It struck me how close we were to home, and I was sick to my stomach. Nick, who had taken the liberty of walking around shirtless, asked if I wanted something to eat. I declined. If I put anything in my tummy, it was coming right back out. Noting my worry, He set down his butter toast and walked up behind me, arms wrapping around my waist, " what's wrong?"

He could read me like a book. Leaning back against him, I sighed, " I don't know if I want to go home." Admittedly, I felt selfish for telling him. Maybe he was ready to get back to his house, sleep in his own bed, and blare his indie rock. How would I know? I could only read his mind half of the time.

I could hear his smile in his voice, and I knew just as well that it was crooked, " I couldn't agree more Angel."

I could have melted into him. It seemed like living, breathing, being with Nick was all easier in the van, in California. While I loved the gridlock compact buildings and flocks of people, the vast space of the ocean and the idea of being free with Nick was simply too inviting. Turning in his arms, I pushed him back a step and smiled, " go make me some toast and jelly."

He shot me a solute, " yes sir!"

I glared at him, hard. Laughing, he held up his hands in defense, " ma'am, ma'am, I swear I meant ma'am."

Nodding, I hummed, " mhm. You're off the hook this time, Arson."

He merely winked. As he went to work on my toast, I let my eyes drag over his shirtless frame. It was almost unholy, the way fine muscles took it upon themselves to fabricate his figure. Lean yet toned - hell yes. As he prepared - not made, prepared - toast for me, I walked up behind him and allowed myself to fall into his back, arms locking around his waist. I could smell vanilla bean and apples on him, along with the guyish sent of aftershave; in short, he smelled magnificent and i loved it. He smiled, arching a brow at my questionable behavior, " You sure you're okay, Angel?"

" wondrous." I replied, forehead against his spine. He was warm when I was cold, and that alone was something worth living for.

Even with me leeched around him, he grabbed a yellow paper plate and tossed some generously buttered toast on it, " go sit on the couch."

With a sigh, I stepped backwards and into the couch. It was itchy under my thighs, something I had grown used to. He handed me my plate, along with a glass of orange juice, so I pulled my my legs and used my lap as a makeshift table. He had already eaten, heading to the room to get dressed. I stopped him, " Arson."

He turned, leaning somewhat on the wall as he did. I motioned with my hand for him to step away from it. He did, and I gave him one last one-over, " okay, you're free to go."

He smiled, dashing and crooked, before shaking his head and chuckling softly. When I finished, I threw away my plate and washed my hands, switching out with Nick to get changed. His 'renegades' t-shirt knew what it was doing on his frame, along with his black jeans and naturally untied boots. I noted the missing batman beanie.

Changing into a crop top with thick straps and a white x that had flowers in it, I topped it off with some light blue shorts before slipping on my converse and pulling my hair back in an awkward ponytail/bun, walking through the cabin and falling into the passenger seat. I flipped down the sun visor, opened the front compartment and grabbed my mascara, making my already dark eyelashes darker.

Nick in the driver's side, batman beanie on my head, I was suddenly reminded of when we were driving down that road the first time. I could remember the gut twisting hatred I thought I had developed toward Nick, along with the way it so easily gave to liking. That time with Arson, all of it, was needed. Without it, I wouldn't have realized how much I needed him, nor how much he needed me. Without the van, or the trip, or my grandma, he'd still have those holes in his chest where organs were supposed to be, but people had taken them away. I was giving those back, and whatever organs were missing from me were coming back too. Suddenly, I reached my hand across the console. I needed to touch him, to know that he needed me just as much as I needed him.

His hand met mine halfway.

My eyes glided over to him, revealing his smile that I had grown so close to. It was the tilt, definitely. The way one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other added glorious character to his face that I couldn't see him without. It wasn't natural without that smile. It wasn't Nick.

