Gosh, I love this gif so mUCH!
36
It's Kind of Our Thing
I have cramps.
Like, seriously bad cramps. Which really, can only mean one of two things. One, somehow I've managed to contract food poisoning in my sleep, or two, it's that time of the month again and Mother Nature is not holding back on letting me feel her wrath.
I roll my head to the side, exhausted. Outside, it's raining. Light, soft and misty, peeks through my rose-colored curtains; painting my walls a muted peach.
Downstairs in the kitchen, someone's burning pancakes and across the hall, the bathroom faucet repeatedly splutters on and off. My eyes roll upwards. Luke is the only person I know that feels the need to rinse his mouth a million times when he's brushing his teeth!
"Fcking hell." Being super mindful of my sprained arm, I twist over on my side and draw my knees up to my stomach. I should probably go use the bathroom and make sure everything's copacetic downstairs, but as long as Luke's in there, I can't. Thus, I attempt to focus back on watching the morning cartoons that are splayed across my bedroom television.
Insanely enough, watching Curious George try to figure out how he can paint a picture on a billboard is the only thing that can keep my mind off of the steady throbbing in my pelvic area. It's a rerun, but it's cutesy and entertaining enough that I don't mind. That is, of course, if I was only able to hear it. The obnoxious clatter of pots and pans combined with Andrew's off-key singing carry upstairs, making actually hearing anything else impossible.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I whine; my toes curling in pain.
Something tugs sharply below my belly button and with another annoyed groan, I writhe beneath my covers. If this is the price I have to pay just to make sure that I'm going to be able to chase little, snotty nosed, brats around in my thirties, then I'd rather be a guy. Seriously.
After another few minutes of watching George make an ass out of himself and trying to keep my mind off of my cramps, I realize that ... I can't. I will definitely be abusing some of Dr. Kingstons's specifically prescribed pills today. It's a pain reliever, I'm in pain. Need I say more?
I finger-comb my waves into decency and then, I slip out of bed and head out into the hallway. For the most part, everything feels fine and dry; just the symptoms, then. Walking across the hall to the bathroom, I knock on the door twice and then twist the knob; it's unlocked. But, then again, it's always unlocked.
"Luke?" I call out, rapping against the door, again. "Can I come in? Do I need to shield my eyes?"
I give him a second to respond, we're still not exactly on good terms. He doesn't say anything, I so I figure, it's okay, and I push the door completely open before, walking in.
Luke is standing in the mirror with a toothbrush hanging out the corner of his mouth and neatly arranging the ends of his hair that peeks from underneath a backward hat. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the Batman band-aid that surprisingly, he's still wearing. I want to laugh, hell -- I almost do. But, then, I catch sight of his hips and the slimming cotton-grey joggers that hang off them and it instantly catches in my throat.
Eyes glance over at me and he pulls his toothbrush from his mouth, "Oh, hey. Good morning."
I blink. Wait, he's actually talking to me?
I literally ignored him for three days for practically ... nothing (if we're being honest), caused him to get a black eye and then, left him hanging to be with Ashton, and he's still talking to me?
Wow, talk about being magnanimous.
"Good morning," I start. Everything that follows next, is purely just a response to my sudden nervousness. One hand motions to the sink, the other reaches up to tug on my earlobe, and my eyebrows furrow against each themselves. "Eh, do you mind?"
He steps aside, "What's mine is yours."
With a small smile, I join him at the sink. I want badly to go looking for the pain relievers and high-tail it the hell out of here, after all, that is the only reason why I'm in here. But then, Luke's squeezing toothpaste onto my brush and passing it over to me.
"Thanks," I whisper. Wordlessly, he goes back to playing with his hair in the mirror and I start to brush my teeth; shamelessly watching.
Eggplant-colored bruises stand out against his pale skin, and as if my stomach isn't going through enough, a knot forms heavy in the pit of it. Looking away, I scrub my teeth, spit and repeat.
"So," Luke mutters.
