5SOS Book of Imagines

??? // Matchmade (2)

Unfortunately, you didn't get a window seat.

Finding out about this already made you annoyed for some reason, feeling like this is a plane ride you won't enjoy.

Most of the passengers were already in their seats and you walked to your seat, finding out that there was nobody else with you. Yet.

Seizing the chance, you put your backpack in the overhead compartment and sat next to the window, thinking maybe even getting to sit in the window seat for awhile will brighten up your mood.

Well, it did. You were already smiling as you looked out, seeing the airport, the runway and the huge truck-like things that load your luggages to the plane and the tube things that connect the plane's door to the airport boarding doors.

You checked your watch, from Sydney, it will be like going back 6 hours in time to LA*. You sighed in content and plugged in your dangling earphones and listened to music, resting your back comfortably on the seat and closing your eyes.

Not even a while has passed when you felt somebody nudge your shoulders, you open your eyes and came face to face with sparkling, ocean blue eyes filled with annoyance and slight embarrassment.

"I believe that's, um," he checked his ticket, "my seat."

You quickly went to your seat and let him sit in his. "Sorry, I thought this seat wasn't taken," you say truthfully, since you notice the flight attendants starting their flight safety guidelines and all that ceremonial stuff.

"Well," he said, standing up and putting his backpack in the overhead compartment, and you swore you saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"What? You're late? Almost didn't catch the flight?" You say, though he didn't look sweaty or even rushed, if he ran to catch the flight.

He raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why he owes you an explanation. He sighed as he sat, "I, uhh, went to a wrong seat earlier so.. the owner of the seat had to kick me out of his space."

"O-oh." You tried to keep a straight face but you imagined him lounging on a window seat at the back rows, then realizing he was on the wrong seat, you laughed, not helping it. "You did?"

"Shut up, I'm tired and I don't like flying," he defended.

"You don't like flying? Then why get a window seat?"

"My friend bought the ticket for me, honestly I don't like window seats too, I get more nauseated," he made a face.

"Can we switch then? I love window seats, please, please?" you pleaded excitedly, feeling some kind of friendly aura around the seemingly nice blond guy.

He just nervously laughed at you, "Sure, sure. It's no big thing."

Then, you exchanged seats, continuing the already light and friendly banter you've started. You found out his name is Luke and he's 19, that he's forced to fly to LA by a friend for an occasion.

You were interrupted yet again by the intercom, announcing that the plane was finally taking off and you notice that Luke was sweating despite the high AC you had on your row.

Upon hearing the pilot, Luke turned silent and leaned back on his seat, his back ramrod straight.

By the time the plane started running down the runway, Luke was taking shallow, labored breaths.

Feeling the unusual tightening in your stomach as the plane started its ascend, you sat straight, laid your arm on the armrest, breathing deeply and looking out the window to see the plane fly up.

The feeling didn't go away for a few long minutes as the plane rose higher and you unconsciously look over at Luke, seeing he has his eyes shut close and his lips trembling.

The plane staggered for a bit, causing some tremors in the plane then you hear Luke let out a yelp and suddenly he was holding on to your hand, laid his arm over yours on the armrest. You felt his strong grip, his sweaty palms over yours and you turned your arm over and interlocked your fingers.

"Sing in your head, think of nothing else, just sing. Go," you said silently, in a soothing voice, seeing the fast rise and fall of his chest, panic starting to build in his system.

He licked his trembling, dry lips and started humming with his eyes shut close.

You found yourself smiling as you recognize the song he was softly humming, Twentyonepilots' Tear in my Heart.

Attempting to calm him down, you hum with him, until the plane finally stopped ascending, and going for a forward direction.

"T-thanks," he finally said as he recovered his breathing. He was making this really embarrassed face like expecting you to laugh any moment.

"Anytime." You say, not laughing with a small, sincere smile on your lips.

Of course you wouldn't laugh, it was obviously something he was scared to let other people know because of just that reaction, to be laughed at and be made fun of.

He squeezed your intertwined hands before letting go, a genuine, grateful smile in his lips as he wiped his still sweaty palms on his jeans. "That's why I fucking hate flying."