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Arthit is so early that check in has only just opened when he makes it to the concourse. The woman on the desk gives him a look that screams sympathy as she flips through his passport to find his visa.
“Oh, just a one-way flight?” She inquires and Arthit feels his heart squeeze like it’s clasped in a giant fist. He wants to ask her if she could please tell him that it’s not okay to only possess only a one-way ticket and also could she please insist that he books a return flight right this very second before he checks in.
Instead, he gives her a sickly smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and tries to stop his pulse from racing in the way that makes him feel ill.
She gives him a gentle smile back and starts to process his ticket, her fingers flying over the keyboard, reminding Arthit of the half-written essay still burning to be finished on his own computer.
He was certain he would have completed it the night before, but then his mother had come to check out his packing and his father had followed her up with a ‘final take-out meal’, and his friends had surprised him with one last, final goodbye even though they’d thrown him a huge party just the weekend before.
So the essay sits, cursor blinking, on his laptop, waiting for him to remember his thought process and his references and his anecdotal footnotes that will make it uniquely his own and hopefully impress someone at this fancy university he’s joining.
But wait to impress it will have to, as he watches the woman tap away, seating him on the plane that will take him far from home for at least the next, long, anxious year.
The young woman is still doing whatever it takes to book him onto the flight, when his mother arrives at his side, already crying into a large floral handkerchief. His father comes next, holding out a small bag from one of the myriad of airport gift shops.
“Your mother wants you to have this, son,” he intones in a serious voice, sounding awfully like the monk who Arthit had visited the week before for a blessing for his journey.
Arthit takes the bag, feeling a tear of his own form on his lash line, threatening to spill over as his mother sobs a little louder. “Thanks dad, mum. But I’ll only be gone for.. well, about a year.”
He loses his battle with his emotions and his mother launches herself at him, gathering him to her chest and rubbing a warm hand over his back, soothingly.
“Sorry, sorry,” Arthit hears his father say, “It’s just a hard day, he’s going away to school and.. well, we can’t exactly afford for him to visit us.”
There are sympathetic noises and then Arthit fights his way out of his mother’s grip, rubbing at his eyes, “It’s okay.” He doesn't like the sound of his wavering voice, but this is exactly why he insisted they arrived early. Much better to get all this embarrassment out of the way before the rest of the passengers show up and Arthit becomes the centre of attention.
He looks from his mother to his father and then up to the woman who is still typing on her keyboard. The flight she’s booking him in for is at least a twenty four hour trip, with a stopover in Dubai, and he is not exactly looking forward to it. Especially not when he’s emotionally vulnerable.
“... So, I’ve been able to move him up into the next class. I hope that’s okay.” The woman is saying and Arthit realises he’s missed something important.
But his dad is nodding and thanking her profusely and she is smiling at him as young ladies tend to do since his dad is still rather handsome for his age.
“I’m very grateful to you, that’s extremely kind and will take some of the weight of him leaving away. You’re a very generous person. Thank you!”
Arthit intends to ask what’s going on, but his dad is fussing with his suitcases and his mother is pulling him into her crushing embrace again and he doesn’t get the chance.
————————
They go for a coffee, his mother insisting he has at least a pink milk before his flight just in case it’s not available once he gets to America. Arthit refrains from reminding her of all the Thai restaurants he’d found and shared with her on Twitter (yes, his mum is on Twitter and yes, they follow each other!) He can tell how vulnerable she feels today, sending her only child away to college and he can’t begrudge her one final goodbye.
But when there are less than 2 hours before his flight, he has to force their separation, holding her close for a long, long time before he guides her into his father’s arms and picks up his carryon.
“Well, Arthit. We expect to hear lots about your adventures in Boston. Your mother is going to insist on daily updates to start with, but I’m sure I’ll persuade her to make them weekly after the first.. month or so?!” His father is trying to cheer them both up, but it’s not exactly working. Their last hug is fierce and his father whispers that he’s slipped some extra dollars into his notebook and to please buy himself something nice when he gets to America; and then his mother tells him she’s put some extra dollars into one of his rolled up pair of socks and to please buy something to remind him of Thailand when he gets there!
He fights down the tears when they turn to leave and then he forces himself to open his passport and to check which gate number he needs.
And that’s when he sees his seat assignment.
—————————
Turns out, business class has a lot of perks! He gets fast tracked through passport control and security, following a slim stream of (mostly) men in business suits, rolling intimidating and complicated luggage behind them. In his comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt for his favourite band, hoodie looped comfortably around his waist, he definitely knows he doesn’t fit in, but he’s waved through at every checkpoint, so it must be right.
