Paper Airplanes

Chapter TwentyFour; Disaster

*Dacota's POV*

When we drove up to my house, my own parents' cars were still not there. It was pretty weird; they hadn't called or texted or anything. My thoughts were jarred from my family's absence as Emily threw the passenger door open. I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts and got out myself.

"Do you think they'll be happy about the tats?" Emily asked as we walked to the front door.

"I don't know about Alex," I say, "but, you have seen Harry, right? He's got a lot of them."

"I wonder what they mean," Emily thought out loud.

"I don't know," I pause at the door now, thinking. "Do you think he'll ever tell me?"

"No idea. You should ask when you don't have company." I made sure to try to remember that. As I reached for the door handle, it swung away to reveal a distressed Harold. "Harry!"

I say, "I was just about to come and ask you some-"

"I'm sorry, but there's no time. You have to see this." He takes my hand and pulls me inside, Emily following.

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Alex is found pacing in front of the TV, biting his fingernails, a habit he does regularly when upset. This sight made my heart drop to the pit of my stomach.

"Alex?" I ask him, "What's going on?" He turns to me, and he looks really edgy.

"Come and look," he says. I hurry to the front of the screen, which portrayed a news report. It was an official news reporter, unlike the one that told the world Harry was with me.

"Reports have just come in about a plane crash in South Carolina," the woman states. South Carolina...that's where my parents were.

'Please, don't let it be-'

"Flight 1039 from South Carolina to Illionois has crashed in Kentucky." I let out a small gasp. That was the flight my mother and father was on.

"Here are a list of casualties;" Harry comes over to me and takes my hand and squeezes. He is as nervous as I am. I zone out at the beginning of the alphabet of names, praying to every deity I could think of that my parents weren't dead, just wounded. Soon, the reporter got to the K's, and I began to pay attention.

"Annaleise Kimberly; wounded. John Korrison; wounded. Cassie and Travis Lancaster;" I think I almost broke Harry's fingers from the amount of pressure I was squeezing them.

"Dead."

And that was when my world broke.

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I didn't run; I felt completely numb. I walked slowly away from the others to my room. They followed me, pulling on my arms and shouting at me, but they sounded muffled, as if talking through a thick, dense cloth. I pushed them away and went into my room, locking the door. I sat in the corner and brought my knees to my chest. And then the tears began to spill.

I could hear them knocking on the door, trying to get me to open the door, but I couldn't get up. I was sobbing into my arm. Soon, they stopped, and I could hear them walk away. I could hear a door open and close. And then I was alone.

But, I wasn't. Soon, a folded piece of paper slid from underneath the crack in my door. I wiped my face and crawled to it; it was in the shape of an airplane. My hand crept to my still-throbbing tattoo, and I smiled; it was from Harry. I unfolded it and read it.

'Em and Alex decided to leave. They wanted to give you some alone time, I guess. But, I'm here for you.' I smiled through new, fresh tears, but they were not of sadness; they were of gratitude.

I grabbed a pen and scrawled; 'Thank you. I'm not really sure how to process all of this.' I slid it under the doorframe and waited.

It soon was back, and written on it, said, 'Diana, let me be the one to light a fire inside those eyes.'

I didn't get it. I wrote, 'My name's Dacota...' and slid it back.

It came back with, 'I keep forgetting you're not a fan. It's one of our songs, Diana. It's based off of Princess Diana, who was suicidal and depressed. We wrote it for our fans that cut. I know you don't -or hope you don't-, but I know you're sad. I guess it was kind of a shot in the dark...'

I wrote, 'I like it.'

When it came back, the lyric was scratched out with a new one, which now said, 'Dacota, let me be the one to lift your heart up and save your life. I don't think you even realize; baby, you've been saving mine.'

Soon, my eyes welled up, realizing how much the fans must have felt. I stood and unlocked the door and opened it. Harry was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, but soon looked up at me. He stood and looked down at me. It was similar to when we were in the kitchen, days before.

He noticed the tears falling down my cheeks. He rose a hand to my face and swiped them away with his thumb.

"I love you, Dacota," he says. He looks deeply into my eyes, and I know he meant it.

"I love you, Harry," I respond back. And I meant it, too. He leans down, and our lips touch, our tears meld together and drop as one. And I know then that no matter what I had to go through, I knew Harry would be there to hold my hand.

~~~~~

That got depressing fast.

~Emily~