distance | ilona maher + alan bersten

ten

ilona sat cross-legged in one of the stiff airport chairs, scrolling through her phone as alan paced nearby, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. the steady hum of announcements and muffled conversations filled the air around them, but neither of them spoke for a while. alan's eyes kept flicking toward the departure board, as if willing their flight to board sooner.

"you're making me dizzy," ilona said without looking up, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

alan stopped mid-step and turned to her, his brows furrowed. "what? i'm just walking."

"you're pacing," she corrected, glancing up at him. "and it's stressing me out. sit down, alan. the plane's not leaving without us."

he sighed but dropped into the seat beside her, slouching low with his legs stretched out in front of him. "i'm just–thinking."

ilona locked her phone and set it down, turning to face him. "about what?"

he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "everything, i guess. the tour. the cast. how they're gonna react when we show up. if i've screwed things up too much to fix."

she reached over, placing her hand on his thigh, her touch grounding. "look, you're not walking into a firing squad. they're mad, sure, but they care about you. you'll explain, they'll listen, and things will work out."

he gave her a weak smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "you make it sound so simple."

"because it is," she said, leaning back in her chair. "people fight. they get mad. but they also forgive, alan. especially when it's someone they love."

he exhaled slowly, letting her words sink in, then glanced over at her. "you're good at this, you know."

"what? calming your overly dramatic ass down?" she teased, grinning. "yeah, it's a full-time job."

he chuckled, finally relaxing a bit, and reached over to take her hand in his. "thank you."

"for what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"for being here. for dealing with all my mess. for—being you."

she squeezed his hand, her grin softening into a smile. "always."

the loudspeaker crackled, announcing their flight was ready to board. ilona stood first, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "come on, let's go. time to face the music."

alan stood, his bag slung over one shoulder as he followed her to the boarding gate. as they walked side by side, he couldn't help but glance at her, the doubt in his mind quieting just a little. whatever was waiting for him on the other side of this flight, he knew one thing for sure—having ilona by his side made it all feel a little less impossible.

  arriving at the studio was a completely different beast for alan. ilona didn't need to ask how he was feeling—she could sense it in the way his energy shifted the moment they stepped out of the hotel room. the confidence he carried when they were alone had vanished, replaced by a tense silence that weighed heavily between them as they walked toward the rehearsal space. his usual easy stride was stiffer, his shoulders hunched as though bracing for a storm.

ilona stayed close to his side, her hand brushing against his every so often, a silent reassurance she hoped he'd feel. "you okay?" she finally asked, breaking the silence as they turned the corner to the studio.

"i'm fine," alan said quickly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. he glanced at her, his expression softening for a moment before his gaze flicked back to the ground. "just thinking."