Eventually, he is spat out onto the main corridor of the airport, people snaking their way through with luggage carts and small children attached by coloured leashes. The last person he’d been processed by, had mentioned he has lounge access and had circled on the map which way he should go, so he decides to follow his instructions and see what exactly ‘lounge access’ entails.
Turns out, as the smiling lady in the blue suit scans him in, it includes a plethora of awesome perks! There’s a whole buffet of delicious looking pastries and soups and salads and sandwiches and hot food, together with a range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks that cover a myriad of tastes.
Arthit spends a while choosing, unsure if he should even eat before such a long flight. He knows he’s going to be completely confused as they pass through the time zones and he wants to at least try and stick to a schedule. But then he spots his favourite pork larb and he just has to try it to see how it compares to the auntie’s on his soi (not as tasty if he’s honest) and then it’s like tripping down a rabbit hole as he trundles from his seat to the buffet and back until he’s tasted almost everything on offer!
After far too much food, he settles in the kind of chair he dreams about owning. It has a deep seat, with four soft and squishy cushions to support his back and neck, the armrests are the perfect height and there’s even a small footstool so he can truly relax.
And he does relax, his mind travelling overseas ahead of his body as he wonders about his apartment and his roommate and his course load and the new city he’s about to be part of. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once and for a second he wishes he had ignored the missive from his favourite teacher at school, who had written to his parents and expounded on the fact that Arthit was ‘bright enough to make something of his life!’ And that he should apply for scholarships for uni and that he should consider looking at English speaking courses and oh, would he be interested in actually going to England or America or..?
It was his father who had been adamant they look into it, and Arthit’s pleased that he’s making his father proud, he just wishes he was doing it closer to home.
His ‘relaxing’ is suddenly interrupted by a guy who looks to be around his own age, dressed in a similar hoodie and sweats combo and sporting a backwards baseball cap and a black face mask securely in place across his jaw.
“Excuse me?” The guy asks, dropping a plain black rucksack with a ‘K’ keychain in rainbow colours onto the seat opposite Arthit, “Could I possibly leave this here with you while I nip to the toilet? I’m not a,” he lowers his voice, “bomber or anything, I promise. I just hate taking all my things with me. Is it okay?”
Arthit is so taken aback by his words that he’s nodding before he’s even processed the ‘bomber’ comment. By the time he does, the guy has already thanked him and hot-footed it away.
“That’s ace, thanks man!”
Of course, for the next five minutes, Arthit can’t take his eyes off the rainbow keychain, straining his ears to make sure there are no untoward noises coming from inside the bag it’s attached to.
It’s only when the other guy saunters back over, that Arthit allows himself to relax into the plump pillows on his seat, letting out a small whoosh of air.
“See, I was quick!” The young man says, lifting his rucksack and slumping into the chair opposite, “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you? This place is getting busy!”
And indeed, when Arthit lifts his head and lets his eyes roam, the lounge has filled up. There are the business people with their scary, black, trundling cases, mixed in with more regular looking folk dressed similarly to himself and the guy sitting opposite; but interspersed amongst them are those his mother would call ‘well-to-do’, in their twinsets and pearls, sharp designer gear and with well-coiffed, fancy hair.
“Oh,” Arthit gives the guy a quick once-over and decides he’s at least clean if nothing more, so unlikely to pass on any untoward diseases due their proximity, “I suppose that’s fine, if you..” Arthit hunts for an excuse to avoid talking to the guy, not really in the mood for a long, involved chat, “If you don’t mind my working on an essay I have due?”
The guy in the black face mask nods and then reaches into his own bag to produce a fancy MacBook that looks brand new, “Me too,” he says with a wink and then proceeds to flip the lid and start to type at speed.
For a moment, Arthit grits his teeth and gathers his strength and then reaches into his own rucksack, sliding his ageing, battered, second hand device from it, praying that the other guy doesn’t look too closely at the smattering of stickers that cover the lid.
He’s just typing in his password, slowly and carefully since the ‘N’ key has the tendency to stick, when he feels the heat of eyes watching him. He looks up, expecting to see judgment from the man opposite, but instead, he just catches a hint of warm brown before his seat-mate has ducked back behind his own, more expensive looking device.