His thumb mindlessly drew circles on my skin, leaving warm tingles in it's wake. His other hand drummed against the wheel, going off to some song on the radio. I didn't pay attention to it; my eyes kept drifting to Nick in the rearview mirror, like I was afraid he would vanish if i didn't keep my eyes on him long enough.

We were so close to home, it felt like he was getting more transparent with each mile. It wasn't like we were growing apart; we were still right next to each other, so close I could practically feel the musical energy waving off of him. It was a different kind of disappearance, like my head was willing it to happen. I wasn't use to change, therefor my brain was somehow kicking in and telling me that when I got home everything would go back to usual and I would be a neighbor to Nick, not a cuddle buddy, not a girlfriend - not anything. I so greatly cherished being a something to Nick, that the idea of becoming nothing to him made my chest clench to a center point.

While all these thoughts went through my head, he sat next to me, blissfully unaware. The worries I was experiencing didn't seem to effect him; he continued drawing little circles on my skin and beating his digits to a song I wasn't listening to. The morning sun was bright in our windows but even that felt dim, because everything was starting to feel dark. An emotional pair of sunglasses.

In my head was a little war, and it was saying 'panic'. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I was going to lose Nick the second I walked out of that van and into my house. On the flip side, I couldn't tell him, because then all my words would be sitting in the air and he would be thinking about the same things, meaning that he would start believing the same thing. If that happened, I would lose him for sure. My final decision: to sit, and to not share my opinion. I couldn't risk it.

Nick looked over at me, spontaneously asking, " what is music to you?"

" eyes on the road." I first said, not letting go of his hand. Not that he tried to pull away. If anything, he held on tighter. I added, " sound. It's definitely sound."

" Angel, I'm being serious."

" that's a deep question."

" it's an honest question."

" why are you asking?" I retorted, eyebrows pulling together slightly. It was such a random topic to bring up. I realized that Nick was a random and spur-of-the-moment person, but this felt so out of place in such a placed moment.

He shrugged, " I don't know, I'm curious."

" what's music to you?" I asked, even though I had a partial understanding of the answer. He'd always given me insights to his personal self, wasn't afraid of hiding anything from me.

" ladies first."

" age before beauty."

" uh-" He paused, then nodded, " well played."

" okay, now tell me."

He tilted his head slightly, watching the road intently as he thought about it, " Music's almost everything to me. I know it's not a solid foundation for a good career, but it's helped me through so much, it feels bad to not pursue it."

" Arson, you're good enough to get into Julliard. If anyone can get a solid career in music, it's you." I didn't want him to not believe in himself. The talent behind his fingers, his voice, his mind, was to raw and passionate to let go to waste. Giving that up would be like dropping off a cliff, into ravenous ocean waves.

He smiled, " thanks Angel, but it takes more than one opinion to get somewhere."

I huffed, " sure it doesn't. and I know what I'm talking about, so." I stuck my tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head at my child antics. His eyebrows raised, and I realized he was waiting for my answer. Sighing, I collapsed back into my chair, allowing my mind to reel over the question. I had never really thought about what music was to me, if it was anything. It was sound, yes, but it was sound with foundation. It was multiple sounds, all glued together to make emotion and soul. That was music in general. What was it to me? I looked up at Nick, and said very clearly, " it's you."

That had thrown him off balance, but in all the right ways.

The circles turned into slightly anxious triangles, like he was trying to make sense of what I said. Finally, he managed, " alright, I'll bite. what?"

I smiled, amused by his curious and slightly worried expression. His response was priceless, honestly, real. I liked real. Nick never showed me anything but, and that was such a promising aspect that it made me want to hold him and melt my skin to his. I wondered if he felt the same, " I like music, sure, and I've found songs I connect with, but not like you, not that I know of. Whenever I think of music now, it all can find a way back to you. The tones, the beats, that's all you, inside and out. and honestly, I love it. You're so into the sound, you feel it, and I'm slightly jealous. But at the same time, I'm amazed. You're the music when you listen to the radio. I can't really describe it, but even if you aren't really paying attention, you always move to the beat. Every single time."

