Lewis only gets a few moments to bask in the warmth of Los Angeles’ sun before the airplane wing is blocking its way, and he’s already settling into his seat, much quicker than usual.
He’s in his most comfortable sweatpants, matching hoodie slinked over his shoulders in preparation for their short stint in London – because apparently it’s still raining there, no different than usual.
LA to New York, then New York to London, and then they’ll finally finish off in Nice, where Lewis can train hop to Monaco and immediately crash on Miles’ yacht. He sinks a little further into his seat as he chalks up the long journey that awaits him, more than sure he’ll never book so last-minute again.
An older couple are sat in the row beside him, both pairs of their shoes already toed off and stowed under the seats. Lewis silently eyes his own trainers before him, choosing to keep his on and crossed in place. He closes his eyes, the tingly voice over the cabin speakers mellowing out into something distant through his airpods, slightly overcome with fatigue.
A lo-fi station is playing away through his ears, faint enough not to overstimulate him, loud enough to block out the passing noise. And yes, he’s comfortable. Could be more so, but he wouldn’t complain. It’s this stint for five hours before a chance at a small break, and then another nine hour flight before they finally reach Nice. Practically a whole day to waste away, and he’s not even counting the train ride into Monaco, afterwards. But he figures he can worry about that in seventeen hours’ time. For now, all he wants to do is sleep.
The song on his radio station comes to an eventual end, and Lewis blindly unlocks his phone, double checking that his favourite playlist has already been downloaded. Forty-five songs, so far. Not enough for even half the trip.
One of the flight attendants flits past him then, an early check-in on all their seatbelts, and Lewis sits up a little in his seat at the sight. The cabin isn’t as full as he would have expected, and he feels silently grateful for the fact. He does a quick swoop of his nearby company, and there seems to be no wailing infants in his vicinity, either. It’s so quiet, muted. Lewis sucks in a breath, trying to hold back a smile.
There’s a young man walking down the plane aisle, eyes continuously flicking between his ticket and each row of seats. He has to squeeze past one of the flight attendants helping another passenger with their luggage to continue on by, mouthing what looks like a silent apology on his lips.
He slows to a trailing pace when he’s just two rows ahead, then stops completely at the seat right in front of Lewis. His eyes flick up again, face knotted in close attention for one long moment, but then his gaze falls over Lewis’ shoulders, to the seat right behind him.
The man immediately stills, blinking awkwardly as he stands in his place, and something about his expression makes him look like he wants to die.
Lewis draws his gaze away, trying not to make it so obvious that he’s looking. Something clicks in his mind as he strums over what could have caused the colour to drain from the man’s face. Ah. Must be a case of the old mixed-up seats. Terrible affair, really, especially if you aren’t one for confrontation on these sorts of things. Lewis doesn’t have to do any confrontation, today, though. He eyes over the empty seats beside him. An entire row, all to himself.
Lewis bites back his smile, sinking further into his seat.
But then the stranger shifts once more, and Lewis feels a pair of eyes peering down at him.
“Excuse me,” a quiet voice says, and it’s the same young man, now looking straight at him. Because it seems he’s still standing there, not having made a move to one of the seats in the row behind them. His eyes dart over to the view beyond the plane’s window, to the blanket and pillow sat neatly by the armrest right beside Lewis. “Sorry.” The man half-whispers, face flushed. “But I am in C.”
Oh. Not an entire row for himself, then. Ah, well. At least the moment didn’t last long. Lewis might have gotten carried away with himself. “No problem, man.” He gives him an awkward smile, and quickly stands up to make some space, the back of his knees pressing against his seat.
The stranger slides in right beside him before Lewis can squeeze out into the aisle, mop of messy brown hair filtering right by Lewis’ line of sight, and he quietly settles down in the seat by the window, just as Lewis turns back to his own chair by the aisle.
The man’s already discarded the blanket and pillow somewhere onto the floor by the time Lewis has settled back into place, buckling his seatbelt, ever the prepared.
Light chatter flits through the air for a few moments before Lewis is pulling his gaze away to unlock his phone, checking his playlist’s downloads again. Sixty-two songs. He’s got time.
His phone pings with a new message from Jonny, and it’s a picture of the view from Miles’ apartment, Monaco’s harbour bathed in the evening light. For Lewis, it’s only just gone midday. He shifts to the side a little, reading the caption at the bottom of the screen. Safe flight.
The man in the window seat shifts a little then, brief and sudden, as if he is cold. Lewis catches the movement in the corner of his eye, turning his attention back to his phone screen.