Arthit gives it a long second, before he looks back down and brings up the essay that is still half-finished despite his desire to have completed it while he was sleeping last night. He *may* grunt a little in disappointment and the answering snicker from opposite *might* make his heart skip a beat. But, he blocks it out, scanning over the last few sentences, blinking cursor passing judgment on his lack of words.
He manages to suffer through eight long winded sentences, before he needs a rest. Looking up, he sees that ‘Rainbow K’ (the guy in the face mask is simply too long!) has stopped typing too and is instead looking into the middle distance, eyes unfocused.
For a second Arthit enjoys the unhindered view, giving himself the chance to really look at the young man before him. Then he snaps himself out of it, realising that it’s entirely possible to piss someone off with just one look, and levers himself up to go and get another drink.
Felling impossibly rude, he pauses as he steps out of the chair and looks from the drinks to the young man before him. Then his mother’s upbringing kicks in and he feels obliged to ask, “Can I bring you a drink of something?”
‘Rainbow K’ snaps out of his daze too and follows the direction of Arthit’s eyes, flinching a little at the crowd of people gathered in the area, “That would be amazing,” he admits, voice low and sort of growling, “I’d love a juice?”
Arthit nods back and leaves him alone, heading for the snack bar and swiping a tray. He loads a few snacks onto a couple of plates, deciding to deal with the time difference thing later on, and then studies the array of juices in front of him. To be fair, he’s been here a while and he’s tried them all so he knows which one he would choose, but he doesn’t know ‘Rainbow K’s taste, so he snags glasses of all of them, and then, feeling kind of stupid, balances the cluttered tray back to their seats.
There’s a gasp of surprise as he slides the tray carefully onto the small table in the centre of their chairs. “Umm, is a whole army in need of a drink?” He sounds incredulous and as Arthit surveys the table, he finds himself agreeing - there are a stupid number of drinks between them.
“Oh.. Just, I wasn’t sure what you preferred..”
Twinkling eyes meet his and then an elegant hand shoots out and snags the pineapple juice, which is the one Arthit would have chosen too. He finds himself smiling involuntarily and looks up to see what the other guy thinks of that, when he catches sight of something that shocks him so much, he ends up falling backwards into the chair in surprise.
“But.. you’re.. you.. oh!”
Arthit knows he sounds like a total and utter idiot, yet he can’t produce an actual sentence even though he’s clever enough to have gotten into an American Ivy League school on full scholarship (including clothing, housing and catering allowances).
Opposite him, the guy hastily replaces his face mask and says in a low voice, “Any chance we could keep this between ourselves?”
Arthit nods, still dazed and wipes a hand over his eyes as though that will help him to unsee what he has just seen in front of him. He reaches out a shaking hand to grab a glass of cranberry juice and downs the whole thing in one long swallow.
Plonking it back on the tray, he reaches for the next one - mango - and that’s when the elegant hand settles over his own and the growly voice whispers, “Don’t drink so much juice, you’ll get belly ache. Look, how about we start over and see if that helps you feel better?”
Arthit nods again and retracts his hand, missing the softness of Rainbow K’s immediately. They both sit back in their chairs and there’s a long moment where their eyes just… look.
Then Rainbow K leans in, “I guess you know who I am?”
Arthit bobs his head and opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clears his throat and tries again, “Umm.. you’re Kongpob, from the.. thing.. and the other thing.”
Kongpob’s eyes sparkle and scrunch up as he laughs. It’s deep and throaty and familiar and Arthit wonders how he hadn’t heard Kongpob in it before? But then, he thinks, his airport experiences don’t usually include internationally famous men asking him to watch their luggage.
“Yes, I’m from that thing and that other thing, I’m pleased to hear that you enjoyed watching them!”
Arthit hears the joke in his words parroted back, but still feels the need to clarify, “But I did! Enjoy them. Especially, ‘Mama’s’! You were exceptional in that. All your storylines were but the one I..” he pauses and then decides, fuck it! He’s only going to meet Kongpob Suthiluck once in his life!
“The one that resonated with me the most, was the teenage son… coming out to his mother?”
He sees Kongpob’s eyes widen behind his mask, but his words are gentle and understanding, “Thank you. I think that was such an important storyline and I was so proud to be asked to portray it. I know myself what it’s like to go through important life changes.. only most of mine happened on screen in front of an audience of thousands.”
“Millions.” Arthit replies and enjoys the way Kongpob looks embarrassed.
“Yes, well..”
“So, you’re hiding in the airport then..” Arthit relaxes a little, and diverts the conversation away from the fact that he’s just, indirectly, come out to Kongpob Suthiluck, teen heartthrob and all around amazing guy (according to everything Arthit’s ever read.. and it’s a lot!)
