In all eighteen years of his life, Luke Hemmings had never felt so lost.
Not physically lost, per se, as Luke knew very well where he was. But this lostness was in a more mental sense. He felt weighted down and hopeless, almost as if the universe was crumbling below his feet and was falling out from under him.
Not that anyone could tell. They were too busy with their own lives.
But this whole incident was really taking a toll on Luke. He needed to get a grip on his life, and soon.
Luke sighed, looked around. Nothing, no one could help him. (Not that he expected anything, anyway. Luke was awfully pessimistic when stressed.)
Hence the "mental lostness." Usually, in situations like these, there was always someone there for him to guide him on the right path, the right way.
But not this time. This time he was alone, for the first time in awhile, and he hated it.
How he got into this situation, however, was another story entirely.
His flight back to the only place he actually cared about had been cancelled due to an upcoming snowstorm, his mum was pissed at him for not catching the earlier flight with his band members, and now his favorite guitar, along with two full cases of his luggage, were now missing.
Not to mention he was overly tired (probably from endless nights in the studio and the constant amount of traveling which he still wasn't used to even after years of touring), he was stranded in an unfamiliar city for the holidays, and he had absolutely no one with him.
In short, he felt like crying.
Which was odd, because Luke had never been much of a break-down-and-cry kind of guy. Quite the opposite, really: he usually just kept his emotions inside, never to be viewed by the public eye.
But he couldn't deny that in a crowded space filled with lots of people, Luke had never felt more alone.
And, of course, it just happened to be early Christmas Eve morning (in Australia, at least--but where Luke was, it was 'Christmas Eve Eve' night, as all the bulletin boards advertised.) Back home, the traditional holiday festivities were about to begin, and here Luke was, all alone.
It was the worst time to be alone.
Christmas Eve was supposed to be spent with family or close friends, not alone. It was supposed to be a time of excited anticipation, not downright depression.
Luke knew he was being selfish, as his situation could have been much worse, but he couldn't help but wish he was being scolded by his mother for sticking a finger in the pre-Christmas feast, or for eating raw pieces of cookie dough right off the sheet.
He wished he was running around like a chicken with his head cut off (much like the New Yorkers around him), looking for the final touch to his crappily wrapped Christmas presents if it meant he was in the comfort of his own home.
He wished that this year was like all the years before, when playful scoldings and last-minute Christmas wrappings were the least of his problems.
But they weren't.
Because this year, instead of being home for Christmas like he normally would be, Luke was stuck in a city miles and miles away from home with only good-and-not-so-good memories to fuel his Christmas spirit.
They were all that Luke had, along with the one case of luggage he hadn't lost, so all he could do was sit on a cold bench in middle of the airport and reminisce about the good times in a land far, far away.
He tried not to think about the negativity in his life-how in the past year he had managed to go from the innocent oh-yeah-you-can-trust-me kind of guy to the mysterious I-don't-even-trust-myself-why-should-you-trust-me kind of guy.
Luke didn't intend to end up alone and stranded for the Christmas holidays; it was simply bad planning and bad luck. If only he had caught the earlier flight with his bandmates, everything would have turned out differently.
But no. He had to be his idiotic self and put his needs above those of his family's.
The earlier flight was scheduled to land at noon (Sydney time,) and if he had played his cards right earlier he would've been getting off that plane, too. That was certainly not the biggest mistake he had ever made, but at the moment he was mentally beating himself up over and over again because of it.
Because the very last place Luke Hemmings intended to spend Christmas Eve (Eve) and Christmas was the airport-John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, nonetheless.
Within normal circumstances, even if Luke had been able to catch the later flight, it would have been more than enough time for him to fly back in time for Christmas dinner at his own house; but naturally he could not control the weather.
Because when it really came down to it, no matter how famous, well-known, or important Luke was to planet Earth, he was still just a tall, lanky teenager who had no special weather-controlling capabilities over the universe.
Since Luke travelled a lot (a lot was actually an understatement; he basically lived on a bus and/or typically caught a plane or two a day,) it was a miracle he even knew where he was or what day it was, but considering he was stuck it in the same place for twenty-four hours and it was the holiday season, he couldn't just not know.
