actually yes, i am alive. writers block has been sorta defeated. i'm back to post more of my messy writing.
sophie. is so ooc in this sob. also i cannot write dialogue it turns out
ALSO HELP i literally took two hours trying to think of a title for it and i am Stuck so thisll have to do 😭
warnings: airplane flight? and uh a lot of talk about how bad the smell is. lmk if i should add anything!
word count: 1.6k
If someone asked Fitz Vacker what he most hated about airplanes, he'd have to say it was the smell.
He'd googled it once, what the smell came from. It turned out it was jet fuel, which as it burns, leaks small amounts of vapor into the plane, resulting in this awful odor that Fitz swears he'd do anything to get rid of.
But it's not like he can do anything about it, other than to simply stay away from airplanes. And to his regret, that definitely isn't possible right now. Unless he wants to drive for the whole day—which he absolutely doesn't since road trips might actually be even worse than airplane smells—he'll have to suffer through this ride.
Okay. He can do this.
Thankfully, the flight is only a couple hours long. Fitz just needs to get to Chicago in time for his book signing. It's for his new novel, The Spell in the Storm, which to Fitz's disappointment, hasn't been selling too well. He hopes the book signing could give it more hype, and if he must endure a two-hour plane ride for it, so be it.
Fitz boards his plane and the dreaded smell hits him, and he wrinkles his nose, focusing on finding his seat as quickly as possible. He glances at his ticket one more time. He's sitting at seat 17B. Okay. 17B.
As he approaches his seat, he sees there's a girl already sitting there. She has dirty blonde hair and headphones placed firmly on her head, and she's so focused on the book in her hands that she doesn't notice Fitz standing right next to her.
He tries to cough but it's quiet and she doesn't seem to notice. He tries again, clearing his throat louder, and finally, the girl looks up. She seems irritated at being interrupted in the middle of her reading, which is extremely obnoxious to Fitz because she's the one sitting in his seat and if anything, it's her fault she's getting bothered.
"What?" the girl asks, slipping her headphones off.
"That's my seat," he says, showing her his ticket. The girl frowns and pulls her small backpack up, taking forever to rummage through it in search of her own ticket. Fitz can feel the line of people behind him becoming anxious to get in their seats and he shifts uncomfortably, wishing she would just hurry up.
Finally, the girl comes up with her ticket in hand. She stares at it, frowning. "Oh, huh. This is your seat."
I literally just said that, Fitz thinks, but he doesn't want to start an argument. Not with the person he'll be sitting with for the next couple of hours.
The girl takes insufferably long getting up and moving one seat down, and Fitz wants to scream by the end of it. The grumbles behind him of waiting passengers are getting louder, and when the girl has finally moved, Fitz throws himself down on the seat as quickly as he can.
It's not even a window seat.
This flight's off to a wonderful start, Fitz thinks as he takes a deep breath and ends up getting a lungful of that dreaded airplane odor.
It's a long wait as the rest of the passengers get settled in and the plane is readied, and then finally, finally, the plane takes off. Fitz closes his eyes and dozes off, hoping to pass the rest of the plane ride drifting in a light sleep.
