𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

⁷⁹blooming from the grave

clementine

He runs the wet cotton over my fingernail, holding my hand close to his face as he places his focus on removing my already chipped nail polish.

Since this morning, the grey skies haven't moved away, and it looks to be readying itself to start raining. Quite on point for the events today brought.

It's only been a few hours since the service but I feel it must've been days already. I got to bring with me some of his clothes, and it comes as a comfort knowing that I'll have this part of him with me.

I want to apologise to Luke profusely for being so cold and quiet but I know what he'll say.

So I drag my pencil on the rough paper of my sketchbook, trying my best to do a quick draft of how I look like with sad puppy eyes. When I finish, I write down my message below and face the paper towards Luke.

When he looks up, he glances confusedly between me and the sketch.

"I'm sorry," I read the message, setting the paper down. "For being distant and silent and not talking to you as much. I know that —"

"Clem, it's alright, I —"

"And you have to stop interrupting me when I'm trying to apologise," I give a light laugh as he smiles, nodding. "I'm just saying. Talking to you could've helped both of us instead of hoping we were okay,"

He gives it a thought, rubbing the cotton on my pinky. "Are you okay?" He asks, genuine and soft in tone, though not looking at me.

I nod, sighing. It feels like the wrong answer but I say it anyway. "Yeah,"

"Really?" This time he gives me a brow-knitted look, sad blue eyes reflecting the balcony light behind me.

I know what he means by that. Saying I'm okay feels like a lie, and in truth, maybe I'm only half of what I say. "I'm not okay with the fact that he's... not here," I answer truthfully. "Or that only he and his doctor knew about anything. But I'm glad that..." The thought sticks to the roof of my mouth like gum. I don't know if saying it is right or would look bad on me but saying nothing feels worse. "I'm glad that he's no longer hurting,"

It's the one thought that outshines the rest. He's no longer suffering through terrible symptoms or going to checkups, and the price for that is that I'd have to lose him. I'm okay with that.

I scoff at a memory's sudden returning. That night when dad and I were on the balcony, we'd been talking. Something in me hurts at the recollection of our conversation, his voice, his eyes, and how we said he, mom and Everett might spend Christmas in LA with me.

Luke takes my hand and presses his lips lightly on my knuckles. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He whispers.

I shrug, truly unsure. "I don't know,"

He lets go and grabs his phone from my purse, clicking through as I wait. "Okay, let me... let me show you this thing I made," He faces his screen towards me and reveals a few paragraphs of something he'd written.

He hands me his phone as he reaches for his laptop, opening it to search something while I read through what I assume are lyrics.

By the sound of the title, my jaw is already half agape, each word making me wonder how he's able to write just like this. They're like confessions, and I admire him for trusting me with them, and for letting me inspire them too, I suppose.

"Okay, so there's this virtual piano sort of thing that I found, and I kinda just wrote this with that," He explains, showing the laptop screen to me briefly before taking his phone and resting it on the bed. "And this is called Oh My Darling,"

I give him a fond smile and wait as he plays the intro, sad-sounding chords following each other, reminding me of how today has been so far.

As he starts singing, I notice the light pit-patters of the rain on the balcony doors, tapping on the glass as though asking to be let in, to hear Luke as he is. Maybe they wish to have a song written about them as well.

When I look at him, my heart refuses to beat, stubborn and in awe at the man. My man. Mine since he kissed me on New Years. Mine since he returned to New York. Mine since he walked me to Ackerman from Rose's Region.

And I'm glad to have that. To have him. I'm glad that I get to witness him create, to witness him live, to hear him everyday and be told what he did that day.

I see him as he is right now and I feel like it's rare. It won't last forever, not as much as I want it to, but then what's the point of appreciating it if it'll be there forever? I get to witness him as he is, be his first audience. I love that. I love him.

"I love you,"

Abruptly, he stops playing, stops singing, and stares at me, letting the rain fill in what would be silence.

I see it all in his eyes, Larimar and surprise, his fingers hovering over the laptop keyboard as though he's frozen in time.

I don't need him to say it back, I just need him to hear it. I want him to know it, see that in my face I mean it.

"I love you too," His face softens with a smile, and it reminds me of the warm afternoon in valentines, sunlight soaking him and his hair divine. My golden boy.

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╳╳╳

so,
you've finished reading the
last chapter of pw
and don't know what to do

aaaaaaaaaAAAHH
i can't believe pw's done.
it's done. holy shit.
hoooooooooooooooooly
wow

take this story as an excerpt
of clem's life, that's sort of just
how i've looked at pw since i
started writing it. that whatever
is in this story is smackdab in the
middle of clem's life. there was a
before and there's an after. i've
sort of treated pw as though it
was actually a life?? if that makes
sense?? where i didn't really want
distinguishable 'villains' because
lmao, irl, there just arent any.
there are just a shit ton of obstacles
and then someone you get
through them with.

oof my dudes thank you for the love
you gave pw and literally bearing through
dozens of chapters before even getting a
first kiss. i meant it when i said this is a
slow burn. however, the next story's not
gonna be so slow, me thinks 👀
oh and there might be someone in it
that also appeared here. so mmmm watch out?

aaaa yeh thanks, smOOCH SMOOCH FOR
EVERYONE HEhe. thanks for giving my
book of cliches a chance. i appreciate you all.
i hope you enjoyed reading pw just as much
as i enjoyed creating it <3

funfact: it was originally called project calm,
and im just now realising how more stupid
'PC' sounds compared to 'PW'. i'm too
attached to pronouncing pw as 'peewee'

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the epilogue will be up soon

and perhaps red desert cult :)