I had this mental picture of him rolling around - sort of like a cat? - in a flower field of everything I had just said. It was disjointed, and awkward, but every single syllable had meaning, even if I couldn't get it out quite right. Finally, one of his adorable, handsome grins lit up his face. It didn't show teeth or anything, and it was like it was beaming with admiration, but it showed complete, undivided, happiness. His hand squeezed mine once, and I squeezed back. That felt like a moment, something I would remember for nearly ever.

And like all the rest of his questions, randomly, he asked, " what about sharing music, what are your views on that?"

" Okay, let me hear your opinion first so then I get what you're talking about." I reasoned, seeing as it was a bit early for my brain to kick out of it's 'you might lose Nick' mood and into, 'you're talking to Nick stop thinking about it' mood.

Nick nodded, " alright." He slowed down, pulling up to a red light. It was odd, there wasn't any reason for that particular red light. It was like it was there just for Nick to pause and talk, " a lot of people seem to have this thing with sharing music, where they don't want to because it's personal you know, it's theirs. and I guess I'm fine with that, but when I ask someone for some song suggestions, it seems weird for them to always turn me down. It's like, a: you don't have any songs that are just for enjoyment over emotion? and b: you're a good friend of mine and you can't trust me with this music?" He talked vividly about music, all his words in color. I could practically see the interest in his expression as he talked, the faintly pulled together eyebrows, the timed blinks, the mouth set that went from frowning to smiling, to a straight line all in instances, " and I guess I don't get it? I've never worried about sharing the music I listen to. It's published anyway, they can find it without my help if they really wanted to. And on top of that, it's not like what's in the song is going to be shared unless I really want it to. Most people will be busy finding something of themselves in it rather than look for what you got out of it." He sighed, " sorry. I ranted."

" You're passionate about it, that's fine. actually, that's awesome." I said, like it was obvious, " I guess it just depends on the person. Some people relate to the music on a really personal level and might not be comfortable with sharing that. It's for them to heal, not for everyone. If someone else finds it, then they found it. But giving it to them is like giving that piece of you away that you worked so hard to find. I don't know, I don't really care. If you want to know what I listen to, ask."

" I just... I relate through music. I can speak through it, and I don't care if people hear my voice. If anything, I want them to. It's fucking music, there's no way I could be selfish about something I'm so intensely attached to." He started forward, the light turning green, " I'd feel like a horrible person, like i was taking away something from someone, who could've been a part of something great. does that make sense?"

I nodded, because I understood. Nick had always been a giver, whether he liked it or not, " it's you Nick. and you aren't selfish, or afraid, or judgemental. You're honest, and you're a people person. When it's music, it's you, and you want to be shared, and like sharing."

He nodded. Curiously, I asked, " where'd this come from?"

" I don't really know, it's just one of those things I start to think about and suddenly a debate hits me." He shrugged, simply.

I liked the fact that I had that insight to his head, that he was so open with his thoughts with me. I shifted in my seat, saying, " Music is whatever people want it to be. If they want it to be theirs, even for a brief while, then I guess that's okay. I'm not going to take something from someone if they don't want it gone."

" Yeah, I guess. and people are entitled to their decision. but it's like a form of communication for me. If I can't figure out what to say, There's a song to describe it. Why wouldn't I want that shared?" He replied, proving a solid point. It wasn't that he held these close, but far away. Everyone was open to his music choice because it was a world thing to him. He saw its power, and he wanted it to spread.

" You do want it shared, which is good... for you. Some people need that time though, for them. It's therapy without paying for it." I leaned so my back was nearly touching his shoulder, crumpling myself up in the seat as I struggled to get comfortable, " Here, we'll make playlists for each other, and in those playlists we'll put songs that mean something to us. We'll try to figure out what it is, and come back to each other and see if anything changes. an experiment."