Our eyes meet in the mirror and my brushing momentarily stops. He's still talking to me, good. I hurry and finish brushing my teeth, place my toothbrush back into the holder and awkwardly turn so my hip is resting against the edge of the sink.
"So?"
"It's um, raining ... outside."
Okay, soo maybe not what I was expecting. But, hey? A conversation is a conversation, at the end of the day. Even if it is meaningless small talk. I raise an eyebrow, with a slight smile. "Finally, right? It was starting to get just a little too hot."
He smiles, shyly. Then, he lets out a sigh, turns to me completely and says, "I hate small talk."
"Me too," I agree. "So, it's a good thing we've already passed that stage." I turn and take a hold of my Denman brush, and awkwardly try to maintain my curls as best as I can with just one hand, but it's hard and my arm starts to hurt. I glance over at Luke, who's still watching me, and the words leave my mouth before I can even think about what I'm asking.
"Can you put my hair into a ponytail?"
"What?"
"Please?" I hold up wrist, revealing several, seriously worn, hair scrunchies. "I need a ponytail, I can't do it with one arm."
Eyebrows tilt in confusion, but still he reaches out and allows his warm fingers to gently drag the elastic band from my wrist. Luke flexes it between his pointer and thumb and he looks at me. "What am I supposed to do with this? It's so small ..."
"It'll stretch."
Facing the mirror, I move in front of him, and with one hand attempt to finger comb all of my hair on the top of my head. "Help," I call. "Grab my hair."
"That's what she said." Luke absentmindedly whispers, and then he looks up and meets my eyes in the mirror, "Sorry, what?"
I roll my eyes in amusement. "Gather all of my hair in one hand."
"OK."
Carefully, the tall boy collects all of my curls until it's all bunched up in one of his large hands. His eyebrows furrow in concentration and then he attempts to stretch the band over my hair. It snaps out of his grasp, flying across the bathroom and he looks up at me in the mirror with wide, startled blue eyes. "What did I do wrong?"
I can't help it this time, I laugh. A loud, chuckle that erupts around us. "Everything." I hold my wrist up for him to take another one and I say, "Put it on like a bracelet first."
"I thought you wanted a ponytail?"
"Ssh," I grin, "Just do it, Luke."
He lets go of my hair, curls flopping over my forehead, and then he slides it on before gently regathering my hair. "Got it, now what?"
"Drag it over the hand that's holding the ponytail together and then wrap it twice."
In the mirror, I watch as he bites down on his lip before carefully following out my directions. When he's all done, he lets go and steps back. He's done it right, but it's so loose that it ends up sloping off to one side.
"That can't be right," he whispers, and then he steps forward and pulls it out. "Wait, I'm gonna do it over."
"Alright," I say. Below my waistline, muscles clench tightly and then I remember that's why I'm even in here. Suppressing a groan, I reach forward and open the medicine cabinet, grabbing my pills out.
"Stop moving, Annie," Luke says, distracted.
"Sorry."
It takes him at least two more tries before he's confident in his work and with a half grin, he uses his fingers to lift the loose curly tendrils at the back of my neck and on the sides above my ears, up in the direction of the ponytail. I smile slightly, "They're not gonna stay, it's fine. It looks good, thanks."
"Wait," he leans forward against me, moving us both forward, and rifles through his hair products, producing a small jar. I watch curiously as he pops it open, and drags his finger in it. Then he goes to work with slicking all of my loose curls, surprisingly me intensly when they actually stay in place.
"What is that?" I gasp.
He smiles, "My hairs secret ingredient."
"Wow," I laugh, as he caps it and pushes it back into it's place. "Don't be surprised if that stuff goes missing."
"Very funny," Luke smiles to himself, and then he backs up and takes a seat on the lid of the toilet seat. "Alright, I made up my mind."]
"About what?"
"Well, a lot of things, really. But, just one in particular."
"OK, spill."
Luke's bare, broad shoulders lift in a shrug, and he says, "So, yesterday?"