Thanks, man. Try to save a drink for me.
There’s another shift from the corner of his gaze then, this time enough for the man to slightly kick his bag from where it’s tucked beneath his seat. Lewis hears a few of its contents toppling over in its midst. He glances over at the stranger, just for a second, a little confused by his troubled movements. And as if the man notices can feel his eyes on him, he looks at him back, something about his expression seemingly aggrieved.
Lewis pulls his gaze away again, not wanting to make him feel like he’s being stared at, perceived. Instead, he turns back to his phone, starts scrolling through social media, messages Miles his expected destination time.
From the corner of his eye, he can see the way the stranger is now biting his fingernails, the way his other free hand taps away at his bobbing knee. Perhaps he’s a nervous flyer. First-time, maybe. It’s been a long time since it was his own first-time.
Lewis blinks the thought away, holding back a smile at a notification that appears at the top of his screen. He taps at it, leaning slightly forward in his seat, makes a futile attempt at holding back a laugh, and it’s only now that he suddenly hears someone sigh, as if they are quite upset at him.
Lewis rolls out a shoulder, sure that he’s just unnecessarily honing in on things, and he types up a quick response before he’s switching apps again, Miles’ response appearing as a banner on top of his screen.
From his peripheral vision, he notices the way the stranger’s eyes fly up to the cabin ceilings, left knee shaking incessantly as he lets out another small breath, and Lewis rolls his shoulder out again, trying to focus on something else.
He glances up to his right, to the elderly couple with their toed off shoes beneath their seats, and they seem caught up in a world of their own. Lewis finds his gaze lingering, before he’s turning to his left. And there’s definitely a pair of eyes, alright. Except they are not looking at him.
The man in the window-seat is staring at the row behind Lewis with a desperate look, expression caught like he doesn’t completely believe what he is seeing, like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current seat. Dear god. Is Lewis really that bad of company? Maybe he should’ve made small-talk, should’ve at least said hi.
Lewis offers him a smile, but it seems to go unnoticed, the man’s eyes still fixed on the seat behind Lewis. Hm. Lewis tries to turn around as discreetly as he can, only to find that his own seat is blocking him from the view behind them, and he begins to wonder if the problem isn’t him, after all.
He turns back around in his seat, meeting eyes with the stranger again. Lewis blinks, suddenly feeling caught, and the man is still looking at him.
Lewis offers him a smile, can feel the way it comes out more like a grimace. The stranger bites on his bottom lip, then turns back to his phone.
Lewis sits there, staring at him, gaze fixed on the way the man types frantically away at his screen, but then the in-flight entertainment screens on the back of each seat light up as they begin to play the pre-flight safety video, and Lewis turns back to face his own properly, sinking back into his seat.
Baggage should be securely stowed in the overhead lockers, tray tables and foot rests should be put away… Lewis feels his attention starting to wane again, neck pressing into the cushioning of his headrest, eyes on the elderly couple in the row to the right of him again.
He turns back to the seatback screen, fingers tapping away at his phone case, and the longer he sits there like that, gaze fixed on the demonstration he’s barely paying attention to, he is more than sure that he can once again feel eyes on him.
Lewis tries to ignore the feeling, rolling his shoulders out once more, eyes planted firmly on the safety video before him. There are ten emergency exits on the main deck, six on the upper, and Lewis is still so sure that somebody is looking at him.
He flicks his head over to the left, instantly meeting the gaze of the man in the window seat. He’s looking at Lewis as if he doesn’t understand why Lewis was looking away, his own phone discreetly held out between them.
Lewis’ gaze drops to the phone screen momentarily, then back up to the stranger, more than a little confused. The man’s clinging to the corners of his phone as he inches it out further, the movement stiff and more than awkward, like he only means to explain. Lewis isn’t quite sure what he is meant to explain, makes good work of avoiding the man’s phone screen completely. It’s one thing to look at him head-on, like this, but to peer at his phone? That’s something Lewis would never do.
Lewis looks back up to meet his eyes, silently explain this very thought process, all ready to turn away, only to see the way the guy is still looking at him. He raises his brows slightly, gestures down to the space between them.
Lewis pulls an awkward face, shrugs his shoulder in the man’s direction like he isn’t sure what else to do.
The man’s still holding his phone out slightly, makes a big show of swallowing around air as he shuffles about in his seat in distress. And despite what Lewis had been thinking, what he’d just been telling himself, his gaze drops down to the space between them, right in the direction of the phone screen.
