“I’m hungry,” you whine for probably the fourteenth time since this plane took off…two hours ago. The other boys groan at your complaint, tired of hearing it and having no resolution.

We’re all stuck on this place for a good 10 hours on our way to the next country for our tour, so it’s already a grueling journey. Sure, we all get along pretty well, but when we’re all sleep deprived and smushed in a place for long periods of time, it can get messy.

Especially when someone is being extra whiney today—aka, you.

All the boys, including myself, have offered up all the options on board for you to eat. From microwavable mac and cheese to a head of lettuce, and you’ve turned down every single one. Saying ‘you’re hungry’ but ‘not hungry for that’.

Worst part is, all the boys keep looking at me like I’m supposed to be your knight in shining armor or something! I mean, I guess I am, yeah, seeing as you’re my girlfriend, but not even I can decode this tantrum you’re throwing. My only plan of action was to run my fingers through your hair as your head lays in my lap, hoping to soothe you like a wounded animal.

“I’m so hung—” your repeated complaint gets cut off when I abruptly stand up, forcing your head to hit the cushion below. That makes you let out another whine, this one of protest and faux hurt.

“Ooo, looks like he’s over little miss complainer,” Niall teases, snickering to himself and nudging Zayn in the arm with his elbow, even though Zayn’s been passed out with an sleep mask on since we boarded.

I ignore it all, heading to the back of the plane where they store all the food. I grab a plate, a knife, and an apple—my last resort. Without any words, I take my goods over to a seat and settle in for the meticulous task.

You once told me that the skin of apples disgusts you, that you won’t even eat apple slices if it still has it on there. Quite picky, but at the time I just laughed. I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard, and yet now I somehow find myself taking twenty minutes out of my day—when I could be sleeping—to peel a fucking apple with a dull knife.

I guess you could say I’d literally do anything for you.

When the apple skin has been fully shed, I stand up with the apple and walk over to you. You’re still lying back on the long couch, a pout on your face from feeling neglected. I nudge your leg with my knee, gaining your attention, eyes flicking to my face.

I hold out the apple, like the fucking witch from Snow White, luring you in.

Your eyes light up, as if I was down on one knee with a diamond ring. You sit up slightly, an appreciative downturned smile on your face, slowly reaching out to take the apple from my hands.

Still in silence, I go to sit down back in spot, right next to you with your head in my lap, like nothing ever happened.