I walk around an airport, beside my dad. A commotion arises to my left, and a deafening bang fills the room. The luggage pick-up conveyor belt erupts with a wave of heat and thick black smoke. Before my brain can process the situation, my dad is on his hands and knees on top of me, protecting me.
My eyes and throat sting from the smoke, but I don't look up until I can't hear anything. When I look at my dad's face, he looks pained. Like a wax model of a victim of torture. No.
This isn't happening.
My eyes open to Michael's face. His hands are firmly planted on my shoulders, and I reach my shaky fingers to touch his shoulderblade. I weakly push down, and he engulfs me in a hug.
"What happened?" He whispers in my ear, but I just shake my head and push my face into his neck. When my hands become more steady, I lift my head and exhale slowly. I look Michael in the eyes.
I start to cry noiselessly. I never was one to be blubbering and screaming while crying.
Michael wipes my tears away, and helps me sit up. I look around to see that we are alone in a dark room. I am sitting on a small, worn in corduroy couch.
I place my hands on his shoulders. I breathe in slowly, then look him in the eyes, which are a pleasantly dark shade in the lack of light.
"Can I do something?" I ask, and his eyebrows furrow, until my hands slide to the back of his head and I touch my lips to his. At first he freezes with the shock of my bold move, but he doesn't try to resist. Not even close. Instead, he leans me against the arm of the couch and pulls the blanket he had over me over top of us.
Michael's lips move slowly against mine, and I smile slightly into our kiss. I feel his chest press gently against mine, and my eyes close slowly. Despite being my first kiss, it feels as easy as breathing. Though our lips detach, our bodies don't. Michael hugs me tighter, and we fall asleep once more.
I wake up to a warm body on top of mine, and Michael's breath tickling my ear. Light is filtering through dusty, broken blinds on a basement window. From experience, Michael is most definitely awake and waiting for me to attempt escape.
"You're crushing me."
"No I'm not. If I was, you'd have moved. Why do you get up so early?"
"To get away from you."
"Not true, you don't even try very hard to escape." He points out, and I frown. It's too early for this.
"Do you love me?"
"I...I think so." I say quietly, and I feel him smile.
"Good. I love you too." I feel a warmth, spreading from my chest, to my toes and fingers.
He loves me.
"You know that would've been really awkward if you didn't like me. I mea-" Michael cuts me off with a kiss.
"Sh. You're ruining the moment, Erik." He smiles and smooths out my bed-head hair.
And so, I shut my mouth and close my eyes, and think of how warm and comfortable I am. I let myself drift away into my thoughts, sailing on a sea of happy moments, trying to leave the dark grey sadness behind.