《airplane ﹙short story﹚》ten

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Water droplets fell from the skin of Theo's pale face, his hands latched onto the edge of the sink. To say he was fuming, might be an understatement. If he could rip the sink from this plane, he would've.

He'd slept peacefully throughout the entire night. It made up for the countless days he had gone without sleep before – his body had practically shut down to allow him to catch up on lost time. He didn't count on waking up before the blond, but he did.

He might have had time to steal his pen and graffiti all over his beautiful face, had he not been distracted by the obvious note on his tray. Which led him to this predicament.

Anger, annoyance, an ounce of defeat weighing on his shoulders.

He inhaled a deep breath, before subconsciously wiping his mouth. Contrary to the note:

He didn't drool when he slept.

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