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Chapter 3: Sweet, Sweet Rose.
~~~ [START]
"Yeah, I'm in line for the flight to Seattle," Troy said through the phone, eyes turning to the screen above him, which, to his luck, showed no signs of delay.
He waved at the woman he met on the previous plane; when they landed, she decided to stay in Europe for a day longer, noting that her daughter had gotten jet-lagged from the long flight.
"No, don't stress yourself. I can get a cab—" he tried to speak, but the person on the other side of the call cut in. "No, I… okay."
A small smile blessed him, but as soon as the call hung up, it disappeared.
He moved to the front, a bag hung around his arm as he handed the flight attendant his ID.
She handed it back, a fake smile stretched on her face as though it were hanging by a thread. "Enjoy your flight."
Troy just nodded, walked through the entryway, and made his way to the plane, then immediately slumped atop his seat after he entered. He didn't even place his bag in the baggage compartment; he just let it lie on his lap.
The flight to Forks would be eleven hours, which to most humans was extremely long, but he was not human.
Time was a thing constructed due to humankind's limits, something which was arranged entirely for the management of sleep, or the regeneration of fatigue.
But he didn't know the feeling of sleep or the feeling of being tired.
Even then, as he leaned his head on the seat, even with his eyes closed, nothing stopped him from hearing the constant conversation that was ongoing on board, or the continuous clicking of buttons and the incoming reports from the pilots on the other side.
It wasn't something he bothered himself to control, because he knew how to ignore it, even if some of the things he was forced to listen to were outrageous or, in a sense, usually tapped to the thin line of morality.
"First time?" A woman, who visibly seemed to be in her mid-30s, said from beside him, her body leaning toward his, her face close enough for him to feel her breath.
Troy turned to her, "Nope…"
He smiled awkwardly, eyes staring at her stretched out hand.
"Gabe," she muttered, sighing under her breath. He shook without giving it a kiss.
Then, after he let go, the silence continued, her left brow twitching because of his failure to introduce himself.
"Mam, I'm 17," he announced with a swift, watching her eyes widen, her hand instinctively moving and slapping her forehead.
"I am so… sorry—"
Troy just shook his head in reassurance, immediately grabbing some earphones from his bag and then inserting them into his ears.
He leaned back, closed his eyes, then smiled after the woman turned the attention.
Troy was used to it. Women of all ages used to approach him ever since he was 7, and although it mostly held benefits, it sometimes felt like a curse.
For starters, he had never attended real school or any social conventions, meaning the only people he used to rely on were those like him, but even with them, he was always treated like an outsider or as someone to be envied.
A vampire who was free to walk in the sun, it was funny that it took the 'Volturi' that long to even find him. But even with their immense strength and power, there were still whispers of 'want' seeping through their walls, and when they discovered his abilities, they wanted to turn him into a weapon.
[WE HAVE ARRIVED TO THE DESTINATION. PASSENGERS, WELCOME TO SEATTLE]
The whole flight felt like nothing but a blink. Day by day, time was leaning toward insignificance.
Troy stood, nodded at the woman who was seated beside him, who responded by blowing a kiss, then dismounted.
It took him nearly an hour to arrange everything and prepare himself to leave the airport.
And right when his eyes were shifting around to locate her, the second before he tried using his hearing to track her breath, she stood up from the far corner.
But unlike everyone else, she wasn't holding a big board which was painted with his name; she was just smiling, both hands locked within the pockets; the night was cold.
She walked forward, as Troy did the same. And after a span of seconds, right when their figures met, Troy pulled out a red rose from the side of his bag.
And a giggle broke her silence, with the cold supporting the little moisture in her eyes to water some tears.
"Honey," Troy said, ignorant of the fact that the name housed multiple meanings.
"Troy," Honey replied. Her voice, softer than a whisper, but the whistle its wound produced, exposing all sense of warmth.
"Troy," Honey replied with a voice far smoother than a whisper. A word which was followed by nothing but its whistle and a strange sense of warmth.
~~~ [END]
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Join my PT for extra Chapters ~ p*tr-eon name is DUSK_IS_MEE
.Extra chapters available.
-Extra chapters also include audio-books.
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