World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

1.0

“Excuse me, lady?”

“How can I help you, sir?”

“My seat is supposed to be 9C but someone else is sitting there,” I turn around to see the tourist standing there, with a worried expression.

“Can you let me see your boarding pass, please?”

Oh no, that’s going to be rough. By the noises, I know I’m right. He is probably struggling to grab the ticket from his pocket or something. What a loser.

“Let me help you with this,” the lady says.

“I got it,” he replies.

“Just a second, Mr. Tomlinson.”

That’s the guy who was keeping us here. The tourist is the reason why my anxiety is growing bigger. Nice.

“Indeed, there’s been a misunderstanding with your seat, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Please don’t tell me that, I need to get there for the opening ceremony,” he begs.

“Don’t worry. We are going to rearrange your position. Follow me, please,” they both stop right next to my seat, “3B, this is your new seat, sir.”

“No, no, no, I can’t afford first class.”

“It was our mistake so don’t worry about the expenses. Enjoy your flight.”

The tourist looks at me before he starts accommodating his million bags inside the overhead compartments, “Hello,” he greets me, “Excuse me,” he says as he walks through me to sit on the window seat, “God, I can’t believe I made it,” he struggles to breath. Yeah, I was right. The tourist is gay.

“It’s Louis by the way,” he waves stupidly.

“Louis Tomlinson, I know.”

“How?” he frowns, “Do we know each other?”

“They called your name a million times,” I answer as I put on my headphones. International sign for ‘Do not talk to me’.

“Sorry about that,” his voice vanishes as the Arctic Monkeys start to do their job. Make the takeoff as relaxed as possible.

Last thing I see before I fall asleep is the flight attendant giving away the instructions in case there’s an accident. Such negativity. Airlines should rethink that. No one pays attention to them anyways, so.

I don’t know how much time had passed since we left London but a loud laugh wakes me up. Great, the tourist is watching Friends. I stretch my arms and look around to see everyone else is already eating. I missed the service.

“Hey, welcome back,” the tourist stares at me, “I asked them to leave your food anyways but they said you could call them when you wake up.”

“I know, it’s not the first time I fly but thank you.”

“Grumpy,” he mumbles but I don’t mind excusing myself.

Moments later, the flight attendant comes with my lunch. I pick a movie and I get ready to eat.

“Is it because I’m here without paying?” the tourist speaks again.

“What?” I take my headphones off to stare at him.

“I thought you were being rude because you were sleepy but you’ve slept for almost fours hours and you are still, well, rude,” he keeps talking, “Now I wonder if you are bothered by the fact that I got here without paying the amount of money you paid.”

God, that guy speaks way too much. I just roll my eyes and try to find a good answer. No way I’m telling him I didn’t pay either, “It might be that, yeah,” I say before I put my headphones back on.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he sounds ironic, “Don’t watch that movie, it sucks.”

“What again?” I try to sound as bothered as I can.

He points at the screen, “The movie you are about to watch, it sucks. You’ll end up regretting it, trust me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah. I hated it,” he keeps trying to make conversation, which is absolutely annoying. I decide to ignore him and continue watching the film I picked.

Twenty minutes later, I give up on the film. Hate to admit it but the tourist was right.

“Told you,” he laughs without turning around to look at me. I see he is reading a book, The Fault In Our Stars. I can’t think of anything gayer than that. I hope he doesn’t end up crying all over me when the sad stuff starts to happen. I’ve read it last month but not in public, of course.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he looks at me.

“Mate, I’m straight,” I shoot him an intense glare. Oh, and that’s a lie. Just in case you don’t remember.

“What the actual heck?” For the first time during the whole flight, he looks offended. I nailed it.

“I’m not interested. I’m straight.”

“You are unbelievable. Whatever, dude, never mind.”

Finally. It was harder than I expected but that was all it took for him to stay quiet during the rest of the flight.

We land in Rio de Janeiro and I can’t feel more excited about it. The crewmember speaks in Portuguese and that is working perfectly to get me in the mood. I can’t wait to be at the beach with a caipirinha on my hand.

The tourist hurries to be the first one to leave the plain and I don’t mind. He grabs all his stuff and starts to walk to the door. A few steps later, he turns around to come back.

“Oh, and by the way, it was very sweet to see your attempt to play the macho role but just so you know, straight men don’t usually see the difference between gay or not. But nice try anyways. Enjoy the cup, homo,” he says with an attitude and leaves the plane.

I stay there in silence, still trying to figure an answer out. Too late. The poor people are already walking by me and I have to struggle to leave my seat.

I’m pissed and offended. No one had ever called me that before.

Great, the fucking tourist ruined my Rio mood.

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