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An empty seat in a plane destined to Manchester airport coming from New York JFK is a pretty rare thing to witness.
At least that's what Harry thought.
The seat beside him is empty. It should be a good thing. Harry should be content with having no one sitting beside him to bother him or fidget annoyingly for a whole eight-hour flight.
But right now, at this instant, Harry would've liked it if someone was sitting beside him. He could've reached out for a little bit of reassurance, or even for help.
Could've explained the way his chest feels too tight and his breath too short.
The constant loud rumble of the plane fills Harry's ears and it's all he can hear along with the banging of his blood in his ears. It's too hot. His breath is too short and he has difficulty breathing normally, his chest tightening each time he coughs to try and get more air.
He brings a hand to his chest, trying to pull the collar of his hoodie down, and he vaguely registers a lady passing by asking if he's alright. But he's wheezing, trying to fight the way his chest is constricting.
He's so confused, this has never happened to him before. It's not really a panic attack, he's had those before and it doesn't really feel like he's just about to stop breathing.
He has asthma. It's been a very long time since he's had an attack or even had to do anything about it though. What if it's something worse than an asthma attack? This only makes Harry more anxious. What if he chokes?
He feels slightly dizzy now. Panting, gripping the armrest beside him, rocking back and forth to try to stay grounded through his abnormally laboured breathing. The corner of his vision is darkening, and when he tries to squeeze his eye shut to reopen them again in hopes that it does something, all he gets is stars too bright in his eyes and a pounding in his head that’s just louder than before.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and a high-pitched voice. Talking to him probably. Asking why he just can't breath like a fucking normal person, probably. He wishes he knew. He wishes his throat and lungs would just cooperate. Wishes he could just get more air in and stop feeling like he's about to fucking faint.
Suddenly, he hears the muffled voice of the announcer talking through the airplane, and it's loud enough that Harry can hear it through the fog that's taking over his chest and head.
"Your attention dear passengers, we have a medical situation on board.” The flight attendant, or maybe the pilot – he has no idea – speaks with so much composure and assurance, Harry wants to cry. But the voice cutting through the rumble of the engine gives him something to focus on other than his throat that's still too fucking tight.
“If there is a doctor, nurse, or anyone with medical training on this flight, please press your call button or make yourself known to a crew member.”
And. No. No no no… Harry never really liked having too much attention on him, but this is hell. He wants to curl up in a ball on his uncomfortable seat and let his tears fall freely and he wants his chest to stop feeling so fucking tight. He wants to breathe normally again.
He doesn't want to whole plane, hundreds of people, to know that he's struggling to just breathe, that he can't handle a simple flight, for fuck’s sake, it's not even the first time he's flying. He's been on planes a few times before, but this, really got to be the worst flight of his life.
He doesn't want all the attention on him. Because now, the constant grumble of the aircraft is too loud, his heart is thudding too rapidly in his chest, it's too loud in his ears, the air feels too rare, his throat too dry, constricting with each air intake, the seats in front of him feel too close, and on top of that he feels the heavy murmurs of people trying to figure out what is happening to this poor passenger who needs medical assistance, and even worst, the people trying to get a glimpse of him, when he's clearly struggling and just wants this to stop.
He feels a touch on his arm, this time more gentle, and he can't help but turn his head towards whoever is there, just hoping that they're there to help him. A soft voice gets to his ear.
And then, he sees blue. Blue eyes. Brighter than the sky they're speeding through and deeper than any ocean they're flying above.
“Hello.”
It's a man. His voice is soft and airy, assured, but careful.
“My name's Louis,” he says.
Louis. It's a nice name. It's too hot in there. Panic claws at his chest.
“I'm currently in my third year of study in medicine at Manchester university,”
Manchester? That's where they're going.
“and I'm here to help you.”
Help? Yes, that's what Harry needs. And air too, mostly.
“I'm going to touch your neck to feel your pulse now” the man says, approaching his hand tentatively. Harry must look like a scared and wounded animal, with the way he's staring at Louis wide-eyed, confused and scared, helpless, mouth open and gasping, his breathing ragged.
The things around him are starting to spin, so Harry nods, or at least tries to move his head, and that seems enough of an answer for Louis because Harry then feels a touch on his pulse point. The hand then disappears and Harry immediately misses the grounding touch on him.
He feels the stranger looking at him intensely, scrutinizing him. Harry squeezes his eyes shut again and tries to concentrate on trying to breathe but it's not getting any better. Without thinking about it, he reaches out for the hand beside him, his shaking fingers finding Louis' wrist, and he grips tightly.
