Page 8 of Fear of Flying

The flight attendants interrupted again, one with a small packet of some type of cracker mix and the other with a tray of beverages. Less than a minute later, he and Zach were settled with their tiny snack bags and their Jack and Cokes on their tray tables, and Drew felt inexplicably frozen to the spot. Should they toast? No, that would be weird, right? And Drew needed to dial down the weird by like five.

Out of the corner of his eye, Drew watched as Zach picked up his plastic cup and raised it slightly. “What should we toast to?”

“I, um...” Drew still felt half-frozen, but he managed to at least pick up his drink and hold it close to Zach’s.

Zach let out a breathy laugh and smiled softly at Drew, which made another flush of heat run through him. “To a superhero of a seatmate? For saving me from the terror of takeoff... and who will... hopefully also be willing to save me from the torture of landing too?”

Drew swallowed and nodded. “Of course,” he managed to rasp out, his mouth suddenly having gone dry.

They “clinked” their plastic cups together and each took a long sip. At the sight of the slight twinkle in Zach’s eye, Drew was immediately thankful that they wouldn’t have to part ways until reaching Dallas. He really didn’t like the idea of their time together coming to an end, even though he couldn’t explain what was happening or what it meant.

He’d always been lonely. Everything, his whole existence, had been lonely. But it hadn’t really mattered all that much because he’d never really been attracted to anyone—physically or otherwise—and certainly not to this extent. This was beyond anything he’d experienced or any reality he’d ever imagined. And he still really wasn’t sure if it was real.

A sudden jolt and jerk of the airplane made them both pitch forward slightly, their snack packets sliding to the floor as the telltale tone of the captain turning on the seat belt sign rang out. Drew watched as the color drained from Zach’s face and his eyes screwed shut. The plane jerked again, and there was a thunderous rattling and banging that Drew assumed could only be the carry-ons shifting in the overhead bins. Drew heard a chorus of gasps and murmurs from the other passengers, and at least one baby started crying.

His stomach clenched, and almost instinctively, he found himself reaching out to take Zach’s drink from him. He set it on his own tray table and then grabbed Zach’s hand and held tight. “Hey, Zach. Listen to me,” he said, leaning closer to Zach’s ear to make sure he could hear and keeping his tone clear and even. “You gotta listen, okay? It’s just a little turbulence. Happens all the time on thousands and thousands of flights a day, and they all land safely.”

Zach’s eyes were still screwed shut, and his knuckles were white, his hand closed tightly around Drew’s. Another bump and pitch of the plane elicited a whimper from Zach and almost sent Zach’s drink flying.

Quickly, Drew set his drink down and picked up Zach’s. “Here, why don’t you go ahead and chug your drink? Help calm those nerves just a bit. Can you do that?”

Zach peeked out at Drew from the corner of his eye, and Drew held the plastic cup out for him. If Zach had been capable of a skeptical look, Drew was sure he’d be seeing it right now.

“I know, slim chance of actually calming down, right? Heh.” At least Zach’s eyes were a bit more open and focused on Drew now, though they squeezed shut again when the plane shook violently for a few seconds before stilling once more. “I know. I know. God, I’m so sorry right now, Zach. But stay with me, okay? If you don’t think it’ll calm your nerves, maybe—maybe would you be willing to chug it down so that it doesn’t spill on either of us? Because that would really suck, one or the both of us with wet pants. Right?”

Drew caught half a smile from Zach, and if it hadn't been so loud in the cabin, he was sure he might have heard a chuckle. This time, Zach did manage a skeptical look, but Drew just grinned and held up the drink.

“Please?”

With a shaky hand, Zach reached out and took the drink from Drew, and Drew tried not to focus on just how much Zach’s hand was trembling or on the likelihood that Zach’s T-shirt was going to get spilled on. Though he wasn’t at all religious, Drew prayed to whoever might be listening that there would be no more turbulence while Zach was drinking. Or at all, really, but at least while he was drinking.

It seemed like forever and in slow motion, but Zach managed to down the drink fairly quickly. Drew took the cup from him, dumped the ice into his own cup, and stacked the two. He held the cups in his free hand just in case there was more turbulence. “Want another?” Drew half joked, holding up his drink.

Zach seemed like he was just about to shake his head when the plane jerked sideways and then bumped and shuddered aggressively. When Zach opened his eyes afterwards, his gaze settled on the drink in Drew’s hand, and he snagged it and chugged almost greedily, as though it were some magic elixir that would make all the bad things disappear.

When Zach was finished, Drew gently took the stacked cups from Zach, set them on his tray table, and then put Zach’s tray table up and secured it. Zach’s eyes were closed again, though there hadn’t been any more movement since the last series of bumps. Drew’s heart went out to Zach. How horrible it must be to have to experience your worst fear like this.

“Zach... hey, I promise it’s going to be okay. The captain said it’s just a storm system with really high winds. He sounded calm and collected, too, like it was nothing they hadn’t seen before.”

A violent jerk and then another made the plane lurch and rattle, and the cabin lights flickered out for a second, eliciting gasps and worried murmurs from other passengers. Drew’s other hand shot out to cover Zach’s knee.

“Okay, even I’ll admit that was a scary one. But I bet that’s the last of it. The captain said we were almost through the storm system, and we should be landing in Pittsburgh very soon.” Zach still looked pale, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched, and his hand was holding Drew’s so tightly that Drew was starting to lose a little bit of feeling in his fingers. He frowned, about to try something else to comfort and distract Zach again, when the captain came on over the intercom to confirm that they were through the worst of the storm.

“Ah, see, Zach, did you hear that? It’s all over. It’ll be smooth sailing from here, and we’re all safe. You’re safe. Stay with me now, okay?” Drew gave Zach’s knee a squeeze. “You might want to breathe, though, maybe just a bit more frequently. I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe if you don’t continue to breathe, yeah?”

Zach let out a strangled laugh, and Drew released the breath he’d been holding. Drew shifted so that he held Zach’s hand with both of his, and he resisted the strange urge he had to rest his forehead against their joined hands. That... had been pretty intense.

Keeping his gaze on Zach’s face, watching the changes in his expression as his extreme tension slowly seeped away, Drew kept talking, still leaning in close to be sure Zach could hear him. “Eventually—not now, but eventually—you’ll have to give me my hand back.”

Drew saw a small twitch of Zach’s lips, but his eyes remained closed for now.

“So, earlier, I didn’t tell you about the latest uproar sweeping the Superman fandom. Blaine Goodman—can you believe it?—wrote this script that just... well, to be blunt, it’s complete crap. Here’s this guy that knows nothing—nothing—about Superman or his history or just... It’s character assassination, really—and I’m aware that might be a misuse of the term, but it’s appropriate. I swear this guy has to be willfully misunderstanding Superman’s characterization the way he’s got the Man of Steel fighting just for the sake of fighting without a real purpose behind it. That’s not how Superman works. He doesn’t just—”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Zach murmured, more than a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth now as he opened his eyes.

Drew could feel the heat burning his cheeks, but he also couldn’t help noticing that Zach’s grip on his hand had loosened significantly. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t want to let go just yet, even though Zach was clearly calm enough to have started teasing him. “I hope they fire him and hire Kevin Smith to rewrite it. He deserves another go at a Superman movie. Anyone but Blaine Goodman, the king of toxic masculinity in filmmaking.”

Zach’s eyes opened wide, and he turned his head toward Drew.

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