chapter forty: a letter to burn
"Are you sure you want me to read this?"
Ava Morrison held a piece of computer paper in her hand, one that was wrinkled from being read over and stuffed into Luke's drawers in hopes of being forgotten before this very moment. Delilah's feminine handwriting littered the page, words crossed out and some things misspelled. Her letter seemed to convey confused emotions. Confused, yes, but also truthful. As far as Ava could tell.
She hadn't actually read the words yet. For some reason, she felt nervous and it hit her how horrible it must've been for Luke to get this while Ava was in his bed. And she was the one who had technically given it to him since Delilah hadn't.
Feelings from that night flowed through her, the remembrance of Delilah's pretty face showing up in the late hours of night, and Ava was fully aware of how she felt that night as well. Scared. Melancholic. Emotional.
She didn't feel that way now.
The nervousness within her was merely coming from the anticipation of reading something so personal, so private, so raw and real. She didn't know what this letter could even begin to say.
"Yes, I'm sure." Luke stood around his bedroom, the yellow light of a couple lamps being soaked in by his black walls.
Ava was closest to the lamp, leaning her elbows on the table as she began reading. The letter felt weird in her hands as she read it, but she thinks it's only because Luke was reading it with her over her shoulder, sending warm air down her neck.
Ava sighed, the emotional weight of the letter feeling heavier than she originally thought. The crossed out Lukey, the obvious remnants of a relationship she would never quite be able to truly be apart of, even when she was holding Delilah's feelings in her hands.
It was hard sometimes to remember that Delilah was a person, not just a name that used to leave Luke's mouth in a tumble of tears and bitterness. This letter reminded her that there was more to people than just an image in her mind, and she wasn't sure that she liked it. Still, she wouldn't put it down. So she did what she could.
She continued.
She couldn't help but let out an audible noise, a gasp, hitch in her breathing, causing Luke to bite his lip and lean more over her shoulder, her back pressed up against him as he tried to figure out where she was in the letter. When he found it, he backed up slightly.
"Oh," Luke said, knowing that reading the words again made him realise the meaning even more. He could've been a father. "That part got me the most. I don't know what would have happened if she had actually gotten pregnant."
Ava looked up at him, his eyes unreadable in the dim lighting. "Would you have stayed?"
"Of course I would," He answered instantly, the two of them whispering to each other intently. "If not for her, then for the baby."
Ava knew that would be his response and she nodded, turning back to the paper.
For some reason, the details of it all made Ava feel guilty for not understanding, or rather, underestimating how unhealthy Luke's relationship with Ava was. She would always respect his perspective, but looking back on all the issues they had had trying to be a couple in the past, it all made sense as the everything slowly unraveled.
His relationship—an excuse of one—with Delilah was borderline abusive and fully manipulative.
Ava didn't know how Luke had it in his heart to forgive Delilah, because he certainly didn't have to. He had no obligation to let bygones be bygones with someone so horrible, no matter how much they had changed, or how much they swore they were different. Sometimes even she was surprised at the size of his heart.
What Ava and Luke had now, could've never worked if they hadn't done what they were currently doing now—giving themselves their own time to heal. If Luke hadn't managed to be the better person and deal with things the way he did.
He didn't deserve to be sad for such a long time, Ava thought, resisting the urge to pour because she didn't want him to know that she was upset over the words written, He's too kind for that.
Mainly, she didn't know how someone could be so strong.
The letter was almost finished and Ava didn't know why she felt like she wanted to tear up. She felt this remarkable amount of empathy for Luke for having experienced what he did, imagining what it must have been like to read the words Delilah had said to him the day she ran away, this awful reminder of everything that was disguised as an apology.
Luke deserved more than that—and no one deserved what he had received.
Even though Ava had been kicked out, the memory of which still broke her heart, few words were shared besides a few shouts of anger. There was no spewed hatred, just disappointment in her parents' eyes and the silence of her older siblings who were supposed to be protecting her.
She didn't know what she would have preferred—what Luke had heard or what she didn't.
To be told to your face that you didn't deserve love, that no one could ever love you back; or to know you weren't worth an explanation.
For once, Ava had found herself to agree with something in Delilah's letter—a letter she metaphorically wanted to burn. She could feel the amount of wreckage behind the words that, putting it lightly, she wasn't fond of.
She reached behind her to grab his hand, but instead of reciprocating, Luke pushed it away and placed his own hands around her hips and stood behind her, hugging her from behind instead.