So upon hearing the news of the potential snowstorm that would prevent him from getting home safely for the holiday festivities, Luke had no choice but to attempt to get comfortable.
And in Luke's mind, that meant settling down on the closest bench possible. This bench happened to be right in front of a pay phone, a few gates away from the plane he could no longer board, and a few feet away from the monitor that tortured him.
Actually, it was more like one word that tortured him: one measly word with nine letters, all-caps, displayed in crisp red Arial font.
Cancelled.
He kept staring at that word from afar as if it would suddenly change and give the 'okay' for Luke to board his plane to LAX (and from there Australia,) but it never did.
Luke knew he had to move eventually, maybe go find a hotel, but he didn't want to be alone. For right now he just wanted to forget about his predicament altogether, drown it all out with music.
With music he could pretend he was somewhere else, anywhere else, whatever his imagination could conjure up.
With his imagination, he could even pretend he was someone else. He could pretend that he wasn't a member of 5 Seconds of Summer--the band that already had a huge fanbase due to good marketing and decent talent-- but also he could pretend that there weren't a large number of people who wanted him: dead or alive.
All the people rushing past him paid no attention to the band member sitting alone in the middle of the airport, for they all had their own lives, their own family members waiting for them with open arms at home, their own event they were expected at.
Meanwhile, Luke had no life here in the city, no one waiting for him (well, besides his parents, but they were in Australia,) nowhere to go.
Luke had never felt so alone, and yet here he was, sitting in the middle of an overly crowded airport in an overly crowded city.
And so he sat on that bench, letting the music from his iPhone take him to a different (and less lonely) place. He shut his eyes, trying to picture the scene at his own house; adults making casual conversation, his older brothers teasing each other for no reason whatsoever, and his mother busy in the kitchen, preparing a one-of-a-kind feast.
Never in all eighteen years of his life had Luke spent Christmas away from his family. Never in all eighteen years of his life had Luke not been able to taste the classic Hemmings Christmas dinner.
He honestly didn't know what he missed most.
So he sat in front of the pay phone, almost positive no one in their right mind would be stopping to use it. After all, it seemed like everyone in this city buried their nose in a cell phone, and not one had looked up even for a split second to acknowledge Luke. He figured this was a good place to sit, as he could fade into the background unnoticed until he felt the need to move.
But he was dead wrong.
"Hey."
He was startled out of his daydream by this vague voice, a medium-pitched American accent, so close to him he was almost certain they were talking to him.
But that was impossible; no one knew where he was, or even who he was. His naturally blonde hair was tucked away in a beanie, his pale ears were covered with headphones, and his eyes looked oddly green in this light.
It must be a mistake.
"Hey, um, Luke? Luke Hemmings?"
Okay, definitely not a mistake.
Luke almost had a panic attack at the sound of his own name, instantly pulling the headphones off his ears. His cover was already blown and he didn't want to be rude: even if doing so he would have to confront the voice.
And Luke was 99.9% sure it belonged to a fan.
Not a fan, not right now, Luke silently pleaded to God, squeezing his eyes shut. If I have ever done anything right in my life, ever, please don't let this be a fan.
Anything but a fan.
If the fans knew he was here, stranded, alone, he was as good as dead.
Luke wasn't exaggerating by thinking this, not at all. Sure, he didn't exactly expect to end up lying in a ditch somewhere unconscious the next day, but the press would have a field day.
His manager would have a field day.
Everyone would have a field day.
And Luke couldn't have that, not now. He couldn't jeopardize the band and all their hard work just because of his stupid little mistake. It would be like when his bandmate, Michael Clifford, lost his passport and had to spend a week in Chicago: only worse.
Because Luke was Luke, not Michael.
And people would... Suspect things.
Michael got away with almost everything, just because he could persuade everyone out of anything and anyone into everything.
So even if there was a rumor that he was held back in Chicago not because of a lost password but because he was trying to smuggle drugs out of the country, no one would believe it and the rumor would die out, fast.
But any sort of controversial rumor involving Luke got everyone talking. After all, he was the lead singer; he of all people was supposed to have that charm and wit most good-looking guys his age had.
