𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

58. break for him

saturday,
january 1st, 2021

EZRA GREYSTONE

Despite it being the beginning of a whole new decade, the chill in the air hasn't changed a bit. Even with my arms wrapped around myself and my long sleeved dress accompanied by my heavy leather blazer, I find myself to be shivering as I walk across the street from the party.

After sharing that kiss with Chris, he offered me a hand up and wondered if I'd like to rejoin the party. I agreed, we went downstairs and I told him I was grabbing a drink.

I left instead.

It's not like he'll miss me too much. His friends borderline attacked him the second he descended the stairs, all wishing him a Happy New Year.

Tears blur my vision a little and I wipe at my cheeks carefully to dry them. I'm not even sure why I'm crying. All I know is that it probably has something to do with my English professor that I simply can't get my mind off of.

I notice how the campus gates are open and decide to walk across from the east gate through the west and try and get a taxi at the other side. The library is lit up and as I'm mindlessly staring through the expansive windows, I notice a few people dotted around inside. I wonder why they're studying instead of celebrating, but then again I'm envious of their self control.

The lamplights surrounding the quad are alight also but as far as I can see there are no classrooms or lecture halls occupied at this hour. I catch sight of Luke's room, the lights off and I duck my head down with a cry. I watch as my teardrops land on my boots with every step until a voice startles me.

"Ezra?"

I flinch, instinctively wiping my tears away before searching for the voice. I freeze, my lips parting as he stands there, outside the library with a concerned expression written all over his pretty face and his brunette friend that I've come to like by his side. His eyebrows tug inwards and he shuffles down the steps from the entryway of the library. Slowly, he approaches me yet the sight of him only makes my weak heart sadder.

"Oh," I sniffle, not really knowing what else to say. He looks overly worried, cautiously nearing me with every second passing. "Hi, Luke."

Cal remains silent, wide eyes focused on the interaction before him and a lit cigarette between his fingers. The blonde of the two exhales, engulfing me in his arms before I could even protest. Not that I would. His touch is something that I'm sure could cure me despite any ache I could feel.

My face tucks into his chest and his arms tangle around me, one of his hands slipping through strands of my hair to cradle my head to his body. Quiet tears stain his knitted sweater and I feel silently guilty for it. I feel his chin settle on my head, comforting me. My own arms slide around his waist and I hug him tighter than ever before. Maybe he can feel the way my body ripples with gentle cries, because he kisses my hairline before whispering.

"Shh, baby," he mumbles, "Wanna tell me what happened?"

I blink, trying to rid my eyelashes of the watered weight they now feel. When I don't reply, Lu carefully cups my face and pulls me to look up at him. A frown is coursed between his brows, lips pouted almost unnoticeably.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he tells me lowly, wiping my tears and I smile halfheartedly at him.

It's been weeks, but he's here. Right in front of me with his arms around me and I wish everything was okay again. Maybe it could be. Maybe I should apologise. Tell him that the little hobby of his doesn't bother me even when it does worry me a little.