He bent down a little to place his chin atop of hers pleasantly, his fingers playing with the hem of her t-shirt, as she kept reading to finish the letter. He had stopped reading a long time ago, and now he just stayed in this position because it was comforting to him.
He felt the goosebumps in her skin rise up when he traced and drew random shapes on her stomach under her shirt, lifting up the piece of clothing accidentally, parts of her waist peeking through. One of her hands rested on his wrist as it rested on her torso.
Friends.
He knew that neither of them believed it, but it was all they could be right now. Perhaps there would always be that whisper of something more between them, but it was up for them to decide what to do with it.
It's all I have left to offer.
Ava didn't know why those words struck her as hard as they did, but they hit her and stung more than she expected. To know that this was the only and last thing Delilah had to give, from all her years of pushing Luke away and constantly taking what he gave. It was like Delilah wanted him back in her life only because she needed to know that she still had that power over him—even if she herself was not aware of it.
It was questionable whether people like Delilah, ones who had trouble recognising what they did wrong in the first place, ones who didn't know the fault of their actions until it was too late, would ever truly change. Or if they would eventually and inevitably fall back into the same toxic cycle.
In an odd way, different from what Ava had said before, she almost wished the best for Delilah. She hoped that she would grow and divert away from the tendencies she had. That while what she did was unforgivable in Ava's eyes, hopefully she would grow into someone healthy and good. Someone happy and non-toxic.
People like her were often the ones who needed love the most.
Ava stayed quiet as her eyes scanned over the final paragraphs, only listening to the sound of both Luke and her breathing softly in the otherwise silent room.
When she was finally finished, Ava folded the letter and placed it by the lamp, Luke letting go of her as she turned around.
She went on her tippy-toe's and just hugged him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck and shoulders, his arms automatically flying to place themselves by her hips as he returned the gesture. She was warm, she felt so warm, and Luke hugged her tightly.
Her hair smelled like that strawberry shampoo that he liked so much and she held him like there was nothing else she would rather be doing. Her arms felt like a breath of relief.
Her hugs really were the best.
"Imsooehthahyooahotooththa."
Ava's words were muffled into his shoulder and none of them were understandable. Her sentences were a jumble of unfinished thoughts and her mouth was full of tears and Luke's shirt.
"Ava, babe, you're going to have to speak a little clearer," He chuckled, trying to lift her spirits.
The hug ended and she stepped back, wiping her eyes and repeating herself clearly.
"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." Tears kept coming and she couldn't figure out exactly why. "You are such an amazing person and you deserve so much love, and I love you, and I'm so glad that you're loving yourself because that's all I could ever want for you."
Luke tilted her chin upwards and was laughing endearingly. "Baby girl, why are you crying? Don't cry for me. I don't want you to cry any more tears for me. That's over and done with."
Ava shrugged but was still struggling to cease her bawling. "I don't know why I'm crying I just am. I think I'm near my period or something, but that doesn't change the fact that I love you and I'm glad you trusted me enough to share something as drastic as this with me."
She knew that he had gotten the letter ages ago since obviously she had been there. But he had shown it to her on his own accord and he wasn't the one crying right now. He really was improving.
Drying all her tears, she took several deep breaths to regain her composure. She sniffled, trying to pretend that the scene had never happened, but Luke wiped some stray tears.
Flipping her short blue hair over her shoulder, she sighed. "Long story short, I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you." The two of them sat down on the bed, moving over some pillows and blankets. "I'm proud of me, too."
"You should be," Ava reinstates, before gasping like she was remembering something. "Damn, I'm always too busy crying—but I have something to tell you too."
"What's that?"
"I said no to being a maid of honour," Ava admitted and Luke had nearly forgotten that it had been a couple of weeks since she had gotten asked the big question in the first place. "I'm still going to be part of the bridal party, but honestly. . .maid of honour? I'm too stressed to deal with that right now."
Luke nodded and he could easily see what she meant.
Sure, Ava being the maid of honour at Aya's wedding would've been utopian and perfect, but not realistic. Too good to be true. Ava had her own responsibilities and as much as she was maturing, she was far too inexperienced to help plan parties and be the second wedding planner and be overly involved in her family's life. It didn't make sense for her to suddenly be everywhere when her and father had not even talked properly since she was "welcomed" back into their lives.
She couldn't just go from barely-passable invites to suddenly being in charge of such an important family event and the biggest day of her older sister's life.
It wouldn't be fair to anyone.
Ava could only handle so much and being Maid of Honour wasn't what she needed at the moment, wasn't what she was fully capable of at the moment, and while she appreciated the sentiment, she had the incredibly strong intuition of hers that told her refusing the offer would lead to the best outcome.
