placid ↦ luke hemmings {au}

thirteen: who?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

| emma's pov |

"What are you doing?" My eyebrow raised at Luke, since he was fiddling with something but stopped shortly after he heard my voice.

"It's nothing," he replied, shaking his head. He moved away from my drawer and stood up straight, his hands behind his back.

"Are you sure? Then why do you look like you're hiding something?" I approached him, trying to reach for the thing in his hands but failing horribly. I went with my last resort.

"Emma, stop tickling me." He laughed as he was getting my hands off of him.

I pouted because he had the advantage here. He was really tall, and he could easily stop me using force. But he didn't.

"Ouch," he exclaimed, taking me aback.

I immediately stepped away from him, my mouth wide open.

His hand had a bruise.

"Where did you..." I trailed off, surprised. How did he do that to himself in a span of five minutes? I was sure it wasn't there earlier. Looking up, I found that he, himself, was shocked.

"I-I..." he stuttered, giving me no productive reply.

I forced a smile on my face. "No, it's okay." Tugging on his hoodie's sleeve, I ushered him to go out. "Let's go eat dinner. Um, you go ahead first."

He frowned but slowly went out of the room, taking a few glances at me before closing the door.

I was sad that he did it again, and in here, no less. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to make him feel better. How can I make him feel like he wasn't alone?

But there was something bothering me even more. Why did he look like he didn't know it happened? How was that even possible?

I sat on my bed, massaging my temple. It was hard to think of a reason, and besides, what was he doing in the first place? I had so many questions but no answers.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a paper flew to my feet. It made a rustling sound, but nothing too drastic.

"STAY AWAY," it said. The letters were bold and dark and surely handwritten.

My eyes scanned my room. No one else was there, unlike the horror movies I've watched. The windows were closed, papers weren't everywhere, no blood. There was absolutely nothing to trace who had done it.

Was it Luke?

"Are you alright?" Luke's head peeked out from the small opening of the door, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I crumpled the piece of paper in my hand and threw it behind me. "I am, I am," I reassured, rising from where I was seated and following him out.

He looked concerned but decided not to push it.

No, it couldn't be Luke. He wouldn't do that. I believed in him.

But then, who would? And stay away from what? From who?