Quite a Spectacle by Meg Harding Page B

he was laughing so hard. Michael pulled away from his mom to glare at his partner. “Really?”
    His mother steered him around Max and toward the car. “Says the man currently trying to get out of seeing his in-laws. Buckle up; it’ll all be fine.” She practically shoved him down onto his seat.
    She patted his cheek once and then shut the door in his face. Max gave her a big hug and kissed her cheek, then he too was sliding into the car and they were pulling away. He rested his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezed. “Get over yourself,” he said.
    Michael rolled his head to the side to stare at him. “That’s your idea of a pep talk?”
    “I’m not having this discussion. My family isn’t evil. They’re not to be feared.”
    Holding his hands up in supplication, Michael went back to looking out the window, watching the sea of snow fly by.
     
     
    L ONDON WAS rainy. Little droplets streaked the windows of the plane as they started to make their descent. Michael stared down at all the lights and tried to keep his stomach in place as the plane eased its way down. Max held his hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of it.
    It was as much for his own comfort as it was for Michael’s. Max had a fear of heights that kept him from going on roller coasters and had him avoiding looking over railings, while Michael had a major case of motion sickness.
    Michael liked to watch the ground grow closer; the buildings took clear shape as the plane landed. Max hated having the window open. He kept his head turned to face the aisle the entire time.
    He could feel the bones grinding in his hand as Max squeezed.
    The plane touched down on the runway with the characteristic bump, bump, and Max breathed a sigh of relief. Michael clapped a hand over his mouth and tilted his head back as his stomach gave a mighty jerk.
    “We’ll see about getting you a patch for the flight back,” Max said, brushing hair back from Michael’s face. “You’re all sweaty.” He pulled his sleeve down over the palm of his hand and ran it over Michael’s temples.
    He left Michael sitting there, while he grabbed their luggage from the overhead. “Come on,” he said, “You’ll feel better once you can walk it off.” He pushed one suitcase in front of him and pulled the other behind, while Michael wobbled after him, holding their packs.
    People moved out of his way, giving him plenty of space, so he must not have looked so hot.
    “Is it that bad?” he asked Max.
    Max turned to look back at him as they crossed the ramp bridging the plane to the airport. “It’s not great,” he said. “Do you feel better at least?”
    “No,” Michael said. It felt like the ground was rolling beneath his feet.
    “Bathroom’s over there.” Max pointed to the left. “Give me the bags, and I’ll wait for you. Try splashing your face some.”
    Michael handed over the bags and made his way into the handicap stall of the restroom. He took Max’s advice and splashed his face with the water, staring at his sallow complexion. He looked like he had just woken up from an all-night bender. He had bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were a bright red, accentuated by the paleness of the rest of his face. His lips were swollen and red from where he’d been biting them, and his pupils were dilated so much the black pretty much hid the blue.
    His hair was sweaty and sticking to his face, curling up from all the moisture.
    Not his best look by a long shot.
    He took several deep breaths, hunched over as he was. Nothing came up. He gave it a couple more minutes to make sure his stomach wasn’t going to revolt. Still nothing.
    He dried off his face and headed back to Max, who’d taken a seat in one of the waiting chairs, their luggage all around him, as he texted on his phone.
    “All good?” he asked as Michael stopped in front of him.
    “As good as it’s getting.” His stomach still turned, but he figured that would stop after a few more minutes. “Could we stop