arms in the air— a moan inducing one by the sounds of it. “Same” she groaned, settling in. “Oh, my group was the last to board by the way. We got lucky, empty middle seat!” She lifted her legs, curling them on the empty seat. “Lets split it? We can each have a half,” she said.

And she wasn’t wearing shoes. Vacation mode it was. “Sure,” you answered, but kept your feet where they were.

You sat in mostly silence as the flight attendants demonstrated the safety measures in case of emergency, but on take off, the girls breath hitched, and she held her armrests a little too tight.

The plane had evened out, and the general buzz of excitement from take off died down into amiable silence— thank God, no kids on the flight.

“How are you so calm right now?” She asked, breaking the silence.

So much for 7 hours of quiet, you thought.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you said, deciding you might as well talk. What else were you going to do? Ignore this beautiful girl for 7 hours? “Planes are peaceful. I don’t know how you were so happy at the gate, though, that place is hell”

She eyed you curiously. “At the gate? Did I meet you at the gate?”

“You’d be hard to miss when you were laughing like a hyena every 20 minutes” you joked. That was weird. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d told a joke.

A smile lit up the girls face. “Someone’s got jokes” she chuckled. “Guess I’m sitting next to a stalker.”

“I wasn’t stalking you, you’re just hard to miss”

“Thanks”, she said.

“Wasn’t a compliment”

She gave a small chuckle. “You know, you’re different than I expected. Not as quiet as I imagined”

You thought about it for a moment. You guessed it was true, most new people ignored you, let you exist as long as you didn’t bother them. But for some reason, you just felt… comfortable around this girl. “I didn’t always give that impression” you said after a pause. “I used to be… fun. Before three years of civil engineering”

“Oh, STEM”, she winced.

“Yeah” you sighed. “What about you. Not sitting with your group?” The question seemed to dig at her. She gave a short smile, and pulled out half a popsicle stick out of her hoodie pocket.

“Got the short end of the stick” she said feigning cheerfulness. “So I had to sit alone”

“They made you sit alone?” you asked. She gave a short nod. “There’s three of them right? Why wouldn’t you just book it in seats of two and two, that way no one got left out?”

“That’s some great math Mr. Engineer” she joked— then sighed. “Pretty sure it was rigged from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… wasn’t really invited on this trip, just a last minute replacement for someone who cancelled. Don’t think any of them would want to spend 7 hours with the outsider alone.”

“Really? You all looked so friendly at the gate” you said.

“So you are a stalker?” She laughed. “And I picked my stick last” she said holding up the popsicle stick. “So I think they must’ve known which stick was the shortest. Probably planned on isolating me from the beginning”

“And now you have to sit next to a stranger.”

She gave you another smile, more genuine this time. “Well you’re not so bad, stranger” she said. “Also, can we go back to what you said before? Airplanes are calm?”