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Ominis was no stranger to flying. Ever since his family had moved to the south of France while he’d chosen to stay in London, air travel had become a regular part of his life. Not because he was particularly eager to visit them, but birthdays and Christmas had a way of pulling him back nevertheless.
This time, he was on his way home from celebrating his brother’s birthday. He and Marvolo had never been especially close, and the weekend had mostly consisted of stiff exchanges, the obligatory “so how’s work going now?”, and the occasional remark about how Ominis really ought to study something more practical than law. It could’ve been worse, though.
Still, these visits usually left him emotionally drained. The airport security, along with his need for extra guidance and assistance through the various checkpoints, meant he’d had to arrive far too early. To make matters worse, his assigned guide had misunderstood the meeting point, leading to several frantic minutes of wandering and confusion before they finally found each other.
Add to that the essay he’d finished in the taxi on the way to the airport, and the fact that he’d been sleeping on the pull-out sofa and woken at five every morning by the family dog, and he was more exhausted than usual. He sank gratefully into his seat, relieved to have the window position. The view didn’t matter much to him, but at least he wouldn’t have to stand up every time someone needed to use the lavatory.
He didn’t even remember falling asleep. Only became aware of the stiff ache in his neck and of a masculine, pleasant scent lingering in his nose. And that the pillow under his cheek was soft and slightly scratchy, with something solid beneath it.
He jolted upright.
“Good grief.” He wiped at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, silently praying he hadn’t drooled. “Please tell me I didn’t fall asleep on your shoulder.”
The guy beside him chuckled softly.
“And what if I said you did?”
He sounded young, perhaps around Ominis’ age. His voice was low and pleasant, with a playful edge to it. At least he didn’t sound annoyed that Ominis had commandeered his shoulder and used it as an unwilling pillow for Merlin only knew how long.
“I… I’m terribly sorry,” Ominis stammered, cheeks burning. Good lord, this was mortifying. He briefly wondered if it was possible to open the emergency exit himself and hurl his body into the void. “I really didn’t mean to… you could’ve woken me, honestly, I wouldn’t have minded…”
“It’s fine. You looked like you needed the rest. Besides, it’s not every day a handsome bloke who looks like a Hugo Boss model decides to use your shoulder as a resting spot. I’m flattered, truly.”
Now Ominis’ face was red for entirely different reasons.
“I… sorry again,” he managed at last, unsure how to respond. “It won’t happen again.”
“It’s absolutely welcome if it does,” the guy replied cheerfully. “I’ll admit I nodded off for a bit myself, so it really hasn’t bothered me.”
Ominis licked his lips and fumbled for his phone and headphones. His screen informed him there was still an hour left of the flight.
“Since we’ve already slept together,” the guy continued, “I feel it’s only fair we learn each other’s names.”
Cheeks flaming, Ominis lowered the headphones back into their case.
“Ominis,” he said, unable to stop a hesitant smile.
“Sebastian,” the guy introduced himself. “So, Ominis — what brings you to France?”
Ominis explained that his family lived in France, though he studied in London. It turned out Sebastian had also been visiting on behalf of a sibling: his twin sister was doing an exchange term in France, and he’d flown out to see her.
“But my French is terrible,” Sebastian laughed. “And none of the French can speak English. I’ve truly suffered these past few days. I’ve had to pull up Google Translate and force the text-to-speech to order food for me in French.”
Ominis laughed brightly at that.
“You look like someone who speaks French fluently,” Sebastian added. “Is that true, or is this whole posh aesthetic just a façade?”
Ominis smiled. “I speak it fluently,” he apologised jokingly. “I have family from France, so I grew up with it.”
He’d assumed Sebastian was just being polite, making small talk, but the questions didn’t stop there. Soon Sebastian was asking about Ominis’ studies, his childhood, and what navigating an airport was like with a visual impairment. At first Ominis answered hesitantly, offering the shallow, standard explanations — but before long he found himself drawn into a deeper discussion about the English school system compared first to France and then the United States. They were only interrupted when the flight attendant arrived with the trolley and asked if they’d like anything. Sebastian bought them both soft drinks and refused to let Ominis pay or return the favour.
“Consider it our first date, even if we might be doing things slightly out of order,” he said, and Ominis could practically feel the wink through his voice.
“Oh,” was all he managed when Sebastian gently guided his fingers to the small plastic cup he’d poured the drink into.
Sebastian was twenty-one, the same age as Ominis, and hoped to study history, though for now he was on a gap year, working in a restaurant and saving up some money. For the rest of the flight, Ominis listened to stories about everything from the mischief Sebastian and his twin sister used to get up to as children, to which colleagues he hated most at work, and whether Mentos would have the same explosive effect in fizzy drinks other than cola.
It was hard not to be swept up by Sebastian’s energy: he was eager, curious, genuine, and he seemed to want to hear everything Ominis had to say. Suddenly, the flight for which Ominis had downloaded a new audiobook felt far too short.
During disembarkation, Ominis kept close to Sebastian. It wasn’t difficult, considering Sebastian kept close to him as well. In the inevitable bottleneck as everyone wrestled their bags from the overhead lockers and shuffled off the plane, Sebastian stood right beside him, one light hand resting on Ominis’ shoulder. Ominis did his utmost not to combust at the touch.
