Seven stood in the elevator, his fingers fiddling with his ring, flipping it from one finger to the next until it found its place on his ring finger. This had become a habit as of recently, with all of the stress being put on him to leave the country so suddenly. He leaned against the wall of the elevator, watching as the small screen displayed the floors it was passing. Seven sighed as the doors opened, revealing the interior of the airport. It was mostly empty, probably due to the time of day, considering the sun wasn't even up yet. Everyone seemed to be half asleep in the lobby, their feet dragging along as they walked.
Seven was really doing this; leaving the country, everything he's ever known, and moving to America. He dragged his suitcases, kind of wishing he had asked Vanderwood to come with him, just so he wouldn't have to carry all of his luggage alone. He attempted to make his way over to the check-in with his luggage. As he did so, a door flung open, revealing Zen, out of breath yet again.
Seven's eyes widened. Zen not only ran from Seven's house to the airport, but also refused to leave him at the airport? He felt a little touched, but suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Seven also pondered about Zen's seemingly infinite amount of stamina. How far could he go from here? He dragged his suitcases over to the check-in, and put his hood on in a poor attempt to hide himself from Zen.
After successfully shielding himself at the baggage check, he tried to sprint upstairs to the security check. Unfortunately, he was a little too enthusiastic about security that he fell up the stairs, tripping on the first step.
A hand reached out to help him up. "Thanks," Seven said.
"Where is your flight going?" The person asked, helping Seven get up, even though it wasn't really necessary; he only tripped on some stairs. "Oh, I'm going to Los Angeles, where are you-" Seven faced the man.
It was Zen, of course. Who else would it have been?
"I'm going to Los Angeles too apparently!" Zen said, seemingly on an adrenaline rush. Zen ran in the opposite direction of Seven, heading over to buy a boarding pass. Seven decided to go up the stairs, but he watched from the balcony as Zen seemed to be trying to convince the man to give him a ticket.
Amusing, yes, but utterly frightening. What if Zen really got a one way ticket to Los Angeles? He didn't have nearly enough time to prepare immigration papers, nor most of the qualifications to do so. Seven sighed. He turned away and started to walk into the security line.
A family waited in front of him in line, the whole family seemed tired, and rightfully so; after all, it was four in the morning. The only awake member of the family was a little girl, who seemed to be pretty hyper.
"I like your hair mister!" The girl said, pointing to Seven's curly red locks. "Thanks." Seven replied, yawning.
"Is it real?" The girl continued to question Seven, her pigtails bobbing in curiosity. Seven chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, it's real," Reaching towards Seven's head, the little girl interrupted Seven. "Can I touch it?" She asked.
Her parents turned around to find their daughter furiously petting Seven's head, and could only glare disapprovingly and whisk her away.
Seven took off his shoes and went through security, only to be stopped for a "random security check."
After security, he just sat in his gate, waiting for his flight to be announced. He had come pretty early, so he just curled up on a chair. It was surprisingly warm, but perhaps any body heat was warm in such a cold, sterile place. The airport seemed more surreal at night. There were more empty seats and less chattering to fill the silence. In fact, Seven felt himself fixing himself on the muffled sound of airplanes taking off before lulling himself into a nap on the chair.
Zen spent a good amount of time arguing with the customer service man about getting the information about Seven's flight. It paid off though, as Zen bought a ticket on the relatively empty flight to Los Angeles. As he walked through security it hit him: what the hell was he doing? He was just blindly following Seven everywhere with no real plan in mind. Perhaps Seven had a plan. Seven should have a plan, right? Didn't that Vanderwood guy set everything up or something?
Zen passed through security without any issues, besides a few passengers recognizing him from TV and a few movies. He took a few pictures with them, some of them obviously tourists going back home. While Zen was putting on his shoes, he glanced over at the airport clock, realizing that he had under five minutes to make it to board his flight.
He gave up on putting on his shoes and ran through the airport to his gate with one shoe in hand, and another flopping around on his foot. Zen's shoe threatened to come off at least twice before he got to his gate. People were already boarding, but he spotted Seven just sleeping in the waiting area. Zen softly tapped Seven on the shoulder, which pretty much did nothing. So, he did what he would usually do when they woke up together, which was to lick his cheek. It usually worked, and sure enough, Seven woke up.
"Zen?" He slurred drowsily. Seven blinked, and his eyes widened. "Zen, why are you still here?"
Zen simply just grabbed Seven's wrist and dragged him to the exit of the gate to board the plane. "I should be asking you the same question." He said, handing his boarding pass to the officer. Seven scoffed sarcastically, but still kind of felt bad about not telling Zen.
And with that, they boarded the plane, unprepared for not only a twelve hour flight, but also what could happen after.
