My soul splits in two when I close the door to my suite. The only reason I'll ever say goodbye to Brando again is with the promise of another hello.
I swoon over to my seat, still sprawled out as a bed, and collapse on top of it. I feel like a teenager again with a schoolboy crush. I'm giddy. I'm laughing. I'm in complete and utter ecstasy.
This is not the Daxten who checked in at the airport. He would have slept through this entire flight, or sat in the bar alone without caring, ordering drink after drink after drink. I wouldn't have spoken to a single passenger, and the only thing I would say to a flight attendant would be an order.
Yes, I'll have the lobster. Yes, I'll have another bottle of champagne. Yes – I said bottle, not glass. Thank you, ma'am. Thank you, sir. No tips. No greeting. And absolutely, under no circumstance, put a name to the face. Spoken like a true Lowe.
The feelings of isolation and inner despair are what I deserved for listening to daddy. As long as he was sending money straight to my bank account, what else could I possibly want?
I found out the moment a stranger sat at my table in the airport. I found out when he accidentally touched me before we stepped onto the plane. I found out when he made me laugh. I found out when he made me cry. I found out the moment we made love.
Is this obsession normal? I can't stop thinking about him, about us. I no longer feel like I'm one person, alone and adrift, searching for something and never knowing what.
I worry that this feeling may not last. I don't know how it's supposed to work – love. Is there a manual I can read? Classes I can take? At what point should I worry about losing it? Why am I even thinking about losing it?
Brando makes me crazy and I laugh. He brings out all the things inside of me I tried to contain for so long. He's made me go soft. I shouldn't worry. We share something now, a bond, an unspoken pact. I truly believe that some kind of fate, some kind of destiny, brought us together – in that airport, on this plane... in my arms, my heart.
Flight 143. I'll never forget it. The most magical flight of my life.
I manage to pull myself up from my seat to locate some pants to put on. My legs are chilly now, as if the cabin pressure has dropped, causing my legs to shake.
My pants are still on the bathroom floor. I look at the shower, at the mark on the glass. It's Brando's handprint as if he had only just done it. My mind flashes back to that moment I pressed him against the wall. I couldn't stop kissing him. I couldn't stop loving him. He couldn't stop loving me. I want, I need, to feel that again.
I have to quickly put on my pants before something pops out of my boxers. I fumble with them and almost fall over as I struggle to manoeuvre my legs inside. I grab the sink and slide them over my thighs, tucking myself in.
I gaze at myself for a moment once I stand straight. I brush my blonde hair to the side and smile, making sure I can see my own eyes and the person behind them.
Fate. Destiny. I believe it. I feel good. I feel great. I feel alive.
An unfamiliar song begins to play. I keep forgetting that there is music on. My thoughts have drowned almost everything out around me. I have a habit of doing that. Sometimes I'd get in trouble for it.
I search for the phone that the system is connected to. It is definitely not a song I'd have on a playlist.
I find Brando's phone on the desk. I lift it up and pause the song. Part of me is pretty glad he's left it – it gives him a reason to come back and get it from me, though I hope I'm reason enough for him to come back.
YOU ARE READING
Heart of the Sky | Gay TitanicRomance
[2018 Watty Award Winner] A love story doomed to the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, Brando and Daxten form an unlikely friendship at an airport before falling in love on their ill-fated flight to New York City.