"So," Avery wondered as he examined the free blanket an air stewardess had given him, "do you prefer to find out you have been cucked by another man or do you prefer to find out you're a starter lesbian?"
"Is this how you usually begin your conversations?" Micah allowed the annoyance to show in his voice. "But I prefer neither."
"No, I don't usually begin my conversations this way, but that is because my other associates have never found themselves in such a situation."
"Count me among those 'other associates' because since when is Adeline interested in women?"
"Well, she isn't. Yet. Not that I know of. But what if—just what if—her relationship with you opens her eyes to how good Felicia has been to her all this while?"
"What if you've been possessed by Felicia? This sounds like her most deeply-held desire."
Avery brought the blanket to his face and took a cautious sniff. "I don't have to be possessed by her to think like this. It's a common fantasy to have. To imagine that the object of your affections will suddenly notice you and your sacrifices without you saying anything. It is self-martyrdom, as aggrandizing as it is selfish and ridiculous."
"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"
"Is it? I suppose in some sense it may be," Avery chuckled in a way that betrayed his true thoughts on the matter. "But I know I will be too embarrassed to even entertain such a fantasy."
"A fantasy is usually just that. A fantasy. Therefore harmless," Micah replied, trying to wind down the conversation. He was feeling more than a little targeted, but that was not the real reason he wanted to avoid the topic. He also had a bad premonition that Avery was playing with fire.
"It can lead to delusion. That is not harmless. You have a mouth, so open it and use it to communicate. Here, allow me to demonstrate." Avery turned towards the air stewardess he had summoned by pressing the call button the moment he sank into his seat. "Can I have another blanket? This one smells, well, odd. It irritates my nose." He concluded his request with a brilliant smile that implied the cabin crew was mentally incompetent.
'That's on you,' Micah thought. 'No one asked you to shove your stupidly handsome face into the blanket.' He had not detected anything weird about his own blanket, but he did detect a trace of annoyance behind the air stewardess's smile. It was too wide and showed too many teeth. 'Welp, I guess she also realizes that our Little Lord Fauntleroy has a bone to pick with everyone today.'
Avery had not been the least bit pleased to learn that they were going to fly business class. He could not refute Mr Reed's explanation that this was for the sake of privacy, so he did not complain.
He just kept making his displeasure known in other ways. Childish ways.
Micah had already stopped him from fighting a toddler that screamed like sirens, heard him rant about the misuse of semicolons, and allowed (with great reluctance) him to pay the cab driver with thirty-seven coins.
'And the plane has not even taken off yet.'
Indeed, Micah's suffering was far from over.
"See how easy that was? Just open your mouth and speak like a normal person. It's pathetic to hope that your love interest will suddenly and miraculously develop the ability to read minds and that he or she will, for whatever reason, decide to use this newfound skill not just on you specifically, but on you when you're thinking about all the things you've done for the sake of love!"
The killing intent radiating from Micah's left spiked. He had no urge to look across the aisle. He was done babysitting. This time, Avery could clean up his own mess.
"Is mocking love the only way you know to feel intellectually superior?"
The question, coming from the passenger beside them, prompted Avery to purse his lips in annoyance. He impassively eyed the asker, a young woman who had forgotten to blend the foundation down her neck. Her face, starkly pale thanks to the power of makeup and colorism, was contorted with rage.
"I don't," he finally said, "believe we are acquainted."
Micah sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. If he could cocoon himself in airplane blankets, he would. As he could not, he opted for the next best thing—ignoring idiots. After all, idiots were like ghosts, only existing when fed attention.
"My name," the girl announced with questionable gravitas, "is Kim Seo-ah."
Avery grinned. "Is that your real name?"
Micah opened one eye. "I change my mind," he muttered to a confused Avery. "Move."
"Move? Move where?"
"Move here. Give me the window seat."
"But why?"
Micah decided not to dignify that with a verbal response. Instead, he began smacking Avery's arm with his pillow in a helpless bid to rush him. It's pathetic that he was sinking to Avery's level, but there's not much he could do till the plane reached its destination.
Mercifully, Avery complied without any more protest.
Not, of course, out of the goodness of his heart, but because he couldn't wait to continue talking to his new friend.
Micah settled into the window seat, plugged in his earphones, and watched the plane pull away from the airport. He knew no one called Avery Welland or Kim Seo-ah.
Aware that the interruption was over and that she now had the full attention of her interlocutor, Seo-ah sniffed haughtily. "Of course it's my real name. What sort of question is that?"
"Is it your legal name?" Avery asked, perfectly mimicking genuine interest.
"Yes."
"But is it the name your parents gave you?"
Seo-ah hesitated, but the urge to be heard was too strong to resist. "No."
"No?" Avery could scarcely conceal his glee. "I sense a story behind this. Do share. I am all ears."
"I changed my name to better fit into my fiancé's culture."
"Your fiancé? He must be a wonderful man for you to do so much for him."
"He is! You may have heard of him. He's Hwang Taejun."