La Bruit De La Pluie || PG10

|5|I Don't Want Them to See Me|

I had to get up early to go to the airport and I just had to have a chatty cab driver. I'm sure he meant well, but I was just too tired to talk to him. I kept my answers short and he eventually got the message. 

Check in at the airport was actually very quick and easy, most of the other people being businessmen and older people. I was waiting in the terminal, scrolling through Instagram and avoiding all of the posts that happened to be about me, of which there weren't many. 

I was nearly about to fall asleep, when my phone started vibrating in my hand. "Good morning sunshine, you awake?" the voice of Pierre chastised on the other side.    

"I'll have you know that I'm very awake, thank you," I tried not to yawn, sitting up in my seat.

"You don't look like it," he giggled. What does he mean I don't look like it? Was he like, watching me from afar? "What?" I said, turning my head to look at the space around me. But, I couldn't see Pierre anywhere. "Behind you, my love," he chuckled as I felt a pair of arms wrap around my shoulder and a kiss on my cheek. 

"If you were behind me, how could you see me?" I asked as he rounded the row of chairs and sat next to me. "I was stood over there for a while, but your eyes were pretty much closed. I thought I'd wake you up," 

"Thank you, darling," I sarcastically said, rolling my eyes at him. He took my hand, which was resting on the arm rest beside me. I was hesitant to hold his hand, at first. I didn't want to be spotted with him and get even more backlash. But, if we are dating, I should be able to hold his hand whenever I want.

After a while, our plane got called out and we boarded. Thankfully, the flight was only short. When we boarded, we were told to go to the left, which was odd. Normally, we would be going to the right to sit in the economy class. 

Of course, Pierre had booked us first class seats for a short, less than two hour flight. "How much do I owe you for this?" I asked as we took our seats and got comfortable.

"Sorry?" he asked, looking at me, genuinely confused. 

"How much do I owe you?" I asked again.

"You think you owe me for this? Well you don't," he said matter-of-factly. 

"Are you sure?" I checked, not wanting him to think me like the news articles did.

"My love, Leo, ma chérie. You don't owe me anything. You repay me by spending your precious time with me," he said, putting the armrest up, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. "I just don't want you to think I'm using you..." I whispered, hoping he wouldn't hear.

"Don't think that about yourself. People pin other people down because they're jealous. They're jealous of the talent you have, jealous of the amount of love you share, jealous of everything about you. If anything, the things they are saying should be a compliment. The more negative the comment, the more someone envies you," he said, bringing one of his hands up to play with my hair. 

I couldn't respond for two reasons. One: I didn't know how to. Nobody had ever complimented me in such a way that rendered me completely speechless. I wanted to jump into and drown in the ocean of Pierre. It was the most perfect thing in the world. 

Two: The pilot started talking and going through the safety brief that happens at the beginning of every flight. 

We got to around half an hour into the flight and the snack trolley started coming around. "You want anything?" he murmured into my hair. 

"I'm alright, thank you," I said, closing my eyes and hoping to get a bit more sleep before we arrived in Belgium. "Can I just get two waters and some Maltesers, please?" I heard Pierre ask the air hostess. Before I heard anything else, I drifted off into a peaceful slumber on Pierre's shoulder.