Il Volo Imagines

Piero #1 - Fare L'amore, Non La Guerra!(Part 1)

Your P.O.V.

You couldn't believe it. Married for less than a month and you'd already had your first argument! It was hardly an argument, more like a stupid lover's spat about...you couldn't even remember what! All you knew was that the anger was bubbling inside you, threatening to spill over the edge. You walked the length of the plane to your seats, yelling bloody murder at each other, regardless of the looks that you were getting from your fellow passengers. The words flying out of your mouth didn't make sense any more. They were just utterances of spite being tossed from one to another. You said something that you knew would push Piero to the brim, and instantly regretted it. You jumped back as he chucked his phone down forcefully onto his seat, whilst shouting "VAFFANCULO!" A young blonde-haired stewardess rushed over to us and calmly, but firmly, asked us to quieten, with the threat of being removed from the plane. You apologised as Piero slumped into his seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. You sat next to him, shifting uncomfortably in the cage of tension.
     A few minutes had passed, and the heat of the argument had died down, all that was left was an awkward silence that was begging to be broken. You risked a glance in Piero's direction, and saw that he was staring absent mindedly at the back of the chair in front. This meant that he had composed himself, but his heavy breathing gave way to the fact that he was still uncomfortable. You suddenly felt a pang of guilt: you hated seeing him like this, but you were too stubborn to say anything, even though you knew that there really was nothing to be angry about any more. 
     You looked forward as you felt the plane begin to take off. Your grip on the arm rests tightened, and you could feel yourself perspiring. You screwed your eyes shut and tried to settle your breathing, but to no avail.
     Your mouth was getting dryer; you licked your chapped lips; you wiped the sweat from your brow; you opened your eyes; you looked up to the ceiling; you breathed in; you breathed out; breathed in; breathed out; in; out; in; out. You could feel yourself getting light-headed, and your vision began to blur and darken. 

Piero's P.O.V.

I looked over to (Y/N) knowing that they hated this part of the journey. They were glowing with perspiration, and their eyes were screwed shut. They were gripping to the ends of the arm rests, causing their knuckles to go white. This appeared to be a bad episode, worse than usual in fact. It was probably due to the tension that was built earlier on. I scolded myself for doing this to them, and gently placed my hand over (Y/N)'s shaking one and stroked it lightly with my thumb. It was only when they looked at me with teary, panic filled eyes did I begin to seriously worry. I had never seen them like this, this was worse than ever before, and damn it all I was the cause of it! I hoped that my usual "calming abilities" would work in this situation.
     Successfully doing my best to avoid the view of the stewardess, who was insisting that everyone remain in their designated seats, I got up and scooped my arms around their thighs and body, lifting them up and sitting back in my own seat, (Y/N) still in my grasp. I cradled (Y/N) on my lap, with one arm resting across their thigh, the other keeping their head in place against my shoulder. I rested my forehead against theirs, kissing their nose every so often. As the plane rose higher, I heard them whimper, whilst they tried to curl themselves further into my grasp. I smiled and began to sing in whispers into their ear, keeping note of their now slowing heart beat.
     They slowly un-tensed, and I could now recognize the steady breathing of a sleeping (Y/N). I moved my head back to observe them, watching their eyes flutter every now and then. I could feel the heat from their burning, tear stained cheek which now rested limply on my shoulder, leaving a slight stain, which I disregarded. I wiped away the remainder of the water that dripped aimlessly down their face. Oh mio, that beautiful face, I could gaze at it forever. I settled further down into my seat, leaning my head back, but before I could fall into a much desired slumber, I heard a faint "I love you, Piero." from (Y/N). I lingered a kiss on their forehead, earning a sweet smile from them. 
     "Riposa ora, mio amore."

To be continued...