At first he doesn’t know what exactly he’s looking at – if he should even be looking – the font on the man’s phone too small. It forces Lewis to squint slightly, even finding that he has to lean in a little, and then he reads it, the message jotted out on a blank notes page in the centre of the man’s screen.
My ex is sitting behind us with his girlfriend. Please, kill me.
Lewis’ eyes slightly widen. Oh.
That explains his behaviour, then.
Lewis instantly pulls a face, an awkward sound passing through his teeth as he spares the guy a wince. He’s not exactly sure why, but the plight on the man’s expression has him feel a type of way. They stare at each other like that for a moment, the man unmoving when Lewis draws out his own phone. He pulls his own notes app open before he can think to himself, quickly writing a reply back.
Damn. Picked the right flight for it, huh?
Lewis drops his phone low between them, trying his very best to not arouse suspicion in the most suspicious looking way. The man’s eyes immediately flicker over the words in one short beat, letting out a sigh once he’s read them, still so very aggrieved. His shoulders are as tense as they were when he’d seemed to notice this ex in question, and it makes Lewis’ brows furrow, moving to glance behind him to see the mystery person. Just to sneak a peek.
He’s only turned halfway when the man makes a show of shaking his head, like the act might blow their cover that they’ve seen this supposed new couple. Oh. Lewis pauses, the back of his mind contemplating just looking anyway, oddly finding himself more invested in this situation than he’d thought. They’ll be stuck on this flight long enough for him to see the ex eventually, so it’s not like it’d make much difference.
He doesn’t, in the end, instead moves to settle back into place, wanting to respect this stranger’s privacy. The man beside him lets out another sigh, this time sinking into his own cabin seat.
Poor guy, Lewis thinks to himself. What are the chances of that. He turns back to his phone right as the flight attendants check over their seatbelts for the final time, unlocking it in his hands. Lewis deletes the note he’d written previously, thumbs hovering over his phone screen.
The words seem nosy as he stares at them, written down as frankly as this, and for a moment he worries it’ll make him seem insensitive. Invasive.
But he doesn’t get the chance to contemplate deleting it, to figure out what else to say, if he should say anything else at all, because he notices the stranger’s eyes peering over at him again, leaning over just enough to peek at Lewis’s phone screen.
Lewis’ breath catches in his throat, and he almost jumps in place. God, maybe he’s the nosy one.
The man’s eyes are still on Lewis’ phone, leaning in over the middle seat as he puffs out a breath.
“You would not believe…” He mumbles, out loud, this time. There’s a slight accent in voice, an uneven lilt in the tone, like he’s speaking so very seriously even though he understands the unseriousness of all of this.
It makes Lewis slightly laugh, the sound more like a breath. He can appreciate the honesty, and someone that’s willing to let him pry. His eyes flick between the middle seat separating the two of them, barely testing at actually peering over this said ex.
“Recent?” He asks back, voice just over a whisper, even though he’s still trying his best to be vague. It could be easy to work out the context of what they are talking about, given the circumstances, but still. He can be respectful, even when he means to pry.
Lewis doesn’t have to say anything else, worry about elaborating, because the stranger is already answering for him.
“I would have ended up walking, if I knew it would be like this.” He shakes his head solemnly in a way that doesn’t match the playful lilt in his tone, eyes wide and so very serious. It makes Lewis wryly smile.
“Would’ve made quite the journey.”
The man shrugs, gaze sheepish as he smiles back.
For one long moment, the only sound between them is the thrum of the plane’s engines, quiet chatter of neighbouring passengers, and Lewis realises that’s all they need to say.
He settles back into his own seat right as the plane is taxiing to the runway, and then, they take off.
It takes twenty minutes longer than usual for the seatbelt sign to finally dim, and Lewis immediately takes the chance to escape his seat, walking right to the back of the airplane to stretch his legs.
They are yet to reach cruising altitude, but the view of the clouds in the windowpanes below fixate him completely, Lewis only half-preoccupied with rolling out his shoulders, eyes entirely focused on the view below.
One of the flight attendants walks by him with a tray of drinks, and Lewis ducks out of the way so he can pass him by, considering it’s been long enough for him to finally return to his seat.
He turns the corner to start walking back down the aisle just as somebody opens up one the bathroom doors, hopping out right in front of Lewis, and the two of them almost bump straight into each other. Lewis already has an apology on his tongue, hands lifted up by his sides, when his eyes meet the figure’s in question, and he realises it’s the stranger again.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He’s mumbling, flush faced and more than embarrassed. It could almost make Lewis think they had in fact bumped into each other, and it makes him smile.
