thin white lines | l. hemmings

45

Luke pulled his leather jacket onto each arm as he stood over Delaney.

He stood over his girlfriend.

As old as he was, and as mature as he claimed to be, the agreement between the two of them that the whole 'boyfriend-girlfriend thing' was their thing made him feel lighter than he had in years.

Made him feel like everything would be okay, as long as Delaney was there to make it okay.

But she couldn't always be there unless Luke was good enough to protect her from all the danger he's put her in.

And that's what he was off to do.

He was preparing himself to meet the neon man. The person he hated most in the world. All just to maybe keep her safe. It might not keep her safe, but not going compromised her safety entirely and they couldn't use Luke without their pawn.

Like he asked, Ashton helped Luke to dock the boat exactly where he was told, so once he stepped onto land for the first time that week, it only took about ten minutes to get to the rooftop address that was scribbled out for him.

It was empty.

He circled around the half wall which lined the roof and prevented stargazing from a terrible tragedy. He stayed far enough away from the edge that it'd be impossible for someone to push him if he was caught off-guard.

12:00 the man wrote.

12:23 his phone read.

His heart raced and he shot to the railing closest to the water, searching for their boat amongst the dozens of others.

Had this only been a distraction? The perfect way to truly draw Luke away from Delaney for the first time since they'd taken her?

He was a second away from running back down to the boat, cutting the ten-minute walk into a six-minute run when he heard footsteps approach him.

A bright green watchband was the first thing he saw as he stepped away from the guarded edge.

The neon made no sense anymore. Luke knew this guy.

He knew his square jaw, despite how many times it had been covered by a mask or loose clothes.

A scar on the left side of his thin mouth that looked as if someone had tried to extend his mouth with a knife.

Eyes that always seemed dark, despite their light brown colour.

It was to mock him. The childlike bright colours in all different forms. It was so he never forgot. Every time he saw neon colours in his everyday life. Not so common that it became normal but just common enough to only associate it with terror.

And just the perfect way to feel that same terror with every single sight of such colours.

"You made it," the man had the audacity to say as he waltzed in almost half an hour late.

"I could say the same for you. I didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah, well. Good thing you didn't leave or poor Delaney wouldn't be able to greet you as you got back to her." He brought his hand to his scruff, scratching along his jaw.

"Here I am," he said through gritted teeth.

"And here you are," the man repeated, stretching out his hand with a pen lying in his palm.

"What'sWhats that?" Luke nodded towards it, refusing to take it so that the man would look ridiculous with his arm in the air like it was.

"A pen."