The 1975 Runaway

Grace Forsyth, eighteen years old, abused. Abused by her boyfriend and people at school. Grace's life seemed to be going further and further into a spiral of despair, until one night she packs up everything and runs away. Walking along a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, Grace is stopped by a red Volkswagen type 2. And she can't believe it to be The 1975.

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3. The Volkswagen Type 2

Grace's POV

Now I was walking aimlessly on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. I was just waiting for the moment when an axe murderer was going to jump out and hack me to death. I knew it was dangerous walking alone in these kind of places, but I felt brave.

The road, which was just gravel and stones based on a bumpy piece of shit that someone obviously thought was a decent road, was completely dead. All that surrounded me as I walked pressed against the edge of the road, were fields. Just fields and barbed wire fences and the occasional cow or sheep.

A car passed, I think it was red but it was so dark I could barely tell, I was just lucky enough that I was staying in a straight line, or I would have walked right into some barbed wire. 

I put my finger out as the car passed, I was becoming tired and felt like chancing my luck. But of course they didn't stop. Who stops to pick up someone walking alone in the dark on a deserted road? They obviously had more sense than I did.

Another car passed, too quick for me to put my hand out so I just let it slide. There had too be someone who would take pity on me.

Seeing as no one would mind if I smoked, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Holy shit it was amazing. I inhaled the smoke fumes so slowly that I never wanted it to end. It calmed me completely. And I went on walking with no problem.

I heard another car approach before it even came close. It was blaring out music that was just too muffled to make out. I turned around and stuck my finger out, clearly. It was some sort of van, a hippie looking van.

It was a Volkswagen Type 2, one that you would expect the Beatles to drive. It was green, with white situated here and there.

And finally, it started to slow down as it approached me. I looked at my phone, it was three in the morning. The van rolled towards me, and the door slid open. The smell of cigarette smoke hit me straight away, but of course it could have just been my burning cigarette.

"What are you doing on the road's at this time?" a noticeable voice said.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I couldn't reply. I noticed that face, that recognisable gorgeous face. No fucking way. It was Matt Healy.

Matty Healy from The 1975 was sitting behind the opened door, a cigarette dangling from his lips. And there was Adam, and there was George, and there was Ross. Well, Adam was driving but still they were all there.

"I'm...." I said. "You're The 1975."

Matty smiled, that beautiful smile that made my heart fall into a million tiny pieces. "Yeah, and you?"

"I'm... I'm..." I forgot my own name. "I'm Grace."

"Well hello Grace," Matty said.

"Why are you on the road? Now?" George leaned towards me. "You know there are crazy people around."

I nodded. "I sort of... ran away."

Matty looked at George. "Interesting. Where are you going?"

I shrugged. "Well, we have room, if you want?" Matty said.

Of course I went. Who wouldn't go with them? I flicked my cigarette to the floor before coming through the doors and I sat on the ground in the back of the van. It was really interesting, like they had carved out everything except from the part where you drive and just left it. There were blankets and pillows and various bottles of alcohol and cigarettes and packets and whatnot just lying around.

"So... why are you guys here? I thought you were meant to be in like... Singapore?" I asked.

"Well, we did a show, then we just drove. I think our managers a bit pissed. But you know, we're a bit pissed too," George said.

"And by pissed, he means drunk," Matty laughed.

I laughed too. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke out of an open window. Wow. That was probably the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life.

"Is Adam drunk?" I asked, looking through to the driving seat.

"God no," Ross piped up. "We want to have fun, not die."

I talked with them for a while, about the famous life and everything, until I eventually got them to put on one of their songs. After a controversy about which song to pick, we eventually agreed on Settle Down. 

Matty looked embarrassed when he sung, I reassured him that he had a great voice. He said he knew, and winked. 

"You drink?" George said over the music, passing me a bottle of god knows what. "How old are you anyway?"

"I do," I replied. "And I'm eighteen."

Matty pursed his lip and nodded. "Legal then. You smoke?"

I nodded. "Occasionally."

"Are you not going to get in trouble for this?" George asked.

"They won't know yet, and by the time they find out I will be long gone."

We continued drinking, singing, smoking and laughing for a while. "Can I borrow a lighter?" Matty asked me. I passed him one, and cringed as he read the writing. "Oh my God," he laughed. "Do they actually sell these?"

I nodded. "Holy shit, that's so cool," he said, lighting a cigarette. 

I pulled out one too, lit it, and soon we were both smoking. I smoked with Matty Healy. 

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