I immediately flush, not wanting to think about yesterday, and in an attempt to distract myself, I pop open my pill bottle and stare down at its contents. "What about yesterday?"
"Yeah, well last night, I couldn't sleep. At all. I uh, just couldn't stop thinking about what you had implied just before you left and, well yeah, you were right."
I blink up at him, "Hm?"
"Yesterday, you said to me, 'now you see how it feels'. Remember?" He stops, waiting for my confirmation.
I nod.
"Right. Well, at first, I didn't get what you had meant. You know, it didn't exactly register in my mind. But then, it had finally sunk in, and that's when I realized that I do that same thing to you so often, leaving you. I do it a lot," he lets out a dry laugh. "Like, almost all the time."
He looks up at me like he expects me to say something, and I want to, but I don't know what to say. So instead, I look back down at my pill bottle, tracing my fingertip around the rim.
"Anyway, when you left, I was so mad. Seriously, Annie, I was fcking pissed. I realized that if I felt like that when you left me once, I couldn't even begin to imagine how you've felt those times I'd done it to you."
Hurt.
Confused.
Angry.
Plus. But if I were being honest, none of that mattered. Not as much as he did to me, anyway. I stare at him, and shake my head, "Luke, none of this was your fault. I wasn't trying to be righ--"
"But you were, and it's okay, because I get it now and, I'm sorry," He nods. "So, I made up my mind that I ... forgive you."
"You forgive me?"
"Yes. For not even bothering to listen to the CD that I stayed up nights trying to find the perfect songs for, for ignoring me for three days straight, for ditching me to hang out with your friend, Ashley, for being a t--"
"Jesus Luke," I mutter, cutting him off. "I think I get it."
He nods, "Well. In case you didn't."
"I'm sorry too," I admit. "For everything, Luke."
We stare at each other for a minute then, just the sound of the light rain pattering down against the windowsill filling the room, and I start to wonder if he's expecting me to go into details as well. But, the thought is short lived as Mother Nature has a few words of her own. Turning back around, I tilt the bottle over in my palm and shake a single white pill out into my hand. Then I remember how one barely worked last time, and I pour out another two. Closing it, I place it in the cabinet, and I carefully lift a glass cup from the sink. I stare down it, doubting, and just as I'm turning to Luke. he laughs.
"It's clean, Annie."
I roll my eyes, playfully and lean forward to turn on the faucet, "Just making sure."
Luke stands up. "What's wrong? Does your shoulder still hurt?"
I shake my head.
"So why are you taking all of those? Are you like trying to OD?"
Well, Luke, because it just so happens that my uterus decided that it wants to kill me today, but I'm definitely not about to tell you that.
Pausing, I try to come up with something else to tell him, because as natural as being a girl and having your period might seem, it still isn't something that I've exactly grown accustomed to sharing with other people.
"Uh, my head hurts."
"You don't need to take 3 pills for a headache," he says, eyesbrows rising in a way that can only mean one thing: you're crazy. He holds his hand out, palm upwards. "Give 'em."
I sigh, "Well, it hurts."
"Annie," he coaxes.
"Badly. Plus, these pills are low dosage."
He stares at me for a second, shrugs, and motions for me to go ahead. Then, when I'm all done, he asks, "Are you gonna come downstairs, now?"
"Nope. Gonna lay back down," I admit, with a quick head nod towards the bathroom door.
"No, why? Come downstairs."
"My head is hurting way too much," I lie, actually thinking of my stomach. "I don't feel like being bothered by anyone today."
Luke sighs, and his blue eyes meet mine, eyelashes lowering, "Even me?"
"Yes, even you. Now, scoot. I actually have to use the bathroom."
Eyes roll and he backs up towards the door, "Hurry up, this isn't over."
"I'm sure." I wait for the door to click into place and then I use the quickly use the bathroom and handle my business. After I've washed my hands and exited, I'm not at all surprised to see Luke posted in front of my door.
"Excuse me," I laugh.
"Come downstairs, please," he repeats. "It's raining, it's our movie day."
