𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

28

WE NEARED THE ICE CREAM PLACE, A PARLOR that looked like something straight out of a retro music video. A light sign that must have glowed neon at nights, was turned off for during the day. There weren't many people inside, and for a moment, I feared Rook would be noticed. I turned to look at him, only to watch him bring the car to a stop and put on dark sunglasses, and lift his navy hoodie's hood over his head.

I relaxed a little. He saw me looking and flashed me a smile, completely oblivious to my anxiety.

"Wait," He told me as he made to get out, slamming the car door shut and walking over to my side.

I stilled slightly, this was a gesture entirely foreign to me. But it felt so nice.

He opened the car door at my side, and I got out. The warm air outside embracing me. I could feel the density of it, I could tell it would get so humid after a while. Which, made me quietly judge Rook's choice of attire. But he was opting for a disguise, and I got that.

He held out the door to the ice cream parlor for me, and the bell on top of the door jingled as we walked in. Rook motioned for me to grab a spot while he ordered the parlor's special for both of us.

I found a quaint spot at the back, the glass window at the side displayed the entire view of the busy London street. The city was up and running, and looking at people pass by was thrilling in a strange way. The world went on, regardless of what you were going through. The world went on, and so did other people. Nobody really waited for anyone, even if they cared.

"Hey," Rook announced his presence as he slid inside the booth, taking a seat opposite me.

"That special looked huge, I hope we can finish it," He managed a light chuckle.

I didn't say anything, just offered him a small smile. The parlor, initially only buzzing with chatter, switched to a One Direction song, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain,
I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days.
She told me in the morning she don't feel the same about us in her bones.
It seems to me that when I die, these words will be written on my stone."

The words filled the air around me, and it was surreal. A long lost dream awakened in the crevice of my heart. I was in London, in an ice cream parlor on my birthday, while a One Direction song played in the backgroud. What do you call this feeling? My skin prickled in the intensity of it, and suddenly Rook didn't matter anymore. Nor did Trippie, or Colson, or this tour. It was just me, and this dream I had had when I was fifteen, falling asleep listening to a One Direction song on my mp3.

My eyes found the view of the street, and life spun in my eyes, a thrill in my bones.

"The story of my life, I take her home,
I drive all night to keep her warm,
and time is frozen.
The story of my life, I give her hope,
I spend her love until she's broke inside.
The story of my life."

"One Direction, huh?" Rook spoke, an amused expression on his face as a waiter brought our specials in.

The specials in question, were three scoops of different flavored ice cream, topped with what looked like a brown syrup sprinkled with coloured flakes.

"You don't like them?" I asked, curious of what he'd say.

Sure, One Direction were not together anymore. But theirs had been an era that had taken the world by storm. I don't think I can talk about what my life was like growing up, without mentioning One Direction. Can anyone?