“No problem, man.” He shifts to rest against the opposite wall, gracing them with some space in between. Lewis gestures down the corner towards their row of seats. “You, er, escaping the unexpected company?”
The man flicks a glance behind him, shoulders slumping as soon as he realises what Lewis means.
“No… it is too late.” He sighs as if in distress. “I have already been spotted.”
The wording of it manages to make Lewis laugh.
“Did he say anything? Your ex.”
“There was not exactly time…” The man ponders, eyes somewhere off in between them like he can see the guy for himself. “I walked straight past them like I did not care.”
“And how did that go for you?” Lewis asks, not to be curious, but because he wants to know. And he watches the way the man’s face creases into something incredibly emotive, still pondering over the words. Eventually his expression wrinkles into something a little displeased.
Lewis nods with one big movement, and his eyes are shining. “Yeah, it was slightly obvious.”
The stranger’s head immediately peers up to look at him, unsure if he should be offended, how Lewis even means to say it, and Lewis quickly brings his hands up in front of him again.
“No offence, but you were kinda giving the whole… tortured soul look before we took off.”
The man’s shoulders slacken, mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape. “Oh, yes... I should manage my expressions better. My friends tell me this, also.”
He seems to sound so incredibly honest, open in a way Lewis isn’t used to experiencing with strangers, and he finds himself holding out a hand.
“I’m Lewis, by the way. Not sure if we actually introduced ourselves yet.”
The man stares at Lewis’ outstretched hand, pauses for a moment. Takes it.
“Charles.” Lewis repeats, and they shake their hands together once, smiling.
It’s a simple handshake, Charles’ palm slightly warm and grip firmer than Lewis had expected. They each pull away in the same moment, and Lewis notes the way Charles brings both his hands to the backs of his jean pockets, shuffling on his feet like he doesn’t still mean to stand. It has Lewis’ eyes widen slightly, gesturing along the back of the plane.
“I was just stretching.” He tells him, suddenly feeling like he has to explain himself, and Charles nods along like he understands him, eyes drifting along the fitted tee pressed to Lewis’ skin. Kappa Sweetheart. Charles swallows slightly, rolling his own shoulders out like he means to stretch his muscles for himself.
A moment passes like that, and then a minute becomes three, and Lewis partly wonders why Charles won’t leave him, go and return to his own seat. They stand there awkwardly, Charles’ eyes settling on the view out the windowpane, and Lewis’ eyes drift back down the plane aisle, momentarily catching sight of the dark mop of hair perched in the seat behind his. Ah.
He glances over at Charles again, and Lewis’ brows furrow, somewhat feeling for him.
“Does he know that we don’t know each other?” He asks, voice breaking the silence save for the plane’s engines, and Charles’ eyes meet his again. “Your ex.”
Charles shakes his head in confusion, but before he has to ask, Lewis is answering anyway.
“Just act like you know me, then.” He offers. “A long lost friend. There’s only a couple hours left on the flight, anyway.” The proposition comes easy, even if there’s the good chance Charles won’t say-
Charles’ eyes are fixed on his, and he quickly nods once, entirely grateful.
“So… Charles,” Lewis starts, and Charles instantly turns to him, seemingly a little confused. “This was the film you recommended to me, yeah?”
He’s pointing at the little seatback screen as he asks it, and Charles quickly follows the movement, furrow deep in his brows. Lewis can somewhat understand his hesitation, the volume of his voice a little too loud, the pace of his speech a little exaggerated in a way that makes it clear Lewis wants people to hear him. Or at least, the man in the seat behind him,
“Ah… yes.” Charles’ reply eventually comes, flat and a little uncertain, a complete contrast to his actual words. “I heard a lot about it.”
From the look Charles gives Lewis’ television screen, Lewis can tell it’s the furthest thing from the truth. Shit. Abort plan.
“And, uhm, Lewis,” Charles says, and the sound of his own name has Lewis perk up in his seat, light and slightly pitched and spoken in a way that emphasises vowels that aren’t there. Lewis stares at him, waiting, but Charles doesn’t add anything else.
Lewis blinks at him, at his entertainment screen, the movie picked out before them.
More silence passes, until Charles finally rushes to grab his phone, scribbling something down with a rhythmic tapping beat. And before Lewis can even register it, Charles is holding out his phone screen again.
I am sorry. I am very bad with this.
Lewis pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, vaguely nods as he pulls his own notes app out too.
Don’t stress, you’re overthinking it.
It has Charles nod once in self-assuredness, but then he’s glancing at Lewis’ seatback screen again. He half slumps in his seat, types another message out just as quickly as the first.