But he didn't: not in that way, anyways.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be creepy; it's just on your luggage tag." She added quickly, yes, it was a girl, noting Luke's flinches. "Actually, on second thought, that is pretty creepy, so... Sorry."
"Oh," was all he could think to say, breathing a sigh of relief. Okay, so it's not a fan, he reassured himself, finally looking up at the person talking to him.
And here he made his most fatal mistake: gazing straight into her eyes.
Her beautiful, crystal blue eyes.
They were like ice: refreshing, piercing, beautiful. They were much different than Luke's own blue eyes, because instead of being clouded with exhaustion and fatigue, they were bright, happy, energy-filled.
If there was one thing that Luke craved more than his mum's cooking, or even Grand Theft Auto on his Xbox back in Australia, it was energy.
And how this girl could have so much of it, so much that it showed in her eyes, was a mystery-one Luke wanted to figure out.
He was intrigued, to say the least.
If he didn't know any better, he would say he was in love. But Luke wasn't a huge believer of love at first sight-mainly thanks to his mum, who raised him to have caution whilst dating and to have even higher expectations for the girl he chose, which she reinforced after his last failed "relationship," also known as a girl just using Luke for fame.
Both Luke and his mother were both determined not to let that happen again, hence Luke's nearly impossible standards and strong morals.
But was it possible that this girl actually didn't know who he was, aside from the luggage tag?
He felt all his walls come tumbling down, looking into her eyes. He didn't even know anything about her, her personality, or her lifestyle, and that was what scared him the most. For a guy who prided himself on his ability to judge character instead of looks, he sure was being ignorant this time.
But he really didn't care, despite the caution bells ringing in his head. They went off whenever Luke met a pretty girl, oddly enough, because somehow his mother had drilled it into his head that all pretty girls would hurt him.
Something told him that this situation was different than all the rest, that their encounter wasn't just a mistake, but there was always the doubt swirling in his head.
Because Luke being Luke, he wanted the truth and nothing but the truth.
And love at first sight just seemed too good (and too foolish) to be true.
It was times like these when Luke resented being overly cautious, even awkward. Loathed it, even. If he was anything like his band's drummer, Ashton Irwin, he would already have the girl charmed, swooning, and in love by the first glance-not caring if the girl would backstab him later.
He wanted to be that guy, one who dove into the moment headfirst and dealt with the consequences later.
But that obviously wasn't Luke.
So he dealt with his new feelings the way Luke Hemmings did best: awkwardly.
But as Luke was contemplating what to say next, the girl had already moved past the awkwardness- including Luke altogether.
Instead she gestured to the pay phone, literally asking his permission to use it. "Do you mind if I-"
"Oh, no, not at all." He murmured, quickly stumbling to his feet to get out of her way. "I'm sorry."
Without skipping a beat, the girl shot Luke a dazzling smile, making him loose balance and trip over his own luggage. "No, you're fine! Sorry-this'll just take five seconds, I promise."
Five seconds, Luke repeated in his head. Damn, if this girl is playing me, she sure knows all the right things to say.
But maybe she wasn't playing him, and she honest-to-God didn't know who he was.
And why was she using a pay phone? Was she poor?
She certainly didn't look poor-at least, from what Luke could tell. Her brown, almost black layers looked well-kept and fell perfectly to the middle of her ribcage, her teeth were clean and looked freshly whitened, and her brown lace-up boots, black skinny jeans, knitted beanie, and plaid flannel shirt tucked underneath a black NorthFace jacket was borderlining between fashion and warmth.
Luke observed this all from about a few feet away, and since he was now standing, he came to the conclusion that this girl was a good seven or eight inches shorter than him. This didn't bother Luke at all, as he was usually taller than the majority of girls he met; but with her it was the perfect height difference.
Then again, everything seemed perfect with this mystery girl. She was everything Luke wanted her to be-and more.
"Um, sorry to bother you-again-but by any chance do you have a quarter I could use?" She addressed Luke again, who was still speechless.
Even her voice was perfect. God.
After getting over the shock that this beautiful girl was talking to him again, he finally came to his senses and began combing his pockets for a quarter.
Whatever that was.