I quirk an eyebrow. "Our?"
Luke looks at me as though he wants to smile, but he doesn't. With another sigh, he quickly rushes out, "Whenever it rains, my dad and I have a movie day. It's kind of our thing. Us, Hemmings. So that means you, too."
This, I have to laugh at, slowly dragging out the word, "Niice."
He shrugs, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Sometimes."
"Unfortuantely, Luke, I'm not a Hemmings. So, by default ... I'm not really invited."
"Yet. You're not a Hemmings, yet. Plus, now that your mom is engaged to my dad, she's in on our movie day. Which, you know, I don't think is really all that fair."
"Definitely not fair," I cut in jokingly, sadly shaking my head.
Luke grins, his dimples coming into view. "Seriously Annie, come on. What if they start making out in front of me, what am I supposed to do?"
Laughing, I tilt my head, "Um, close your eyes?"
"Or," he starts, dragging out the word, "We could laugh at them, together. You and me," he points back and forth between us both, "We could share the awkwardness."
"You and I," I correct.
Blue eyes roll, and Luke motions to the stairs, "Are you coming?"
I don't want to, I really don't. I just want to lay in the comfort of my own bed all day, watching reruns of Saved By The Bell on Teen Nick. Only, the tempting curl of Luke's lips and the daring glint in his eyes has me thinking, that hey, movie day might actually be fun. Leaning my head back towards the ceiling, I let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, fine."
"Yes!" He claps his hands together, and then points his thumb over his shoulder towards his door, "I should probably grab a shirt."
I nod, "And I should probably grab my blanket in case I need to hide under it. I don't particularly fancy the idea of seeing our parents make out. That's disgusting."
Luke points at me, "I think you're using that word wrong, but we'll worry about it later."
I deadpan and turn back to my room. But then I realize something and I turn back to him, assessing his bruises. His lip is still cut and he still has a black eye. I open my mouth preparing to ask on him what he thinks they're gonna say, but before the words even leave my mouth he talks.
"Since you're so worried, I'll fill you in." He laughs, "They found out this morning, and I'm grounded for a week for getting in a fight with some guy who cut me in line at the grocery store."
"Pretty guillible of them."
"Eh, it worked." He backs up towards his room door, "See you downstairs."
--
Later on in the afternoon, after everyone refused to eat my mom's burnt pancakes, Andrew makes us all Monte Cristo sandwiches for brunch and we all settle down in the living room while we wait for him to decide on a movie on pay-per-view. The curtains are drawn, filling the living room with comfortable darkness and for once, our air conditioning is off making inside warm and cozy.
Three pills later, and my cramps have settled enough for me to lounge comfortably underneath my large blanket. My knees drawn to my chest, and I'm single-handedly multitasking between using my laptop and eating my sandwich. It's a hard task, but where there's food and internet involved, anything is possible.
Luke is sprawled out on the floor, busying himself with tapping away at his phone screen, and my mom and Andrew cuddle on the sectional.
Finally, finally, finally I am having a seemingly pleasant day.
It's not overbearingly hot outside, my mom isn't going borderline crazy over what font to use for her engraved napkins, and for the most part, Luke and I have made up. The only thing that would make this better is if I wasn't wanting to stab a fork in my stomach every five minutes to distract myself from having dreaded period pains.
"What about The Visit?" Andrew announces.
I look up from my computer screen, mid-bite, and quickly scan my eyes over to the movie synopsis that's displayed on the TV. It's a horror film and it sounds somewhat decent, for the most part. "Fine with me."
Luke mutters a halfhearted, "Sure," and then after listening to my mom complain about not wanting to watch anything scary and Andrew teasing her about being a scaredy-cat, she kisses him once and agrees to watch it.
Luke meets my gaze and amusingly we both roll our eyes. They can be such teenagers. Andrew presses play, turns up the volume, and it starts.
---
The movie turns out to be one of those Paranormal Activity films, where everything is seen from behind a camera lens, and it is such a cliché that instead of it being actually scary it's quite hilarious. I find myself snickering at scene among scene, silently judging the director and I'm not at all surprised when I look over and see that everyone is sleeping.
