The pilot for today's late flight of eight at night stands at the front of the plane greeting passengers as they board.

Harry checks his phone one last time before he turns it off and hands it to me to place in my bag. At this point, it is a tradition for him to hand me his phone to rest in my bag while the aircraft takes off and lands. "Well, Jeff and my publicist are handling the media publicity at the moment, they will get in touch in a bit."

"What are they doing?" I challenge while I clip in the seatbelt and tighten the strap a bit.

"It isn't worth mentioning," Harry shakes his head.

I take his word for it and just nod my head, not bothering to ask questions, mainly for my own sake.

More passengers board the plane and his hand relaxes on my thigh, the same way it rested on my thigh last night in the car.

While at dinner, his eyes were on Nadine the entire time, he laughed at her jokes, smiled at her constantly and I don't think there was a moment that he didn't show that he had feelings for her that hadn't dwindled. Quite honestly, I am pretty sure the feeling was mutual for her as well.

I couldn't help but sit back and observe the rekindling romance between the two of them. The way he grinned at her and paid so much attention precisely showed me enough and assured me that he and I certainly are just friends.

"About Chicago," Harry begins softly just as the aircraft continues to fill with passengers.

Hmm, Chicago, it was quite a night— a wonderful night.

"It was nothing, just a quick shag," I mutter just for the two of us to hear.

After lasts night dinner and the way Harry seemed smitten over Nadine, there is no point to talking about what happened in Chicago. It was a spare of the moment type of thing. A stupid, one night stand to release my sexual tension.

Harry clears his throat, "Of course, jus' nothing," he replies, "jus' wanted to make sure we were on the same page." Harry replies with a bit of an exhalation.

"We are on the same page," I agree, even though deep down, I know I don't want us to be on the same page with this, I don't want us to go down as a one night stand. It was never my plan to shag my best friend, then again, it was never my intentions for any of this to occur, the disputes, the sex, the jealousy and the confusion between us. We don't have the happy medium we used to have— there is this contingency between us— uncertainty that we are avoiding and dancing around.

After being directly friend zoned, Harry and I maintain small talk on the plane, to my surprise, it isn't an awkward silence, just normal talk between two best friends.

"Harry?" I distract him from his phone that he took back when he realised we weren't taking off. He cocks his head to the side to look at me. "Can I rest on your shoulder?" I softly question, needing a place to rest my head just for a few moments.

"Of course, would you prefer the window seat? We can swap, sweetheart." Harry proposes sweetly but I politely decline his offer.

I know he prefers having the window seat just as much as I do, just like I know he has given me the window seat every flight so far. He's selfless and as much as I love it about him, I also hate it. He can be too gentle and accommodating sometimes.

"It's so bright," I grumble, the illumination of the plane becoming an aspect that is bothering me and causing me a bit of pain.

"It's normal like every other plane, Mia," Harry informs me and I nod.

"What's taking so long for everyone to board?" I murmur, a little irritated that the plane is still boarding and that we have yet to take flight. I know it does not take so long to board.

"Dunno, love."

I lift my head off his shoulder and squeeze my fingers to the bridge of my nose and close my eyes while letting out a heavy breath, "you okay, Mia?"

"Mhm," I hum, doing my best to disregard how fucking long this is all taking. "How long until we can take off?" I challenge, eager to get to our next destination and see what the next city has to offer us.

"Darling, I really don't know, here, lie down." Harry instructs as he lifts the armrest up and pets his hand to his lap, "I know you want to, can tell ye' tired." He chimes with a smile, convincing me to give in.

I move closer to Harry where I instead nestle into his side while his arm drapes around me securely.

The moment I am nice and comfortable, in the middle of being awake and being close to falling asleep, I am interrupted by an overhead announcement.

"Good evening, this is your captain speaking, we are experiencing some weather delays. We are currently in a queue to wait out the storms. We will have more information to give in the next hour. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

I heavily huff as I lift my head away from it's nestled position on Harry.

What a great fucking inconvenience.

It seems like that everything that can possibly go wrong, is going wrong!

