He wanted to move, to get out of the stuffy London city and go somewhere where only she knew his name. He wanted her to be happier and less anxious. He missed her smile because it was the closest thing to heaven that he'd ever get to see or love.
She was scared, scared of moving and scared of leaving and scared of everything, really. She knew that he would take care of her, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him to because he deserved much more than the basket case that she couldn't help but be.
He understood why she was hesitant and he understood that he couldn't push her to do anything.
She agreed after a few months, knowing that it would probably best for the both of them. Zayn would be happy and so would she, eventually, and she just had to stop being so afraid.
He was elated when she mumbled it sleepily against his skin, which wasn't unusual because he loved her warm breath and her silky voice. He asked her about it the next morning and she told him that she meant it, so two days later they were packed up and moving to Paris, France.
They decided to rent an apartment, because apparently you can just do that here, for a week and see if they liked it or not. He told her that they wouldn't stay anywhere that she didn't absolutely love and she hated the idea of having a decision like that to make.
"Caroline, say something," Zayn said as they lay their suitcases down on the shag carpet.
She couldn't formulate a sentence wonderful enough to explain how much she loved it already. A big window showcased the outside world and the floral wallpaper made the room look like it was from 1970 and he looked so right standing in the middle of it all and she wasn't afraid of a new place anymore.
"It's perfect," she whispered and he raced to her, wrapping his strong arms around her weak and shaky frame.
He stroked her hair and reminded her how much he loved her, and she just breathed him in. He smelled like home, lemon laundry detergent and nictotine, and she knew that everything was going to be okay just because he was with her. He would never allow things to be anything less than okay.
He loved her so much and he was so glad that she liked the apartment because he liked it too. She looked so gorgeous with her hair all messy after travelling and her cheeks seem to light up everytime she glanced around the tiny apartment.
That night they went out and strolled around the streets, looking in shop windows and marvelling at how bright everything was even after dark. He couldn't help but notice how tense Caroline was underneath his arm and how she didn't want him to stray too far away from her even if it was just to pick a flower or point out a cool piece of graffiti.
She hated that she was too worried to let him go away from her. She felt anxious when he wasn't holding her hand and she felt vulnerable when he didn't have his leather covered arm hanging across her shoulders.
"It's okay, babe. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered in her ear and she felt safer than she had before.
French locals spoke out to the couple and he had to answer because she didn't know the language and she was scared of talking to strangers. It was only a plus that the language of love sounded so perfect spilling from his lips without effort.
She still felt strange, but for the first time in a while, she figured she'd get over it. He knew that she wasn't going to get better in a day or maybe not even in a month, but she would sooner or later. The city would help and he would help and she would be able to go out without being frightened again one day.
