dedicated to @versatiled for her support, i lub u c:


✿l u k e✿

Eleanor and I agreed to meet at Steak House—where, apparently, they serve the best sizzling steaks and gelato in Queenstown. The restaurant was located at the pier, where it overlooks the sea. I figured it would be a great place for a date, since it won't be too romantic and too formal at the same time. Just imagining the lights in the sea reflecting in her eyes was enough to make me float even higher.

We were supposed to meet at 7pm, but due to my nervousness, I spent too much time being early, but now I don't want to make it seem like this date was more important to me than it is to her. So, here I am, seated on a bench across the Steak House waiting for Eleanor while trying not to crap my pants. I brought my notebook with me, since it's the only way I could communicate with her. I once thought of bringing a Ouija board, but figured it sounded funnier in my head.

At around 7:30, I finally see what looked like Eleanor's car parking in the lot. I wait for her to get inside before looking at my reflection on the glossy lid of the trash bin beside me and making my way towards the Steak House.

I shove my clammy hands in my pockets once I enter the restaurant. Eleanor is sitting on the balcony, which was separated from the inside by a clear glass wall. There were less people there, so I have fewer reasons to be nervous.

Don't fuck this up, Luke. I clutch my notebook tighter and slowly approach where she is. My eyes are on her, and her only, and because of that, I run into someone accidentally and end up plummeting down with him, along with the contents of his serving tray. The couple seated on the table beside me gasps and brushes off the spaghetti that was supposed to be their meal off their clothes.

"Oh god, I'm terribly sorry," the waiter says, quickly standing up to tend to the distressed customers. Everyone is looking at me—at what a clumsy mess I am. I wanted to apologize so bad, but how can I even do that?

"What, you're not even gonna apologize, you douchebag?" the guy at the table says, making the move to approach me.

I run out of the restaurant. Once outside, I cross the street immediately with tears brimming my eyes. I didn't want Eleanor to see how much of a fuck-up I am, and the moment I got the chance to prove to her that I'm just like everybody else and not like everybody else at the same time, I did something so humiliating that I may as well put a bag on my head forever.

"Luke, wait!" I hear someone scream from behind me.

Of course it was her. Only Eleanor can make me feel so warm after such a terrible predicament. Only she can slice through my insecurity and make me feel like I'm worth something.

I turn around, and there she is. Eleanor. Eleanor in her ripped jeans and The Neighborhood shirt. Eleanor under the green streetlight that's making her eyes stand out like a diamond in a pile of charcoal. Eleanor standing in front of me and noticing me. Eleanor Eleanor Eleanor.

She slowly walks over to where I am. I hold my breath without even noticing and look down at her. She's the perfect height, wherein I can hold her and her head would be right against my chest so she can hear how my heart's beating for her, and only her. She's frowning at me. I'm extremely frowned-upon, but I can't seem to point out what she's frowning at in particular. Is it my idiocy? How I rushed out of there like the coward I am? How I didn't even bother to apologize?

Out of all the things I imagined her saying—which involved insults on how much of a loser I am—what she said was completely unexpected. The good kind of unexpected. "It's okay," she says softly.

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