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The gum tasted like shit but he chewed, chewed, chewed. He hated the taste of travel gums but he didn't want to vomit as the plane took off. Chikara tried to breathe to calm himself down. In. Out. They had lost connection to the ground now. 200 meters. 800 meters. The pilot took a massive turn that tilted the plane and he squeezed his eyes shut while grabbing the seat of the passenger in front of him to get the illusion of a steady ground. 2000 meters. He swallowed and popped his ears to release the pressure. His tongue was numb thanks to the gum. 12,000 fucking meters.
Why Chikara had this terrible fright of flying was a mystery to him. He remembered that he used to enjoy it as a kid, the rare adventure he got to experience on a special family vacations. Thanks to his job as a movie director, he had to fly regularly to different sets around the country and other parts of the world (not that he didn't admire the change of scenery) but he was sure it got worse with each time he entered another plane. It was probably just his (ir)rational mind telling him that certain death was an option.
He whimpered when the plane shook against the stream, checked his seatbelt again and pulled it so tight it nearly cut into his skin.
'First time flying? Scared?'
Chikara jumped. A soft but amused voice had spoken closely to his ear. He turned in his seat and found himself looking into the eyes of the passenger that was sitting next to him. The guy had worn fashionable shades and large headphones and had been in sleeping position since boarding the plane. Now he was stretching (which was to no real use because his body was oh so tall and there simply was no space to fully unfold) and flashed a cocky smile that exposed a cheeky sharp canine.
The stranger's hair fell across his forehead in a way that he couldn’t fully unravel, fluffy strands falling sideways into his face, brushing and framing it, illuminated by the sun behind him. Chikara would have almost forgotten the situation he was in but then he noticed the layer of clouds outside the window directly next to the guy’s head, and, oh fuck, the feeling of being trapped so far up high hit him like a punch, his face turned harshly into its original position, looking straight ahead.
'No, not my first flight. Yes, scared.'
The man let out a sound caught between a cough and a laugh. He was probably grinning. Chikara was not amused and too tense to care.
'Do you want to hold my hand?'
Chikara blinked what felt like a thousand times. Did he just hear correctly? The way that a hand was casually offered up to him proved he had.
He grabbed his seatbelt with sweaty hands, breathed again. This was surreal.
'Right now, I am just concentrating on not throwing up on you.'
Apparently his mouth had no filter in stressful situations. But instead of scaring the guy off, that grin held like an iron wall. That hand wasn't moving either. He couldn't be serious.
Chikara had to ignore it. His eyes were fixed on the flight attendants, scanning them one by one. They were taking their seats. The signs lit up. The pilot spoke in a monotone drone, he didn't understand a word. Oh God, oh God. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. A soft clicking next to him signaled that his neighbour fastened his seat belts as well. Chikara never unfastened them throughout the whole flight, and he felt anxious seeing people walking around just like that.
The sky outside was getting darker by the second, the artificial lights were flickering, the whole machine was shaking, and whereas to any other guest that wouldn't have meant much of a disturbance, to Chikara it was hell.
His panicking thoughts reached their peak and water pooled in the corners of his eyes. Now he'd done it. He felt his quivering, pouting lip and the hot tears welling up, oh, he wouldn't cry. He–
He startled, a hand grabbing his own with a confidence that shoved all his panic aside. Chikara’s eyes flickered, taking in their joined hands with disbelief, but he couldn’t let go- he was clutching it like he would fall if he did.
He breathed, and the hand squeezed back. He wouldn't be alone.
When they passed the bad weather section and the plane stabilised the man next to him leaned in again, speaking softly.
'Sorry about that, I was scared for a second. You can let go now... if you want.'
.
The guy who introduced himself as Kenji—just Kenji, Chikara noticed with a pounding heart— he didn't untangle his hand throughout the rest of the flight, and Chikara didn’t either. He feared that it might get more and more awkward the longer they stayed like this, but Kenji talked to him like a friend, leaning close, their arms and shoulders brushing occasionally. He wasn't the type for grand gesticulations, keeping their hands locked without disruption.
This near, he noticed how Kenji smelled, it was the kind of scent he wanted to bury his face in. He saw white shirts and rustling sheets and ruffled hair, skin warmed by morning light. He watched Kenji’s mouth moving to his words, took in a sweet candy scent coming from his lips.
When Chikara found himself staring (oh God, he had been staring-) Kenji grinned knowingly, fishing something from his jacket. A small package of sour gummies appeared, and with a skilled hand he picked one and brought it close to Chikaras lips, waiting for him to open up.
'They are my favourites, you need to try them.'
Locking eyes with Kenji, Chikara cautiously parted his lips, and the candy was placed onto his tongue with a gentle precision. Kenji's eyes were focused and curious and Chikara wondered if he thought about the image the two of them were giving to the public, sharing an intimate moment like that. Chikara's cheeks heated up, then the sour flavour hit him like a splash. Chikara realised, this is what Kenji’s tongue must taste like, and he couldn't prevent the images that were about to unfold in his mind. He averted his eyes, mumbling a courtly ‘Thank you.’
Chikara was very keen not to suck too hard on it, wanting to savour the taste Kenji gave him as long as possible.
They landed safe and sound and he sighed in relief. Kenji made a playful gesture of a curtsy bow, and their hands parted for the first time.
It felt light, empty. He opened and closed his fist a few times, smiling awkwardly over this situation.
‘Thank you. I mean, for the candy.’
‘I knew you'd like them.’ Kenji grabbed his bag and squeezed the handle, as if he was missing something there as well. ‘Here, take the rest, I had too much already.’
Though confused as to why he was offered a half empty box of sour gummies, he still held on tight.
.
He lost sight of Kenji when they exited the plane, got through the passport control, and then made his way to wait for the luggage to arrive.
He was disappointed in himself. Chikara obviously had a thing for the guy, but he couldn’t tell if it had been mutual. Had he just been nice? He had been more than nice, but Chikara didn't trust his judgement on that part. To him, Kenji seemed like a guy who enjoyed flirting as much as Chikara enjoyed avoiding it. It could have been that Kenji simply had been seeking some fun during a tedious plane flight. Chikara was usually more assertive, but in this setting he couldn’t think straight. Up there, the reality was altered.
He squeezed the sour candy package in his hand, popped another drop into his mouth, and was surprised by the different flavour flooding his senses. He absentmindedly read the candy package and the different color descriptions: raspberry, sour cherry, peach (what he was chewing now), and apple (what he had on the plane).
Chikara almost dropped the box.
Next to the tiny apple who had its cartoony face contorted like it ate something sour, was something scribbled, and according to the messy state of the letters, quite in a hurry. It was Kenji’s name (Futakuchi Kenji) and his phone number.