Bouquets of Chocolate (manxman)

Twelve

He is quite literally bouncing in his seat. It's not his first time in a plane, but Antoine gets ridiculously excited every time he gets to fly. He doesn't do it often, so it always feels like a novelty to him. A small smile slips onto my face as I watch him, comfortably reclined against Jordie, who's sitting next to me. My head is resting on Jordie's shoulder while he is firmly trapped in dream land. How he can sleep on a barely 90 minutes long flight is beyond me, but I stopped questioning that a while ago. When he's asleep he can't argue with me using him as a pillow, so I get something out of it too.

I absentmindedly play with Jordie's fingers that were previously rested on my thigh, still watching Antoine having the best time in his life. He gets even more excited when the plane starts descending and we're able to start seeing all the individual buildings and structures.

By the time we touch down, have squeezed our way out the plane, and are wheeling our bags towards immigration, Antoine is buzzing. It kinda looks like he wants to start running any second.

Between him and Jordie still being half asleep and having to be dragged through the airport by me, I feel a little like the mum I never wanted to be.

"You two are adorable, but I'm getting irritated and that is not what anyone wants." I grumble to myself when Jordie stumbles again and Antoine gets distracted by what is probably something shiny somewhere again.

"Love you," comes a barely understandable mumble as an answer from a still barely conscious Jordie. I only roll my eyes, but I can't suppress a little baby smile anyway. He really is adorable. Antoine hasn't even heard me, but that's likely because he's currently having a screeching match with my very excitable sister while they hug as if their lives depended on it.

I quickly change course to their direction, pulling Jordie along with me.

"Nic, thanks for picking us up!" I say when I reach them, and am immediately pulled into a hug. It's a little awkward because my hand is still holding onto Jordie's, but it's okay.

"I missed you little brother!" she says, squeezing me again before letting go and moving on to the sleepyhead behind me.

"Wake up you buffoon, you're embarrassing your man!" she says harshly, hands on her hips as if she's scolding her child. Then, she gives him a very tight hug, to the point where Jordie goes slightly red and starts frantically patting her back for her to let him go.

"Fucking hell woman, let me breathe!" Jordie complains as he hides behind me the moment she lets him go.

"You're awake now though, aren't you?" she shrugs with a smug grin on her face, "Let's go. I want cake."

"Nic, it's 11pm. We're getting cake tomorrow." I sigh.

"The quicker we get back and go to sleep, the quicker it's tomorrow. So chop chop."
She gets us home in record time.

By the time I wake up the next morning, I'm alone in bed and I hear bickering from somewhere else in the flat. I sigh, already fed up with today because I didn't even wake up with Jordie. In fact, instead there's a small little ball of fluff sleeping curled against my back.

I've been keeping a close eye on him lately, keenly aware of how much he's been overworking himself. He's always exhausted, often in an awful mood and rarely has energy to do anything. The couple of weeks we spent in Paris made him glow and I'm hoping and praying with everything in me that it'll stick.

Tiredly, I drag myself out of bed, in the process disturbing the cat that then complains with a annoyed meow. I only look at her with a raised eyebrow, and when the bickering in the kitchen gets even louder, she perks up, then grumbles and hides under folds of bedsheets. At least she's smart.