“Oh.. yeah I suppose you could call it hiding. I’m just.. trying to stay under the radar since this isn’t a work trip.”
Arthit nods and then reaches for a portion of the larb he’d chosen earlier.
“Is it any good?” Kongpob asks, and Arthit launches into the many reasons why it is not.
————————
Some time later, Arthit feels like they’ve exhausted all the food based conversation and wonders if perhaps Kongpob might want a rest from him, so he casually asks the actor to watch his bag and then heads for the bathroom where he splashes a generous amount of cold water across his face and tries to convince himself that everything is going to be fine!
Sure, he’s sat at the airport with one of his favourite actors (actually, now he’s alone with his thoughts he can admit that Kongpob is his ultimate actor, even down to the tiny part he had in one of the huge franchise films that had released late last year.) So, for a second, standing and looking at his own, rather uninspiring features, he lets himself freak out. Kongpob is speaking to him like he’s a friend or something.. not just the guy who looked after his bag.
“It’s going to be fine, Arthit. You can go back out there and not act like a total loser. Come on!”
Once he’s psyched himself up, he picks his way across the lounge where the crowd has started to thin out and drops back into the comfortable chair, “Ahhh.. that’s good!”
“You really like that chair, eh?” Kongpob’s eyes are grinning at him over his mask and Arthit smiles back.
“I want to own one! Do you think they’re for sale?” He looks around him frantically, like he might be searching out a sales rep and Kongpob splutters over his laughter.
“You’re crazy! Anyway, where exactly are you going today?”
Arthit can’t answer for a moment, feelings welling in his chest as he imagines saying the answer aloud. Sure, he’s managed to forget for a bit, with the distraction of the business class lounge and the presence of Kongpob opposite him, but he isn’t sure he wants to reply.
“Just away.” He replies instead and sees how Kongpob understands immediately.
“Me too.” He says in a soft voice and Arthit blinks for a second as he wonders what kind of trip exactly the actor is going on. He’d said it wasn’t work, but it didn’t seem like he was excited for a lovely holiday either.
However, considering his own feelings on the matter of travelling, he decides to pry no further and instead asks him if he likes to play cards?
Six hands of gin rummy later, Arthit it certain that Kongpob is cheating. “Hey! No way! Did you even shuffle this pack?”
Kongpob’s giggle is cute and a reminder that the guy is only a year older than Arthit, “Of course I did, I just happen to be exceptional at this game!”
“Bloody lucky,” Arthit replies, trying not to sound petulant or childish, even though he knows he sounds both, “Let’s try something else?”
The ‘something else’ ends up being a wild game of snap, wherein they both end up with their hands tangled over the pile of cards which are slightly battered and creased by the time Arthit wins.
“Yes!” He punches the air and grabs the stack of cards from the table, shuffling them into a hurried rectangle and watching as Kongpob watches his hands, “Again?”
“Umm.. yeah.”
Absentmindedly, Arthit pushes back his fringe and Kongpob’s eyes track the movement and all at once, he feels too hot and too observed.
“Okay, you deal.” As he hands over the stack of cards, their fingers brush and Arthit feels a spark run up his arm.
Two hurriedly fought games later, it’s Kongpob’s turn to admit defeat, “All hail, King of snap!”
Arthit lets out an unreserved giggle which is interrupted by a loud speaker announcing his flight number and gate.
“Oh,” his heart sinks a little as he looks across the table at the other man, “Umm, I have to go - that was me.”
Kongpob frowns and then nods slowly, “I see. Well then..” He hands the stack of cards back to Arthit, making sure to grip his hand in his own, “Thank you for making today a much more memorable airport experience than I’m used to. It was much more pleasant talking to you and playing with you than sitting alone and fussing over school work.”
Arthit feels his lips lift and knows he’s smiling like an idiot, yet he doesn’t care, “And thank you Rainbow K, for taking my mind off.. well off everything. I appreciate it a whole lot!”
“Rainbow K?” Kongpob’s eyes are mischievous and Arthit sucks in a breath, being caught out using the nickname he’d given Kongpob hours earlier.
“Umm..” Arthit lamely gestures to Kongpob’s bag and the older man’s eyes crinkle again.
“Well, I like it! You can always call me that, it can be our little secret, Mr A.”
“Mr A?”
“Well you don't have any keychains so..”