I have not even watched the movie.
“You haven’t watched Before Sunrise?” Lewis’ brows furrow, slightly backing away. It comes out before he can really think it through, barely registering the question itself, but then he sees the way Charles’ eyes slightly widen, darting back and forth between the view behind Lewis’ seat and the seatback screen. Lewis quickly clears his throat. “I mean, hell, man… it’s a good watch.”
“Right now?” Lewis asks, a little caught off guard, only because he doesn’t mean to force Charles to watch something of his if it means maintaining their ruse.
“If it is as good as you say.” Charles murmurs, turning back in his seat to pull the film up on his own screen. Lewis stares at him, his unlocked phone.
“I… hope you like it. I guess.” Lewis tries to recall the plot as he says it, switches his own film library to settle on the map of their journey.
“I will tell you if I won’t.” Charles says, tone curt, simple. It makes Lewis smile slightly, more to himself.
It seems that Charles was serious about starting the film, even though there is only an hour left of their flight by the time the opening credits start, and he seems to have only made it twenty minutes in when the captain is coming onto the speakers to announce that they’re beginning their descent.
Soon enough, flight attendants comes round to collect the headphones they’d distributed, along with the blankets and instructions to stow their things away, interrupting the film watching for Charles and everyone else.
They land in a straightforward routine, and Lewis immediately hears the way Charles’ ex and his girlfriend unbuckle their seatbelts behind him, standing from their seats. Lewis pulls his airpods out of his ears, pops them back in his case leisurely as he glances over at Charles.
Like this – without the presence of the two figures behind them, the both of them already standing in the aisle ready to disembark – Lewis notes the way Charles sinks into his seat for the first time this entire flight, letting out a grateful sigh as he stares at the plane ceilings.
Lewis just laughs at him, turns his airplane mode off. What a weird flight.
And that’s the end of that.
It doesn’t take as long as he expects for Lewis to make his way over to the transit lounge, his next flight due for boarding in an hour, eyes flicking leisurely over the selection of snacks. There’s nothing that particularly catches his eyes, and he purses his lip slightly, glancing over his shoulder to the nearest available seat.
The lounge is already filled with a variety of waiting passengers, and Lewis mindlessly skims through the most of them, pausing in place when something familiar seems to meet his eye.
He tilts his head slightly, only to find Charles sitting there, in one of the airport benches half a world away.
In the very same moment Lewis spots him, Charles’ own eyes meet his, and they smile at each other, the two of them the only people in the room. Charles’ eyes drift over Lewis’ shirt again, the hoodie slinked over his shoulders, carry-on luggage by his side. He’s got his own suitcase tucked between his legs right in front of him, wired earphones dangling down the front of his sweatshirt, hair messier than Lewis remembers when they’d last said goodbye.
When their eyes next meet, Charles wags his brows at him in recognition, moving his jacket off the seat beside him in a silent offering. And so, Lewis obliges.
“Well,” Lewis starts, once he’s bridged the gap between them in the lounge. “What are the chances.”
Charles opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out, and he instead seems to settle for a polite smile. Something about the sight of him feels different here, without the knowing presence of the passengers they’d last shared a flight with. At that, Lewis gestures along the lounge.
“Take another look around, see if they are here too.”
Charles’ eyes suddenly gape, slightly shifting back. “Don’t say this.” He tells him. “I cannot believe I even survived…”
It makes Lewis laugh as he settles beside him, tucking his suitcase before him in a mirror of Charles’ own. They’ve got the same luggage – Lewis only seems to notice this now – the only difference being the shade of their suitcases, Charles’ gloss grey where Lewis’ is white. Lewis hadn’t noticed that on their last flight, when he’d helped Charles pull his luggage down from the overhead compartment. It seems he hadn’t noticed many things, until now.
“I mean it, though.” He mumbles, pulling his phone out to rest on his lap. “Spooky coincidence.”
When he looks up at Charles again, he sees the way he’s already looking, letting out a quiet hum.
“You headed to France, too, then?” Lewis asks, only because that’s his own end destination, flight-wise, but Charles shakes his head.
“Just travelling through.”
“Oh really? Whereabouts?” Lewis asks to make conversation, and Charles looks more than ready to answer, until he seemingly remembers something, quickly closing his mouth. He stares at Lewis awkwardly, slightly conflicted, eyes on his nose ring.
“I was taught to always be wary of strangers.”
