GOLDEN, luke hemmings

XXXIII: IF YOU DON'T KNOW

Delilah stopped short, her keys and jacket in her hands. She was still wearing a waitresses uniform, but she wasn't wearing the usual apron and her hair was messy. The end of her shift. Luke wanted to bang his head against the table. Just his luck.

The two stared at each other for a while, Luke looking away first and suddenly becoming interested in the metal fork on the table. Delilah, however, stepped forward and instead of going in the direction of the exit, she treaded over to his table, cautious and slow. Her fingers grazed the chair in front of him.

"Can I sit here?" She asked, her voice shaky and nervous. Luke's eyebrows furrowed; what did she have to be nervous about?

Luke shrugged. "I guess."

She sat, hitting the chair with a thud, and the two sat there saying nothing. The other waitress soon came out, bringing a large mug filled with coffee and placing it in front of Luke. The girl shot Delilah a smile before shifting her focus to another man, an older one, who had asked for pancakes at least four times in three seconds. Luke didn't know what to do, except curse the world for hating him. He didn't know what he did to deserve this—well actually, maybe that was why all this shit was happening. He had been a shitty person, and the world was repaying him with a shitty punishment. Karma really was a bitch, and Luke had a feeling that he was really going to get it this time.

He took a sip of his coffee, well, more than a sip, downing some of it for whatever was about to ensue. He needed the energy.

"Luke..." Delilah started, brushing some fallen strands of hair from her face. "I wanted to talk. And I mean truly talk. About everything. I want to explain and I want to discuss my reasons. The letter was only the half of it. I don't mean anything by it, I'm not trying to make a move, I just—I've changed, Luke. And I want to make things right. I need to get this off my chest."

Luke didn't know what to think. It wasn't that he didn't really believe her, she sounded sincere enough, but he didn't think this day would actually come. He never thought he'd actually get realistic closure; he had always asked for it, and now that it was here being offered, he didn't know what to do with it. Sure, there was the letter he had received, but that was paper. It wasn't face to face which made it all the easier. And he didn't have to reply. Now, in a real life conversation, it was all on the table. No pun intended.

When he didn't reply, she continued, playing with the napkins on the table.

"I'm sorry, Luke. And I don't know if you know that or not. But I never meant to hurt you the way I did, and I just need that closure in my life. And I know you need it too. Because what I did—I can't, I can't even put it into words. I need to know how you feel, and I want you to know how I feel because I feel like whenever I see you there's this big, gray, dark cloud looming over me and my shoulders and it's weighing me down. There needs to be something said—or at least...I want to say something."

"Okay," Luke said finally, surprising himself. He almost sounded confident. Almost. "But I just want you to know that I'm doing this for me. Because whether you've changed or not—you hurt me. To the point that I threw away months and years of my life because you messed me up so bad, even when you weren't worth my time anymore. And I'm only doing this because I need the closure because I've finally found someone who I would do anything for, someone I adore, and I keep complicating things because of all the shit you left me with, Delilah. This girl means the world to me, but because of you, I've been fucking it up and it's not fair anymore. I'm not going to let you hurt me anymore, and I'm going to let you know how much you hurt me in the past. So if you want to talk, then talk."

Luke didn't know where it all came from—the strength, the realisation that he was better than the pain he was dealt—but by the time he finished speaking, it all hit him at once. Some of it, he knew, would still take a while to sink in. But when he looked up at Delilah, it seemed like he was looking at her for the first time, and that's when he knew. He really didn't love her anymore.