No Destination (Chapter 2: Cain)

“Nice to meet you!” A hand was unceremoniously thrust into Abel’s chest. “My name’s Cain, although you probably knew that already. I’ll be your pilot for the next couple years.”

Abel accepted the handshake and ran a critical scan over the boy. Narrow eyes and a large smile. Hair as black and ruffled like a crow’s feathers, held up in one of those tacky fur hats with ear flaps. Decidedly Xingese. Not to mention extrovert extraordinaire, it seemed like. “You too. Abel Etheridge.”

Cain stared at him for a second, then let out a breathy chuckle. “For a second, I thought you were calling me Abel, and I was like, what? Since we’re going full-name mode here, let me try again. Cain Noriega.” Upon seeing Abel open his mouth, he held up a finger. “Let me guess: What’s with my last name?”

Well, the pilot wasn’t as stupid as stereotypes of cheerful people might suggest. The notion that he would be was rather silly, now that Abel thought about it. Abel was at the top of his class; of course his partner would be, too. “Pretty much, yeah.” Crossing his legs, Abel leaned back into his seat and checked the clock hanging above the airport’s exit. Five more minutes until the instructors arrived. They might as well have an inane conversation.

“So you can probably tell I’m from Xing. To put it simply… I’m adopted.” Cain stopped and stared at Abel, his face blank of any expression. When Abel just raised his eyebrows, the Xingese boy clicked his tongue. “Not what I was hoping for. Darn it. Seriously, though, I am. I was about five or six when my parents got me from one of the many Xingese orphanages. Took my dad’s name. So that’s why it’s not Xingese.”

“So it’s Glycian, then?”

“Uh.” The smile dropped along with the gaze. Suddenly uncomfortable, Cain tugged at the collar of his charcoal pilot’s uniform. “No, not really.”

Cocking his head, Abel summoned the mental image of a world map. All that was left was the unpopulated North, beyond the Iron Mountains, and…

“Ah. The Farlands.” Abel’s voice was icy cold, to match his heart. He crossed his arms.

It was like a wall had shot up between them, so fast and hard that the thunk was audible on every level except the physical.

Cain’s lips curled into a sneer. Disgust snaked across his face, then disappeared just as fast as it came. The expression that remained was almost weary. “Yeah,” he ground out, crushing his collar in his clenched fist, “my parents came from there.” He kicked his legs out and slumped into the chair, forgoing any decent posture he had earlier.

Shoulders tensed and eyes staring straight ahead, away from the pilot, Abel bit his bottom lip. Four minutes. All around the expansive waiting room, partners were chatting and smiling- some awkward, some less so. Then again, he wasn’t looking to the sides. Maybe there were some other budding relationships wilting just as fast as theirs. “I was… unaware that the residents moved out. Or that they kept their children.”

There was a heavy exhale to his right. “Some do. My parents met at its only port, eloped, and moved to southern Xing. And since they were rightfully horrified by the country’s crappy foster care, they decided to help out a bit and picked me up,” he droned. Venom dripped from the flat tone. “Figured I’d do everything I could to pay them back, so I got into a public flight school. Did great. Transferred here, scholarship and all. My parents were so happy, you know. So proud. Supported me all the way through.” The 'all' was dragged out, as if he wanted to annoy Abel.

“I’m sure they were.” Abel abruptly stood up, stretching his limbs. He smoothed out a couple of wrinkles across his chest. “I’m going to go use the restroom.” Then, without further confirmation from his partner, he set out at a brisk pace.

His ears were ringing. Or was that his brain? Abel groaned, running his hands over his face. That went atrociously.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were going to be partners for years, and officials had matched them up because they were supposed to be compatible. Requesting another partner wasn’t impossible, but it was a nuisance and he didn’t want to tear apart a partnership that was probably working. A lesser part of him also felt that breaking off his partnership was too drastic a move. The other boy would probably think that Abel was oversensitive and whiny, which he hoped to avoid as much as possible. He didn’t want to care about the Xingese’s thoughts, but he did. The boy himself wasn’t Farlandic, after all. And he seemed nice. So that was that. If anything, he felt a little pity for Cain.

Abel ducked into the nearest hallway, not checking if there were any restroom signs, and leaned against the wall with a sigh. Hopefully, no one would come by. The airport was cleared that day for student fitting, after all.

He entertained the thought of apologizing. He had nothing to be sorry for, but it might smooth things over. It would be difficult to spend long days together in a small control room if they couldn’t get along. After a moment of contemplation, the idea was gutted. It probably wouldn’t help. “It started off so well, too.”

“Students! Please, with your partners, form a line to the garage!” The voice reverberated in the waiting room, creating an echo that bounced right down the hallway Abel was in. It lit a fire of excitement in him for all of two seconds, at which point it was extinguished by the reminder that he would have to reunite with Cain.

“I can do this,” Abel muttered to himself, pushing himself off the wall. “Don’t be a jerk, so that he doesn’t have a reason to either.” Running his fingers through his blond hair to sweep it to the side one last time, he marched back to the room. He headed for where he had sat, and found Cain staring at him. The pilot was already standing, with an unreadable expression. A stiff nod, and Cain walked to where the line was rapidly growing.

Abel slipped in next to him. The girls in front of them were giggling, so if Cain said anything, it went unnoticed.

“Excited to start flying?” Abel tried.

The only response he got was a one-shoulder shrug. Not even a glance.

Well, if he wanted to be that way, then there wasn’t much Abel can do. He stepped forward with the line, fingers digging into his hips in irritation. These were going to be two wonderful years.