Falling Stars

9:10 AM

After numerous hours of packing and restlessly sleeping all night, the morning finally broke. Adalae threw her bags into the trunk of her car, had breakfast with her groggy brother, and waited for Zayn. They had spent hours on the phone last night, planning the trip together. She had several plans she kept from him, of course, and the secrets kept her wiggling in her seat.

When he finally sent her a text message signaling his arrival, she shot up from the chair at the table and ruffled Niall’s hair on her way past him. She was halfway out the door before he grabbed her by the wrist.

“Please be careful,” he tiredly begged. “I know you two are doing a no-phones thing but please, Ad, check in with me as often as you can. I’m worried about you.”

She smiled and nodded and kissed his cheek lightly. “I promise, Ni, we’ll be fine. I’ll text you when Zayn isn’t looking.”

Niall grimaced. He had a bad feeling about this adventure but he couldn’t exactly stop her from going. “Okay. And seriously, Ad, abandon the no-phone pact if anything goes wrong, okay? We keep phones for a reason.”

Adalae chuckled. “Keep my room a mess for me, will ya?”

Niall nodded, watching as she skipped downstairs to her car, parked by the curb outside his flat. He watched as she embraced his best friend and how he lifted her off the ground, their laughter mingling together, ringing throughout the quiet, sleepy neighborhood. He swallowed his anxiety and retreated inside, locking the door and praying she stayed safe.

“Okay, two rules,” she announced as they settled into the seats. He belted himself in as she leaned forward, thin fingers grabbing at cables. She pushed one end of the wire into her iPod, fingers now flickering with the radio. “One. Do not touch the iPod if I am clearly jamming. That includes questioning the songs that may come up.”

“Duly noted,” Zayn affirmed as she dropped the iPod into the cup holder and raised the volume, buckling herself in with her free hand. A tune from the 90s rang throughout the vehicle as she pulled onto the road.

“Two. We will have massive singalongs. If you know the song, or even vaguely remember the melody, you are required to sing along,” she continued.

“Does this first song count?” Zayn questioned.

It had already begun and he was dying to belt the words at her. He hadn’t listened to this song in what felt like a million years but he knew instantly – this song was the epitome of her essence. Everything about this song reminded him of her.

“Sing it, love!” she yelled excitedly, fiddling with the heater settings as they breezed past the traffic heading into the city. The way out was always the easiest.

“Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star, one without a permanent scar? And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?” he sang to her.

She sang along with him but consciously kept her voice softer than his so she could bask in the unique rasp he held. They took turns singing lines to one another but she never caught on to the fact that he wasn’t just singing along with her. He was singing the words to her, about her, for her.

The song switched and he didn’t know the words to this one, so he settled into his seat and watched as she tapped along to the beat against the steering wheel. A few more songs finished before another one he knew came up. It started soft, with a saxophone, and then steady, slow lyrics filled the car.

“What is this, your oldies playlist?” he questioned.

“Tell me that we belong together, dress it up with the trappings of love. I’ll be captivated, I’ll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above,” she sang dramatically at him in response.

He knew the rules of the car. “And I’ll be your crying shoulder,” he responded just as dramatically, adding unnecessary hand gestures to heighten the passion of the song.

“I’ll be love’s suicide,” she chirped, flicking her turn signal on and merging lanes.

He leaned across the console and gently grazed her cheek with his fingertips in an overly dramatic fashion. When she giggled, he clenched his fists and brought them close to his side, squeezed his eyes shut, and sang in a fit of passion, “And I’ll be better when I’m older. I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.”

The drive continued with similar scenes playing out with nearly every song that played. It turns out that no, it was not her “oldies playlist” – her iPod just happened to play a bunch of 90s songs right away. A handful of songs played that neither of them knew all of the words to, so their dramatic singalongs weren’t nearly as entertaining as they had been in the beginning. Luckily for them, they had reached their first destination on their adventure to disappear.

“Canterbury,” he mused. “Of course you’d choose-”

He was cut off by her door slamming shut. He looked out the window on her side and saw her running toward the park on the opposite side of the road. Grabbing a jacket from the backseat, he trudged after her. She was already sat on the grass by the River Stour, accompanied by a few others who were reading books or writing in journals, and gazing out at the other side, knees to her chest. He helped her into the jacket, taking a seat beside her.

“We should rent bikes,” she stated suddenly. “Ride around Canterbury. See the cathedral.”

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” he suggested.

And so they sat. And sat. The day ticked away without them moving. They watched people jog past on the pathway. She shifted at one point to lie down in the grass once it had dried. He remained sitting, propped up next to her.

There was something calming about their current location. It wasn’t as noisy as London could be. The people were nicer, more understanding, in no rush. She wanted to stay here forever, help him relax and re-create himself from this atmosphere.

He slouched down in the grassy patch next to her and stared at the sky for a while. She sighed softly, eyes closed against the sunlight. He tilted his head to look at her. “Alright?”

She sighed again and scooted closer to him, resting her head on his chest and circling her arms around him. “I just don’t want to leave.”

“I want to stand with you on a mountain. I want to bathe with you in the sea,” he sang softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I want to lay like this forever,” she continued in a whisper.

“Until the sky falls down on me.”