His eyes are wet and he's scared, his throat is constricting scarily each time he tries to inhale air.
Louis’ voice cuts through then, and Harry tries to focus on it.
“Can you tell me what you're feeling?” The man's voice is so controlled that Harry can only obey, and it's not like he has any other options. So he speaks through short breaths, relieved to see that he has stopped wheezing at least.
“I– I can’t– feels like I can’t– breathe”
“Okay. Is it your chest that feels tight? Or is it your throat?”
“I don't– I don't– both– no– it's just– hard to–” frustrated with his inability to get the words out coherently and explain the panic he's feeling clearly, Harry squeezes his eyes shut again and shakes his head.
“Do you feel like you're going to faint?”
“A– kin– kinda– yeah”
Harry tries to add that everything is spinning and that his heart is beating too fast and that he's scared and that he's panicking and that he wants this to stop, but all that comes out of his mouth are gasps, pants, short breaths, and helpless littles whines.
“I have as– asthma” he settles on saying, hoping that it'll help the medicine student beside him somehow.
“Do you have an inhaler with you?” Louis asks calmly, and Harry nods, still not opening his eyes.
“Can you tell me where it is?” Louis speaks so composedly and with such calmness for this situation that it calms Harry a little too, because if he's not seriously concerned for Harry's life, then he shouldn't be too, right?
His inhaler, right. He has to concentrate very hard to remember where he'd put it. He hasn't used it in ages but he still keeps it not too far just in case. Then, like it's a survival instinct, from somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry remembers that one small pocket in his accompanied luggage.
“Up– up there” Harry mutters out, motioning to the baggage compartment above. He hears Louis asking the flight attendant to retrieve it, and then the flight attendant frantically rummaging through the small pockets on the side to find the object.
Meanwhile, Louis takes Harry by the shoulders and angles his body so that he's facing him “Look at me, concentrate on my face, on my breathing. In a second I'll get your inhaler and it will get better. You're safe, okay?” And yeah, okay, Harry can do that for now.
The inhaler is against Harry's dry lips in seconds, and he lets the air get into his lungs, and it's a little bit easier to breathe.
“That's it”
But his breath is still too short and Harry wants to cry, why is it not working? He feels like he's going to suffocate if this goes on. The inhaler is just making things worse now. He shakes his head and pulls away as a frown appears on Louis' face.
Everything feels heavy and his vision is blurring out.
Louis' wrist slips out from Harry's grip as his surroundings start to fade into darkness, and then Harry doesn't have time to panic even more or to surrender to the darkness that an oxygen mask is suddenly covering his mouth and nose.
“Yeah, relax, just let the air into your lungs, now this should make things better in a second.” Louis explains, and Harry complies.
Confused, he tries to fight it, at first, but then he lets go and lets in the air that's forced into his lungs, through his tight throat and his constricted chest. Slowly, his surroundings start to feel less oppressing, and his brain doesn't feel like it's pressing against his skull so badly. And then, it starts to get better, the fog slowly lifting over his hazy mind. His heart is still rabbiting in his chest, but he can almost breathe normally. Well, as normally as one can with an oxygen mask on.
Harry starts to calm down a little too. Now that his throat doesn't feel like it's going to close on him, and that his lungs feel like they're actually able to keep air in, Harry leans back on the seat and concentrates on the way his chest rises and falls with the help of the mask.
Slowly, Harry feels almost normal again. He feels tired though. Whatever that was, it took a lot of energy out of him. He doesn't even have the energy to remove the oxygen mask himself. He simply waves in its direction, and immediately, it's removed from his face. Harry turns his head, and, yes, Louis, the medicine student, is still sitting beside him, with the mask in hand. He looks at Harry intensely, and he's suddenly hit with the blue eyes from earlier. He can see them better now. They're bright and worried.
Now that Harry is back to himself, he takes a moment to regain his bearings. The loud rumble of the plane is still as consistent as before, the soft purple lighting is dimmed, which is great for Harry's still pounding head, his limbs feel heavy, and he feels the man beside him with all his attention on him.
“How do you feel now?” he asks, and this time Harry can listen to his voice without the panic clouding his senses. His voice is firm but gentle, and so beautiful with its crystalline tone.
“Better. I can breathe. Tired” Harry answers.
“That's great. You need to drink water now” Louis orders. He looks behind himself, toward the aisle, where Harry notices the flight attendant from before is standing, looking worriedly at Harry. Louis asks for some water and the cabin crew nods before walking off to get what was requested.
