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Time stood still in airports. They were weird like that. Liminal spaces that were always disorienting, no matter the time of day. Even though it was near 4 in the morning, the windows were so close to the ceiling that the dark patches of sky were eclipsed by bright stores and oddly themed restaurants.
Langa’s class traveled in a long horde, small friend groups sticking with their respective cliques and the odd teacher or adult chaperone directing students away from coffee shops and snack displays. Langa and Reki hung at the back of the group, walking elbow to elbow a few strides behind everyone else. They were in their own world, their steps synced, blissfully aware of each other’s presence. Though, something seemed off. Reki stood with an alert posture, and his eyes darted back and forth, taking in every store, light, and movement in the airport. He fidgeted with his hands, folding over each other. Langa held his gaze on Reki, hoping to catch his attention. Seconds passed and Reki didn’t even look in Langa’s direction. His eyes followed a colorful shop selling books and magazines.
As the class rounded a corner, the terminal waiting lounge came into sight. Several rows of small black leather seats lined the walls next to a yawning woman standing behind a desk. The television behind her showed the time of liftoff, 4:32am. That was soon. The class settled in the seats, their chatter becoming more lively and animated. Voices merged together and became wordless noise, looming over the crowd of people like a cloud. On any other day, Reki would turn to Langa and start a conversation, talking about nothing and everything. Reki’s voice cut through any other noise like a hot knife, searing Langa’s heart and mind so he couldn’t pay attention to anything else. But Reki hadn’t said a single word since the class arrived at the airport. They wordlessly wandered behind their classmates and now they sat, silent, next to each other.
Langa stifled back a yawn. He got less than four hours of sleep but came to the airport with unexpected energy. Only now was his fatigue catching up to him. Reki, however, seemed wide awake, but not energetic as he usually was. Langa was half convinced Reki never slept, often waking up to text messages sent at hours of night when he imagined even worms were asleep. Reki would arrive at school the next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, energy and warmth radiating off of him. With after-midnight S races and early morning school hours, it was a miracle how Reki functioned normally on a day to day basis.
It was strange how Reki sat stiffly next to Langa, his forehead creased and his mouth turned downward in a slight frown. He chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip and repetitively picked at the bright orange band aid that Langa had wrapped around his finger just a few days earlier after Reki wiped out practicing a self-invented variation of the ollie. Even his bright red hair seemed to droop with the weight of his worry. Langa tried catching his gaze again, but he could not. Reki was obviously distracted with something, affected by his thoughts enough for Langa to appear invisible to him. What could Reki be distracted by? They didn’t go to S last night because of the school trip, and no homework was assigned yesterday, so what was there to think about to cause Reki’s visible stress? It made Langa worry just by looking at him. Langa squinted his eyes, realizing Reki hadn’t blinked in the last minute.
“Are you excited for the trip?” Langa asked, attempting conversation. It had been too quiet. If Reki didn’t talk in the next minute, Langa thought he’d explode.
Reki stayed silent for a second, then mumbled something without looking up.
“Mm, yeah.” His speech was so quiet Langa would have otherwise assumed Reki was talking to himself.
Langa wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Something was off about Reki this morning, and Langa was determined to get to the bottom of it. Langa leaned into Reki, their shoulders gently colliding, forcibly redirecting his attention.
“Hey man, you’ve been acting weird all morning, what’s up?”
Reki swallowed awkwardly. He looked down, like he was embarrassed.
“I’ve never been on an airplane before, I’m a little nervous about it.”
Oh. Of course. Why hadn’t Langa caught on earlier? Not everyone has moved across the globe and was familiar with airplanes.
“You’ve never been on a plane before?” Langa said stupidly. Duh, he just said that.
“Nope.”
“We’re sitting next to each other, right? I’ll be with you the whole time, it’ll be okay.” Langa lightly nudged Reki’s arm with his elbow. Reki looked at Langa and smiled weakly. Langa’s heart lurched as he looked at Reki, really looked at him, for the first time that morning. His eyes were soft amber and his eye bags were unusually prominent. His freckles were beginning to fade with the change of seasons, winter just on the horizon. He was beautiful.
“Right.” His voice was raspy and laced with hesitation, like he was about to cry.
As if on cue, a voice echoed over the comms. Reki broke eye contact, looking for the source of the noise.
“All passengers for flight 37, Okinawa to Kyoto, please begin boarding.”
Every student stood up and started to line up to board the plane. Swept up in the sudden movement, Langa instinctively grabbed Reki’s hand. Reki took it and squeezed, his hands trembling and slippery with sweat. Langa furrowed his brows as his stomach flipped. He didn’t realize Reki was this nervous. Maybe everyone was right about him being as dense as the wall he crashed into when he first started skateboarding. Langa led Reki towards the check-in line, their hands still entwined. He didn’t know when it first started; when he and Reki began casually holding hands. The action seemed natural, like their hands were molded to hold each other. Accidental lingering touches turned into purposeful prolonged caresses and now Langa found himself reaching for Reki’s hand even when he wasn’t on the ground accepting help.
