The Game Show Affect [†] Luke Hemmings

~25~

Luke's point if viewtation.

I rubbed my eyes, groaning at the pain in my neck; that's what I get for sleeping sitting up. Blake's laptop was set in my lap, paper was scattered around me, and I was in desperate need for food. Grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, I quickly got dressed and made my way outside with Blake's laptop in hand.

On my journey to the girls house, I noticed Blake and Cal sitting in the grass. Admittedly a pang if jealousy hit me, but a) I was to scared of hurting Blake more than she already is to jump to conclusions,  b) I trust both of them and c) her brother and friends scare me too shitless to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Cal?" She whispered, "I do forgive you."

"You do?" Calum perked up, making me smile.

"Eh, Luke fucked up just as bad." She giggled light heartedly, "Although he's my boyfriend, that's something I've gotta give my friends too... Forgiveness."

She is literally too good if a person for her own good. Making my presence known, I fell into the grass next to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. She attempted a smile, shattering my heart.

Her face was drained of blood, her eyes bloodshot with purple bags beneath them. Her voice was hoarse, and her hands were shaking just slightly as she held her mug. She shifted her head from Cals shoulder to mine, making me feel a bit better.

"Morning, Lovely." I whispered, wrapping my arm around her and rubbing her shoulder gently. "How you feeling?"

"Like a pile of horse shit." She said dead seriously. "But I'll survive."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond.

"I'll leave you to it, Hemmings." Calum winked, walking away and to the main house.

"I stole your laptop last night." I explained, "When I brought you some food, your posse wanted to give me a chat."

She genuinely giggled, "Sucks to be you, Bitch."

***

Closing the door behind me, I stared down at the bundle of sharpies in my hand. Blake needed some form of distraction and cuddling obviously wasn't working. I approached her, helping her into my lap and handing them to her. She looked up at me with a furrowed brow.

"Draw." I instructed, handing her my wrist.

"Luke, when a person is feeling like... Well, this, drawings become private. Personal feelings." She looked at my wrist fiddling with my fingers. I could tell she wanted to, her eyes were locked on my wrist.

"Don't think about it, just draw." I used my other hand to brush her hair back, "Its only me who is going to see it. I'll hide it up when your done if that's what you want, okay?"

She sighed, caving in, and nodded.

As she got to work, I distracted her, "You are so adorable when you draw." My left hand rubbed her back. "Maybe you need glasses; you seem to squitn alot."

She glanced at me with an irritated look, "Lukas, please shut up."

"Nope." I twisted my fingers through her hair.

She was still irritated but my response amused her. She raised her eyebrow, "Hm."

"I'm trying to distract you, Princess." I kissed her cheek bone, "You over think things too much, its not good for you. I cant stand to see you cry."

"How can I not cry?" She muttered, hoping I happened to miss it, "Its not like my father is away at war, where any second someone can blast his head off." I gasped and she looked at me with teary eyes, "I said that out loud?"

"Blake..." I whispered as she broke down into my arms. "I'm sorry, if I didn't screw everything up you'd be home right now. I'd be heartbroken, but I'd give that any day to see you happy."

"Luke," she sobbed into my neck, "its not your fault. Ashton- he-he told me why you didn't want to send me home.  Its okay-- I... Ugh ... I have never cried this much in my life."

"Shh..." I soothed, glancing up to see Michael and Jessa staring at us with sympathetic looks, "I wanted you here for selfish reasons, I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "I'm going to take a nap."

"I'll come up and eat dinner with you later, okay?" I kissed her temple as she nodded, "I love you."

"Love you too." She mumbled, walking away. Once she was gone I made my way over to Michael and Jessa.

With a still saddened look, Michael nudged my shoulder, "Memmo is so cliché it hurts."