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"Shit. Not now. Oh god." Alex’s panicked whisper cut through the calm hum of the ascending plane. Henry, who had been lost in the view of clouds outside the window, snapped his attention to Alex.
"What is it, darling?" Henry’s brow furrowed with concern as he saw the tension in Alex’s face.
Alex groaned miserably, clutching his head. "My vision… it’s going gray in one eye, and everything’s doubling in the other." His voice was laced with a rising panic. A silent cry of agony escaped him as a lightning bolt of pain struck through the left side of his head. He shivered, a tremor running through his body, and instinctively burrowed his head against Henry’s shoulder.
Henry’s mind raced. "Your medicine!" He started to unbuckle his seatbelt, ready to scramble to the overhead bin.
"Nooo," Alex whined, a weak hand reaching out. "It’s in my carry-on. They checked it. Overhead bins were too full."
Henry’s face fell. He quickly flipped up the armrest between them, turning off their in-flight entertainment screens. "Do you want the window seat, darling? Then you’ll have a better place to rest your head."
Alex just whimpered, "Nooo, I just want you."
Henry hushed him gently, pulling him tight against his chest. He kissed Alex’s curls very gently, then took his hand, rubbing his thumb in soothing strokes along the back of it. The subtle vibrations of the plane, the distant chatter, the constant glare of the cabin lights—all seemed to assault Alex. He whimpered again, burying his face deeper into Henry’s shoulder, trying to block out the world.
"Could you please," Henry’s voice was low and polite, yet firm, as he addressed the person in the seat directly in front of them, "would you mind very much closing your window shade? My partner is having a severe migraine, and the light is really affecting him." The person, looking slightly surprised, quickly complied. Henry then turned to the person behind them. "And you as well, if it’s not too much trouble. We’d be very grateful." This request was also met with understanding.
Alex was shivering and shaking, nuzzling further into Henry’s chest. The nausea was a constant companion, a swirling dread in his stomach, but he fought it, refusing to be "that person" who got sick on a plane. Every jolt, every murmur, every sliver of light that still managed to penetrate the dimmed cabin felt like a hammer blow to his skull. Henry periodically got up, navigating the narrow aisle to the lavatory. He returned with a paper towel, soaked in ice-cold water, and gently pressed it against Alex’s forehead.
"Just breathe, love," Henry whispered, his voice a steady anchor in Alex’s swirling agony. "We’re almost there. Just a little longer."
The flight felt interminable. Alex whimpered through most of it, clutching Henry, seeking comfort in his warmth and stillness. Finally, with a jolt, the wheels touched down. The sense of relief was palpable, even through the haze of pain.
Once they were off the plane, Henry helped Alex find a relatively quiet corner of the bustling airport. He settled Alex gently onto a bench, his eyes still closed, hands pressed against his temples. "Stay here, darling. I’ll be right back with our bags."
Henry returned quickly, two carry-ons in tow. He immediately began rifling through Alex’s bag, desperate to find the small, orange pill bottle. As he searched, he glanced up to see Alex, still holding his head, but now tears were freely flowing down his face, silent sobs wracking his body.
"Oh, Alex," Henry murmured, his heart aching. He pulled out the medicine bottle, shaking out a pill. "Here, love. Take this." Alex swallowed it without protest, his eyes still squeezed shut. Henry then pulled Alex tight to his chest, one arm wrapping around his shoulders, the other gently rubbing his back. "It’s okay, darling. You’re safe. I’ve got you."
They remained in the airport for another two hours. Henry found a pair of his own noise-canceling headphones and carefully placed them over Alex’s ears. He pulled Alex tighter against him, blocking out as much light as possible with his body, continuing to rub his back with gentle, circular motions. The migraine, slowly but surely, began to recede.
Finally, Alex stirred, a faint sigh escaping him. The tremor in his body had subsided. Henry helped him sip some water and then offered a Tylenol for the lingering ache. "Better, love?"
Alex nodded weakly, a hint of his usual self returning to his eyes. "Much."
Slowly, they made their way to an Uber and then to their hotel. Henry helped Alex into a long, hot shower, the steam easing the last remnants of tension from his muscles. He settled Alex down for bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Then, Henry curled up next to him, gently stroking his hair.
"Sweet dreams, my love," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Alex’s forehead, the airport's chaos and the flight's ordeal fading into the background, leaving only the quiet comfort of their shared space.