There was something unnaturally romantic about airports. So many people, all coming and going, so alone yet so connected by that single solitary fact. On every plane, there was someone who was running, desperately trying to escape. But on every plane, there was also someone who was finally coming home.
I slid into the seat beside Xian. His vacant gaze was trained out the window, staring off down the runway. "We're going to have to find a dearler," he murmured quietly. I didnt want to admit that I knew he was right. There was no way we could go five weeks without any heroin. We were too trapped for that. Withdrawl would get to us, and that would be most noticable.
I couldnt help but hate myself for looking longer than neccessary at him, at my best friend in the world. His black hair and shadowed eyes, that air of meloncholy that always seemed to shroud him. I quickly repositioned myself in my seat, glancing down at the toes of my scuffed up Converse high tops.
We were on our way to Italy, the country of romance and magic. There we would be viewing the classical arts and discussing their impact upon the current world. I didnt see any particular relation. How could a single painting change the world? As far as I was concerned, there was no changing it.
Life was too cliche. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up with my head leaning against Xian's shoulder gently. He offered me a smile as my eyes fluttered open. "We're almost there," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
I wasnt much tired anymore, but I took the excuse to feel him against me for at least a few more moments. The one thing in the universe that offered me comfort. And he didnt even know it, did he?
Well, I thought to myself, maybe this trip would alter that. Maybe...maybe i could change something after all.