Never Come Down

Mele pushed open the door to her room and stepped into the living area. Morning sunlight streamed through the sliding glass door, washing the space in gold. She rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep, and spotted Fali standing in the kitchen.

The soft sizzle of batter and the warm smell of pancakes drifted through the air.

She yawned.
“Good morning…”

Fali turned, catching sight of her slow shuffle toward him. He smiled.
“Morning. Sleep well?”

She blinked a few times, trying to chase away the fog.
“Yeah. Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” he said with a chuckle.

She groaned.
“I knew that. Oh man, maybe I didn’t sleep that well after all…”

He laughed as she rubbed her eyes again.
“Really? Why’s that?”

She mumbled something unintelligible. The truth, of course, was that her mind had been restless all night - tangled up in thoughts of him and what their future might look like. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. He was clever enough to suspect it anyway.

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning.

She cleared her throat.
“Ahem. Anyway. What’s the haps today?”

He raised an eyebrow.
“The… haps?”

She nodded, smirking.
“You have microwave small talk. I have the haps. We’re not so different, you and I.”

He laughed, shaking his head.
“I’m assuming that means ‘what’s happening’?”

“Bingo.”

“Right then,” he said, flipping a pancake with a rubber spatula. “I want to get in the air again today, then head into town for more food since I’ve suddenly got company to feed. Hopefully avoid being spotted, and then come back to work.”

She perked up instantly.
“Can I come?”

He laughed.
“You sound like an excited child. Yes, you can.”

A flash of embarrassment crossed her face, quickly replaced by joy.
“Awesome! When do we go?”

“After breakfast,” he replied, flipping the pan upside down to drop another pancake onto the growing stack beside him.

Even before he’d said it, her heart was set. This - waking up to the smell of pancakes and the sound of his voice - was what she wanted.

Fali, meanwhile, couldn’t quite grasp the situation he found himself in. His mind felt divided: his body moved through the motions of cooking, while his conscience hovered somewhere outside of him, bewildered that he was sharing a home with a famous, beautiful girl who seemed to genuinely like being there - with him.

Mele stood behind him as Fali - his baseball cap in place, as always - grunted and heaved the corrugated hangar door open. The metal rattled and screeched until it slid aside, revealing the dim interior beyond.

Inside, bathed in dusty shafts of light, sat a small low-wing aircraft. Its high-mounted tailplane gave it a poised, predatory look; the curved canopy gleamed faintly like a soap bubble in the gloom. Painted hospital-white with a fading blue stripe, the plane looked well-used but loved. On the nose, beneath a patch of chipped paint, a little figure was stenciled below a looping name: Freyla II.

Mele pointed at it as they approached.
“Who’s Freyla?”

“Oh, that’s the girl on the nose. I think.” Fali scratched his head. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure anymore. It’s been a long time since I first named an aircraft.”

She stepped closer and rested a hand against the cool, oily skin of the fuselage. The touch left her palm slightly slick, but she didn’t mind. When she turned to ask something, Fali had already vanished. Her eyes darted around until she spotted him emerging from behind the tail, methodically working his way through pre-flight checks.

Not knowing what else to do, Mele simply watched. There was a calm precision to his movements - each inspection, each tap and glance done with quiet certainty. Finally, without so much as a glance her way, he crossed to the hangar wall, grabbed a metal tow bar, and hooked it to the nose wheel.

To her surprise, he dragged the plane out with ease - less strain than it had taken to move the door. Soon Freyla II sat proudly outside on the compacted grass. The little airfield around them - a grassy strip, a handful of hangars, and a few scattered houses - was utterly still.

Fali thumped the side of the fuselage.
“Alright. Do you know how to climb in?”

She shook her head.

He nodded once. “Hold on.”

Jogging back inside, he stowed the tow bar and returned. “Follow me,” he said, motioning her around to the trailing edge of the right wing. A small bar jutted from the wing root, its tip capped with a rubber pad. Fali pointed at it while unlatching the cockpit door and swinging it open.

“Step on that, then climb in. Keep your feet on the padded area here.”

She followed his instructions carefully, easing herself into the narrow cabin. The seat was snug; the air smelled faintly of fuel and old leather.

Fali checked her harness, nodded, and shut her door before circling around to his side. A moment later he climbed in with practiced grace. The frame clicked shut behind him. His hands moved automatically, flicking switches, checking dials.

“Alright,” he said, slipping into that calm, professional tone that came so naturally to him. “Here’s your headset, plug it in here. She’s already fueled, so no worries there. We’ll fly over the town and head back. Let me know if you need anything.”

That was all the briefing she got.

Mele slipped the headset over her ears; the padding was softer than some hotel beds she’d slept in. A faint whine filled the cockpit as Fali’s hands flew across the instrument panel. Gauges twitched to life, needles drifting upward. His gaze fixed on one in particular - Fuel Pressure. As it climbed, the whine deepened into a steady hum.

Then came the groan of the starter motor.

The propeller stuttered once, twice, three times - and with a grinding roar, the engine caught. The little plane shuddered like an animal waking, then settled into a smooth purr.

Fali looked over at her, the biggest grin she’d ever seen lighting up his face.

As the aircraft began to roll forward, Mele felt something bloom quietly inside her. Joy. Not the kind that came from flying - she was, if anything, nervous about trusting her life to this old machine - but from seeing him come alive. The way his hands danced over the controls, the spark in his eyes, the pure love he had for something he’d never truly left behind.

A smile tugged at her lips - warm, natural, and effortless - as if it had always belonged there.