A quarter... Was that the small coin, the medium coin, the bigger coin, or the biggest coin?
Needless to say Luke was not very familiar with American currency.
"Uh..." Luke stalled, fumbling around with the oddly similarly shaped coins in his pocket, then eventually went with the largest one. Quarter... 25%... Makes sense... Right? "Here?"
"Thanks." She smiled, taking it from him, and turning back to the cold metal controls.
Now, Luke would be lying if he said he didn't overhear her conversation, or at least most of it. He didn't mean to; it was just that the pay phone she was using was right there.
And so was Luke.
"Hey, Dad, it's me... My flight was cancelled and my phone died... Yes, I have a charger, but-Dad. Calm down, I'm fine... I'll just meet you guys in a couple of days; there's really nothing I can do... Yes, I'll try to stay out of the press... Say hi to Mom for me, please? Okay? Okay. See you soon, love you."
"'Wait. 'Stay out of the press?'" Luke blurted the moment she hung up before he could help himself, only because it sounded more like something his manager would say to him than one of his parents.
The last thing he wanted to do was intrude on her personal life, and he honestly didn't mean to ask such an evasive question, but it just slipped out.
The girl simply laughed in response, yet somewhat nervously, and looked at the ground. "Yeah, it's actually kind of stupid. It's just my dad being-well, stupid. Overprotective. Paranoid."
"I know exactly what you mean," Luke agreed out loud, then in his head added, more than you know.
He always had his managers on his back about this rumor and that rumor, and, to be honest, Luke was fed up with all the damn rumors that he might as well have done all the nasty things they gossiped about.
The girl quickly changed the subject, directing the conversation back to Luke. "You're not from here, are you?"
Luke stared at her for another five seconds, still confused, before finally replying, "God, is it really that obvious?"
"Just a little," she chuckled, gazing up at Luke with those blue eyes he craved so much. "There's the accent, the luggage tag, and the 'casually just sitting in front of a payphone' thing. So..."
Luke blushed, caught in the fragile act of doing nothing. "Oh, yeah, I-I was just thinking."
"It's okay, I understand." She laughed (probably at his awkwardness, Luke assumed,) her eyes still sparkling. "So, where are you from, Luke?"
"Sydney." He replied automatically, this time coherently forming an acceptable answer, and giving a faint smile at the thought of it. "It's in Australia."
"Oh, really?" The girl said, smiling up at him. "That's so cool!"
"Yeah, it's lovely." Luke replied shyly, although he was getting more and more comfortable around her by the second. But that, to Luke, was the scary part-it usually took a couple of days to get him to talk normally. "And warm."
"Warm is always good," she agreed, shivering a little bit at the thought. "Do you always spend Christmas there?"
"Always." He confirmed. "Well, until now."
She nodded in understanding, but then narrowed her eyes. "Wait, so if you haven't spent a Christmas away from home before, that means... Holy fuck, you've never experienced a white Christmas, have you?"
Luke noticeably cringed. Sure, he found her excitement (and naughty language) rather attractive, but he couldn't help but cringe at the attention they might attract.
But no one was paying any attention to the beautiful girl and the awkwardly-tall lead singer casually chatting by the phone booth, much to Luke's relief.
"Sorry, I just-wow." She gazed at him in disbelief, but then those blue eyes slowly turned back to playfulness. "Well, you've seen snow at least... Right?"
"Right." Luke agreed quickly, his heart racing in his chest.
He still couldn't believe how stupid he sounded due to his lack of charisma skills around pretty girls: let alone that a pretty girl he just met could make him seem so stupid.
Then again, maybe the fact that he sounded so stupid in front of a pretty girl was Luke's real dilemma.
The girl just shrugged, giving him another stunning smile that made his entire body freeze, and grabbed his arm. "Good enough. C'mon, I'll show you around."
And so in a matter of five seconds, Luke Hemmings went from sitting all alone, trying to escape reality, to wanting to experience each and every moment of it with a girl he had yet to catch the name of.
A/N: haha sorry it's very wordy I have not edited at all 😁
but anyways! I'd love to have your feedback, so feel free to comment :)
which leads me to the QOTD: what should the girl's first name be?
& you can request your own too haha ;)
- A