He took a left, " alright, you're on."

So I took my hand from his, even though we both seemed reluctant to let go, and broke out my phone. Shoving in one headphone, I started a new note and let my songs play through. If I was going to write a playlist, i was going to put songs that knew me to the core, songs with lyrics so good they made goosebumps trail my bones.

Nick, I could see, had turned off the radio and was drumming new beats on the wheel. In his head, a list was forming too. That felt like a good way to end the road trip, like all the lose ends might be tied up by a couple of songs.

The silence was broken when he asked, " do that have to be important to us today, or just songs that have effected us throughout our life?"

" songs that have effected us throughout our life." I said, a bit soft as I listened to the melodies bleeding through my earbud.

He didn't reply, though I'm sure his list was changing a bit at that thought. Maybe lengthening? Maybe even shortening.

—-

" Nick!"

" Angel!"

I giggled - sue me - at his matching excitement. I tossed my phone onto the car floor and turned to face him, clapping my hands together as I went. He raised both eyebrows, before dropping it to just one. Wide, stupid smile on my face, I said, " Okay, so I'm making your list right? and I had this thought. what if we made this a thing? so like we never fallout okay? I mean, what if we get to that point where we're just friends but we might even lose that, or where we're fighting or something? We just send each other a list, without warning."

" Okay, I'm completely down with that idea, but why would be fight or stop being friends even? Is this a sign? should I be worried?" his expression turned skeptical, as he filtered through the possibilities of us having some sort of quarrel that would break us up.

" hell Arson, I don't know. It's just an idea. anyways, each list will have a different theme. and maybe we can't spontaneously send each other happy lists too." I said, nearly bouncing in my seat. The idea felt revolutionary; I could feel it in my blood. Music was healing, yes? So why couldn't it meant the cracks in a relationship, or solidify them further? Bingo: it could. Marriages could be saved with that idea. Around that time I thought about becoming a councilor, though I knew I would suck at it seeing as I generally hated people.

Nicholas tilted his head, as if milling over it all, " you, Angel, are a genius."

I smiled, " I know."

Then I unbuckled, climbing into the back to search for a lunch. Seeing as A: I was hungry and B: I wasn't ready to be home yet, I poked Nick's shoulder and bothered him until he agreed to pull over and make me food. anything would work at that point, as long as it was warm and consumable.

he ended up making us some hot dogs, which I instantly thought was his way of seeing how big of bites I could take. That seemed like a silly plan, seeing as the biting part wasn't all that enjoyable. Never the less, i figured out that I ate my hot dogs faster than him - just kidding, I only had one hot dog and so did he - and that even after I finished, I was able to down a glass of milk and return my book to my suitcase before he was finished picking at the bun and the dog itself. He was such a slow, precise eater. In a way, it was attractive. I liked how his cheek didn't stick out and the way his jaw moved. Everything about it was mesmerizing, though I'm not sure he liked being stared at while he ate. He didn't show any signs of not liking it.

We didn't talk much as we ate, most likely because our mouths were full of food. Never the less, it felt too quiet. The conversations from earlier had died out, and Nick had fallen into a sort of silent reverie. I could see it in the smokey grey of his eyes: thoughts. Whatever he was thinking about, he wasn't sharing. I somewhat felt rude for wanting to know; I somewhat felt dejected for not knowing.

" you okay?" I asked, fingers overlapping on my knee.

He looked up, a bit startled, " hm? oh, yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

" about?" I tried, forcing my voice to sound light but somewhat curious. In truth, I was dying to know what was pushing around his beautiful mind.

He smiled, " honestly..."

" honesty is key." I said, inching closer.

" um... the list... us." He said, " I just... I don't want us to fallout. You're one of the best things that's happened to me."

" one of?" I said, teasingly, though I knew he meant well.

This earned me an even bigger smile, " yeah, I have a few other great things."

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pressed a kiss to his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, " thank you. You're pretty great too, by the way."