I know I already updated today, but I couldn't help but write this. Consider it a bonus chapter, I guess? :)
^Visual. Enjoy :)
P.S, this does lead off into the next chapter. As in, this is kind of just like a filler to show you how close Sophie and Luke are? Basically, the next chapter's events will take place straight after this happens :-)
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It's 11pm on a Tuesday night and I'm home alone. I hate being home alone; it rarely ever happens, and the few times it had had ended up in complete disaster.
Luke was out with his friends and, even though he did ask me to come along, I had no fake ID. And besides, I didn't even look my age of fifteen; there was no way I'd pass as an eighteen year old.
I sigh, rolling around the bed so that I'm on my stomach.
I did have the oppurtunity to ask Ashley if she wanted to come over. I should have taken it, but I would have felt bad if I made her come all this way just to watch sappy chick flicks and sit on our phones in silence.
There was always Chloe. But I didn't want to think about that; I didn't really want to think about her, in all honesty, because nowadays I had no idea if she was my friend or my enemy.
A chill runs down my spine and I shiver, the house eerily cold.
I look down at my pyjamas and sigh, seeing how thin the material actually is.
None of the clothes I wear at home are all that thick, to be honest. I usually just borrow Luke's to keep me warm, and he lets me.
Thinking of this, I hop off my bed and out of my room, walking across the hall to get to Luke's.
His bedroom door is cracked open ever so slightly, it's hinges almost completely falling off due to all the times he nearly locked himself in his own room. Dad just had enough of it, I suppose, because he loosened Luke's door the very next day.
I push the door open carefully and step into the room, inhaling the faint scent of Lynx deodorant and hair styling products.
I roll my eyes. Him and that quiff of his.
Humming to myself, I walk towards his drawer and pull it open, smiling at all the neatly folded shirts and jeans that were carefully stacked on top of one another.
You'd expect a boy like Luke to have a messy room and an even messier wardrobe.
I gently flick through his clothes, my eyes landing on a black and white, 3/4 sleeve shirt with black stars on the arms. My heart stops as I pick it up, watching it inravel itself.
It's ironed and pressed to perfection, and I find myself running my fingertips along the soft material.
He still has this?
I smile to myself, remembering the most significant time that Luke wore it.
I'm 12 years old, enrolled in a stupid talent show that they have every single year at school. Everyone is obligated to join, yet nobody wants to.
It's my turn to step on the stage in ten and a half minutes, and my legs feel like jello just thinking about it.
I pop my head out of the red curtain, squinting to get a better look at the crowd. I spot teachers, older students in uniform, even the student's parents- but I can't find my own.
My heart thumps as the last act before me finishes. I have exactly five minutes and five seconds to prep myself, yet I can't push myself to.
My parent's aren't here. They forgot.
The panic settles in as the stage manager pushes me to the side of the curtain, murmuring incoherent words of encouragement.
I look quickly to my right and see my best friend, Ashley Fitzgerald, a girl with dark brown hair. She nervously sends me a thumbs-up and bids me good luck, and I almost choke on the 'thank you' I say back to her.
I clutch the oversized guitar to my chest, the strings digging into my palm. The pic is in my left hand as I will myself to take the first few steps on stage.
Applause sounds throughout the entire hall and I freeze.
Everyone's eyes are on me. If I mess up, they'll remember the mistake, and they'll remember me.
Finally, I get to the microphone. The person who sang before me was quite tall, so I have to adjust it by a lot.
A few words leave my mouth as I announce the song and sling the acoustic around my body. My mouth is dry and my heart is racing, but I start strumming anyway.
The sound is beautiful, and it echoes throughout the entire hall.
Without noticing it, I start singing. And my only fear at that precise moment in time is that I'll forget my lyrics, and live to regret it.
But I don't. I sing, every single lyric to the song Luke taught me how to play. It's called Never Be, yet it sounds so much better when the lyrics leave his lips and the guitar is strummed by his fingers.
I'm dreading it, because I have a feeling I'll be disappointed, but I do so anyway; I scan the crowd one last time.
I expect my heart to do nothing but fall, but it does the exact opposite when my eyes land on him.
He's panting, breathing heavily as he leans against the barrier seperating the crowd from the stage. He looks like he's been running, and it quickly dawns on me that it's because he was trying to make it in time for my performance.
It's not my dad. It's not even any of my uncles, or any of my older cousins.
It's my fourteen year old brother Luke.
He's still in his school trousers, but he's wearing an unfamiliar black and white star shirt. It looks nice on him. It picks him out from the crowd; the only black in a sea of white uniforms and sensible ties.
His hair is flat and his face is red, yet he's beaming at me with two thumbs up and a happy smile on his face.
He gets these crinkles around his eyes whenever he's excited, Luke does. It makes him look a thousand times more at peace than usual; and that's exactly what he looks like now.
My smile widens as I sing, watching him mouth the words alongside me.
The last lyric leaves my lips and the final chord is strummed, before the crowd roars in applause.
I look all around the hall, pointing out familiar faces and not-so familiar ones, waving at people who thankfully wave back.
When my eyes go back to the front of the stage, my face falls when I see that Luke's no longer there.
I frown, about to make my way off stage- when somebody tackles me as soon as I step away from the microphone.
It's Luke; and there are tears streaming down his face. I stare at him in shock, quickly going to wipe them off when I feel him bury his head in my neck.
"You were amazing, princess." he whispers.
And even though the crowd is very much alive and way too noisy, I hear him just fine.
He carries the guitar for me and joins our hands together, before walking off of the stage.
Once we're off, we share one more hug. "You came to watch me!" I say happily, overwhelmed as I feel the tears in my eyes.
He grins, his own sky blue orbs glossy. "I told you I'd be there, Soph. I promised, remember?"
I nod. "I remember."
"Good," he says, kissing my forehead. His eyes then flicker to mine, which are trained intently on his unfamiliar clothing.
"Do you like it?" he asks, gesturing to the shirt.
"I got it especially for today. I wanted to be the first person you saw when you started singing, and the last person you saw when you stopped."
I shake my head, the memory all too vivid to me.
Luke had taken me out for ice cream that day, to cheer me up about mom and dad not being able to be there. All the while, I was complimenting his black and white shirt, because I was still so surprised that he'd gotten it just for me.
I smile in contentment, feeling my heart flutter at the memory.
I slide my own thin nightie off and slip into the shirt, the warm cloth hanging loose.
It smells very vaguely of Luke; that boyish, Old Spice deodorant scent with a hint of men's cologne.
And even though it's that neutral, teenage boy smell that half of the guys at school have, it's special, and I love it, and I know I'll never forget it.
All because it's Luke's.
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Hopefully this will sort of make up for not double updating this story on Luek's birthday like I promised :)
Thank you wonderful people for reading! (See, I can write a serious chapter for once ;))
I love you!
-m xx