A Ballad For The N.U.E.

He leans forwards across the gap between them, and the silence is crushing him. The boy with the long eyelashes has his heart in a vice, and is squeezing hard. There is perhaps six feet of air between them, and he can feel every inch of it. Unasked questions sit heavy in his throat. His hands are trembling, wanting to pull this angel close and never let him go. Breaking a sweat, his nonchalance goes into overdrive, seeming casual and uninterested, or at least trying to.

Outside the bright lights of the airport burn cold on empty concrete. A foreign land, viewed through plate glass. In this place of clean metal and neutral colours, he wants to reach across and clasp his hands, and tell him he's in love. This isn't right, he can't just walk away. Sorrow is written all over his face, and he can't say a word. But this bland place is sucking the life out of him, and if he doesn't say something now, he feels he never will.

Words drop half-formed from his shaking lips, not caring who is listening. The flame in his heart burns hot in his chest, and chokes his voice. Now he's on his feet, shouting his love to the cold and empty stars. Freefall. Only the oxygen masks won't drop from the ceiling, and he can't make his way to the nearest emergency exit. The floor beneath him is gone, and he's falling through the pitch-black sky to the flickering lights below.

His eyes are closed, his hands are out, and he's waiting for the impact. One quick jolt, and it'll all be over, like a dumb animal at a slaughterhouse. This martyrdom isn't how he'd pictured it. Cinematic, with a heartfelt soundtrack and a feel-good ending. All he gets is a strange look and a blank denial. And as he sees the ground rushing up to meet him, he wishes he had known.