I.
I HOPE THIS FUCKING PLANE CRASHES

     One must not keep high hopes for a wedding that one does not want to go to. So, for Laura Michaels, the bar was on the floor.

      Why would she even go though? You might ask.

      You see, Laura Michaels did not trust her gut for it always led to bad decisions.

      Buy that convertible, it told her when she turned twenty-seven and had landed her first real job at a law firm. She shattered her left femur in it two months later after hitting an ice patch, and it was repoed three months later. She knew she would have never been able to keep up with its payments anyway.

   Get that tattoo you've wanted since you were sixteen. She got it when she turned twenty and absolutely hated it. Now, a small mermaid was permanently etched on her outer thigh.

    Go on that date your co-worker has been bugging you about. He's cute. He tasted like fish, and they didn't even eat fish for dinner. He also practically drooled in her mouth, and she couldn't look him in the eye since. She requested a transfer the following week.

    Don't even get her started on the wild, chaotic, and yet exhilarating life she led with the bride, Michelle Conrad.

    The list goes on.

    So when she opened the invitation for the July ceremony in Italy, her gut immediately screamed in protest. She RSVPed and couldn't look back.

    Now it was the morning of her flight, and she had never regretted instilling mistrust in her instincts more. But there was no turning back; she had already spent the past hour battling the masses at JFK and had reached her gate seconds before the stewards closed the door behind her.

    After covering the short distance into the cabin, she let out a small huff of surprise. The small foot of an isle gave way to only one cabin, eight rows with two seats per side. Laura could have sworn she was flying with American.

    She didn't bother to check her ticket; there was only one open seat in the second to last row. Surprise filled her as she managed to fit her carry-on (that was well above regulations) into the overhead bin, and she nearly fell down in her seat nonetheless. She was never very graceful.

    The man next to her, asleep, didn't show many signs of life other than the slight rise and fall of his chest. Laura jealously wished she had some of whatever he was having.

    Nevertheless, she settled in, preparing for the ten hours of boredom scheduled ahead for her. She had a cheesy paperback romance book in her purse that she knew she would abhor, but she read it anyway. Fifteen minutes into the flight and novel, she felt her own eyes droop before she fell asleep with the book still clasped between her fingers.

    A couple hours later, the plane hit either a rough patch of turbulence or one that the small plane was ill-equipped to handle. She expected that latter, but she still woke up when the aircraft jolted. Her head flung up from the man's shoulder, and embarrassment flooded her immediately. "Sorry," she rushed to apologize, "God, I never wanted to be that neighbor to someone on a plane."

    "It's fine," the man chuckled in a voice she recognized but couldn't place. It was deep and subtle. "You didn't drool. Kind of snored a little."

    "Oh, great," she winced. Yet before she could say more, another bout of turbulence rocked the plane, and they both gripped their arm rests.

    "I guess she wanted the experience to be authentic," he uttered quietly with a sense of annoyance in his voice. She almost didn't catch it.

    "Hmm," she inquired.

    "The bride. I think she's really trying to stick with the whole old-timey, Italian vacation wedding. She always used to talk about it."

    It took her a minute to make the connections in what he was saying.

    "Are you going to the wedding too?"
   
     He nodded.

    Glancing around, Laura noticed that some of the other people, if not all, looked distantly familiar.

    "Is this whole flight for the wedding?"

    "I think so."

    This news unsettled her more than she would have liked. Before she could ask, he answered for her.

    "Bride. You?"

    "Bride," she furrowed her eyebrows for she was at least positive that she did not know the man with shaggy raven black hair and dark eyes to match through Michelle. She would have remembered him.

    "Family," she wondered.

    "No," he shook his head, that same sense of crooked annoyance playing on his features. "Ex-fiance."

    "Oh," she accidently let out. "Weird coincidence that two exes would be invited to the same wedding a thousand miles away and actually go."

"Pretty sad one if we're being honest," he said, scratching at this greying beard in thought.

"I only came because her mom invited me, and I've missed her," she huffed. "And for the villa and open bar. Which I'm sure the fiance is paying through the nose for, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction. What's your excuse?"

    Of all things though, escaping her decaying house plants was another reason why she went because she felt guilty about their untimely deaths, and she wanted to avoid the cleanup. You also say that it scared her that she couldn't keep anything, not even a potted plant, alive.

    But before he could form an answer, the flight attendant passed them with the refreshment cart, and they both figured they would need some form of alcohol to finish this flight. He downed a third of his boxed wine before saying, "I don't know."

    Laura thought about fighting his response until she realized that she didn't quite know why she was going either once you threw out all of the petty reasons. She simply raised her juice box like wine to his, and they toasted.

    They later resumed to their individual activities; he continued to read as she put in headphones to watch the endless episodes of Say Yes to the Dress.

    How ironic, she grumbled to herself before pressing play.

    As she went on watching, an ad eventually came on for John Wick 3 coming to digital release, and the connections were made.