It makes Lewis tilt his head slightly, letting out a laugh. “Completely understandable, man.” He clears his throat, turning back to his phone screen as if to not badger Charles with any more questions. It draws them back into a comfortable silence, Lewis using the chance to catch up on his Instagram feed, hearting the message his mother sent him fifteen minutes before.
If not for the way he was already waiting for it, anticipating it, Charles’ voice interrupts his movements, still closely perched by his side.
“You are not staying in London, too, then?” He asks, and Lewis considers poking him about his own wariness of strangers too, but the question does not bother him, and he simply shakes his head instead.
“Not this time, no. I’m actually headed to Monaco.”
It makes Charles’ eyebrows raise, interest clearly piqued. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I’m…” Lewis tilts his head a little side to side. “Staying out there, with some friends, for a while.”
“Special occasion?” Charles asks, and as if he’s realised how many questions he’s throwing at him, he suddenly draws away, blinking quickly. He explains how he only asks it because there is this event happening there this weekend that he assumes is the reason why Lewis is attending. But Lewis simply tilts his head at him, tells him it’s not.
“Ah.” Charles shakes his head to himself, somewhat flustered in his appearance. “Well, I would recommend you attend it anyway. Apparently it should be fun. To do with your friends.”
Lewis thanks him for the recommendation. And then he shrugs. “I missed them.” The candidness in his response makes Charles smile. “It’s been a while since we all saw each other, so this is like… the great big meet-up before we all get busy again for the next four months.”
“That’s nice.” Charles says, and he looks like he’s holding himself back from saying more. Lewis doesn’t prod, but then Charles sits up a little then, leaning in closer between their two seats.
“I’m going home. To Monaco, too.”
Lewis’ eyes slightly widen. “Oh?” And he’s a mirror of Charles from before. “Spooky coincidence.” He says again.
Charles hums. “I did not think anyone else would be taking this same route that I am.”
“Besides us, I don’t think they are.” Lewis says, and it makes them share a quiet laugh. He shakes his shoulders out again, tilting his head side to side. “It’s kind of my fault for leaving the flight bookings so late – it was this or a 24 hour layover in Lisbon, and I’m already tight on time.”
Charles nods. “I wish I could say the same, but I booked this trip four months ago. I have been dreading the long flights every day since, but. At least I will be there, in the end.”
They announce they’re going to start boarding by sections, and Lewis’ one comes up first.
“That’s me.” He says as he comes to a stand. “See you around, yeah?” It sounds a bit silly once it comes out, considering the chances of them actually seeing each other again. Charles returns his smile either way.
Lewis settles into his seat once he’s boarded the flight, and it’s smaller than the previous one, much more intimate. Everything is squished together in his line of sight so that he even spots the way Charles seems to be sitting right opposite him, four rows away.
They smile at each other when their eyes meet, but then Charles has to settle into his own seat too, and before long they’re taking off.
Lewis is scrolling his phone, headphones on his ears when there’s a tap on his shoulder. It’s Charles. Lewis sits up a little.
“Hi.” Charles swallows, Lewis catching the movement in his throat. His eyes flick over to the empty seat next to Lewis. “I watched Before Sunrise.”
“Did you, now?” Lewis muses, watching the way Charles’ eyes flick to the middle seat again. Charles hums, not saying it.
“Mm. I liked it a bit.” There’s the slightest jostle of turbulence, just enough to slightly off-balance Charles on his feet, and yet he still doesn’t say it.
“I’m glad to hear.” Lewis says. “Wanna sit here? The seat is free. If you want to, of course.”
Charles smiles at him like he’s glad that Lewis has offered, but he shakes his head anyway.
“Ah, are you sure? I would not want to bother you.” There’s another jostle again, and the seatbelt lights come on. His mouth closes and Lewis makes way to quickly stand up. Charles slides in swiftly beside him, settling into the middle seat. “The same row as last time.” He muses.
Lewis tells Charles how he’d started researching that event in Monaco Charles mentioned back in the airport, and Charles’ eyes brighten, as if he hadn’t expected Lewis to actually look into it. “It looks really cool, but all the tickets are sold out.”
“It’s okay. It was just a suggestion, really.”
Lewis hums. “I know, thanks for that. I guess I just want to do more things, when I’m there, y’know? Have a real itinerary.”
Charles muses on this. “Will you be there for long?”
“A couple weeks.” Lewis tells him. “But it might stretch to a month at this point, who knows.”
“You sound… uncertain.” Charles stares at him, not understanding this because he prefers planning things out.
“Ah I see it more as…” Lewis’ eyes dance across the ceiling. “You know. Following how the wind blows.”
