Touch.
"God, I hate flying."
Eric opens his eyes enough to look sideways at his best friend. Vince's fingers are locked around the armrest of the seat, his elbow pointing not too gently in E's side. It's funny how quickly they had gotten used to flying privately, but there wasn't a commuter jet left to rent in all of Cannes. The city had been hit by the worst rainstorms in quite some time, and everyone was trying to get out of France to head back to sunny California. They had been lucky to get the last two seats in coach on the red eye flight back to Los Angeles in the first place. Between the torrential downpours and high winds, Vince had wanted to wait a couple more days, but Eric had insisted that they would be fine. The film festival had been brutal, and he was ready to get home.
"It's fine, Vin," E reminds him, reaching over to pat his friend's arm absently. He'd loaded Vince up with two anti-anxiety pills and a fully charged iPod before getting on the plane, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before they got back to the States. Instead, he had spent the first two hours of the trip listening to Vince freak out and calming him down every time they hit even the slightest bit of turbulence. "Why don't you lean back and close your eyes? I think Turtle packed your eye mask in your bag. Turn on the Ramones and get some sleep."
Vince listens to Eric, pulling the black mask over his eyes and trying to drown out his worst fears in the driving punk rock beat of his favorite band. However, when he isn't any closer to sleep fifteen minutes later, he nudges E awake in a vain attempt to entertain himself. E pretends to be asleep for a few minutes until the plane does a decided dip. It's only then that his eyes go flying open and that Vince gets really scared.
"Whoa, what was that?" someone calls from a few rows ahead of them, and before too long, the entire plane is buzzing with concern. Vince has been through pretty bad turbulence before, but if the look on E's face is any indication, this is different.
"E, what's going on?"
Eric's worried gaze softens slightly at Vince's question. His voice sounds so young and innocent, like a child trying and failing at not panicking. "It's just the storm, Vince," E lies. The truth is that he doesn't know what to tell Vince because they both know that something is going wrong with the plane. The pilot's voice comes over the staticy speaker and reassures them that everything is fine. Everyone, including Vince and Eric, know that is a lie. Vince's eyes are wide with fear, and Eric knows that it's his job to calm him down. "You heard him, Vin, it's fine. Just sit back. We'll be back in California soon."
Just as Vince is about to close his eyes, the pilot dings on again and directs everyone back to their seats. Trays are tucked away, seat belts are buckled up and seats are put in the upright position. "Everything is not okay, E," Vince whispers. He's gripping the seat so tightly that his knuckles are white. Eric reaches down and pries his fingertips gently from the hard plastic. They used to touch like this all the time when they were kids, before they knew what words like "queer" and "fag" and "fairy" could do to a guy from Queens and his Hollywood Golden Boy of a best friend.
"Do you trust me, Vince?" The question seems strange and like it has nothing to do with the circumstances at the moment. However, he has to nod because there is no one that he trusts more than Eric. "Good, then trust me now. We are going to be fine. As long as we got each other, I have always promised you that everything is going to be fine. A little bump in the road hasn't changed that before, and I'm not about to let one change that now."
It was endearing the way E truly seemed to believe that he could control fate, and Vince knew that his best friend would go to the ends of the earth trying. Maybe that was all he needed to believe. "Okay, E," he replies in the same small voice as earlier. He doesn't focus on the way the plane bounces thousands of feet in the air or the muffled directions from the pilot or the sound of the rain hitting against the window beside Eric. Instead, he focuses on the way E's hand is warm in his and how their knees are pressed together in the close confines of their seats and how he feels safe as long as E is with him.
He lets this warmth come over him and encase him like a blanket. By shutting out the chaos around him, he can almost pretend they're seven years old and in E's bedroom, both trying to be brave while a thunderstorm rains down on Queens. And just like he did when he was a kid, he reminds himself that Eric will always protect him from the storm and allows himself to finally find sleep. The last thing on his mind when he drifts off is that he's really glad they have money now because Eric's skin has never been this soft against his.
And when he wakes up again, the clouds have parted and sunshine is pouring through the window. E's face is bathed in light, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Their hands are still entwined between them. "Hey, E, we made it through the storm," he whispers, nudging Eric's knee to wake him from his sleep.
Eric turns and smiles at him sleepily before looking back out at the sparkling ocean below. "Yeah, we did, Vince," Eric tells him. "Just like I told you that we would." They're getting close to New York, far away from the storm, but neither of them makes a move to let go.
