I should be panicking. Logically I should be frantic. But logically that panic would do no good. Everything seemed to slow down, it was kind of amazing. Who knew dying would make you see the world so much better? The plane was going down, the masks had dropped, engines were dead, there was nothing to do. People were screaming, panicking, clinging to each other. Everyone but me…I hadn’t uttered a sound. I was too busy looking. I looked out the window, at the clouds we were freefalling through. The swirling white vapor was beautiful, magical, like a dream. It all felt like a dream, one I knew I wouldn’t wake up from.
So strange. I should be scared. Death was supposed to be scary, wasn’t it? It didn’t feel like death though; it didn’t feel like anything but falling. I slowly looked around, taking in the chaos surrounding me. My eyes landed on Victor. Now Victor…Victor looked panicked. Bracing himself against the seat in front of him, eyes wide and frantic. Even when he was terrified, I thought he was beautiful. His short hair was forced up and behind him by the g-force of the falling plane, he had gotten it cut for this trip. His eyes were the color of the sky during a storm - fitting for the situation in a gallows humor kind of way – I remembered seeing them for the first time. I remembered seeing him for the first time. It felt like yesterday, but at the same time it felt like an eternity ago.
Five years ago - almost to the day now – he ducked into the café I was working at to get out of the rain. His hair was longer then, trailing into his eyes because of how soaked he had gotten. He was new to Seattle, new to somewhere wet and cold. He’d moved there for school, but had thought the commentary on the weather was exaggerated. I’d laughed, he’d joked, we’d laughed. His laugh wasn’t like music, it was a heartbeat, a comforting sound coming from a lopsided grin. He came in again, and again, and again. Finally waiting until I got off work, walking me home, kissing me goodnight.
I could never figure out when I fell in love with him. Still can’t, not even now…when we were about to die. I didn’t know if it was when he stumbled in, drenched in late summer rain. If it was when he’d kissed me, clumsily, like it was his first time initiating a kiss. Maybe it was the night we’d spent in my apartment, downing beer and pizza, falling asleep tangled together on the sofa, watching Supernatural and planning a cosplay. I smiled, reaching out to touch his face now; he would have made a spectacular Castiel… I was going to be his Dean. “Victor?”
He looked at me, realization crossing his face, I don’t think the situation had actually sunk in to his mind before then. “We’re falling.”
I nodded, “I love you.”
He shook his head, “We’re going to die.”
I laughed once, thinking of our joke, “I’ll save you a seat in hell.”
He got it in an instant, his eyes changing from terrified to intense, and sad, and passionate all at once, “Don’t worry, I’ll raise you from perdition.”
I pulled his face to mine, and kissed him. The screams went on around us, the crying rang in our ears. But all the din, all the noise, all that horrible, panicking sound faded. So for a blissful moment there was just us. Just love, still young love, still a life that should have stretched out as far as we could imagine. But we didn’t think of that. We just kissed. We kissed for the rest of our lives.
