"Alright, Thatcher, pass out the Fruit Crush." Birdie smirked at the boy from where she stood at the trunk of the car. She handed him the six pack then proceeded to grab out a stack of paper and a few pens.

With her head tilted to the side, Alaska glanced at Birdie curiously. "You have a pen pal you need to urgently contact?"

They were nestled under the shade of a towering oak tree, the only source of light being a street lamp. Said burst of light was a yellow glow parading over them, giving the vibrant night a hazy shine. The vague illumination stared over the side of the road, drawing the eyes to what lived below.

The skyline.

The buildings were bewitching, all settled into the ground, staring into the sky just as she did. The night filled the space between them, outlining them in a way which only made the window lights more stark. The howling wind whistled deep within the wood, and Alaska wondered if the people in those buildings could hear it as well.

The skyline was proud, a marvelous entity capturing Alderwood's population. Alaska wasn't a stranger to the ravishing wiles of a city at night, scantily clad in shimmers of life. No stranger to the shadows hugging every curve of the omnipotent sonder every road dawned. It was smaller than New York, an altar compared to a church, but breathtaking just the same.

Alaska turned a rosy cheek from the view, having a feeling there'd be plenty of time to stare.

"No, no," Birdie replied curtly. Sweetly smiling, she held up one of the pens, and gently tapped it to the stack of paper. "We're going to make paper planes," she explained, an edge of enthusiasm instilled within her soft amber tone. Her ambrosial vanilla and peach perfume prompted images of Georgia's sunlit orchards in Alaska's head.

"Are you gonna throw them at my head again?" Alaska teased, internally savoring the little wave of scent Birdie exuded. It differed from Alaska's aroma, which consisted of warm cinnamon plumes and salt. Faint twinges of cigarette smoke combed through her hair like the fingers of a lover she knew was no good for her. She rubbed the back of her head as sarcastic glum peppered her lips. "I swear I have a paper cut now."

Thatcher snorted, tossing Alaska a can of the blue beverage. "Were you like this before, or has my flair for dramatics worn off on you?" He smirked, glancing over Alaska with roaming eyes. Thatcher had that type of gaze, once which wandered until following it felt like chasing clouds. He had a woody smell, and maybe some sort of clove like spice to boot.

Birdie placed a hand on Alaska's shoulder, suddenly surged with a serious expression. "Alaska, I need you to promise me you won't end up being like Thatcher," she slowly enunciated every word, making Alaska raise a brow. "I can't deal with another one of him, please, Alaska." Birdie shook her shoulder, her voice raising an octave as she jokingly begged Alaska.

"Boo," Thatcher grumbled, snapping a thin twig from the oak tree and promptly tossing it in Birdie's hair.

Birdie swiftly glanced back, lashes fluttering in the haste. "You see what I have to deal with?" She complained. "I can't even count the amount of times i've had to apologize on his behalf-"

"Three! It's only been three times," he groaned. He rose his hand, holding three fingers down to begin to count on them. "Dyeing Mr. Arnold's dog blue, calling a teacher stupid, and accidentally stealing some sunglasses."

"How did you accidentally steal sunglasses?" Alaska questioned, eyes narrowed in amusement. "That sounds like something the delinquent kids at my old school would say," she smirked.

"Were you one of the kids who would say that?" He quipped back.

"No," Alaska shrugged, raising her chin as mischief scrawled itself onto her lips. "I never got caught," she knit her brows together, absentmindedly glancing to the side and then back. "Obviously you weren't covert enough if you got caught, I could gives you some tips," she added. "Really show you the ways of being a dirtbag," she nodded eagerly. "You have quite the promising start, already."

"Dear god, who raised you two?"

Alaska and Thatcher's next words melded into one sentence. At once, their two voices said 'she's dead' and 'he's dead' respectively.

Birdie sarcastically made the cross sign over her head, and shoulders with an eye roll. "Hell, you are both going to hell," she assured, only for the words to have an undesired effect. Their laughter boomed over the otherwise quiet night, blaring over the winds until they were quiet as a whisper.

"Can't wait to see my mom there," Alaska whispered through breathless beats of laughter. Hey, what better coping mechanism was there than humor? Thatcher bent over slightly, taking in some air before wheezing once again. Birdie stood before them, mouth agape in disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head over and over while waiting for them to get a grip.

