Your Creation • Zarry

68. 1950

March 2018

I couldn't stop listening to this new song called "1950" by King Princess that had just been released and I practically had it on repeat during my flight to the states. There was something about her voice that I just loved and couldn't get enough of and the message behind the song was something that I found personally so relatable. King Princess described the concept by saying that "queer love was only able to exist privately for a long time, expressed in society through coded art forms" and I felt like that's what Zayn and I were doing. When you can't express your love openly, sometimes putting symbols and secrets in forms of art is the only way that you could and he and I had a lot of them.

I ended up taking a very late flight into Philadelphia instead of New York, as per Zayn's request, because he had become increasingly paranoid about being spotted with me and New York was one of those places where it was way too easy to get papped, even with my kind of security, but I had absolutely no idea what our plan was. All I knew was that he was picking me up from the airport, so I was waiting outside in the chilly night donning a plain grey hoodie, black beanie and ripped jeans, and so far nobody had recognized me.

Then suddenly I saw Zayn pull up rather quickly in a black Range Rover. He beeped at me once and I jumped inside, throwing my duffle bag in the back seat and suppressing the urge to lean in and kiss him hello in case anyone saw.

"Hey," he greeted me, smiling with his eyes behind a pair of black framed glasses.

"Hey back," I replied, grinning. "I dig the glasses. Very Veronica Malik."

"Don't even start," Zayn said, giving me that look and I couldn't help but grin.

"So where are we going?"

"You'll see," he responded cryptically.

"I just spent 10 hours on a plane to see you and you're not even going to tell me where we're going? Seems a bit sketchy Mr. Mysterious. It's like you're going to take me out into the backwoods somewhere and murder me..."

Zayn let out a short chuckle and leaned forward, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"Um...kinda," I said hesitantly, although I really wasn't but God he was so hot.

"Sounds familiar doesn't it," he mused, smiling to himself, but I didn't get the reference right away until it suddenly hit me.

"Ohhhh, I see," I responded, feeling myself smile as well. "So where's your gun, Lindsay?"

"Oh I've got it Pip, it's fully loaded."

I liked that some things between us never changed, and roleplaying scenarios from the Stockholm Syndrome series was one of those things that would never get old. We used to be so fun and exciting when we were younger, I thought to myself. We were totally reckless and just totally consumed with each other. We had exposed so much of our inner secrets that there was hardly anything left that we hadn't done at some point, and everything we had ever been through had completely taken ahold of me. It's all I knew, and I just wanted to hold onto those memories forever. But there we were, alone on the back roads of Pennsylvania and years later we were still making more and I felt happy.

"Have you heard this song?" I asked as I put on "1950" for the millionth time.

"Nah, I haven't," Zayn replied as he started to listen.

I glanced over at him during the song because I liked watching people listen to new music sometimes to see their reactions and I couldn't stop admiring his side profile while his eyes were on the road. He seemed to be into it and was nodding along to the beat of the song as I sang it softly to myself. Zayn then turned to look at me and smiled, lending his hand out towards me and I placed mine in his. I felt Zayn squeeze tight.