thin white lines | l. hemmings

26

If you were to ask Luke how he was feeling as soon as he woke up, during that stage of the morning where everything is still groggy and unclear, but unless you have to get up for something it feels like the most peaceful and comfortable time of your life, he would've agreed that it was in fact a very peaceful and comfortable time because he didn't have to get up for any reason.

Until he reached over to the opposite half of the bed, where he thought Delaney was, only to catch empty air. Immediately he forced himself up to see only clean white sheets where she was the last time he checked. His heart dropped immediately at the sight, his mind rushed thinking of any place she could've gone. Then after a minute of thinking of the worst cases possible, he came to a much more rational idea that allowed him to sink back into the mattress. She had probably just gone to the bathroom.

But, he didn't hear the shower or tap running, or any sort of movement near him. 

He made himself wait for a few minutes, giving her time to come back. The night before had proved that she didn't trust him as much as he trusted her, and as much as he entirely understood, he wanted her to feel that sense of trust he had got the taste of. He had to draw her into that trust.

When she didn't come back after a few very long minutes, he didn't even leave the bed to peer around the corner and see the bathroom door was entirely open, with no one inside. "God damn it, Delaney," he grumbled, finally dragging himself out of the bed, ignoring how badly he wanted to be back in there with her. He needed to find her first if he wanted to do that again.

Before he left the room, he threw on a proper pair of pants instead of the boxers he had slept in. As he was pulling them over his long legs, he glanced at the nightstand where he expected to find his phone.

It was still there on the charger, but the second he saw that there was only one room key, he immediately lost interest in his phone. "Fuck," he swore again under his breath, trying to stop his mind from going off again.

But, really, what else would she have left with the room card for? She might've just gone back to her room to sleep, but he had no way of checking because her fucking room card was gone. And the smallest part of him became a little offended by his theory that she just didn't want to stay with him. Without thinking too critically about it, that seemed worse than her attempting to escape.

He crouched down at his nightstand, looking around from a lower perspective to make sure that it hadn't been knocked off or fallen onto the ground during the night.

A quick tap on his phone told him that it was quarter to eleven and that most of the others wouldn't be asleep for a whole lot longer.

It might not be any use but he knew he had to knock on Delaney's door. There was no answer. He texted her a few times but the last time he tried to text her, it didn't work out so well.

He knew after that that he wouldn't be able to figure it out on his own, he was barely thinking straight and knew that he could very well be missing something.

Right across from Delaney's room was Ashtons, so he knocked repeatedly until a very annoyed Ashton slowly opened the door. "What the fuck, man," he groaned, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes.

"I may have lost Delaney," he blurted, immediately biting his lip to prepare for Ashton's reaction.

Ashton froze with his knuckle digging into his tear ducts, no longer concerned with the uncomfortable crust. "Is there...is there more to that?"

"Not really."

"Just fuckin' tell me what happened bro," Ashton shook his head, wanting Luke to get straight to the point so he could go back to sleep.