Birdie pinched the bridge of her nose, though the ghostly smile touching her mouth could be just seen under her veil is disappointment. Thatcher stood up straight again and ran a hand over his now scarlet face.

"You don't have a dead parent and it shows," he mumbled, wiping his misty eyes with his jacket sleeve. Alaska collected herself as well, knowing when she got home she'd be focused on the flurry of emotions that tonight had been.

The other girl clapped her hands together, garnering the attention of her friends. Haughtily clearing her throat, she nodded her head to the car. "Alaska, if you're done being a menace, would you grab the blanket in the passenger's seat and lay it out for us?"

"Yes, ma'm," Alaska replied then got to what Birdie asked her to do. She laid out the blanket in front of the car, where they'd be bathed in the street lamp but still have a nice view of the town. It wasn't long until they were seated, Fruit Crush in hand, legs criss crossed on top of the tightly knit blanket.

The energy billowing around them was the same feeling as sunspots blinding your vision. Warmth ebbed across Alaska's head, leeching the cold from her hands and heating up her cheeks. It was like the fireflies had left traces of their brilliant hue behind for the kids the grab ahold of and pass on like a torch. The radiant sparks of elusive serotonin flowed through their veins, lighting them up from within.

The positive emotions illuminating Alaska were not instead of darkness, but riveting around it in a way that made the moment even sweeter. It would fade, just like how it did when they passed the tape blocking off the broken safety rail, but at least she got a taste.

Birdie ruffled the papers, picking the edges apart until she gathered three sheets to hand out. "Before we make the paper into planes, we're going to write out what we want to happen this year." She offered Thatcher and Alaska a pen, all of which were in brightly colored ink. Alaska chose a dark orange while Thatcher gravitated to green. "Excellent choices," Birdie approved, taking a purple for herself.

"We're writing like, resolutions then?" Alaska asked. Truth be told, what they were doing struck her as a bit peculiar. Paper planes seemed such a novelty, one she hadn't expected to return after the incident at school. It wasn't like she had anything better to do though, and who was she to judge anyway?

Birdie hummed ponderously. "Yes and no," she began. "It's more about... getting things off your chest in the name of catharsis. For example, one of the things I write is gonna be telling my mom I don't want to go to the same college she went to."

"Louise is gonna hate that," Thatcher muttered under his breath.

Birdie mirrored his twig tossing from earlier, but instead used a pen. He shot her a glare while pointedly rubbing the place the pen had hit on his head. "Anyway," she clicked her tongue to her teeth. "Maybe a good one for you would be to quit smoking," Birdie quietly suggested, trailing off near her sentence end with an expectant look.

Alaska ran her tongue against her teeth, scoffing to herself in good fun. "Maybe," she relented. Birdie gave a sugary smile in return.

Thatcher raised his can of Fruit Crush to the middle of them, offering a toast. Alaska flicked the top of her's, before clinking it into Birdie and Thatcher's can. "Let's begin, shall we ladies?" Thatcher was the first to take a sip of his poisonously blue drink.

Alaska and Birdie both followed suit, with partial regret in Alaska's side. The soda all but stung her tongue in it's kicking carbonation, and the taste was a concoction of zesty fruit and overzealous sugar. "That is potent." Still, she couldn't help but take another sip to try and pin point exactly what the flavor was.

Alaska picked up her sheet of paper and blankly gazed upon it for a second. The pen sent a cold jolt through her fingertips, to which she began to twirl it through her fingers. There were plenty of things Alaska could have written down, so why did they evade her now? Perhaps there was a piece of her holding her back like a noose, reminding her she had wanted to quit instead of being better.

It was suffocating, all the things she wanted to happen but didn't have the will to continue. The sound of Birdie and Thatcher beginning to write crawled into her ears, pressuring her to just start putting something down. As a copout, Alaska put pen to paper and scribbled down 'quit smoking' as Birdie has suggested.

Alaska was a rolodex of broken passions and dismantled hopes. The years had robbed her of a childhood, and with it they had stolen the mirth she found in cherished things. In the few fleeting days of youth she'd experience her hands had been crafted for prancing along piano keys. The beat up instrument her mom had bought her took up so many of those days and taught her many valuable lessons. And she'd repaid the wisdom gained by wasting her talent on waitressing, and drinking when the day ended.