"How did Aya take it?" Luke asked while Ava laid her head on his lap, fiddling and twisting her ring around her finger.
"Surprisingly well. I felt so bad and nervous when I called her, but she understood. I'm still going to be a bridesmaid though, but now all I have to do is show up and buy a dress at NewYorkDress when I have the time," She replied and her relief could be felt just by the way she spoke. "I think her bridesmaid dresses are silver."
"That's good. That she took it so well, I mean," He played with her hair gently, staring down at her. "See? It all works out."
"I'll have to go to rehearsals and stuff though, but she'll text or call when that stuff happens. The invites still haven't gone out, but they probably will soon," Ava informed him, enjoying the way that his fingers absentmindedly ran through her hair, carefully twirling strands at random. "We really are adulting, huh?"
"Yeah, we really are," Luke said, thinking about how the letter didn't weigh as much as it did on his heart now than it used to before. And now that he had shown it to Ava, he saw no more reason to keep it.
It would most likely find itself in the trash in the morning. An accepted apology, but not a forgotten lesson.
As much as Luke appreciated the gesture of it and the various times Delilah had sometimes bumped into him in the city since their talk at the Mudhouse—occurrences that he no longer ran away from, but confronted and dealt with as best as he could when they happened—he knew better than to give her a second chance.
Maybe one day, him and Delilah would be friends. Acquaintances. Something of the like. But he wasn't sure that day would be anytime soon.
"It's just weird to think about," Ava spoke up and Luke had stopped playing with her hair at this point, just resting his hands on her stomach. She had yet to move from his lap.
"What is? Weddings?"
"Yeah. And just marriage, I don't know." She shrugged, trying to gather all of her thoughts together. "It just seems so real, if that makes any sense. Like, my sister—the girl I watched pick her nose incessantly when she was twelve—is going to be someone's wife. She's going to have her own family. It's so weird."
Luke couldn't help but agree once the topic entered his mind. Marriage was strange, not because of what it was necessarily and its function (although there were probably some problems there too), but because it had always seemed like a faraway idea, an imaginary concept.
Even though he was in his early twenties, marriage still seemed fake, something that he wouldn't have to think about until at least ten more years—and even when that time came, he still wouldn't believe it.
It seemed something fanciful and out of his reach. He believed in it, he thought it was cute, he thought successful ones were possible just by looking at his parents and so many others—but he had never considered that there would be a time where it would ever be of concern to him. It seemed like something so adult, something so mature, but it was just as shocking to realise that, technically, Luke already was an adult.
And soon, it would begin to catch up with him.
It was often that he forgot that this world was dragging him along with it, whether he wanted to grow up or not.
"I keep thinking I'm, like, fifteen years old and I'm never going to have to worry about it," He told her, thinking it over. "But I pay bills now, I live in an apartment, I drive a car. Those were all things I thought were adult. Sooner or later, it'll be something to think about."
He wondered who he'd end up with, who the universe was going to toss his way. He had his hopes and prayers, but he knew that it wasn't guaranteed that the universe was going to answer them.
"Can you believe that one day we're going to grow up and get married," Ava continued, but then the sentence came out wrong and settled in the air awkwardly, and she scrambled to fix it, but only made it worse. "I mean, not necessarily you and I getting married. I meant just in general. Like, woah! One day, you could marry some girl or guy, and I could marry some girl or guy and, uh, you know—"
"Ava, I know."
"Oh thank God."
Luke ruffled her hair and she let out an incredulous sound, smacking his hand away. She huffed in annoyance, her hands reaching up to fix what he had messed up. Brushing her hair away from her face, Luke realised that she was beautiful.
She always was, whether Luke acknowledged it or not, but right now, it was the only thing he could focus on.
He couldn't help but look at her for a little longer than a best friend should and she always took notice. The yellow light of the lamp lit up all of her features and he found her so breathtaking that he almost didn't know what to do with himself. The butterflies that he felt in his stomach flew around again, probably bruising a few of his internal organs from how many there were.
"Is it bad that I kind of want to kiss you right now?"
The words had slipped out faster than he had intended, seeing as he hadn't intended for the words to escape from his private thoughts at all.
But they had.
Ava swore she nearly stopped breathing before she caught herself. She shook her head.
"Not bad, but. . ."
"Not ready?"
"We both know we need more time."
While it sucked and seemed like a gigantic cockblock, Ava was right and Luke knew it. The something more would just have to linger just a little while longer until it blossomed into something great.