Even Luke. His head is laying against his arm, the other curled up over his chest, and his knees are drawn up to his chest.
I have half the mind to chuck a pillow at him, but I don't wanna wake him up.
Shaking my head, I open my laptop back up and click over to Facebook. Shared viral videos, emoji-filled indirect statuses and mirror selfies of girls fill my wall. It's the same, as expected, and unfazed I open a new tab and switch on to Tumblr.
There's always something new on Tumblr. I spend at least ten minutes reading a sarcasm-filled post, laughing quietly to myself, and it's when I'm about to reblog the entire thing that I get another pain.
"Ah, fck," I groan. My hand goes to my stomach, fisting my shirt as if that's gonna take away the pain there, and irritated I grumble incoherent curse words under my breath. I think I'm due for another three pain pills. Or, four. Like, right now. I wait a while for it to settle down a bit, and then shifting, I sit up and start to close my computer. Only an airy ping! alerts me of a Facebook message, and I look down at the screen, switching tabs, before dragging my cursor over to the blinking blue box.
Strangely, it's from Luke. I look over at him, where he's still laying on the floor, and then I click it.
Luke Hemmings - you owe the swear jar a dollar :-)
I roll my eyes, typing back,
Sent - I thought you were sleeping
As soon as I send it, the read receipt pops up, and I look up at him. From where I am, I watch as his thumb taps out a message on his screen and in less than two minutes, my computer pings again. I lean forward and turn off the volume before clicking his message.
Luke Hemmings - and I thought u said your head hurt
Sent - it does
I don't wait around for Luke to send anything else back, because the deep continuous aching in the lower core of my stomach is too much and I need to make it stop. Closing my screen halfway, I slip from underneath my covers and hurry upstairs into the bathroom. Grabbing the bottle from the cabinet, I twist the cap off and shake three of the white pills out into my palm. I don't hesitate before taking them all to the head, chasing them down with a large cup of water.
Sighing, I scrunch my face up and flatten my hand hard against my lower region, willing the pain to go away.
"You do realize that you're supposed to take the pain reliever before you actually have cramps? Otherwise, you'll have to wait thirty minutes for them to actually kick in."
I close the bottle, fitting it back in the cabinet, "You're not the one dealing with a bipolar uterus, so thanks for the advice -- but no thanks."
When I look up, Luke is leaned against the door frame watching me in amusement, and before I even get the chance to flush or feel embarrassed, Luke saunters in the bathroom and pulls open one of the sink drawers.
Reaching in, he pulls out a small blue box and tosses it to me. I catch it and stare down at it in my hands, "Why the hell do you have Midol?"
"Believe it or not, that stuff cures headaches faster than anything." Luke shrugs, and when he notices that I'm still staring at him weirdly he laughs, "That was all my mom had when I was a kid, I got used to them, alright?"
"But, isn't it for girls? You're a guy, Luke."
"Yeah, it's marketed for chicks, but really it's just a generic Motrin, Annie."
"Mmm, sure." Laughing to myself, I open the packet and side out the pill sheet, before nodding and placing it on the counter, "Well, thanks. I'll make sure to return them when I'm all done. Just in case you, you know, get another headache."
"I could say the same to you," He tilts his head at me. "C'mon we're missing the movie."
Draping his arm over my shoulder, he leads the ways out of the bathroom and downstairs.
"Luke, you weren't even watching it," I mumble. "Plus, it sucks."
"Which explains why you were laughing at it the entire first half."
"So you were awake the whole time?"
"Uh, pretty much." He nods, and we shuffle down the stairs, "Want something to drink?"
"Not really," I say. "But I'll accompany you in the kitchen if that's what you really want me to do."
Luke tips his head at me, "I am completely capable of getting my own drink, Annie."
Still, he grabs my hand and leads us into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, I watch as he nimbly maneuvers around the kitchen. Yanking open the refrigerator door, he grabs the carton of orange juice and opens it; taking it to the head.
