𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊

𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝

★
1988
Japan
Word Count: 3.8k

The plane ride from Los Angeles to Tokyo seemed interminable, with hour after hour spent in the cramped confines of the jet, even though there were only a few other passengers on board. You were seated by the window, staring out at the vast, dark sky above and the dazzling tapestry of city lights far below. The hum of the engines provided a constant, low background noise as the plane soared through the night.

Beside you, Michael was engrossed in a book, his eyes darting back and forth across the pages in an attempt to ease his nerves. Flying had never been his favorite activity, but he always managed to push through his discomfort when necessary. You turned to look at him and noticed the rare sight of his reading glasses perched on his nose-a small detail that you found both adorable and unexpectedly attractive.

As the plane continued its journey, Michael reached over and took your hand. His touch was warm and comforting, a silent reassurance amid the monotonous drone of the engines. You held his hand tightly, your thumb gently rubbing his knuckles. The softness of his skin contrasted with the pronounced veins that added a rugged elegance to his hands, captivating you. Each touch conveyed a deep sense of connection and intimacy, grounding you both amid the seemingly endless flight.

"You alright?" you asked softly, your voice barely rising above a whisper.

Michael looked over at you and smiled, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table in front of you both. "I'm okay," he said softly, his voice an easing breeze in the stillness of the cabin.

You moved closer to him, laying your head against his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You glanced up at him. "Nothing, baby. I'm just cold," you said, shivering slightly.

"Raise up," he instructed gently.

You sat back up, watching as Michael took off his letterman jacket and draped it over you. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. "How's that?" he asked.

You shrugged with a playful smile. "I think a blanket would be better," you teased.

"You're right." Michael stood up and walked to the other side of the plane, grabbing a thick blanket off the sofa. He returned and sat down, unfolding the blanket and draping it over both of you, shielding you from the cool air. "Is that better, baby?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, moving back closer to him and laying your head against his shoulder. Michael wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your head and inhaling your scent deeply. "I'm glad you're coming back with me," he said, his voice filled with affection.

You looked up and smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss it. I'd rather end this tour with you than be at home," you said sincerely.

Michael chuckled softly, a sound that vibrated through his chest. "You missed me a lot, didn't you?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.