Departure
(Yes, I do more than just write porn and full stories. And I realize that the last couple of things I've posted are both old, and unfinished. I haven't forgotten about them. I'm simply lacking inspiration on those stories. Odd how that doesn't work, isn't it?)
Depature
8:30. Inbound. He's never thought that those 7 letters could inspire such a mix of fear and happines at the sime moment. He stares blankly at the black LED board above him, waiting for the split second those yellow lights displaying those numbers and letters would turn off and on, wanting those letters to change around and just show him the word he wants to see.
He's not a lone. There are dozens of others with him, all staring. There's a ferret behind a desk, smiling. She stands beside a roped off door, scanning everyone who's here, waiting. Her smile is genuine, the kind that's contagious and wants everyone to smile in the same way, trying to spread the happiness.
But the air is too tense. No one but the attendant smiles. Everyone has this look of trepidation, this blank stare, as if they're bracing for some horrible disaster to happen. Their eyes deceive their composure; they look ready from the outside, but there's a hope in their eyes. A hope that whatever tragedy that's about to happen, doesn't happen to them. Someone else, but not them.
«How selfish.» he thinks, before he catches his reflection in a metal plate on the metal detector. He's got the exact same look. «Please, let it not be me.» He stares at himself some more, looking around via the reflection. He's the only one this close to the door, the only one pacing about. Desperate. This feeling of desperation sickens him. Makes a lump in his throat. He doesn't want it to happen to anyone. No one would. Everyone here has that same notion.
He catches the attendant's gaze. She smiles. That renuine, real, hopeful smile. He smiles back. Not forced, not fake, but not happy. Courteous. He's torn between hope, and fear. She notices, and just nods. She understands. "Been in the same place." She says. It's comforting. Slightly.
He knows that's he's seen this over and over. Maybe she's lying. Then again, she has probably seen the worst. Seen what they all fear. She's just as nervous as they are. It's probably worst for her. Everyone is worrying about themselves. She's worrying about everyone. She shares all their fear and uncertainty.
He looks around again. A handful of families. A few singles here, with children. A couple pairs of parents. Then people here, alone, like him. Some have signs, some have nothing. Some have balloons, plush toys, cake, the works. «It'd be such a shame if it happened to them.»
Which brings up another thought. What if it happens to him? What will he do? How would he react? A cold sweat runs under his fur, and he fidgets. Paces. He wrings his paws together. Stuffs them in his pockets. Pulls them out, and hsakes them around. Scans the room. Some people arei nthe same state he is. Realization, fear, this nervousness is beginning to take over.
He looks back at the screen. 8:34. Time goes by so slowly. That felt like hours. Long, excruciating, painful hours. Delayed. Those 7 letters make him worry more. A baby starts crying, piercing the silence. It's then that he realized that the place is silent. Silence exists, because people are looking up at the sign. Everyone is seeing the exact same 7 letters.
The only thing that everyone can do now, is watch. 8:35. The baby is starting to be hushed, the mother's voice quivering, and shaking. There a family of huskies by the window, the daughter and son both pressed against the glass. They don't care about how long it takes. They'll be waiting there till their parents drag them off. Staring out at the horizon, watching. Waiting.
"Mama! Mama, look!" The daughter cries. That makes everyone look. Even the attendant. Even him. Sure enough, there's a figure in the air, approaching on the horizon. Eyes turn back to the LED screen. Arrived. A large weight is lifted from the room, and people start to smile. But it's not over. Everyone doesn't have to worry about the general populace. The plane has landed.
That doesn't mean that the person they're waiting for, is on it. People start to shuffle over to the roped off door. Not huddling around it, wanting to be desperate, and to give the passengers space to get out. The attendant walks over and removes the rope, and a breath is held.
There's the low thrum of heavy footsteps in the hallway beyond the door. No one in the room speaks, but there's a murmur of voices from within the hallway. He's still up close, everyone else a few paces back. They're all waiting for those footsteps to get closer. Everyone's stopped their pacing, their fidgeting. Almost frozen in time, just waiting for it.
The first figure comes into view. The deep greens and browns of his uniform is suddenly surrounded by dozens of others like it. The faces of the figures look worn. Weary. Tired. But satisfied. Glad to be back here. He steps to the side, watching the ferret do the same. The figures break into a dash. The crowd disperses a little, to offer room.
People start meeting up. A uniformed figure goes to their family, their loved ones, their parents, their children. There's crying, but of the happy kind. The "Thank god it wasn't me." kind of crying. He feels good inside. Even if he hasn't met up with the person he was waiting for, it puts a smile on his face. The kids by the window run up to their mother, who drops a large rucksack to take both of them, one in each arm.
There's a family of giraffes, the parents having been waiting for their son. Or sons, apparently, as two giraffes walk up, hugging each parent separately. It must have been horrible for them, the thought of losing both sons. Or worse, only one. How would that have felt? He would have hated to have seen that happen.
A pair of uniformed bears caught his attention. He looked over, as they approached a female raccoon. They were holding a pair of folded clothes, with a flag on top. She had a sign in her hands. The sign hit the ground. She started to cry. Not the happy crying. People looked around, and suddenly felt sad. They had that look in their eyes, as if they wanted to help, but couldn't. She was a stranger. Alone in her pain. The two bears just stood there, before one moved and held her. Consoled her. It was his job. She cried into his chest. Beat a fist against him. He just grunted and took it. There wasn't much else he could do.
Now he was worried. People who hadn't met up were worried. They didn't want to see the flag, now.
The flow of uniformed passengers started to thin out, now. Most people had met up with those they were waiting for. A sparse number of them were unfortunate enough to receive the flag, instead. But those who were left, including him, were getting nervous again. He looked at the stewardess, who could only offer that consoling smile.
Then he saw him. Looking more worn than anyone else he'd seen. Black and grey, the wolf was walking down the hallway. The minute that he saw the lupine, he broke into a run. The ferret didn't stop him. The wolf saw, and smirked, just dropping his rucksack, and preparing for the incoming body.
He didn't bother to say anything. He looked up at the wolf, who stood far more than a head above him. A couple lines on his face showed that he was missing fur. Scars. He whimpered up at him, running fingers over them. Over his brow, on his cheek, on his muzzle. The wolf chuckled, and just nuzzled the hand that pet at him.
"Missed you. Sorry I'm late. Fell asleep on the plane, no one bothered to wake me up when we got off." The wolf said. The lupine took the male before him in his arms, and just nuzzled the top of his head. "But I'm back. See?" He asked. The two of them were in the middle of the hallway, ignoring everyone who walked around them. He just picked up the rucksack, letting out an erf at how heavy it was. The wolf laughed, and the two of them walked out.
"All this time apart, and you have nothing to say?" The wolf joked, as they walked out of the waiting area. He looked up at the wolf, who rustled his hair. "I thought you were generally really talkati--" The black-grey fur started, before arms were around his neck. The male started to pull himself up, shutting the lupine up with a kiss. Arms went around him to hold him up, and the wolf let out a low growl.
"... Got no words for how happy I am." He said, before he just continued out and let go. The wolf grinned. "... I'm just... happy. Can't I have that much?"
He looked back up at the wolf, taking a glance past him at the shrinking LED display. 8:39. Arrived. 7 letters that he'd never been happier to see.