I watch, slightly disgusted, "I am never drinking anything that comes out of that fridge again."
Luke smiles, and then slowly he runs his tongue over his lips, "Shh, it'll be our little secret." He drinks from it again, closes it and then sticks it back in the fridge. "Alright, now, let's get a snack." He heads to the cabinets and reaches in, pulling out a box of fruit roll-ups. Shaking it, he peers in and looks up at me, smiling, "Annie is there something you want to tell me?"
"Hm?"
"There's literally only one fruit roll-up left," Luke laughs, "I didn't even know you ate these."
"I don--," I stop, remembering last week, Ashton plus three, and their huge appetite. Flushing, I nod, "Yeah, sorry about that."
"It's fine," he chuckles, taking out the last one and ripping open the package. I watch as he unwraps the saran wraps, "Look, it's the tattoo kind. Put it on your tongue, I want to see if it really works."
He nears me, and I lean my head back, "Ew, no. Try it on yourself."
"I won't be able to see it," Luke pouts, gently pulling it from the wrapper.
"That's what mirrors are for."
"Then it'll be backward," he huffs. "C'mon just stick out your tongue."
"No!" I laugh, "Move, I'm not doing that."
"You're no fun." With that, he rips it down the middle and hands me half.
"Thanks," I mumble. I don't particularly like fruit roll-ups, so I hold it between my pointer and thumb while I watch him press it against his tongue.
I count to twenty for him, and I scrunch my face up as he peels it off; sticking his tongue out at me, "Isitdere?" He mumbles.
I squint, trying to make out the barely there shape. It's outlined in blue and I tilt my head to the side, furrowing my eyebrows, "Is that supposed to be a star?"
"No, a truck. I think," He says, and then he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his phone. Flicking up the camera, he sticks out his tongue, and then he laughs, "Well, that was a fail."
I nod, "Major fail."
"Well. I think there's only one thing left to do."
"Yeah? What's that?"
Turning around, Luke grabs my arm and pulls me forward, before slipping behind me and drawing me back against his chest. He holds his phone out front of us, "A selfie, with a beautiful girl."
I roll my eyes, trying to break away, "It's only a selfie if there's one person -- you."
"Shut up and just smile," then he drapes his free arm over my shoulder, smirks, and takes the picture.
"Luke! I wasn't even ready," I huff.
"I gave you a chance, did I not?" He holds up his phone again, pointedly asking if I'm ready and I elbow him in his stomach before nodding.
This time I smile, but the minute he goes to take it, I stick my tongue out and cross my eyes. "Hey," Luke laughs, "Seriously, a normal one."
"Fine," I smile and Luke smiles super wide, practically showing all of his teeth. Even though he's still bruised, there's no doubt that that picture is gonna be perfect. The thought sends a low dip in my stomach, and to take my mind off of it I reach up behind me and shove the rest of the fruit roll-up into his mouth.
I hate fruit roll-ups.
Laughing, I slip away from him and watch as he pushes it completely into his mouth; quickly sucking on the end of his thumb. Blue eyes gaze at me in amusement as he finishes, and when he's all done, he licks his lips, before opening his mouth to say something.
Only, he barely gets a word out before, a voice suggests, "We're heading upstairs, the living room is free if you guys wanna change the movie." We glance up to see Andrew peeking his head in the kitchen doorway, and he motions towards the stairs.
Luke pockets his phone, and I subtly take another step back away from him. He sifts his hands through his hair; making it disheveled and impossibly more appealing. "Alright, yeah cool."
I nod, "Thanks."
Andrew disappears and then Luke tugs my shirt and brings me back over to him; reaching out and tracing the curve of my lower lip, "I'm thinking action, what about you?"
--
AN -
SUPER LONG CHAPTER and SUPER LATE UPDATE SO, SORRY
Thanks for reading! Please vote, vote, vote! It really means a lot to me :-)
J
upd. 2019