Lewis shrugs. “I like it this way.”
“You like it stressful?” Charles asks, and it makes Lewis laugh.
“I’m assuming you don’t.”
“I did not think anyone does, really.” Charles gives him an uneven look, and it has Lewis smile at him for a beat too long, before Charles is suddenly dropping his gaze, clearing his throat. “What are you listening to.” He asks.
“Right now?” Lewis gives Charles one of his AirPods. Charles is sitting sideways in his seat now, listening along with him. It’s one of the lo-fi tracks he’d been listening to on their flight before, playing in one single loop. Charles sits in it, listening.
“I like it.” He eventually says. It has Lewis smile at him, because he likes it too. Charles suddenly sits up then, saying something about how he wants to show Lewis a song on his own phone that he is sure sounds familiar enough, but it’s sitting with all his other stuff four rows away.
Lewis lets him use his phone to make the Spotify search instead. And so, Charles does. They’re still sharing one airpods each when the song starts playing, but then Charles pulls out his AirPod.
“Wait, you have to listen with both ears.” He insists.
Lewis takes it from him, fingers brushing over each other. The music starts playing, and Charles’ eyes are intently focused on him. He doesn’t blink, as if he’s trying to capture Lewis’ reaction to memory. Lewis stares back.
Charles is slightly moving his head in time with the melody, as if he can hear the music for himself. “What part is it on?” He asks, the volume of the song quiet enough for Lewis to hear the question. He opens his mouth slightly as the song keeps playing, unsure of how to respond.
“Do you want me to sing?” He asks. It makes Charles laugh, not actually responding. He sits there long enough that the song has played all the way through, started right back up again in another single loop, and then Charles is leaning in slightly.
“It’s good, yes? I think it is similar, in a different way.”
Lewis offers him a smile, because he can see the similarities Charles sees in it.
Before either of them can say another word, one of the flight attendants comes over with a meal tray. Charles looks completely off guard, gaping at the singular tray, and Lewis already knows it’s his, taking it from the attendant with a quiet thanks before he slinks away.
Charles gapes, barely hiding his bewilderment. Lewis offers him an awkward laugh.
“What can I say, blame the dietary requirements.”
“The gluten?” Charles asks. “I hear this is common in LA.”
It makes Lewis laugh again, fuller, this time.
“You like LA, then?” He asks, and Charles shrugs for a second. Says that he prefers Miami. Lewis assumes it’s because he’s a party boy, but the reasoning Charles gives is way more down to Earth than that, speaking like he resonates with the place.
“Where do you like?” Charles asks him in return.
Lewis thinks for a very long time. “Colorado.”
Charles pulls a slight face, trying to recall it. “I have never been to this place.”
“It’s nice during the winter. Quiet.”
“You like the quiet, then?”
Lewis shrugs a little. “It’s nice. You know, for family time.”
“I haven’t seen my family in three years.”
A parent in the row beside them gives Lewis a stern look, and Lewis slightly widens his eyes with a mouth full of his protein shake. “Sorry.” He murmurs apologetically, then turns back to Charles with a confused look. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Charles explains how work has been very demanding, he never got to have any time off. Lewis tries filling in the gaps, asking if he managed to negotiate something, but Charles just shakes his head. “I couldn’t. So, I quit.”
“I’m sure you’ve got better things coming your way.”
That manages to make Charles smile. “This is what my mother said.”
“Ah,” Lewis gestures in his direction. “Then I must be right.”
It makes Charles laugh, and then his food is being served, too, and they both settle in their seats as they busy themselves with each other their meals. Charles is in the middle of opening utensils when Lewis gestures at him with his elbow.
“Is that why you’re going to Monaco? Visiting family at home, I mean.”
“Partly, yes.” Charles nods, cutting a baked potato into two. “I also just… miss home. It has been a while, since I was back there. I did not expect to be away for so long.”
“I can imagine.” Lewis hums in understanding right as Charles spreads his bread with butter. “My parents – they’re like a whole world away in distance, but I try to visit home every now and again. It doesn’t feel right, going too long without seeing them, you know?”
“In London?” Charles asks, but Lewis shakes his head.
“Few hours’ drive north.”
Charles nods once, biting into his lamb stew. The food manages to comfort them for a while, and it’s only halfway through each of their meals that Lewis realises they’ve both resigned to silence. Not that anything is wrong with the silence, though, but it makes him think of something, and then he’s turning to Charles again.
“There’s a sequel to it, you know.” Lewis tells him. “To Before Sunrise.”
