It's a sleepless night. One that drags on for ages and at the same time ends all too quickly. I'm not sure if I've quite registered it all yet. It's like, mentally, I can't process that Luke isn't here. That he isn't coming back. That he's no longer mine. However at the same token, physically, I can process it. Physically, it's like my body knows he isn't here. Physically, I'm colder and far less comfortable in my own bed.
Physically, I'm aching for Luke.
Maybe part of me was hoping he'd sneak in during the night even if it didn't mean he'd stay forever. Just long enough for both of us to have some sleep. Just enough so that I could pretend.
Pretend if only for a moment that I were still his and he was still mine.
-
When morning comes, I can't be bothered with my usual morning routine. I have to stop myself a few times from going over to Luke's or calling for him to ask if knows where something is. It still doesn't hit me then. I go about my day, catching the bus to work, taking coffee orders, making coffee, drinking coffee, stopping at the grocery store, catching the bus home. It all goes by in blurred flashes and it's not until a few days later when I'm home alone that it finally hits me.
It's when I've done my usual cleaning and put all the dishes away - aside from the things that go on the higher shelves because that's Luke's job. I'm making my favorite snack of strawberries, yogurt, and sugar. The strawberries are all covered in yogurt so all that's left is the sugar. With the sugar glass being so high I make to reach for it and it ends up falling and shattering against the ground.
Then, it's almost like something in me breaks along with the glass. It sounds ridiculous but it's just, this would never have happened if Luke was around. And it's so frustrating because he wasn't. Because he chose to leave. Because apparently I wasn't what he wanted and there's nothing I could do about it. That's around the time I'm consumed with the absolute worst, earth-shattering feeling I've ever felt.
He was gone.
How could he have just left like that? Why didn't he bother fighting harder? Why did he choose to go with her? Was she that much better than me? How am I even meant to get around without seeing him? He's literally across the hall now. She's probably parading around in one of his shirts and he's probably thanking the heavens that she is back.
I can't even bring myself to clean up the mess of broken glass and littered sugar if that's saying anything. Instead, I grab my blanket from my bed that still holds just a hint of Luke on it and make for the couch to stare at the curtains.
The curtains he bought.
-
Later in the day, somewhere around evening time, there's jiggling of the doorknob and I'm sure it's Michael even before he announces it - even before a little part of me can hope that it's Luke. "Lai?" Michael all but pounds on the door. "Laila it's Michael, why is your door locked? I want to come in." I can basically hear his pouting. But I don't respond, pulling my duvet tighter around my body and curling in on myself not having moved from my spot on the sofa all day.
"Laila, I know your home Luke said you're usually off work by now," he continues his obnoxious knocking. My heart stops in my chest at the mention of Luke. At the mention of Luke acknowledging me and me schedule and the fact that I'm home. I wonder if he's told Michael yet, if he's told anyone yet. But judging from the lack of concern from Michael I don't think he has.
Maybe part of me holds on to a little hope that it means something.
"Laila, do I have to set the fire alarm off again?" Michael threatens. And because he's Michael and I'm positive he will stay true to his word I have to say something. "Go away," I call, a little muffled from the duvet. "What?" He calls back. "Go away!" I shout a little more clearly. "But I want to come in," he says from behind the door. Then there's some mumbling that I can't make out but sounds like he may be talking to someone else.
"I don't care, I want to be left alone today so go away," I groan, getting up from the couch and slamming the bedroom door behind me.
The blankets already losing his scent, the pillow he used not far behind but if I hold on tight enough, close my eyes long enough, I can pretend. Pretend he's here. Pretend I'm not cold or hollow inside.
If I focus in on my breathing I can get the tears to stop and slowly I drift into a slumber where I'm greeted by blue eyes.
-
Within the next few days I soon come to the sad realization that I can't sleep anymore. I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes all I can see is a smiling blonde haired boy with that single dimple of his. All I can hear is that same boy telling me he loves. And every time without fail, I wake with my heart beating so fast I'm sure I'm on the brink of a heart attack, my stomachs always tied in knots and I can't for the life me ever catch my breath.
It just hurts. Everything hurts and I just want Luke. I want to wake up to the lazy boy still fast asleep next to me, blonde hair flat and an outright mess atop his head. I want to wake to those annoyingly adorable snores of his. I want to attempt to wake him up only to have him cuddle into my side and groan about the thought of getting up. I want to card my fingers through his messy hair until eventually his sleepy eyes meet mine. I want the warmth and happiness only he can seem to manage.
