.blood infections. | Luke Hemmings [On HOLD]

•letter no.1•

Dear Luke,

It's been 15 days since I last time saw you. Yes, I did my counting. I know, you would laugh at it with your retorts about my horrible math skills, you would. In the most unfortunate way, you might never read this, but I am still writing this, with my hands freezing and my back being turned on wintry weather of this gloomy afternoon.

And I know what's in your head, the view you're painting from every corner of your mind. And you're right, isn't it just the way you are? Mr.Right, I hope that you still keep me, Mrs.Wrong, somewhere at the back of your mind. 

Because you're always somewhere in between my insane thoughts.

In any case, you wouldn't believe what brought me here.

It's been 15 days since you abandoned me, and even when I know that you're not the one to blame.. I do. I do blame you, even when the fault lays on my shoulders.

To be more precise, it's been fully 14 days and six hours in addition, since the tables you've turned around, started coming back into their places.  Remember that shitty backyard of mine? The one, you threw rocks at my window from. The same sound they made in a moment they just slightly touched the surface of glass, that stupid annoying sound, it woke me up today. 

Today, was the first day I found myself getting up without anyone asking for me to do it.

It was Calum.

It was Calum, the one you've said was out of your league, a bit more than way too cool to talk with you.

It was Calum who made me come here after those weeks.

He wasn't the first to ask me about you. 

He was the first I asked about you. "When do you think I'll meet him again?"

"Nowhere soon, hopefully."

Why would he say that? I couldn't help, but slap him. I'm sorry. (And now you know, that I'm lying, because you always said, that I was an open book that no one ever bothered to read.)

The only thing he did right this morning, was the moment he said, that he's writing you letters. A simple, a few sentenced letters. In a fear of forgetting you, it looked like the only, the crazy option to take.

Remember, how I always asked for the stupidest things? And I did it again. I just asked him, "How do I start?"

"Dear Luke"

And here I am, on our bridge. Do you recall it? Please, don't make me remind you the story what happened 365 days ago. If architectural structures could talk, even this old, attractive only for rusts bridge would tell it in an eye blink.

But I know, that you were never good at retracing old stories. Maybe it meant nothing to you, but it was and it still is the world to me.

So, I'm going to tell you the story of Luke and Autumn. The story of you and I.

Perhaps, not today, but there's nowhere to rush?

(Still) Yours, Autumn.

P.S. You're already the voice inside my head.