Arthit grins back, “True. Now, I better go, can’t miss my flight.”
There’s a moment when they both hover awkwardly and then Kongpob opens his arms, “Do you need a hug?”
Arthit launches himself into them and there’s a long, intense full-body hug that makes him feel like he’s floating.
“Thanks,” he whispers as they draw back and Kongpob reaches up to tweak a piece of his hair back into place, “Thanks for distracting me, safe flight.”
Arthit grabs his bag and turns to leave, just as Kongpob grabs his hand and spins him round, “Call me Rainbow K on Twitter and I’ll find you?”
“One day.”
“Yeah.”
Kongpob waves a hand, “Now don’t be late!”
————————
Boarding the flight to Dubai, Arthit is surprised to see he’s in a small cabin near the front of the plane, “Welcome to First Class, Mr Rojnapat.” The attendant says and ushers him to his own ‘pod’ seat in the centre. “Champagne? Juice?”
“Umm.. juice please.”
She vanishes as he looks in awe at the seat he’s been given, cataloguing the many buttons on the armrest, the enormous screen that’s as big as the TV in the family living room at home and the space around him that screams ‘luxury’.
He’s just freaking out about it when the screen beside him rolls down and a familiar pair of eyes crinkle in delight, “Hi Mr A, welcome to first class!”
“Huh! What? How?!”
“I might have pulled a few strings.. I need my ‘snap’ champion with me after all, to help distract me from the actual flying part!”
Arthit feels like he’s living in a movie as he stares at Kongpob, “Is this real?”
“Yeah.. it’s real. They always collect me on one of those little cart things so I don’t cause chaos in the airport, or I would have just walked down here with you.. Instead, I had time to suggest they upgrade you and get you the seat beside me.” Suddenly, his eyes darken and he reaches up to pull down his face mask, expression unsure, “Was that okay?”
Arthit bounces on the seat, “Depends if this is comfy or not!”
Kongpob laughs, “It’ll be more than comfortable.. in fact..” he gives Arthit a sly look, “Together these two seats make a double bed..”
Arthit is blushing so hard, that when the assistant returns with his drink, he knows she is judging him.
“Sir, can I get you anything else before take off? Do you need any help with any of the seat controls?”
Kongpob reaches out and casually grabs Arthit’s hand, “No thanks Claire, I’ve got it.”
She nods and retreats respectfully and Arthit looks down at where his hand is loosely linked with Kongpob’s. “Are you sure I’m not still asleep at the airport or something? And this is all a crazy dream?”
Kongpob grins again, “I’m pretty certain.. hey, why don’t you close your little door there,” he gestures to the space where they can see the aisle and Arthit reaches across to tug it shut, “Now, I wonder what might help you to relax…?”
Arthit sees the intention in Kong’s eyes before he leans in and hovers a millimetre away from his lips.
“Not that,” he whispers and Kongpob starts to pull back, “But I don’t mind if my heart is racing when we take off, I mean, it was going to anyway.. what’s a little extra?”
Their mouths meet in a soft press and Kongpob whimpers, “Ahh.. I knew it would be perfect.”
“You did, did you?”
“Yes. Because, you called me Rainbow K.. and that’s what my mum calls me too!”
Arthit grins, “So, Rainbow K, where exactly are you headed, is Dubai your final destination? Are you having a well deserved holiday?”
Kongpob leans back and links their fingers more firmly as the captain announces that they are preparing for takeoff. Then he leans over and reaches for Arthit’s seat belt, casually linking it across his lap, “Actually, I’m not going on holiday. I’m going away for school.”
The engines rumble beneath them and Arthit squeezes Kongpob’s fingers, “No way, so am I!”
“Oh! Well, that’s a nice coincidence isn’t it. England or..?”
“America,” the plane starts to shudder as it moves out towards the runway, the noise, a roar that Kongpob strains to be heard over.
“Me too.”
“No?” Arthit looks at him, stomach dancing at his words, “Seriously, I would have read that somewhere?”
“We kept it out of the papers.. just until I get settled, then it’ll be announced.”
The plane starts to pick up speed, and Arthit knows that he would normally be scared, “LA? New York?” He asks, anticipation curling in his belly.
“No..” the plane’s nose begins to lift and Arthit’s heart soars, “Somewhere a little smaller.. older, Boston actually.”
They are on a plane, holding hands, eyes locked on each other as it leaves the ground and Arthit’s whole world opens up into a myriad of possibilities.
“Me too,” he whispers and Kongpob smiles.
The End.