"Yeah, I know. You're right. I don't want us to kiss and then nothing comes from it afterwards because we don't have time for a relationship right now." Luke sighed. "But I still wish I could kiss you."
"We can pretend," Ava half joked, but then she got up and walked over to turn off the lamp, leaving them both in the darkness of the bedroom.
He heard her footsteps make her way back, the sound of her almost tripping on either her own feet or something on the floor of Luke's bedroom being so embarrassingly audible.
When she sat back down on the bed, Luke originally thought it was time for them to both go to sleep, seeing as they had been talking for nearly all night and it was early morning. But then he felt her hands trying to find him in the dark.
He grabbed them and pulled her closer to him so that she knew where she was. In the dark, he could still feel her leaning closer to him, having a rough estimate of where her face was. He had his hands on her waist and she had her hands grabbing at the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair.
"Do you want to pretend?"
Her voice sounded different and very un-Ava-like. He doesn't think he had ever heard her sound like that before. It wasn't husky or seductive or awkward or anything like that. It sounded delicate, sensual. It sounded like a dream.
Luke didn't say anything back, but he only nodded, knowing she couldn't see him, their foreheads nearing each other with his hair tickling her temples. Their noses were touching and Ava gazed up at him in the dark, making out a slight outline before closing her eyes, just enjoying being this close to him again.
There was less than an inch of space between their faces, but neither closed the gap. Even if they couldn't see the lack of space between their mouths, they knew it wouldn't take much to get rid of it. The dark made things less tempting. If they had done this with the lamps on, it would've been worse.
It always hurt more to see what you couldn't quite have. At least, what you couldn't quite have yet.
The waiting and longing in their eyes would be too visible to bear had the lights been turned on.
Their faces were so close to one another and they could sense it, the mingling of their breath, one moving forward and the other moving back to prevent the action of kissing from actually happening. It was a dance: a desperate, sensitive dance where neither of the dancers could get the steps quite right.
Their lips only nearly brushed, but by that time they pulled away.
"There," Ava whispered, their foreheads still pressed against each other. "Pretend."
Luke lifted his head up slightly, their noses nearly hitting each other. "I wish we could do more."
Pretending, Luke decided, had sucked. He wanted to beg for the real thing, beg for a kiss off of her, and he could tell Ava wanted to do the same, if they hadn't both thought better of it.
It was late, nearing four A.M and they were tired, and things that often happen at night are never fully thought through thoroughly until the morning. And he didn't want their first kiss in a long time of not kissing to be a morning afterthought.
One day, though, they'd close that gap. He knew that.
Someday.
Soon.
Ava kissed his hand to compensate and the chemistry between them was enough to make Luke tremble. She looked up at him innocently, her fingers lightly touching his neck, their bodies a blend of shadows and the pitch black, basked in moonlight. She didn't need the light to see the amount of unexplainable emotion in his eyes.
She knew it would never really occur in her mind, the thought of sex, but she had a good feeling that it was becoming an idea in Luke's head right now. Even though she was asexual, she wasn't blind. She knew intensity when she felt it; Luke just felt it in a different way.
But he didn't say anything about it. Like she knew he would, he kept it to himself, because he knew that's where it belonged. She heard him gulp and breathe shallowly, the scent of his cologne still hanging onto her when her and Luke were a mess of hands on each other, of lips never touching, but getting so close to it.
She grazed his cheek with her thumb, his own fingers guiding her to it, and she asked him something she had been thinking about for a while.
"Do you remember what you said a couple weeks ago, Luke? Before, when we were taking care of Ryuu and Kaito."
He had to stop and remember what particular thing he had said that she was talking about, considering there were many notable things that happened that night, but when he found it in the repertoire of his memories, he grinned to himself.
"Yes, I remember." He felt Ava's fingers travel down his jaw and down to his collarbones, tracing them lightly.
She let out a soft, happy hum.
"Was it true? Is it always going to be me?"
Luke, without a moment's hesitation, confirmed the statement, reminiscing the moment when he had first said the words. If she could've seen him, he would've nodded vigorously.
He knew that it would always be true when it was referring to them, because for Luke Hemmings, it was fact. It was always going to be Ava Morrison. Him. Her. Them. In the most simplified versions of themselves.
In every way possible, in every way he could have her, in whatever form of forever they had.
He kissed her hand, repeating what she had done just minutes before and he noticed how the butterflies still hadn't gone away. He doesn't know if they ever will.
He doesn't think he wants them to.
But he answers her anyway, an answer she already predicted before he said it. An answer that would hold itself over their heads until they decided to do something with it.
"Yes, Aves. It's always going to be you."