Airport Chairs Are the Worst
Our planes are delayed and it’s like two am and i noticed you have like seven pillows and can i please please borrow one
Roderich shifted in the uncomfortably hard plastic chair. It was two in the morning and his flight was three hours late. He was exhausted and really wanted to go home, but it looked as if he would not make it until a decent hour of the morning. Which meant he would be sleeping in that chair. He gazed around the almost barren airport. There was a lady sprawled out on a bench in a young boy’s lap, and he was leaning against a planter listening to his iPod. The only other person was in the row of chairs in front of him with about seven pillows and three blankets. He looked incredibly comfortable with his blond hair all fanned out across one pillow and little tufts sticking out at odd angles.
Roderich readjusted himself twice more, pondering how badly he needed comfort. The little man in front of him would probably not respond well to being woken up, however the situation was not at all pleasant. Finally he took several deep breaths, and tapped the man on the top of his head. He watched as the blond stiffened up and very slowly sat up. For an entire ten seconds, Roderich was convinced he would be brutally murdered at two in the morning in an almost empty airport for waking someone up.
But then the man just turned around, green eyes slightly unfocused, and he yawned. “Can I…. Can I help you?”
“Could I borrow one of your pillows, please?” Roderich asked as politely as he could manage.
“Oh, no.” the sleepy blond man laid back down without another word.
Roderich was mildly stunned. He had not been prepared to be refused, though he had expected the other to be angry. The blond was not mad, but he had refused. “E-excuse me?”
The man sat back up with a loud sigh. “You speak English, yes? Or did I slip into a different language?”
“Why can’t I?”
“I don’t know you and I need them… you could have lice.. I don’t want to.. any of those work for you?” the man said, looking increasingly more irritated.
“Wha- all of them? Why do you need so many?” Roderich demanded, not honestly caring that he was being rather rude.
“It really is not any of your business, but I can’t sleep without them.” the man said.
“Can I borrow one if I can prove to you I most certainly do not have lice and I swear on my compositions I will not steal it?” Roderich said, hoping he did not sound as desperate out loud as he did in his head.
The blond man might have been glaring, or he might have been considering, it was rather difficult to tell. Then, before he could discern which emotion was being displayed, a white mass hit him in the face. “I will gut you if I do not get this back.”
“Thank you, uh…”
“Vosh.” the man said.
“Thank you, Vosh. I’m Roderich.”