He had another guide waiting for him at the airport, but Sebastian followed alongside him patiently and without fuss as they collected their luggage. It was nice — but the nearer they got to the exit, the more a cold weight settled in Ominis’ stomach. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. But what would he even say? “Sorry again for drooling on your shoulder, and I realise an two hour chat about work ethic and explosive sweets doesn’t automatically equal lifelong friendship, but your voice is absurdly attractive and you smell like some ancient deity, shall we stay in touch?”
No. Better not say anything at all.
“How are you getting home from here, then?” Sebastian asked once they’d left the baggage area and stood in the airport’s entrance hall.
Ominis hesitated, absently twirling his white cane between his fingers.
“I’ve got a friend picking me up.” Garreth was already on his way to drive him back to his flat.
“I see.” There was a moment’s silence, and Ominis realised Sebastian was just as reluctant to part ways as he was. Hope fluttered briefly in his chest.
Then: “It was nice meeting you, Ominis. I hope my shoulder served well as a pillow.”
Despite his disappointment, Ominis smiled. “It did.”
Another small, pregnant pause.
“Goodbye, Sebastian.”
“Goodbye, Ominis.”
Ominis curled his hand around the handle of his suitcase, extended his cane with the other, and began making his way towards the exit. He tried to listen for Sebastian’s footsteps, but in the cacophony of harried families, suitcase wheels and crying children, it was impossible to pick them out.
He bit his lip as he carefully navigated out of the terminal and located the car park where Garreth had said he’d pulled in.
Sometimes these things just happened: you met someone — a pleasant stranger you learned so much from, shared stories and laughter with — and then you parted, memories and a few good laughs the only remnants of the conversation. Some people were simply meant to become memories.
He heard the ancient, coughing rumble of Garreth’s engine long before he reached the car, and tried to swallow the strange sense that he was approaching some invisible point of no return.
“All right, mate!” Garreth called through the rolled-down window. “I daren’t get out, I’m not technically allowed to park here. Chuck your suitcase in the back and hop in.”
Ominis did as instructed, and had only just slammed the boot when the sound of hurried footsteps approached. Instinctively, he froze; cane or not, it was remarkable how easily people managed to bump into him, or knock him clean over.
This time, no one crashed into him. Instead, a voice reached him, breathless and warm, and it felt just as if someone had knocked the wind out of him anyway.
“Ominis, wait. I— fuck it. I don’t know if you felt it too, but I definitely did, and I might sound mad because we’ve only known each other for two hours, but it feels like I’d be missing out on the biggest chance of my life if I didn’t at least try to get your number.”
That strange, cold feeling in Ominis’ stomach blossomed into fluttering warmth. He straightened up, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.
“Only if I can have yours,” he said, and Sebastian let out a breathless laugh.
“That comes with the deal.”
In a daze, Ominis handed over his phone. Sebastian tapped in his number quickly, then rang himself.
“How long are you in London for?” Sebastian asked as he passed the phone back.
Ominis frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how long do you have left at uni?” Sebastian clarified. “I live here, but I’m absolutely happy to stay in touch after you move home again. I’m just wondering if you’ve got a term left here or like, a year.”
Ominis turned toward him, utterly baffled.
“Sebastian, I live here,” he said.
A second of silence.
“What?”
“I live in London. Up by Bloomsbury Square.”
More silence. Then:
“Doesn’t your family live in France?”
“Yes, they do. We’re originally from Cheltenham. But we’ve got relatives in France, so my parents and brother moved there three years ago. I chose to stay here and study in London.” Ominis paused a moment before adding, “That’s why I speak French fluently. But I’ve no plans to move to France. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Sebastian let out a disbelieving laugh. “And there I was, spending the entire flight calculating long-distance relationships and how many trips to France I could afford per term.”
Ominis’ heart couldn’t help doing a delighted little somersault.
“Isn’t it a bit early to be thinking about that?” he teased. “We haven’t even been on a date yet.”
“Excuse you,” Sebastian said, mock-offended, “wasn’t your £3 cola and a nap on my shoulder good enough for a first date?”
“While that was absolutely lovely,” Ominis said, fully aware he had a ridiculous grin on his face, “I also enjoy taking my dates, you know… not several thousand metres in the air.”
“Then we’ll just have to arrange one of those,” Sebastian replied.
“We will indeed,” Ominis agreed.
Garreth honked, making both of them jump. Ominis had almost forgotten he was there.
“Adorable!” his friend shouted through the window. “Honestly, I’m crying. And do you know what’ll make me cry more? If the traffic wardens spot my car. Ominis, come on. You’ve got Prince Charming’s number — you can hold hands longingly and write poetry together later.”
Both Ominis and Sebastian laughed.
“I suppose I should go,” Ominis said. This time, saying goodbye didn’t feel nearly as terrible. “But… we’ll talk?”
“We will,” Sebastian promised. “And you’ll see my bed is much comfier than my shoulder.”
Ominis’ cheeks burned as he slipped into the passenger seat.
“You’re impossible.”
“I just made the impossible possible, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sebastian replied through the window.
Ominis shook his head and rolled it up, biting back a grin. He waved as Garreth slammed the car into gear and sped off.
They’d just weaved out from the chaotic traffic by the airport when Garreth said,
“So… did you fall asleep on his shoulder?”
“Shut up,” Ominis said.