I wouldn't be surprised if the next thing that happens is the hotel is overbooked and we don't get a room. At this point, I feel as though we should call this trip quits and go back to London and go on with our lives. I am sure Harry is itching to get into the studio. As for me, well, I don't really know.

*** ***

After two hours of sitting on a plane that wasn't moving, we were given the option to disembark. Not that it made anything any better...

I lean against a wall, observing as Harry is at the information desk asking questions and hopefully finding a way to fix this chaotic mess.

Harry wanders closer to me and from the expression on his face I know he doesn't have good news to tell me.

He stands in front of me and shakes his head softly. "There's nothing I can do, love. We are stuck here."

"Just for like an hour right?" I question and Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug.

"Not sure, Mia. They don't have much info for us. Just gotta make the most of it."

"Did you ask?" I challenge.

"Yes, Mia. The lady didn't have answers and seemed to be under pressure."

"Let me guess, you politely smiled and walked away?"

"Yes, like a normal person." Harry nods and I roll my eyes.

He's a charming guy who never steps on anybody's toes, always takes people's word and never becomes too pushy when he needs answers— Yet one great factor as to why he never finds the right girl for him— they walk all over him and treat him like shit in the end... They take his niceness for granted and I am the one who has to pick up the pieces and boost his confidence. He thinks there is something wrong with him, really, it is just the girls he ends up with.

No offence to them.

"You're such a pushover. Let me go see."

"Sweetheart, just relax. None of us can change the weather, the flights are grounded until further notice. Most will be cancelled."

I glance up at him, "and what are we going to do? Sit around like cattle in here?" ... "can we get a hotel or something?"

He shakes his head, "all are booked from previous cancellations. They weren't expecting the snow storm to come to the Far East and disrupt things this seriously."

"You settled for that? Honestly, you really are a pushover. You're too damn nice. Instead of asking questions and pushing for things, you just take their answers. They could be walking all over you and you wouldn't know."

"Mia... none of us can control the weather. Relax."

"No, this is ridiculous and exactly what I mean. You take whatever people say. You're too nice."

"You have already said that... Mia, this is a weather problem."

"This is why your relationships fail. You're too damn nice to stand up and say something, you just sit and take whatever they tell you, you believe their fucking lies and don't bother to question things until it is too late." ...

"Are you done dissecting my failed relationships and my kindness?"

I let out a breath, coming to the realisation that I have unintentionally channelled my irritation and pain towards him. "I'm sorry..." I sigh, "Harry, I just want to go home, I don't feel good and all this just fucking sucks."

"I know you don't, love."

"What?" I clear my throat, looking into his bewitching, tourmaline-green eyes.

"No offence, but you become a raging bitch when you're reaching the peak of not feeling well." ... "you could have just said you didn't feel well, instead of going on a rampage."

"I'm sorry... everything is just—"I trail off... "I'm getting a migraine from fucking writing and I just want to be in bed." I sigh heavily, somewhat guilty for going off on Harry for no real reason besides the fact I am in a bitchy mood and bitter that we categorize ourselves into the damn friend zone.

He benevolently pulls me into him and wraps an arm around my lower back, "It's okay," he whispers, his hand stroking the back of my head.

*** ***

He grants me a small smile as he hands me the blanket that I can only assume he just bought from one of the little tourist stores they have at all airports, "How are you feeling? Eased the pain a bit?"

I shake my head, "no, the lights and the sounds are making it worse... I feel nauseous and I just want to lie down in bed."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm trying. Most flights are cancelled until the storm passes."

"I know... it isn't your fault." I give him a courteous smile before he rests down beside me.

"Can I pull yeh into my lap? It'll be more comfortable than your back being against the wall." Harry endeavours and I nod, permitting him to pull into his lap before he spreads his legs and enables me to rest between them. His arms wrap around me and he adjusts the blanket to cover me, "lean back, you're okay. Yeh won't hurt me, I promise." He chuckles, benevolently pressing on my shoulder.

I lean back and get comfortable with him, using him as a human pillow. "Get some sleep, I'll wake you if there is any change, but I think we are going to have to skip our trip to the mountains in Tennessee and go to Miami."