While the flight attendant is gone, Louis turns back to Harry, and asks for his name. He makes sure Harry can breathe comfortably again, and he checks that his head isn't pounding anymore, and that his heart is at an almost normal rate again by taking his pulse once more.
The flight attendant quickly returns with a bottle of water in hands, passing it to Louis, who hands it to Harry immediately, urging him to drink. And once that's done, Harry does feel better, more alive.
Louis gives the oxygen mask back to the flight attendant, explaining that Harry doesn't need it anymore. Harry isn't really listening as Louis adds that Harry should be okay now and that they can get back to their duties, but his ears do perk up when Louis declares that he'll stay with Harry for a moment to be completely sure he's alright.
Relieved, the flight attendant takes the mask and walks off to where the cabin crew go to do whatever it is they do during an 8 hours flight.
Harry just watches the interaction in silence, more than okay with letting the man beside him handle the situation.
When he feels like his tongue isn't so heavy in his mouth anymore, and when he can't take the silence anymore, he speaks:
“What– what happened to me?”
Louis turns to him quickly then, his blue eyes pinning Harry in place. He was waiting for Harry to speak. He smiles softly before explaining “You said you have asthma, right?” Harry nods and Louis nods back in acknowledgement.
“Could've been an asthma attack or an anxiety attack. But it could've eventually triggered hypoxia, but we were able to help you before that, so that's great” Louis explains and Harry hums, breaking their eye contact and looking down at his hands.
“Sorry, I don't even know why this happened. I'm not even scared of planes” he feels the need to tell Louis. He trusts him, strangely. Well not so strangely considering he just probably kind of saved his life.
“It's alright, it can happen sometime”
They sit in silence for a while then. Harry observes as Louis gets comfortable on the seat, buckling his belt and fiddling with the small cushion provided during the flight. Harry sips on his water. He wants to keep talking to the man beside him, but he doesn't want to bother him.
“In what case do the flight attendants have to ask for a doctor during a flight?” he finds himself asking.
“Well, the crew have a basic formation I would assume, but I think it's usually when it concerns respiratory issues or fainting, since it could be a lot of things and could potentially be serious. Strokes, heart attacks, things like that, you know? It's mostly because they also need the confirmation of a doctor to know if the situation requires an emergency landing.”
Harry really likes his voice, he decides. He recalls him saying he was studying medicine, earlier, when Harry was hyperventilating. It makes sense, with the way he's so attentive to Harry. He must really love what he does.
The silence lands between them once again, but then Louis speaks again, maybe because he knows that talking gives Harry something to concentrate on to get his head back in the right place.
“Why were you in New York? If you don't mind me asking.” Louis starts. Harry is a bit taken aback by Louis' question. He assumed he would've just gone back to his seat after making sure Harry was alright.
“Oh, um, I was just traveling I guess. I've been to a lot of places in Europe, but I've always wanted to see New York too. So yeah, I just wanted to see more of the world. Stayed there for quite a while so I'm happy to go back home now.”
“You staying in Manchester, then?”
“Yeah, I got a nice little flat there.”
He's got to admit, Harry is quite pleased with all the attention Louis is giving him.
“And you? What were you doing in the big apple?” Harry questions, biting his lip fondly when Louis smiles and lets out an endearing chuckle before answering.
“I was there for a wedding actually! Was the best man so I didn't have any choice but to be there.” He lets out a little haha that makes Harry smile.
“Decided to make a little vacation out of it too.” He adds a little more softly and his eyes find Harry’s then. This time, Harry feels his heart speed up for a very different reason than earlier.
They talk some more, about their trips to New York, about their life back in Manchester. Louis is such a nice person to be around and to talk to, Harry finds out. He also can't help but notice that Louis is still very much sitting beside him and talking to him even though Harry is pretty much completely fine now.
When Louis announces that he needs to go use the restroom, Harry thinks that maybe this is it. As he watches Louis' hips sway as he walks down the narrow aisle, Harry sadly tells himself that when he'll come back, it'll be to tell him that he's going back to his seat now that Harry doesn't need any medical supervision. Maybe he won't even come back and he’ll simply walk back directly to his seat. And Harry understands, really, Louis has no obligation to help or look after him in any way, after all. Harry is grateful enough that he was so attentive and kind towards him.
He sighs, and takes a sip of his water, frowning when he notices that the bottle is now empty.
When he lifts his eyes up though, he finds Louis' blues eyes staring kindly down at him. He offers Harry a soft smile, and hands him a new cup of water. Harry's heart jumps a little in his chest.
“Thank you” he whispers softly, not really knowing what to do. He feels his cheek heat up a little as Louis sits down beside him.
