Drowning In Color | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Three

Luka lay on the bed while I sat by him, on my phone. He'd whine about how much I wasn't paying enough attention to him.

First of all, he was really starting to treat me like his own personal nurse. And secondly, just read your books, bitch. But I gave in anyway. I just couldn't refuse, knowing he's injured and all. Eventually, he did get tired of bothering me and decided to take a nap. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, it was only then that I actually decided to look away from my game voluntarily. In his sleep, he was like a silent winter. He doesn't snore. I didn't want to ask if he had already fallen asleep, as I didn't want to wake him up.

There's a worried look on his face. I wonder what's bothering him, so I took a closer look. Yeah, like that's gonna tell me anything.

I enjoyed moments like this. Sadistic, I know. But that's the only moment when I can see how he really feels. It's hard to read, but it looks to be that of pain and sadness. If only he would tell me what's really haunting his mind.

I decided to be reverse Snow White and gave him a kiss to ease his worries. "Please don't wake up," I begged to myself, knowing that I'd feel terrible if that manages to disturb his sleep. But nope, he was all knocked out.

All of a sudden, I had the impulse to look through more of Luka's room. He seemed to have been writing poems since a young age, dating all the way to ten years ago. And the only way I know this is because he kept them in a labelled folder.

Luka's poems reflect his innermost thoughts, as I had discovered. If there's any way for me to learn more about him and his past, it's through them. Or I could ask about it from his mom, but I'm not entirely sure that he even likes me yet. Besides, she isn't here.

His older poems were shorter, as compared to his more recent ones. They also seem more straightforward in terms of the message. In fact, they probably were written as messages.

"Stop... Please..."

I jumped and scattered the papers I was holding onto the floor. I watched to see if he was angry, but he turned around to face away from me. I concluded that he must have been talking in his sleep. I inserted the poems back into the folders neatly and returned the file to the shelf where I found it.

He was curled up on the bed, his hands cupping over his ears and his entire body shivering. I placed the blanket over his body, making sure to keep every inch of him covered.

But upon closer inspection, I could see sweat droplets on his face and neck. It's like he couldn't decide if he was hot or cold. Nonetheless, I carefully removed his hoodie and hung it on his chair. At least he seemed calmer after that.

"Get away from her!" he screamed and sprung his body up. In doing so, he headbutted me, hurting us both. "No, no, no... My Vio, I'm so sorry. I just—"

"Had a bad dream? It's okay. We all get that sometimes." I cut him off and finished his sentence while rubbing my forehead to ease the pain from the impact. "You must be really tired. Want me to leave you to rest?" I prepared myself to walk away.

He shook his head vigorously and grabbed onto my sweater. "Please, don't go. I need you here, with me."

It was evening, and my parents were expecting me to be home for dinner soon. But I guess I could just tell them to leave some for me to eat at night. What else are microwaves for?

I agreed. On the condition that he tells me what his dream was about. He thought long and hard about it. Not the best way to recover from a hit on the head. But he came through in the end, with a long exhale and a soft nod.

"In my dream, he was back. That monster." I asked what this 'monster' looked like. It was his brother... And he was out to get me?

That's nonsense. His brother and I don't even know each other. What reason was there for him to hurt me? It's not like I messed them up like Joanne.

I assured him, "Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Besides, you said he's locked away somewhere, right?"

Luka nodded. And still in silence, he leaned his head gently on my chest. Whether he had dirty thoughts while doing this is beyond me. Anyway, it's not the best time to question it. At least, not while he's still traumatized by his nightmare.

I helped him lie back down. Then, sensing that he needed it, I went downstairs to get a glass of water for him.

When I came back, Luka was just staring blankly at the ceiling. I wonder if he noticed my presence in the room again. I placed the glass on the bedside table, making sure I make as little noise as possible. He seemed to only realize I was back when I sat down on the floor beside the bed, facing away from him.

"You know, it's weird how your emotions shift so much," I said in a soft voice to match the silence of the room. "Can never tell what's real anymore."

He chuckled in response, his laugh sounding totally fake. "Funny thing is, I don't even know either." There was a long pause before he spoke again. "You can't trust how I look or what I say. The only thing you can, though, is what I write."

I looked at myself. This dress style that I took up, which is drastically different from what I used to have in the past.

I asked him, "Do you think I'm a fake when I wear all this?"

He scanned my body, and the layers of clothing I tossed on myself. Without a word from him, I could only assume that that's a 'yes'. Why else would he bother buying me a dress, if not to just appease me mid-way?

"Violetta. Please know that I love you no matter what. You don't have to wear dark to make me like you."

I know that. And that's not why I did it anyway. I reminded him about how I used to be called names like 'vampire' or 'witch', just because I have oddly colored hair. Plus, my clothes just looked like a vomit of sparkles and rainbows.

He laughed, admitting it wasn't a bad thing... And he actually liked me for that? I looked at him skeptically. He couldn't be serious about it. In his defense, being a fairytale creature wasn't far worse than people calling you 'emo' in a bad way. Guess I agree with that.

Wait, did he actually call his feelings for me 'love'? Damn, this guy really reads too many romance novels. Then again, who am I to judge, for actually playing the main character in dating sims? But at least I can still separate fiction from reality.

"Trust me," he said. "If I didn't like you before, I wouldn't have spent two years admiring you from afar."

What the fuck? Two years? I thought I'd be able to sense the creepiness. Then again, I spent two years trying to ignore practically everybody else, so that's that. Still, the thought of him having a crush on me for that long is embarrassing, yet heartwarming.

"Damn it, Luka. I knew you were a creep!"

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Wow! Admiring someone for two years?

What is the longest duration you've ever had having a crush on a particular person?

Mine is about 3 years, and it never developed into anything other than 'existence' >^<