"Whatever you think is necessary," I mumble, feeling warmth and comfort with his hands drawing small circles on me, slowly coaxing me to fall asleep.

***

To say the least, the airport isn't the easiest place to sleep at, the lights are constantly vivacious, they're constantly background noise, other passengers, attendants over the intercom, the sound of plane engines and whatever else. With a heavy groan, I bury myself in Harry's chest, his arm tightening around me as his delicate snores continue to sound.

Despite his radiating warmth and comforting feel, it doesn't help the agonising pounding in my head that appears as though it is being beaten with a sledgehammer various times.

I whine against him, grappling to hold the tears that are threatening to fall before they're soaking his shirt while he continues to sleep.

"Hey, sweetheart," his voice is croaky and full of sleep, "Mia," his hand strokes through my hair, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not," I whimper into him, feeling guilty for staining his shirt and accidentally waking him up with my soft wines.

"Love, my shirt is wet, you're crying." He benevolently forces my head off of his chest and forces me to glance at him, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, go to sleep."

"I'm not going to sleep while my best friend is bloody crying." He comments, wiping my tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumb, "no more tears," he murmurs, wiping them away sweetly.

I gulp and keep my ridiculous thoughts to myself as I feel this fire inside me from him wiping away my tears. "I feel worse, Harry." My voice is soft and delicate, almost childlike.

"Alright, come on. I'm calling it and getting a hotel."

"They're all booked, Harry."

"I don't care if I have to drive two hours for one." He comments, standing to his feet and offering his hand to help me up.

"Harry, I'll be fine."

He shakes his head, gingerly pulling me to my feet, he touches his hand to my forehead, "you're not fine, you're sick." He murmurs, kissing the top of my head before grabbing my handbag from the ground, "I'll have our suitcases delivered to our hotel when I find one available." He informs me, handing me my handbag before taking my hand and guiding me through the airport.

*** ***

Two hours later and a few hundred dollars spent, Harry manages to get us a hotel room. He was determined and didn't take no for an answer when he tried to check in and the woman told him they had overbooked. He wasn't having it, apparently.

"What did you even tell them to change their mind?" I tiredly ask as we stroll down the hallway that feels as though it never ends.

He shrugs, "told them I have a wife that needs a place to sleep and if I don't get her a room, she just might divorce."

I roll my eyes, "they believed it? What if they tell the press?"

He chuckles, "they know I was joking about divorce. Mia, I told them my name was Chandler."

"Did they not ID you?"

"Told then my ID is still on the plane. Aren't you happy I wasn't a pushover?" He challenges as he swipes the card and launches open the hotel door for me.

"Thank you," I smile at him before I step inside and feel relieved to finally have a place to sleep that isn't the airport.

"Don't say I never do anythin' for yeh," he snickers as he closes the door behind him and watches me fall to the bed with a sigh of relief. "Do you need me to go get you anything before I go to sleep? Not quite sure what you do when you have migraines."

I shake my head, "Just some rest is all I need." I respond as I crawl into the luxury of the hotel bed. He opens his mouth and I know he is going to persist to make sure I don't need anything, so I beat him to the punch line, "will you just get in bed and sleep? I promise I will be fine."

"Okay, okay... Jus' making sure you're settled and okay."

He discreetly makes his way to his side of the bed and pulls his shirt off and throws it to the corner of the room before getting in bed, "wake me if you need me, okay?"

"Will do," I respond, getting comfortable while facing him.

"Goodnight, I'll get up and get breakfast for us tomorrow, so if I'm not here when you wake up, I haven't been abducted."

"Thanks for letting me know, was really worried that would happen," I chuckle.

"Smartass," Harry grumbles, leaning over and kissing my cheek, "goodnight, sleep well."

"Goodnight," I breathe out as he rolls over to his side.

And at that moment, I feel it— that fire that lifts my soul and burns throughout my body— that enticing electricity that I felt when we first kissed on the side of the road after getting irritated with each other.

It hits me, the sudden realisation that I have been dancing around this the entire time, the thing I have been blinded by until now. I think I am in love with him.