The Heartwarmer

Chapter 8

At night, the whole world around them was quiet. The waves whispered in the distance, the breeze cool and welcomed. The stars and the moon shone only enough for them to feel safe, and wasn't harsh on their eyes. A lonely whale provided the perfect lullaby from deep within the ocean.

And yet, they couldn't sleep. Not at night.

The world around them was silent as a dream, but their minds were loud.

June's head wouldn't let her close her eyes. Thoughts clouded her vision, and made her clench her fists in the hazy, in-between world of half consciousness. She was just angry, inexplicably furious. At who, or what, remained a mystery to her. Her rage found no channel to express itself, and so buried itself deep inside June.

Luke's hamertia was his feeling of loneliness. The glass walls of the city no longer reflected his well - dressed body on his way to work. He didn't have anyone to thank for his meal. He didn't have anyone to show his impeccable manners to; etiquet that took years and years to groom. If no one saw him, did he really exist?

Luke arrived on his island more than a year and a half before June. That half a year was important, because that was when Luke finally learned to live with himself. To tolerate himself, to recognise his flaws, to learn that they were a part of him and couldn't be changed. He almost couldn't live with himself. There was a nice little spot over looking the valley and the ocean beyond that. He figured, the last thing his eyes ever saw might as well be beautiful.

Luke had come a long, long way from that line of thinking. He had taken what seemed like giant steps to make sure he survived. Slowly, he taught himself that living was his only option. He needed to live. Luke chose to come to this island; he chose a life of solitude. He did this to himself. If he couldn't live with his own actions, if he couldn't accept himself as who he was, then he doubted that his life was worth living at all.

Sleeping next to a warm fire, with June on the other side, Luke thought about his crushing need. It was more like a disease, inhibting him from his real life. Luke looked up at the stars. To him, stars were vague, yet the most crisp things in the sky. They were bright, but never shed enough light. Stars were a mystery, and always a discussion for another time. But one thing he felt, was that stars were distant. They were constant in their eternity. They always made him feel alone.

Then he looked at June. She saw the same sky as he did every night. He would kill to know what kind of monsters danced around in her head every time she thought of how alone she was.

Are you scared? Yes.

Are you sad? Not necessarily, no.

Are you desparate? Hell yes.

Are you angry? Are you impatient? Are you weak?

Are you lonely?

Luke could only imagine what it must have been like for June. At least Luke had to deal with only himself, which was difficult, but he did it. But in June's case, there was an external force. An emotional whirlwind.

Layla.

Luke pushed aside all thoughts about her. He wasn't allowed to have thoughts about her. He didn't know her. She was dead.

But June was broken now, he could only imagine what she must have been like, five years ago, when her life completely changed.

What was she doing, when the call came? Was she in the kitchen, cooking for two? Was she out buying groceries, not knowing that Layla wouldn't be there to split the bill? Was she safe in her apartment, thinking about what a good life she was leading? Was she hoping that nothing would ever change?

Luke wished that he could go back in time, just to be there for June when no one else was. He thought about what he would say, how he would try to comfort her. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he would give terrible advice in such a serious situation. But still, he couldn't help but wonder how June managed to get back into her life. Luke knew that she was barely held together at best, but at least her stitches hadn't come apart yet.

Then his mind wandered to doubt. What did June think of him? Did she think about him as much as he thought about her? Was June as happy with Luke as he was with her?

Was he enough?

Luke added that to the list of things that didn't matter, because there wasn't any way to find out. It was a long, long list, he realized. He also realized that he was done for, destroyed with a crushing desire to help June. He constantly tried to reimagine situations in normal city life, where June's bad luck caught up with her and Luke just happened to be in the vicinity. He knew that it was highly unhealthy, and down right creepy, but if he could stop, he definitely would.

But he couldn't, so he wouldn't.

At night, sometimes the world would be quiet, and his thoughts would scream. Other times, the waves and the birds and the wind and June's gentle snoring boomed in his ears and annoyed him no end. Either way, he couldn't sleep. And he started dreaming about a certain damsel, but he couldn't tell if she was in distress.

That night, Luke stayed awake until the sun slowly started painting the sky lighter, starting from one corner and lazily stretching out. It was on nights, or rather, days like these that the only thing he missed was a good book in his hands. One he could drown in, and only resurface when he actually understood it, and that could take years. Something to occupy his mind with, something to keep his thoughts sharp. He could feel himself slowly drifting away, Like he was lying on the beach and each wave stole a part of his sanity as it ebbed. Luke couldn't even imagine the importance of a bundle of papers that took you to different worlds as you wished. Worlds where he could escape his nightmares and live someone else's dreams and fantasies. Worlds where nothing mattered, and yet everything did.

What was he doing here?

What was he doing here, on this godforsaken island that was surely on the outskirts of hell? What was he doing here, where he didn't give his actions a second thought? What was he doing here, where he didn't even know if he could call what he was doing "living"?

He didn't know.

He had no one to turn to for advice. No Internet to to display his problems. No best friends to ask for sympathy from.

Nothing. No one. No where to go.

××××

*filler chapter alert*

I know that this chapter had no plot per se, but I feel life it's important because I really wanted to show Luke's take on things. Plus, I want every one to know that Luke is his own character, and has his own story.

Also, after a lot of confusion with the plot, this book is going to take a decidedly philosophical turn. Of course, there will still be humour and light-heartedness, but not as much as promised before. So, sorry about that :/

This chapter is dedicated to @livininalldemlies for being so cool and constructively criticising me. It really helped :D

Until next time. Cheerio, mates.

°livreslover°