    "Oh, that makes sense," she found herself saying aloud and catching her neighbor's attention once more. Turning to him and taking out a headphone, she said and pointed to her computer, "You did look familiar earlier."

    "That might be me," he nodded in confirmation and held out his hand, "Keanu."

    "Laura Michaels." They shake hands.

    "Oh," he found himself saying aloud as well.

    "Oh God," she groaned, "I know that sound. She told you about what happened in Santa Monica didn't she?"

    "I'd rather not say," he tried to hide a grin and was turning red.

    "Good," she breathed out forcefully. "She probably didn't give you the full story anyway."

    "Probably not," he shook his head, still stifling a laugh. "I'd be interested in hearing it though."

    "Hmm," she thought for a moment before finally trusting her better judgement and decided against it. "No, I don't think so. You're still a stranger."

    "Fair enough," he bowed his head.

    Changing the subject, Laura then said, "I'm sorry. I haven't seen any of the John Wick movies."

    "None taken."

    "It's just guns and action are not really my thing. I liked Devil's Advocate though," she continued. "Charlize Theron looked fantastic in it."

    "Thank you. I think."

    "No," the brunette back tracked. "Nothing against you, you looked great in it too. I've just always been in love with her.

    "Completely understandable," he laughed, one that went real and deep.

    Laura immediately flagged the flight attendant down for another boxed wine that she gulped discreetly yet heavily. Her cheeks flared pink with embarrassment, and she quickly prayed that this plane took a nosedive into the Atlantic.

    "So what is it that you do," he later asked after both their boxes were drained, and he caught her wiping the corners of her mouth on her dark sleeve.    

    "I work at law firm that prosecutes production companies that violate EPA rules and regulations. My office mostly focuses on those that are caught dumping hazardous wastes."

    "Nice," he noted. "Very noble of you."

    "I suppose," she shrugged before thinking, "I like it, I do. But it's kind of becoming a bigger pain in my ass in more recent years, but-" She shrugged once more, unsure how to finish the sentence she started. With thinking about work though, it reminded her of the ever-growing pile of paperwork accompanying her dead plants. "What about you? You seem like you work a lot."

    He shook his head slightly, wavering in thought, "You could say that, but it doesn't really feel like it sometimes. And no, I'm not kidding."

    She laughed as he caught her skeptically furrowing her eyebrows at him. "Not even all of that press stuff?"

    "Ehh sometimes, sure. But it still keeps me going."

    "Must be nice. I need to find something like that," she noted without sarcasm but rather longing for that kind of feeling with her own career. Even if it was nearing close to the end within the next decade or so.

    "Then why don't you," Keanu wondered.

    "I'm not sure," she furrowed her eyebrows in thought before an in-flight announcement interrupted.

    They were to land within the hour, and Laura couldn't wait. Her legs ached from the lack of leg-room, and her ass went numb two hours ago. Her excitement to get off the plane intensified at the thought of sleeping in a bed for a couple of hours and tan on the balcony she saw posted on the villa's website.

    Yet a new sense of alarm filled her after they landed, and the front passengers began to stand. It was one she had anticipated but was not prepared for nonetheless; familial confrontation.

    "Oh no, oh no, oh no," she felt herself sink lower in her seat, hoping that with the sheer willpower of hope she could hide her face.

     "Oh God," the man exhaled. Unfortunately for him, though, his tall exterior and handsome features made him stand out amongst the other party guests.

     Even after nearly 20 years, Katherine Marie Conrad still had the uncanny ability to instill fear and shame in Laura Michaels with just one look. From the looks of his face, she had that same power over Keanu too.

     Age had not necessarily treated her kindly. She hobbled down the aisle with her cane in use, yet she was still immaculately dressed in expensive designers. When she reached the final seats, she turned to the two mutual ex-lovers and almost scoffed as she awaited a greeting.

     Both sat in near astoundment, but Keanu was the first to manage, "Nice to see you Mrs. Conrad. How have you been?"

     "Just fine, Keanu. I'm surprised to see you both here," she noted in her affluent, New England accent.

     "I wouldn't miss it," he smiled.

     "Me either," Laura nodded, feigning a smile as well only his was much more convincing.
Once the grandmother of the bride had staggered off the landing and was out of earshot, Laura uttered,

     "God I was hoping she would have bit the dust by now."

     Keanu's face shifted from surprise to agreement over a short minute of thought. "She never liked me either."
     "She hated me. I don't really know why other than she hated the idea of Michelle being bi and dating another woman," Laura vented as she stood to grab their carry-ons.

     "Thank you," he accepted the light bag and continued, "She didn't think acting was a 'respectable' career."

     "What an old hag," she rolled her eyes and more laughter escaped from the man as they departed.

     Even though the thought of quite literally facing the music of the wedding along with the bride who broke her heart so many years ago still dreadfully loomed in her mind, Laura Michaels shared some thankfulness for finding another attendee that apprehended the ordeal as much as she did. A small part of her thought that maybe it wouldn't turn out as bad after all.

(AN: I love Keanu Reeves SO much irl. I hope you all enjoy.)