He should have been happy. He was moving to a new country with his boyfriend, and quitting the job he hated. He could imagine what his dad would have said when he told him. 'That's great kiddo! You're really making a life for yourself! Quite the jetsetter, hey?' Tristan's dad had never traveled, but he always wanted to. Time ran out in the end, and it seemed like his son was following the path he'd only dreamed of. And yet, Tristan was miserable. He'd fled his grief when he moved to Cabi, but the life his father had dreamed for him was so much harder than he could bear.

Just hold my hand, he would think to himself in those rare moments he had alone with Jed. Just hold my hand so I know I'm not alone... 

Crawling into bed that night, the tears washed away, and the evidence of his midnight feast long since thrown in the public trashcan; Tristan hoped that Jed would wake up and hold him. The covers were so cold on his side of the bed, he longed for a warmth that he could barely remember. 

As the days counted down to the beginning of their new life together, his phone would buzz with message after message from Sarah. "Have you seen this place?" she'd ask, before sending over links and photos that Tristan hadn't asked for. All manner of dazzling spas, shopping malls, bars and exclusive restaurants lit up his cracked phone screen. When he replied with links to museums, hikes, or the temple ruins he'd found on the internet in his lunchbreak, the usual response was, "That looks pretty far from everything... :( Maybe if we get time later."

As a soon-to-be unemployed individual, Tristan wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up as a 'Real Housewife of Modesh'. "Did you see the link Sarah sent in the group chat..?" he'd asked Jed, hoping that his boyfriend could better sympathize with him about her ridiculously extravagant expectations. 

"I can't afford to pay for everything, Tristan" came his frustrated reply.

He hadn't meant it like that... He never meant things in the way that Jed heard them. Even so, Tristan tried to be understanding. It was a lot to take on, looking after someone financially for a while. Although he'd been told to look for work when they arrived; Tristan had already tried and failed making applications for a few things he'd found online. Most of them would have to sponsor his visa, and he didn't meet the requirements. 

It was probably better to wait until they get there like Jed had told him to. He didn't make mention of his foolish attempts; he only wanted Jed to know that he didn't expect to rely on him forever. Whatever work he could find, he would happily take it. Maybe then his boyfriend wouldn't be so stressed all the time. If he wasn't such a burden, then maybe they could start to enjoy their time together. Just the two of them. 

Sarah seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Tristan was going to work each day, and had as little time as Jed did to get things done at home. 

"You still haven't finished packing?" she'd cried, after calling him out to meet her for a drink at The Palm; "Carl would be panicking if I was as relaxed about things as you are!" 

Regardless of whether what he did was important or not, they still worked the same office hours, he didn't have the advantage of staying home every day like Sarah did. 

"It's not long now you know" she warned, "Tick tock!" 

Time really was ticking down. The shipping company was selected, and the bright yellow boxes were sent to the apartment. "There's not much closet space at the new place" Jed had told him, vetoing much of the clothing that Tristan had planned to bring. "There's plenty of old stuff you can probably just get rid of..." 

Tristan hadn't really grown much since his time at college. He liked to run, and although he'd eat junk food when Jed wasn't looking, his metabolism was still pretty high. As a result, he'd got into the habit of keeping his old clothes and wearing them until they fell apart. It was rare that he'd think to buy himself something new, especially with the expenses involved with hanging out with Carl and Sarah. Jed on the other hand, was not afraid of flexing his credit card; every item in his wardrobe was carefully selected, and found online by searching for the best designer deals.

For his last birthday, Tristan had bought him a shirt that cost more than his own computer. "How much did you pay for it?" Jed had asked; "I could probably have found it cheaper..." 

Anything with a label was packed carefully away in the yellow boxes, while Tristan's mish-mash of thrifted and on-sale clothing was reduced to a single suitcase. 

"Once you start working you can just buy stuff there" he'd been assured. So long as he had the plaid shirts from his dad he really didn't mind all that much; he'd already thrown so much away when he moved across the world to Cabi, what was another couple of moth-eaten sweatshirts?

As momentum grew, Tristan actually felt some excitement. He wasn't sure if it was just nervous energy, but his fear was replaced by cautious optimism. A lot of that had to do with the relief he was feeling since work was drawing to a close. His replacement had already started, and was filled with praise about Tristan's resolve to tackle another new adventure so soon. 

"I'd never even heard of Modesh until the news came out about the company's expansion" they'd said, "how exciting that you get to go!" Carl had been listening to them chat with his door open. 

"Oh, Tris isn't going to the new branch" he'd clarified; "He's moving over with his boyfriend... His boyfriend is the one that's got a job there. They didn't want Tris." The admiration in his replacement's eyes turned to pity.

Whatever excitement Tristan had felt was short lived, and the rest of his time in Cabi seemed to vanish in a blur of boxes and paperwork. Sarah and Carl were flying business on the company's dime, while Jed had booked himself and his boyfriend two separate seats in economy. 

"It's all I could get. You're not going to whine about it, are you?" he'd asked. 

Tristan's gloomy expression was not the result of having to sit on his own. Everything seemed to have unfolded so quickly, he'd been swept along with little regard for his thoughts or opinions. It seemed like a dream that we was moving countries again. Whether or not he was making a mistake, it was too late to question it. It was already happening.

