Bruises • Luke Hemmings a.u

One.

But even on the anniversary of her death, Luke preferred to be alone, busying himself, or merely locking himself away in his bedroom all day, and while it may not be healthy, it's his way of coping.

I do the same. Finding it easier to be alone and distract myself than have to live the win over day of her death, speaking about her, knowing I can never see her again. I've never brought her up in conversation to Luke, simply because it pains us both, and while it may not be the healthiest option, it's what works for us.

It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about her, too. It hurts him too much, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him, not when I already fear that my mere existence reminds him too much of her.

They were only together properly for about a year before they got married. My mum died shortly after. A shock to us both.

I was fourteen and Luke was twenty-six when I met him for the first time. And I remember the day perfectly.

My mum had picked me up after school, saying she had someone very important who she wanted me to meet. She had kept him a secret from me for the first few months. I assume to not get me too attached until she knew he was the one.

She gushed about him the whole journey. But I remember being nervous. It had only ever been the two of us, and although we may have struggled, we were a team. We made it work. And I didn't want someone to come in and ruin that. Ruin our duo and our easy going and fun dynamic.

The fast food place she took me to scattered few customers, and I remember an old chubby man reading the news paper. He looked nice enough, and gave me a friendly smile when he saw me smile at him first, and as we made our way toward the man, and I began to sit down at his table, my mum gently grabbed hold of my shoulders, guiding me further into the restaurant.

And then I remember when I first saw him. A young blond man. Younger than I expected. His blond messy hair curling in all the right places. His black ripped jeans, and a shirt with a bands name I didn't recognise stretched across his chest, printed on the white cotton of his T-Shirt.

And I remember his huge smile when he saw my mum walk up to him, how his face lit up at the mere sight of her. He stood, taking her in his arms, and gave her a simple but affectionate kiss on the lips.

"I was getting nervous you'd changed you're mind," he'd said, before looking down at me.
"Hi, Helen. I'm Luke. It's so good to finally meet you. You're mum has told me so much about you," he greeted me.

And I remember him being so welcoming. So nice. I remember how he'd made my mum throw her head back with laughter, and bringing life into her eyes like I'd never seen before. I remember the simple affectionate touches they shared, hand holding, small stolen kisses, Luke curling her light blonde hair behind her ear, that earned him a blush from her.

She was happy. At peace. And while she had always maintained a front with me, I knew she struggled, and I knew that even though she enjoyed my company, it wasn't always enough. And if Luke made her happy, that made me happy too. And I remember thinking to myself: I wouldn't mind our little duo, turning into a trio after all, if this was the person joining us.

The more I got to know him, the more likeable he became. So youthful. Playful. Fun. And he gave my mum more life in the small time they were together, than in all the years she was alive before she met him.

But not only did he make my mum happier, he made me happier too. He became my friend, and a companion. Always willing to chill with me, and show me new music. He listened to me, and not just to impress my mum, but because he actually cared, and actually had an interest in what I was saying.