masterpiece ✧ hemmings (on hold)

✧sixteen✧

✿l u k e✿

I don't know what's worse: a) the fact that Eleanor and I are going out to buy a tuxedo for me for a wedding we'll be attending, b) she insisted that she would pay for it because I can't afford one, or c) Eleanor and I will be going out with Ashton. I know Ashton hates my guts from the way he purposely gets my name wrong every time we meet for reasons unbeknownst to me. I've never even looked at him wrongly, nor did anything that would've triggered his blatant anger for me. I don't retaliate to his glares or to his words because I know I didn't do shit to him.

I sit down on the fence we have in front of our house while waiting for Eleanor. My dad built this himself and I helped a little. I'm the one who aimlessly tried to hammer some planks to the ground with my limp-y arms and my dad was the one who finished for me. He wrote a little note on the bottom of one of the planks that read, Batman and Robin did this. I bend down a little so I could see it again. There it is, some dirt covering it, but it's still there. I smile in memory of my dad and my sister. I miss them so much, but that will never be enough to bring them back alive.

Eleanor finally emerges from the corner and pulls up right in front of our porch. "Get in loser, we're going shopping," she says with a huge grin on her face. She's always smiling, and that's what makes her ten times more beautiful each time.

The passenger seat is vacant. I look at the backseat and see Ashton who has a frown on his face and has his arms crossed like a pouty child. He glances at me, so I wave at him but he turns away the moment I do. I internally sigh and hop in the car.

"Oh, wait!" Eleanor says giddily. She runs her finger on my cheek and holds it up for me to see what she caught. It's a little stray eyelash. "Make a wish."

It's ridiculous, but I close my eyes and play along. When I open them, Eleanor blows the eyelash out the window. I like little things like this about her. She's so perfect that it hurts. She hands me her phone, in case I needed to say something. My cheap excuse for a phone doesn't have a talking robot to read what I write, and Eleanor's does. Siri makes communication between us easier.

Eleanor slides a The 1975 disc in the player and bobs her head once the first bars of the first song begins playing. She imitates the sound of the guitars, and a while after, I begin hearing Ashton hum in the back too.

The humming was okay, but then he stops and begins talking. "Hey, remember when we went to the concert and Michael wasn't able to come?"

Eleanor furrows her eyebrows and looks at Ashton through the rearview mirror. "Of course I do. There's like a shrine of it in my mind and in my room. I took a bunch of videos and pictures that night. Filled up my phone storage. My phone had to remind me every five minutes that my storage was full. Did I regret any of it? Heck no."

"I can't believe George signed my shoe. It was surreal," Ashton continues. I know what he's doing. He's blocking me out by engaging Eleanor in a conversation I know nothing about.

"Why did you let him sign your shoe again?" Eleanor asks.

"So then I could tell people that my shoes may have stepped on some shit before, but it now has George's fingerprints and his signature. It's a better pair of shoes now," Ashton replies. I look out the window, already wanting to go home.

"So, Luke, do you listen to The 1975?" Eleanor asks, trying to involve me in the conversation.

I shake my head politely.

"Well, I know you're mute, not deaf, so why don't you listen to the greatest band ever?" Ashton asks with as much hostility as possible.

"Ashton!" Eleanor scolds, her tone dead serious.