"Tristan. I'm not going to ask someone to switch seats. I think it's kind of rude. Are you going to be alright on your own?" 

He hadn't suggested otherwise, but nodded anyway. As he settled into his seat and fiddled with the movie screen, he was kind of glad. He could sit and watch what he wanted in peace. It was the first decision he'd been able to make for himself in a while. 

When he was younger he'd cuddle up next to his dad and watch movies. As he got older, the woman who used to rent their spare room said it was strange for father to son and cuddle... especially since Tristan was already so 'different'. After that, his dad insisted they put some distance between them. He was always worried that he'd done things wrong as a single parent. Even if that woman was a moron, he didn't want other people judging his son for his own shortcomings. 

That was probably when things started to feel colder, when Tristan began to long for the warmth of human connection. 

"Sorry" said his seatmate, accidentally elbowing him as he reached down to plug his charger into the socket. 

Rather than allow himself to get lost in his memories, Tristan put his headphones in and shuffled his body closer to the window. The pane was cold enough to sober him.

Six hours passed and Tristan watched nothing. He looked out at the sky from time to time, and tracked the plane as it crossed the sea and headed south. Every intention to enjoy the peace before the storm came to nothing; he couldn't find the will to press play on anything at all, worried he'd choose the wrong thing.

As they got closer to landing, Tristan looked out at the barren fields, the little towns, and where the mountains met the sea that surrounded the island of Modesh. It was prettier than he thought it would be. And yet so alien. He wondered if Jed was looking at it too; whether he was happy, or excited for the future they would build there.

The 'fasten seatbelts' sign was turned on, and the pilot announced that the cabin crew should take their seats. The unused headphones were removed from Tristan's ears, as he rested his head on the back of his seat. A few times he'd imagined that the plane would have to stop, that they'd turn around or never reach their destination. Maybe he'd just secretly hoped that would be the case. Tristan wrapped his arms around his body, trying to find comfort in his touch. It was going to be okay; things would be better. This was a chance at a new beginning.

"Did you manage to sleep on the flight?" Tristan asked Jed as they met in the aisle. 

"What do you think? The flight crew were coming past with the trolley every five minutes, I barely had a chance to stretch my legs." 

Tristan looked away from the attendant that had overheard them, as they inched their way towards the door. 

"It was a long flight... people get hungry" he offered in their defense. 

Every time Tristan took someone else's side, Jed would get pissed off. But he couldn't help himself; so often it was his boyfriend that was acting like a jerk. 

"Did you remember everything from your seat pocket?" asked Jed, "If you didn't bother to check, I'm not going to come back with you to get it later..."

Suddenly Tristan started to doubt himself. He was sure he'd remembered it all; everything had been packed away neatly in his carry-on before they'd even touched down. And yet, the uncertainty ended up driving him to awkwardly manoeuvre through the exiting passengers back to his seat, only to find there was nothing left behind. 

"Well that was a waste of time" said Jed, hurrying him off the plane with his head bowed, and making their way to the line for immigration. Cabi had been hot, but the temperatures in Modesh were stifling.

Tristan tied his hoodie around his waist, as Jed fanned himself with the paperwork. "What about Carl and Sarah? Shouldn't they be in this line, too?" Tristan had asked. 

"Carl probably didn't need to wait for Sarah to make sure she'd remembered her stuff... besides, in business class they take better care of the customers. They're probably on the way to their hotel already." 

Tristan had never flown business so he didn't know. In fact, he'd only ever taken two flights in his life; one to Cabi, and the second to Modesh. 

"Get your passport ready" said Jed, "I think we're next."

The officer greeted them in Modeshi and Jed shook his head. 

"Visa?" he asked them in English. 

The paperwork and passports were handed over, and their faces checked under the man's persistent scrutiny. Tristan didn't like it when people stared at him, he wasn't used to being looked at so closely. 

"Wife?" he'd asked, motioning to Tristan as the slimmer of the two. 

"Partner..." Jed had clarified, unsure which box had been checked on the form. 

"Husband?" he confirmed with Jed. 

"Ah, I am the 'husband'" said Jed, "he is my dependent." 

The officer shrugged and stamped their passports, indicating the date for the year-long stay they had been granted.

"Work will make an appointment for our ID cards" said Jed, as they continued on to collect their cases, "Make yourself available in the next few days in case they can get us in early. No wandering off to explore while I'm at work." 

All around them, couples and families were reveling in the excitement of their vacations and homecomings. A girl was smiling widely as she talked in Modeshi over the phone. Tristan wondered if she were calling her mom. 

"It's so loud in here" Jed had commented pointedly, "I'll message Sarah once we're in the taxi. They're planning dinner at their hotel tonight."

Tristan just wanted to take a shower and lie down to rest. 

"Do we have to go..?" he asked him gingerly. 

"Our hotel isn't that far from theirs, and you'll be hungry soon. Unless you ate everything on the plane..? You know I said to wait until we got here." 

Tristan relented. Their first night in Modesh would be like every other night in Cabi; Jed marching to the beat of Carl and Sarah's drum, while Tristan ran behind, trying desperately to keep in time with the rhythm.