stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 48

Zayn

It seems like everyone likes her. How could they not? It's Charlie we're talking about. She's so good with strangers, so easy talking to people. I envy it. I've never been a people person.

She's been so adorably curious about everything, and I can honestly say I've never felt happier on tour than having her by my side. It's only been hours, but I feel so much more at ease knowing she's here in the same city and that I can look over at her any time I want.

Once sound check is over we head to the hotel I always stay at in Vancouver. Its presidential suite is actually one of my favorite rooms to stay at on tour, with views of the city and the water and the greenery.

Charlie looks impressed, and I offer to order room service after she's fascinated by the views and the way the bathrooms have TVs in the mirror and the massive theater set up in the main room.

"You could have a nap," I offer, noting the way her eyes have been drooping since she plopped down on the couch.

"No, no, let's go to your Indian place," she says. "Let me just grab my jacket."

"Charlie," I catch her hand before she can get too far away, gently pulling her back by her fingertips.

"Yeah?" she asks, blue eyes blinking up at me.

"Thank you, for being here. For doing this."

I mean it. I don't really know how to put into words how much it means to me.

"Malik, you brought me along while you're on a massive tour and I get to stay in places like this and watch you perform every night. I should be thanking you," she smiles and it touches her tired eyes and I push a kiss into her forehead.

"You make it feel like home, on the road. Like, I usually dread this part, the empty spaces between performing and getting to the next location. It's always so lonely. But this has been... this has been my best day on tour ever. So thank you." I smile wide, and I feel like it's all I've been doing but I don't have control over my face. Having her here feels better than words.

She smiles back and shrugs and I'm learning she never handles grand declarations and talking about feelings very well, so I don't mind when she kisses my lips and brushes me of with, "if you really want to thank me you'll take me to get some dinner."

I laugh and let her go grab her jacket, standing dumbly waiting for her to reemerge and trying not to feel so pathetic in her absence.

When she comes back we're matching again, both in leather jackets and black pants but she has my purple sweater on underneath and I'm wearing the flannel she wore the night before. I have plenty of other options but it smells like her and I want to wear it on stage too.

"So how do you do laundry on tour?" she asks, curiously, eyeing the fact that the flannel probably hasn't been washed in about five wears.

"I hand it off probably once a week. Not really sure how it gets done, to be honest," I shrug and hold the hotel room door open for her to pass through.

"Hmm," she says thoughtfully. "And you don't sleep on the bus?"

"Not while you're around." I edge her gently towards the wall of the lift and lean down to kiss her, but it dings and suddenly we're not alone.

I can tell she wants to ask more questions, but now we are sharing the space with an elderly couple so she bites her tongue and runs a hand through her brown hair.

When the lift falls down to the lobby I can spot paparazzi out the glass doors instantly. I give Charlie a heads up and we brave the group and the Vancouver cold, instantly getting shouted at once we pass through the doors.