"Harry, what's going on," he asks groggily. I push some hair out of his face and peck his cheek.

"Just a bit of turbulence babe."

He sighs and closes his eyes. Now I know why he has aerophobia. The sky is slate gray and the plane is shaking. I'm talking jolting movements.

I lurch forward in my seat and his eyes grow wide in terror, his clammy hand grappling for mine.

"Oh my god Harry. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my," he's wheezing. There's a baby crying. Piercing shrieks that make my ears ring. "We're going to die. This is how we'll die, w-we," he chokes on a sob. His words are caught in this throat and I want to assure him but the flight attendant can't cover the panic in her voice and there are shouts on the intercom.

So much for staying calm in case of an emergency.

"It's okay. It's okay," I exhale.

Everything stabilizes. My mind stops spinning. Zayn squeezes my hand one more time, his knuckles white.

"Harry," he bites down on his lip so hard he draws blood. Tears stain his cheeks. "This whole trip was a disaster. I'm so sorry. I'm so-"

I cup his cheeks and kiss him gently, the rain pelting, droplets violently plunging all around us. Traveling from such great heights to collide with unforgiving pavement, strikes of lightning illuminating the sky.

Everything with Zayn has been turbulent. I've been struggling to catch my breath for weeks now.

The silence in the plane strikes me to my core. It was so loud just a moment ago. Now I can hear my heart thudding and Zayn sniffling and I want to scream at the top of my lungs. It's pouring inside my heart now. The tip of my finger collects Zayn's tears and the rain doesn't let up.

My head is pounding and I can't hear my own thoughts over that steady thud thud thud. It strums like a drum, the beat constant, my pulse in my throat.

Now my mind is wandering back to thoughts of Zayn's bed. Crumpled sheets and creased pillows and his arms around me.

I know Mason has been under those sheets, his body entangled with Zayn's and I want to throw up.

Pounding, pounding, my stomach churning. I force my eyelids closed and clamp my hand over my mouth. I can't. Not here. Not now.

I'm starting to hate planes as much as Zayn.

He should feel like home. I should be giddy with excitement.

On the inside I'm screaming at him. He won't listen to me.

Can he hear me?

Zayn. Zayn, I plead. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me dammit!

I still can't muster any breath, words won't fall from from my mouth. Syllables won't slip past my lips, glide off my tongue. I'm so scared he still wouldn't listen.

Listen to me explain my fears.

He was afraid of flying. Of flying and falling.

I am too. Because I've been falling since I first laid eyes on him.

And eventually I'm going to crash. We're both crashing. We're going to...

A nose dive, the plane dipping and the roar of people talking and shouts deafening again.

My heart is hollow. It's empty, the silence echoing inside my ribcage, ricocheting off my bones.

"Just kill me now," Zayn mutters. "Just let me die here. Let me die now with Harry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

My stomach tightens; clenches up like an angry fist. This is more than a bad trip. This is more than a failed vacation and a rough flight. He is blinking back more tears.

"Or just spare Harry. Just let him live. He's so young. God please."

There's a hurricane in my heart, everything I've ever felt whirling around like debris, puncturing my heart.

"I lied. I lied. I lied," he gasps. "Kill me," he screams.

People don't notice his irrational behavior. Arms are flailing and luggage is sliding in the overhead compartments and that baby won't stop crying.

He cups his hands over his ears and I look around for a barf bag. My head is throbbing. Someone is hammering it. Pounding as hard as they can and my heartbeat is erratic again. So rapid I fear it will stop.

"I knew," he trembles. His voice is unsteady. It doesn't even sound like him.

And my heart is unsteady. The plane is unsteady.

Tumultuous.

I keep praying a window will shatter. That glass will slice my heart. That the plane will suddenly drop from the sky. That we'll crash and the whole thing will go up in flames.

Wait, no.

Nobody else needs to die.

Just me. Just me. A sudden death. Anything is better than the slow death I'm enduring now. I'm bleeding out.

"I hate myself," he lets out a strangled sob. "I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself for lying. I didn't think he was serious. I thought he was lying."

I'm torn. I can't walk away. He needs me. He loves me. I can't be like Mason. I can't just leave him.

But I can't stay either. I can't torture myself this way.

The warmth of his skin and those silken sheets and the softness of his lips and hushed poetry in the dark of night.

And bitter lies. Like swallowing a putrid pill.

Pills. Sedatives. And scars.

"Don't hate me. You're all I have. She's dying Harry."

"What," I reply breathlessly.

"My mum. The cancer came back with a vengeance. She has two months tops. She...god Harry, why not me? Why her? Why? It's so unfair."

"No," I murmur.

And I swear in that moment we do fall from the sky. We fall from such great heights. He clings to me the way his tears cling to his lashes.

"I'm not afraid of dying Harry."

"Don't say that Zayn. Please."

"I can't do this anymore. I can't," he stammers.

We stagger forward once more, my head whipping back against the seat. My eyes snap closed. I'm trying to steady my breathing.

And again, the plane rattles, my head hitting the window. I want it all to subside. I just want to land. I want this to end.

I've made up my mind. I'm not leaving Zayn.

I'm not.

The impact of my head knocking against the window shocks me, pain shooting through my body, my vision going black.