PUMPKIN /// MITCHEL CAVE

nine

We're flying to Cairns today. The past few days sharing a room with Mitchel have been interesting, but they've also helped me get to know him better. Currently, it's six a.m. and we're sitting at our gate, awaiting our flight to be called. My head is resting on Mitchel's shoulder, and he's asleep against a nearby wall.

Security wasn't as bad as either of us excepted. Mitchel set off the metal detector because he had forgotten the wallet in his back pocket had a metal chain on it. Call me terrible if you wish, but I laughed as I watched him frantically pat his body for the cause of the metal detector's beeping. It wasn't until a hand scanner was brought out that the wallet chain was discovered, and he had to go through the metal detector once again. 

I take a sip of my decaf iced coffee. Now that I'm...expecting....caffeine isn't something I should be having. Mitchel also bought me a dozen bite sized donut holes, but those are already gone. Humidity swirls around the Sydney airport, but my outfit prevents me from overheating. It's a simple pair of blue jeans and a white flowy top. My original plan was a yellow sweater, but Mitchel worried about me getting too warm so we settled. 

I nudge the boy next to me awake as a gate attendant starts reeling off information about our flight. He yawns with a slight groan, stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes. With a yawn he blinks a few time, then looks toward the attendant. 

We stand with the crowd, his arm protectively around my waist. His grip is tight, but not in a way where it's hurting me. It's tight in a nice way, in a way that makes me feel safe. 

I hold my boarding pass and my passport in my hand, standing in front of Mitchel now. His arm is still around my waist, his hand gripping my hip. It doesn't hurt, he'd know if it did. His arm is resting just below my stomach, low across my pelvis. As the line in front of us slowly inches along, he keeps me close, almost as if he's afraid something will happen to me. 

Finally, it's our turn. Mitchel moves to stand beside me now, as I smile at the gate attendant. He glances over my passport and scans my boarding pass before sending me along. I wait for Mitchel at the start of the jetway, and as soon as he's by my side we start walking towards the plane. 

My anxiety shoots up as soon as we step on. I try to calm down, but I've only taken flights a handful of times in my eighteen years of life. I've always been afraid of flying. I know Mitchel notices, because he shoots me a smile before we find out seats, toward the back of the plane. Mitchel places me next to the window, and he's in the middle seat. The aisle seat is currently empty, and I hope it'll remain that way. Cairns in October isn't necessarily the hot vacation spot.

As the plane fills, the seat next to Mitchel does, luckily, remain vacant. He smiles over at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I can't quite place. "We've got a doctor in Cairns you can see for your eight-week scan, okay?" I nod, watching out the window as the plane pushes off from the gate. It's still dark out, the only lights being those from the vehicles zooming around the runway.

"Does your brother know yet?" I look to Mitty. He rubs the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly.

"Not quite. But don't worry; I'll tell him." I nod, looking back out the window as a flight attendant starts listing off all of the safety information for the flight. I half pay attention. I may not have a lot of experience flying, but how hard can it be? If this plane crashes we're all dead anyway.

Mitchel scrambles for my hand as we start taxiing, preparing to take off. He takes it tightly, and I feel my heart start to pound. I don't know why the action makes my whole body light up, why it makes goosebumps cover my skin. The place where I hands meet, fingers entwined, feels electric. The smallest touch is driving me wild. 

We're in the air in seconds as Mitchel tightens his hold on my hand. He looks over at me, biting his lip and studying my features before turning back. He looks terrified, and I want to laugh. I never expected the Mitchel Cave, music's big tough guy, to be afraid of aeroplanes. 

Once we start to even out, he's calmer. His grip on my hand loosens, but he continues to hold it. Every so often I can feel Mitchel's eyes on me, but by the time I look back over his gaze is somewhere else. "Hey Mitchel?" He turns to look at me quickly, legs bouncing with anxiety. 

"Hm?" I lean over the arm rest and place my lips right next to his ear. 

"Thank you," I whisper. "For everything."