⟨⟨ ᴇʟᴏʀᴀ ʀᴀʏɴᴇ ⟩⟩
A wannabe writer studying Psychology in London far away from home. As her time in the great wide world comes to a close, she is left feeling as though she has done nothing with it. That is until she's in the right place, playing t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The familiar hum of the aeroplane surrounding him offered the briefest semblance of comfort to his similarly whirring mind. A non-stop flight from London to Cape Town lasted over eleven hours and while Louis was used to extensive travel time, the idea of being stuck in the metal contraption relentlessly was suffocating. Although, it might have been the understanding that he was speeding off to fulfil either the best or most idiotic choice of his life that was causing the claustrophobia settling in his chest.
Their lack of fore-thinking left Louis in an economy seat, completely exposed in his vulnerability to probing eyes and sneaking cameras. It was fortunate that the late hour of his flight meant it was unlikely for many hardcore fans to be sharing the facilities with him but years of impromptu hoards had left him paranoid. Any shift in his periphery caused him to shrink into himself so that within an hour he had practically curled up into a ball.
Eventually, he resorted to wearing one of those complimentary eye masks that always made him feel like a diva. The nerves fizzling in his skin awarded him only a few hours of sleep before he conceded to his defeat and stared out the window. The girl sat beside him had been silent throughout their period spent together so he assumed she probably didn't know who he was and definitely did not care. She may have been slightly older than him with straight blonde hair shielding view of her profile. His boredom caused his eyes to wander until they rested on the sight of her, or more specifically, the book that was clenched in her hands.
The strength with which she spread the pages open hinted at her stress. Maybe she was terrified of flying or maybe she was actually one of those fans who were able to remain semi-normal. He had to shake himself from that thought when he realised how presumptuous he was being. Either way, he appreciated the lack of fuss and was restless enough to address her in an attempt to focus his attention.
"That book," he began and she shot up, a startled look in her eyes. He continued smoothly as he tried to recall what Elora had said about it, "it's the one with the short stories in it, right?"
Her tentative nod prompted a flicker of a smile on his lips before he asked which one was her favourite. She paused for a bit, stuck between staring at him sceptically or rambling on about something she wasn't sure he was actually interested in. Eventually, she answered, "The Devoted Friend. I'm not sure why but there's just something about it that hits differently."
When his smile widened, she relaxed slightly and asked him if he'd read it and if so, which was his favourite. The specific phrasing of her words reminded him of an interview and he wondered whether she was a journalist. He decided he wouldn't ask that just yet before admitting, "I've never read it much to the disappointment of my friend. She's gone on long rants about that specific book and the writer in general. I think her favourite is the Remarkable Rocket but I'm not sure."