Lewis hums, fingering at his seatback screen. He finds it soon enough, and Charles still doesn’t seem to really believe it. They both settle into a comfortable quiet as they eat the rest of their meal whilst watching the movie in sync on each of their screens.
When Charles gets up to use the bathroom a couple hours later, Lewis uses it as an opportunity to get up too, needing to stretch his legs. He’s in the middle of stretching his arms when the toilet doors suddenly unlock, and Charles steps out. When he sees Lewis, he startles.
“Sorry, were you waiting?”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I was just stretching.”
Charles nods, then looks at him carefully, eyeing over his Kappa Sweetheart shirt again. “Do you… do this often?” Something about his inquisitive tone makes Lewis laugh.
Charles nods once, slowly, then rounds out his shoulders in one swift move. It makes Lewis smile again, but the moment doesn’t last because the plane suddenly jostles with a burst of turbulence, and Charles is slightly knocked off his feet. He trips over his shoes, half falling into Lewis, but Lewis rights him quickly enough.
So, they return to their seats quickly enough, the ambient lighting on the plane ceilings glowing dark hues of purple and pink, and Charles eventually ends up falling asleep in his own arms, unaware of the way Lewis keeps righting his head when he drifts too closely right into him.
They’re wandering round the duty free section in Heathrow together, two hours later, looking at all the little souvenirs the airport has to offer.
“Where are you sitting for this last stint.” Lewis asks, just as Charles picks out a mug, saying it reminds him of a friend.
Charles hums, pulling out his flight ticket as he reads it over. “C again.” He nods to himself in one sure movement. “The same row as before.” Lewis nods at this silently, too, but then Charles gives him a quick glance, continuing on. “I hope I am not tiring you with my company.”
Lewis laughs, nudges him slightly in the side. It has Charles slightly trip in his step, not expecting it, and Lewis instinctively reaches out to right him just as Charles already has. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, honestly.”
Charles doesn’t say anything to that, and Lewis doesn’t wait for him to. He spares Charles a moment to pay for the mug he’d picked out, eyeing over the various trinkets the shop has to offer. Charles rejoins him quickly enough, suddenly aware of all the little things he’s bought for himself, in comparison to Lewis’ own hands which – save for his suitcase – are very much empty.
“Did you want to get something, too?”
They’re strolling by all the perfumes when Charles asks this, and Lewis shrugs more to himself, picking up one of the testers to give it a spritz.
“I seriously overpacked.” He murmurs, also aware that he’s not in need of anything else. The perfume sinks into his skin in a satisfying scent, and Lewis finds himself lingering on the bottle of cologne, trying to make out the fragrance.
“That smells nice.” Charles mumbles, distracted by the perfume’s scent. Lewis holds out the little tester for him, and Charles leans in to smell it, slightly dipping his head. It has Lewis feel the warmth radiating from his face, suddenly aware of how close he is, like this. But then, Charles pulls away.
London to Nice goes quicker than either of them would have silently hoped, and before Lewis knows it, their flight ends, Lewis helping Charles collect his overhead luggage in a quiet routine.
Charles’ eyes catch on the tightness of his shirt as he thanks Lewis for the time he’s spent with him. For sparing him his company. He speaks like he is a burden. Lewis smiles at him, small and warm and genuine, tells him he’s grateful for the company Charles himself has extended, that he hopes he enjoys the time with his family.
“I hope you do get to attend it.” Charles says when they’ve reached the departure gate. “The event I mentioned. It could be fun.”
For a moment, Lewis thinks Charles might be attending it too, that he might get to see him again, by some newfound luck.
“Yeah.” He tells him. “Maybe.”
They stand there like that, so very clearly not wanting to leave. And then Charles finally offers to give Lewis some restaurant recommendations, help him with that itinerary he’d mentioned. Lewis hands him his phone, unlocked on his notes app. “Please.”
It’s a comfortable silence as Charles types some things down, Lewis using the chance to really look at him properly. Seventeen hours they’ve spent together, and he’s only now looking at Charles properly. He should’ve made better use of it. Before he’d like to admit to himself, Charles is already handing his phone back.
“Thanks, man.” Lewis murmurs, eyes drifting to the screen. But then his brows furrow, because there isn’t a single restaurant listed in sight. Instead, a typed out message. And what looks like Charles’ number.
I am sure I can recommend you restaurants through this, if you would like. The choices are endless!!
“This is okay?” Charles asks. When Lewis looks back up at him, he sees the expression on Charles’ face, open and waiting, hopeful. Still in distress.
He saves the note down, offers him a content smile.
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