Fitz was on his third trip to America. The previous two years he'd spent speeding through every ounce of engineering he could get his hands on at MIT in the aim of this. This was what he'd been searching for, this was something he could sink his teeth into, this was something beyond all the dimwits at MIT who dismissed him because they couldn't understand how he was smarter than them and almost half their age.

If only he didn't miss his flight.

He raced through the crowd, his backpack slapping against his spine, weaving through the hoard of dazed passengers.

"Bloody Heathrow."

He hated this airport, more so, he despised it. He didn't understand why he'd had to fly from Glasgow down to London first rather than just get a flight directly from up North. But he hadn't booked the flight, his Mum had, and he hadn't wanted to be a bother and change it. And now he was paying the price.

It would be just his luck to miss the flight. To show up at the Academy late and be forever branded not just the young one or the Scottish one but also the late one. That would invariably make it harder to find favour with any of his colleagues. Well, harder than usual. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself a little harder, shouldering past a middle aged Mum arguing in the middle of the hall with an annoyed child.

With gasping lungs and burning calves, he collapsed into one of the hard seats by his gate and finally looked at his watch. There was still five minutes to spare. He groaned, just a little, to himself and slumped down in the uncomfortable seat, squishing the designs he'd so carefully rolled up and stored in his bag even further.

He scrubbed his hands across his face, ridding it of a bead or two of sweat. When he opened his eyes again, he blinked twice with shock. The girl sitting across from him was hunched over in her chair reading, so engrossed that she hadn't even seemed to pause to notice his blustering entrance. He glanced around for her parents, she didn't look more than thirteen, definitely younger than him, but it seemed she was alone as well.

If he were braver, maybe he would have gotten up and switched benches and started some kind of conversation. But he wasn't.

The loudspeaker turned on again, and both he and the girl looked up to the ceiling like it would help them hear better.

British Airways fight two-three-nine to Boston is ready for boarding, if passengers could please make their way towards gate B35.

Fitz heaved in a breath and hitched his bag higher up on his shoulders as he stood. It was time for something new.

xx

Hey! Thanks for getting this far! I don't really know what this is, it's either just a weird little story or the prologue to something bigger. So if you enjoy it and want me to continue, please let me know! You can also find me over on Tumblr at sinkingsidewalks