The line moved quickly and soon the class was shuffled onto the plane. It was a small plane, lined with two cushioned seats on each side. Students and the odd teacher situated themselves where they pleased, and Langa led Reki to an empty row near the back of the plane and sat him down by the window. Reki’s eyes darted everywhere, anxiously taking in his surroundings.
“You doing okay?” Langa whispered, softly squeezing Reki’s hand.
Reki nodded, but didn’t look at Langa, his eyes glued to the back of the seat in front of him. He’s still terrified.
Langa wanted to say more, but every word he tried to say died on his tongue as he struggled with his seatbelt. He had never had many friends and his social skills were not one to marvel at, so comforting people was unfamiliar to Langa. But since knowing Reki, Langa felt himself beginning to thaw. Reki had helped Langa so many times before, it’s really no wonder why he fell for him. He’s so kind, and talented, and beautiful, and- uh oh, he’s hyperventilating.
The students settled in their seats and the safety video began to play on the screens in front of each student. Langa didn’t pay attention. He was looking at Reki, whose eyes were glued to the screen. His jaw was set and tense and his eyes were opened wide with attention, memorizing every instruction and warning. As the emergency procedures played onscreen, Langa set his hand back on Reki’s. It was like the hand of a statue. His hand was stiff and his knuckles were white from gripping the armrest. Reki briefly glanced over at Langa.
“You know this stuff won’t happen, right?” Langa said gently, “It’ll be okay.” He looked at Reki hopefully.
Reki nodded. His facial expression didn’t change.
“It’s just, I’m really anxious and sometimes reasoning doesn’t work to calm me down. You know?”
Langa did. It sucked.
The plane lurched forward. Reki’s breath hitched. Langa caressed Reki’s hand with his thumb, a slow pattern that, after about a minute, evened Reki’s breathing. When Reki was fully relaxed, Langa stilled his hand but left it resting over Reki’s.
A ding echoed in the plane.
“Hello, this is your captain speaking. Please prepare the cabin for liftoff.”
A few seconds later, a sound like an engine starting crescendoed into Langa’s ears. The plane heaved forward. Reki inhaled sharply and his fists clenched. Langa felt something twinge in his heart. He was learning how little he liked seeing Reki in pain.
“How long was the flight from Canada to Okinawa?” Reki asked. This is good, Langa thought. I can distract him and calm him down.
“About 17 hours, I think.” It was a long flight. Langa was usually alright with long trips, but that flight pushed even him to his limit.
“Woah, that’s crazy. I guess this is like nothing to you, huh.”
“I guess.” Langa shrugged. He was more worried about Reki than himself right now.
“What did you do?”
“I slept, I read some books, I watched some movies. I would read a book in English and then the same one in Japanese to practice reading in Japanese, since I’d have to do that a lot here.”
The plane shook slightly, like a car going over a small speed bump.
“Was there turbulence?” Reki asked.
Yes, Langa thought, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“Nothing worse than what’s happening right now.” Reki seemed to relax at that. The plane tipped upwards at a gradually growing angle. They were airborne.
“It’s like a roller coaster,” Langa said. Reki smiled. It was the closest to genuine Langa had seen all morning.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
○▲▼▲○
About half an hour later, the plane began to shake, like a car driving over an unpaved road. Reki looked up from the magazine he was reading, his eyes wide with alarm. Turbulence, Langa thought, here we go.
“What’s happening?” Reki asked, his words stumbling out of his mouth.
“Just a bit of turbulence,” Langa answered, keeping his voice slow and calm. “It’ll pass soon.”
“I don’t like it,” Reki said, quieter, and his hands gripped on his magazine and the pages crumpled.
“I know, it’s okay.”
The plane stumbled unevenly more intensely than before and Reki froze. His jaw trembled and his eyes began to shine with mist. Langa’s heart lurched.
“I’m scared,” Reki breathed. Langa almost didn’t hear him speak. Langa took one of Reki’s hands in his own and gently massaged Reki’s sweaty palm.
“This plane was made to fly through hurricanes,” Langa said, “it’s tough. Just like you, Reki. A little bit of turbulence is perfectly normal. It’ll be over soon.”
As if on command, the plane stopped shaking a second after Langa finished his last sentence. The sounds lessened back into the quiet background hum of the engines. Reki’s hand was still relaxed in Langa’s soft grasp. Even though the moment of fear had passed, Reki made no movement to separate them. It was like the turbulence never happened, except the only difference was Reki casually letting Langa hold his hand outside moments of upswept emotion or need.