Then there was poetry. The muses had called upon Alaska's old soul, enticing the creativity in her only to be burned by bad choices. The journals upon journals of leather bound poems turned to dust for how long they sat stale on her bookshelves. She wondered where they were now, if her mother had trashed them in a particularly strong fit of rage, or burned them or given them to a thrift store or something.

Hesitantly, Alaska wrote another line beneath the other. Revisit old passions. It read, in her classically horrible hand writing.

She wasn't without the thought that this would all be for not in the end. Cynicism and realism were two sides of the same coin, ideas going hand in hand even if people didn't wish to admit it. So, when faced by these bitters foes Alaska had to wonder...

Would she even make it to the end of the year?

Get happier.

Whatever that meant. It was the final thing Alaska added to the short list after a minute's worth of contemplation on the last one alone. She read over the few words she'd written, twice for them to cement in her mind so they didn't become just another loose screw in her junk drawer head.

•Quit smoking.
•Revisit old passions.
•Get happy.

Easer said than done in Alaska's humble opinion.

She hadn't noticed before that Birdie completed her list first. In silence their eyes briefly met, colliding into one another like the edge of a evergreen forest faced with a honey eyed doe. Alaska smiled somewhat lazily, thinking about how easy it would be to fall into Birdie's soothing gaze and never return. Her eyes were unassuming in color but boy were they captivatingly chalked full of life.

Birdie returned the gesture and held up her paper so Alaska could see the side without writing. "Do you know how to fold it into a plane?" She whispered so they didn't disturb Thatcher who hadn't completed his list yet.

"Oh," Alaska nodded down at her list and chuckled almost inaudibly. "Yeah, I think so," she whispered back. If her Kindergarten art class taught her anything, it would how to fold a paper plane and also how to draw in the lines. Birdie gave a thumbs up before intently focusing on folding the wings of her plane.

Alaska did the same, and eventually Thatcher finished writing and got to folding. "What now?" Alaska asked when they were all done.

"Now they fly." Birdie popped up, broadly grinning and facing the skyline. Thatcher got up to stand beside her, but Alaska waited just half a second to join them.

There was something remarkable about the picturesque display in front of her. The skyline framed their bodies, intertwining them with the city. Their hair swirled around their heads, skirting their faces in neat loops. The backdrop embraced them, letting them meld with it's beauty like a painting hung in a museum.

She pushed herself up from the ground, smiling as she did. "Took you long enough," Thatcher stepped aside to allow room for Alaska to stand between himself and Birdie.

"Well, who wants to go first?" Birdie questioned, letting her gaze trail over to Thatcher's handsome brow. She nodded at his plane, that was a little crumpled in comparison to the other two. A smile pulled her lips like a kid pulling on it's parents sleeves, dashed in charming innocence.

Thatcher perched one hand on his lip, lightly scoffing. "I thought it was supposed to be best for last," he answered, stricken with a humorous sense of betrayal. He straightened the cuffs of his jacket, mumbling something to himself that Alaska didn't catch. "Alright," he nodded, facing the horizon with a glint in his eyes.

Alaska watched him raise his plane and then watched him release it into the night. Birdie tapped Alaska's hand in a dire way, excitedly throwing her own and waiting for Alaska to do the same. She hurried as Birdie insinuated she needed to.

The moment felt slower than Alaska knew it was. Carefully, she placed her hand out with the paper balanced between her fingertips. The edges caught onto her skin, slicing a cut as she propelled the little aircraft out and into freedom.

The three planes soared, dipping around each other and sailing past the trees on their way to the ground. The town's scape adorned the image, distorting the planes so they seemed bigger on their descent. Alaska put her hands on the back of her head, observing how they coasted despite their humble appearances.

They were dripping in the lights, dawned in the same shadows and contrasts of the city night. It must have been exhilarating to be them, to see they view they did.

They were paper planes along the skyline.

~what aesthetics would the characters have?~

Hello lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the call out to the title of the story!! I had a great time writing this one, and i hope you had a great time reading it! If you did, please tell me in the comments and consider giving this chapter a vote! Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!