Young Love
The airport in Seattle, Washington is extremely large. This may be because of Boeing’s headquarters, which also resides in Seattle, or maybe just because so many people want to leave the dreary place. The food court has every cuisine, and if you were to forget your suitcase you could buy everything you needed in one of the many stores. You could go almost anywhere from the airport’s fifty-plus gates, and the large glass windows give you a view of the ever-rainy climate. It is late, around eleven, and the rain has just begun to pour down outside.
Most of the people waiting at the gates look tired or grumpy. They constantly glance at their watches, waiting for their flight or waiting for family members to arrive.
Simultaneously, five planes arrive. At gate fifteen, the people flood out. Babies cry, people find family members, and then head toward the baggage claim. One man, alone, stands as still as a statue for a moment, then heads straight into the nearest gift shop. He aimlessly flips through the magazines for a moment, then, impatient; he pulls out his phone and checks the time. It is 11:05. And, as the seconds tick on, a man at each of the other four flights heads into the nearest gift shop.
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At gate seventeen, a young man stands out from the rest. The other people around him are irritated, as the arriving plane is more than an hour late. The weather in India was terrible, and the plane could not take off.
The boy looks around sixteen or seventeen, and he is pacing back and forth; an excited but impatient looks plays across his face. He has blonde hair, and his eyes are a sky blue. His shoulders are wide, and he is tall; around six foot. He is not lanky, yet his body is not covered in extremely developed muscles. Every few seconds, he looks out the window, and then goes back to pacing.
Finally, a woman at the front desk grabs the microphone and calls out:
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. The plane arriving from India will be unloading in about five minutes.”
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Each of the five men from the corresponding five flights pulls out his phone and dials in a seven digit combination that lets the leader know he is there. The time is 11:08.
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“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot says, “We are now making our way to the gate. Thank you for your cooperation. We hope you’ve had a terrific flight.”
As the plane reaches the gate, all the people stand. A girl, alone, rushes to get her bag from the overhead compartment, but finds it is stuck. She is around sixteen or seventeen.
The man across the aisle pulls the bag down for her, and she gives him a quick smile of thanks.
She fidgets and pulls at her long hair as the line moves slowly forward; she is obviously impatient. The other passengers are groggy from their long flight, but she is fully awake. As she steps off the plane, she tries to keep a slow, steady walk, but eventually breaks out in full blown sprint into the airport.
The other people behind her slowly make their way out of the gate, and the girl scans the people waiting. Some people push and shove at her, and she murmurs a “Sorry.” as she moves out of the way.
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Each of the five men pulls a small band-aid out of his pocket and attaches it to their palm. The time is 11:10.
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The blonde-haired body catches sight of the girl. She sees him for maybe a second, and then drops her suitcase as she begins to run toward him. He catches her in mid-air, pulls her into his arms, and spins her around.
Suddenly, the girl is sobbing, tears flowing freely down her face. He is crying too, but he manages a weak laugh and asks her,
“Why are you crying?”
She puts her hands around his neck and chokes out the words between tears.
“I…” She coughs, “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too,” he whispers, “I want to hold you in my arms forever.”
“I dreamed about you every night.” She says, putting a hand on his cheek.
He can’t help but look into her eyes and drown in them. They’re soft in color, with dark, dilated pupils and two sets of fluttering eyelashes. Her face is an angel to him, and all he wants to do is grant her every command.
She’s still in his arms, and she brings her mouth up to his ear. “Kiss me.” She whispers.
“As you wish.” He replies.
The force pulling them together is like a magnet retrieving a bar of steel, and the air between them is filled with heated, passionate tension. Their lips meet, and---
---A single clap utters from each of the palms of the five men.
The world explodes.
There is no way to explain what an explosion of that size feels like. Generally, in a small explosion, if you are within three hundred feet of it, your ears are rendered useless, you are blown into the air, and you will probably suffer permanent damage to your body. If you don’t die first. Now multiply that by five.
Now, I’m going to ruin the story for you. It isn’t my fault; sometimes, life just isn’t fair. You aren’t going to enjoy what happens, but I can’t keep you waiting.
Here you go: they die.
It is inconceivable for them not to die. The explosion was huge. Maybe, if the airplane could have flown through the weather, or if there hadn’t been a storm. Maybe if their school hadn’t accepted her application for the exchange student program, or if the letter had gotten lost in the mail. There are a thousand ‘maybes’ that could have happened.
Maybe if she hadn’t left, they would have lived.
But her application was accepted. She spent three months in India. Her plane back was delayed because of the weather. She did leave, and they died. That’s the reality.
It may comfort you to know she was cradled in his arms in their last seconds. As they fell, the words she had yet to tell him parted from her lips. The words were whispered, and even if she had yelled them, he wouldn’t have heard.
“I love you.” She said.
And when they landed, the last thing he saw was her beautiful face. He felt her heart stop, and he left seconds later. Not from the explosion, no, he didn’t die from that. He died from her death; he died from a lonely heart.
And after their deaths, they were still together. Neither was afraid, and though they had no idea what had happened, they knew they were dead. As long as they had eachother, they couldn’t be afraid.
As it turns out, a lone angel saw their last moments of life. The angel heard the girls’ words, and knew their love was innocent and pure. The angel had never seen a pair of hearts like theirs, and wanted them to live. They weren’t too far gone, and the angel granted the pair the gift of life. She revived them, and they were the first and only people in the ambulance.
“We have no idea how you guys lived,” the attendant said, “but it looks like you’re going to be okay.”
Whether it was the drugs talking, or her real words, one way or another the girl told him: “It was true love. Sometimes you find someone you love with everything you have, and when you do, you never want to let go of them.” She glanced at the boy. “I think with that kind of love, you can live through anything.”
And, of course, she was right.
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Thank you so much for reading! Just a quick note: I couldn't think of any other way to make an explosion. So, if you've read 'Unwind' by Neal Shusterman, you probably know where I got the idea from. If you haven't read it, then I guess it will be a mystery to you, which is how I like it.
Also, I just had to add the 'As you wish.' comment. If you know what I'm talking about, good for you! I love that movie, and couldn't resist.
One more thing...I'm not a huge fan of the title. Any ideas?
Again, thank you for reading!
It took me a while to get into the story, but once I started reading, it was very hard to stop. You have created a suspenseful atmosphere in the airport and your use of second person is great. All in all, great work.