He's just so kind, and Harry really just appreciates him a lot. He foolishly wishes the medicine student would stay with him for the whole flight. But he doesn't want to force him if he doesn't want to.
So he clears his throat and speaks hesitantly, “You don't have to sit with me anymore you know, if you don't want to” it pains him to say those words out loud, he realizes.
“Nah it's all right” Louis assures easily, offering Harry a gentle smile “There aren't any good movies anyway, and there's also a lady snoring rather loudly beside me back at my place so…” he rambles, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding Harry's eyes. He sighs, before adding more gently “and I like talking to you. Unless, well.. Do you want me to leave you alone?” He risks a glance at Harry and for the first time since their rather impromptu meeting, Louis looks unsure of himself.
Harry smiles and says softly “No, I’d rather not be alone. You're nice, and I like talking to you too” he adds truthfully.
He's pretty sure it's butterflies he feels in his stomach at this moment.
Later, Louis leaves their places again to go get a few things from his own seat, and this time, for some reasons, Harry is not worried that Louis won't come back.
“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Harry asks. He's propped on his arm on the armrest in between him and Louis, and the conversation is flowing easily between them. They've been served dinner, one or two hours ago, and they bonded over the weird taste of the pasta and Harry's love for cheddar. Now, they're circling back to the topic of their jobs and studies.
“My mum was a nurse. I kind of always knew this is what I wanted to do” Louis answers easily. Harry notices the way Louis can't help but waves his hands around as he talks, and he couldn't take his eyes off of him if he tried.
“I bet you look good with your long white blouse” Harry blurts out. His eyes widen as soon as he realizes what he just said out loud. But Harry's comment pulls a surprised chuckle out of Louis.
“Yeah?” Louis grins and crowfeet form by his eyes “I think you're still high on oxygen love” he teases, loving the way Harry's cheeks pinken.
“Is that even possible?” Harry jokes, a dopey smile on his face “I promise I'm not” he juts his bottom lips out and thrives on the way both him and Louis just seem to be leaning in toward each other without even realizing it.
“Are you flirting with me then?” Louis' voice is so soft and lilting.
Harry bites his lips and blushes. He can't help the nervousness that tingles his voice as he softly asks in answer “Is it okay?”
“Yeah, it's more than okay” Louis smiles, a sparkle in his eyes. Upon hearing the gentleness in Louis' voice, Harry releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“You know, I think I saw you at the airport,” Harry says suddenly. With everything that happened earlier, Harry hadn't paid attention to the way Louis' features looked slightly familiar, like he'd seen them before, but now, it's like the memory is suddenly unlocked in his mind. He'd been strolling around the airport, waiting for the boarding, when he'd seen him, Louis. He remembers somewhat observing the young man while he bought a pack of gum at the duty free. He also remembers thinking he was quite attractive and quite exactly Harry's type. At that moment, he had vaguely hoped they would be on the same flight.
“You think?” Louis lifts his eyebrows. He's teasing Harry and he's enjoying it far too much.
“Fine” Harry rolls his eyes fondly before correcting himself “I saw you. I thought you looked very handsome with your beanie and your soft hair”
Louis leans in before whispering “I’m sure if I had seen you earlier at the airport you would've been my airport crush”
“Yeah?” Harry murmurs, smiling widely, dimples denting his pink cheeks, leaning in, too. Their foreheads are almost touching. He feels so giddy.
“Mhm” Louis hums, looking down at their hands, each resting on the armrests, so close to each other yet not touching. He timidly links their pinkies together then, and Harry's heart dances wildly beneath his ribs.
“But now I’m lucky enough to be sitting beside you, so that's even better,” Louis whispers, looking up at him again, his blue eyes sparkling beautifully under the dim lighting of the plane.
The rest of the time of the flight with Louis is spent talking quietly and flirting bashfully, playing trivia games and listening to music on the tiny plane screen, and sharing vacation anecdotes, and they hold hands tightly when the aircraft goes through some turbulence. They couldn't help but sleep a little with the constant hum of the plane lulling them to sleep too, if they wanted to be not too jet lagged when they'd arrive. Harry's earlier attack had exhausted him more than he thought, so he napped more than Louis, and when he woke up, it was with his head resting on Louis' shoulder. Louis, who was already awake, looking at him fondly.
Hours later, when the plane finally lands, and passengers rise from their seats to grab their things, and Harry is waiting for Louis so they can exit the plane and make the journey out the airport together, he thinks about Louis' contact now in his phone after they've exchanged numbers, and smiles, thinking this might not have been the worst flight of his life after all.
~~✈︎