✧eleven✧

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✿e l e a n o r✿

I've never experienced someone running away in the middle of a date. I've never experienced someone trekking through a dark forest with nothing but the light of his phone screen as his guide. I've never experienced someone leaning down to kiss me but missing and begins making out with my ear instead. I've never experienced these three things until I met Luke Hemmings.

How can I even begin to describe Luke Hemmings? Well, him in the eyes of the general population is 1) tall, 2) blonde, and 3) quiet. It's clear that not many-none, if at all-are welcome in his world. I don't think it's entirely because of his inability to speak. I think it's because he never tried. And I'm glad because when it came to me, he tried and helet me in completely. And in my eyes, Luke Hemmings is 1) extremely tall-the perfect length wherein I could hug him and his arms will wrap perfectly around my body, 2) extremely captivating. He's blonde and he's got eyes that could set so many hearts afire once you actually notice them. The blonde in his hair greatly compliments his baby blue eyes, and once you notice both of those as one whole picture, something else pops out. Something beautiful. And 3) he's extremely, completely, fragile.

When he tried to kiss me, my inner panic alarm began to ring in excitement and fear of how it'd be like. Was he inexperienced? Does he know how to? How does he like his kiss if he's ever had one before? Can he moan? Or will it be completely quiet besides the sounds of our lips puckering against each other? All of these questions, unfortunately, remain unanswerable because Luke made the huge mistake of missing his number one target-my mouth.

After that, he dashed out like speedy Gonzales on meth, and I haven't seen him in two weeks. He has an art of blending into the background and being invisible. Since I was able to spot him before, I'm certain I'll be able to do so again.

I've left him numerous voice mails of which he never responds to. I'd even broken into the school records room just to find out his address. But when I came to visit last Friday, there was no one there. I'd waited on their doorstep for the entire night and left at eleven o'clock in disappointment. Luke is the kind of guy who'll do anything just to avoid confrontations-a fact I'd learned from experience firsthand. But sucks for him because I'm the kind of girl who'll do anything just to pursue something.

Today's Friday again, and I'm back on the Hemmings' doorstep. I ring the doorbell twice and wait patiently for someone to answer. The light in the living room is on, so I figured someone's here tonight.

And to prove my hunch, someone finally answers the door.

Luke is dressed in pajamas with little penguin caricatures on them. He paired that along with fluffy penguin slippers. He looks like a ten year-old. An extremely good-looking ten year-old. "Can we talk?"

He just stands there with the door slowly inching towards the doorframe. I don't know if he's about to slam the door in my face or welcome me in. That's another thing about Luke Hemmings: with him, you can never be sure about anything.

"Please? I've been trying to reach you and I just miss you," I say with too much exasperation as I'd originally planned.

I then see something in his eyes. Before I could pinpoint it, he opens the door wider and lets me in. I offer him a small smile and enter the foyer. He closes the door behind us and proceeds to the hallway and then up the stairs. I silently follow suit. I let my eyes linger on the frames nailed on the wall. There are pictures of fetus Luke in a similar penguin pj and a taller, more mature-looking girl beside him. That must be his sister. Other frames contain a picture of a muscular blonde man. He has the same blue eyes and the same prominent dimples in his smiles. Luke and his sister look exactly like their father. It must be hard for Luke's mother to look at Luke and see the face of his deceased husband on a body that's not his. I immediately shake the thought away and enter Luke's room.

Luke's room is surprisingly neat. The blankets are folded in a neat pile, files are organized in folders, posters are symmetrically hung on the walls, and there's not a pencil or anything out of place. Luke has some paintings tacked on his bulletin board. They're mostly abstract or portraits only Luke can properly decipher. But I know I'm not wrong when I decode his paintings as portrayals of sadness. Longing. Wanting. Hope.

Luke sits down on his bed, so I do the same. We just stare each other for a while until he breaks our gaze and starts fiddling with his penguin sweater. I reach over for his phone on his nightstand and hand it over to him. "I know you've been avoiding me, Luke. I don't want this to end that way."

Luke stares at his phone for a while before finally typing. That's what you know.

I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Luke rubs his eyes, and even though he didn't want me to see it, I did. He was rubbing his tears away. Atop thimkinf you kniw abput everythinf okay. My mom just had a stroke tge nigjt we went out. I wasbt home and the neifhbors were the ones who rished her to the hospital. I never left her side but my aunts tgere now and she told me to come home to rest.

I wasn't able to read over his shoulder like I normally did, so I had to wait for him to finish typing. He was obviously furious. He hands me the phone and as I read it, I feel my heart absolutely shatter against the ground. He snatches his phone from my hand and begins typing again. God damn it Eleanor stop!

I look at him in incredulity. "Stop what? Luke, if you're trying to tell me someth-"

I'm cut short by him shoving his phone in my face. Just stop caring please! You caring makes me want to kiss you so bad, and you know how that didn't end well!

I feel something rush to my heart. Through my arteries, through my veins, through ever vessel in my body, and through my pulse. Seeing Luke this fragile, this torn-it just awakens something in me. It makes me want to pull him over to me and just hold him. Until he can finally realize that this is where he belongs-and I then I realize the same thing too. That we belong in each other's arms; we belong to each other.

I pull his phone out of his grasp and wrap my arms around his neck. I bury my face just where his shoulder and the end of his neck meet. I hold him like that until I'm certain he's beginning to realize. I hold him like that until he finally wraps his hands around my waist and holds me too.

"I know you're so tired of yourself and all the mistakes you make. But, Luke, I'm fucking here. I'm right next to you. You can text me whenever and just be around me. I like that. I like you. I like everything about you-from the way you crinkle your nose when you think I'm not looking to the way you're rocking your penguin pj's right now," I mumble in his ear with every syllable as clear as day so he can really realize that I'm here and I care for him.

I just hold him like that until I feel something warm spatter against my neck. I hold him until I hear his faint whimpers. I hold him until I feel his body shake involuntarily. I hold him until he finishes realizing. And I could hold him like this forever until he finally realizes that he's more than what he thinks he is. He's worth more than just a boy wanting to blend in the background forever. "I'm not going anywhere, Luke. I'm right here."

And then I hold him until I begin crying too.

a/n:

IM FUCKING CRYING I HONESTLY AM TEARS WERE FALLING OUT OF MY EYES WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS AND MY MUSIC WASNT HELPING BECAUSE WHEN I GOT TO THE SAD PART IS THERE SOMEBODY WHO CAN WATCH YOU BY THE 1975 BEGAN PLAYING AND POOF FUCKING WATERFALLS IF YOU HAVENT LISTENED TO THAT I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO IT NOW PLS LISTEN TO IT SO U CAN FEEL MY PAIN IT'S SO SAD OKAY I NEED TO STOP CRY-RAMBLING BUWBGATUWIHRGK BY E I LOVE U ALL SORRY FOR MAKING YOU CRY/POSTING A SAD CHAPTER WAUF -angelika (crying emoji)

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