Reki yawned. I guess his lack of sleep has finally caught up to him, Langa thought.
“You tired?” Langa asked, though he already knew the answer. Reki’s eyes were droopy and his head was lolling slightly from side to side.
“A little,” Reki responded, his speech somewhat slurred. “But I didn’t bring a pillow or anything soft…” He looked up at Langa with expectant eyes. An unspoken request passed to Langa. I swear, this boy is going to be the death of me.
“Fine.” Langa felt a smile tug at his lips. How could he say no to such an innocent request, accompanied by an equally wholesome face?
Reki snuggled his head against Langa’s shoulder, the weight a familiar feeling. Reki sighed, and his head felt heavy on Langa. In less than a minute Reki was asleep.
○▲▼▲○
Reki slept for only half an hour. Langa had yawned too dynamically and his body forced a stretch, jostling Reki’s head off his shoulder. Reki had yawned too, and his hands rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“Good morning,” Langa said. Without lifting his head from Langa’s shoulder, Reki looked out the small window, some light from the rising sun softly illuminating the vast expanse of sky. Outside the airplane lay a field of fluffy, white clouds. Through empty patches between the clouds Langa could see the deep blue of the ocean. Reki was lost in the sight, his eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging slightly open in awe.
“It’s beautiful,” Reki breathed. Langa hummed in agreement, though he wasn’t looking out the window anymore.
Suddenly, the plane quickly dipped, then recovered its smooth altitude. In that half second, Reki’s awe evaporated. He whipped his head around, fear creeping onto his face.
“What was that?”
“It was nothing,” Langa replied calmly. Reki sat back in his seat, though he didn’t seem convinced. “Go back to reading your magazine.” Reki hesitantly reached for the magazine that had fallen down to the floor by his feet since he was asleep. A few seconds later, the plane dipped slightly again. Langa barely felt it, but Reki looked back at him all the same.
“Are we going down?”
“No, I didn't notice anything,” Langa answered patiently. He could sense Reki’s anxiety rising.
The plane began to shake again. Langa felt Reki’s jaw clench on his shoulder.
“Langa,” he said quietly, unease laced his tone. Langa leaned his head on Reki’s, letting him know he’s there. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Reki seized Langa’s hand as the plane jolted. “Langa,” he said again. As if his name were a magic spell, every ounce of logic and reason jumped out of his being as Langa reached over with his free arm and held Reki’s head to his chest.
“Langa, Langa, Langa,” Reki whispered, like a prayer.
Langa rubbed small circles on Reki’s back. His hair tickled Langa’s nose. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of Reki’s quick, panicked breaths. Reki’s hands curled into tight fists, grasping the fabric of Langa’s shirt. Langa was embarrassed to admit how his heart skipped a beat. This was a terrible time to be pining.
“What is your magazine about?” Langa asked. He already knew, the splashes of neon color on the title made the magazine visible from a million miles away, but he wanted to hear Reki talk. Maybe distracting him will help him calm down.
“Designs for different kinds of skateboards.” Reki’s response was not said in one breath and his voice dipped up and down with the plane’s sudden movements.
“Sounds cool,” Langa said. He made an effort to speak quietly so they stayed in his chest, hoping the rumble of his words was more comforting to Reki than that of the plane.
Reki hummed. Langa could feel the cool breath of Reki’s every exhale through the stretched fabric of his shirt and his skin shivered. Reki’s head did not leave the crook of Langa’s neck. The plane unexpectedly dipped and Reki’s whole body tensed even more, flattening his face forcefully against Langa’s neck.
“You’re alright,” Langa whispered. “It’s okay.” He continued to trace circular motions on Reki’s back and mumble quiet affirmations until he felt Reki’s muscles relax and his shoulders drooped, though his hand never let go of Langa’s shirt.
(It would be wrinkled later. Langa didn’t care.)
○▲▼▲○
The rest of the flight went smoothly. Reki shut his eyes closed and held a sharply inhaled breath for a few seconds too long during the initial descent but Langa reached for his hand and Reki took it immediately, squeezing it tightly until the wheels bounced on the ground. The sun had fully risen by then, and Langa could see the colorful Kyoto skyline dotted with bright orange and yellow trees ripe with autumn, and lines of cars smoothly driving on long stretches of highways.
Most of the class was off the plane before Langa and Reki had room to move themselves. As they rose, Langa did not move to let go of Reki’s hand. Reki didn’t either.
“You made it,” Langa said. He smiled. Reki didn’t just smile; he beamed at Langa, his face lit up with pride. If he kept this up, there would be nothing left of Langa’s heart by the end of the weekend.
“I did!” He said. “Are you excited for the trip?”
“Yes,” Langa replied. Because I’ll be spending it with you.