I just want to wake up and see him there and know that this is all just some really terrible dream. I want to roll over and huff so he'll wake and ask what's wrong. I want to tell him all about this terrible dream and have him wrap himself around me while singing me back into a better, more happier dream. One of us happy and smiling and still together.
One where there is no Tara. One where I'm the first and only girl on Luke's list. One where he feels the same about me that I do him.
One where he stood and picked me.
But none of it happens because the universe is a cruel, cruel, thing and instead I cry. Cry until I have no more tears. Cry until the pain is so absolutely unbearable that eventually my body gives me a rest.
And for a few peaceful hours each night, I have my blue eyed boy.
-
I think maybe Luke was being careful because any of the very many times I find myself outside of my apartment I never see him. He's never there in the morning rushing out of his apartment, he isn't there in the afternoon getting his mail, he isn't even in the laundry room no matter how many nights I find myself down there. It's almost like he's simply gone.
The thing is, I should be grateful for that. Grateful that he's at least had the decency to not make it any harder. I should feel relieved even that I don't have to endure awkward scenarios with him and the girl living with him. But I don't feel any of that. In fact, I'm dying to see him. Just a glimpse. Just something to get me through the day, just something so I know he's okay.
That's another thing that becomes an every day emotion. Worry. I'm constantly worrying about him. How absolutely pathetic is that? I'm spending the minutes I'm not crying about how heartbroken I am, worrying about the boy who caused the heartbreak in the first place.
I wonder if maybe this is how Luke felt when Tara first left him. If his whole world literally came crumbling down to pieces. If he spent his days in heartbreak worrying about her.
It's almost laughable just how messed up this whole situation is. I was worrying about the boy who was heartbroken by the girl he was worrying about, who was also the reason I was worrying about Luke in the first place. It all comes full circle. Except one thing. Tara isn't worrying about anyone. Why? Because she's a terrible person who ruined the best human being I've ever had the pleasure of knowing let alone loving.
It's around this time that something soothes over me and I feel a little more...settled. Two weeks and it's finally occurred to me to stop crying about it because I was one of the luckiest people to have gotten to know that giant, Cheeto-loving, kindhearted, super talented boy that made my life a little more bearable for nearly two years.
And so it gets easier. It does. Not much, there's still this horrid aching in every part of my body and I'm constantly in this weird zombie-like state but I slowly get back into my routine. I try not to think about it too much. That's always something I've been good at; ignoring my problems and blocking out feelings. It's just easier that way. Easier to pretend it never happened and definitely easier than talking about it. It was better this way for everyone involved I decide.
-
I get my wish. I just wished I hadn't.
I finally see Luke. It's been a total of 3 weeks and 4 days since the last time I'd seen him and I swear my heart stops the second I lay eyes on him. I don't know what to say or do, I'm not sure what the proper procedure for this kind of thing is but god does it take everything in me to not just go up to him and spill everything that's been running through my mind since I watched him walk away.
I don't really see him closely at first, he's just walked out of the complex starting down the street in my direction. But when I do get close enough it's easy to see what a mess he is.
His hairs tucked into a beanie so I know it's more than likely dirty and un-styled, his jeans are stained and clearly unwashed, his shirts rugged and looks just as dirty as his jeans, hell even his shoe laces are dragging against the pavement. His posture is sluggish and when he looks up from the ground his blue eyes are unlike I've ever seen them before. Red rimmed, glassed over, a darker shade of blue, with dark circles to match.
My heart tightens in my chest and for a moment the aching in my core is forgotten and replaced with this need to fix him. I need to push him into a shower, stuff him with food and put him to bed. I need to play him all his favorite songs and get him to smile. I need to see the blue in his eyes bright and lively. I need him to be Luke. My Luke.
His teeth are right on his piercing, nipping nervously as his eyes dart away from me and he passes without a word.
I'm frozen. Completely and utterly frozen. No matter how many times I blink my mind can't seem to process what just happened. Soon all that aching is back and ten times stronger than ever. I physically can't breathe it hurts so much. How could he just walk by as if he didn't see me? As if we hadn't shared a bed or our deepest of secrets?
As if I meant nothing. Just some stranger on the street.
My mind is racing a million miles a second and I need to get inside. I need to get inside before I breakdown in front of everyone and completely embarrass myself.
I just need to breathe.
--
I'm cutting it here because I plan on ending this story soon and I'm really trying to drag it out into at least a 25 chapter story but we'll see. It might just end up being a 24 chapter one.
Just wait till next chapter, let's just say, she isn't going home. (;