⌁ Thunder ⌁ Lana Del Rey Fanfiction

chapter six: cherry blossom

I sat zoned out in the passenger seat as Lana came to a stop at a parking spot in front of a dizzingly tall apartment complex.

Lana had done enough for me, so I attempted to get out and reach the front entrance. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, and as if the concrete was crumbling, but somehow I managed to put a foot down.

I brought out the rest of my body and closed the door, then leaning on it to sustain some balance and trying to play off how not sober I was.

"You sure you can make it?" Lana turned the corner of the truck and stared me down humorously. She doubted that I'd be able to put a foot down in front of the other.

"Fuck yeah, what makes you say that?" I tipsily replied.

Not even I could trust myself, but I was so out of my mind I thought I could.

I gave her a look of false sureness and began to back away from the truck. As I took about two steps, my body began to slant as I tried to take more steps. I was moving quicker than my mind could process.

Suddenly, I began to trip and I heard Lana shriek as I made impact with the ground. I don't know why, but instead of wincing from the fall, I started laughing just because of how Lana reacted. She scrambled to help me up and I couldn't contain the laughter as I saw how scared and worried she was.

"Fuck!" She muttered. I lifted my face off of the pavement and looked up at her. Her expression was priceless.

"What?" I said between my laughter.

"You really don't feel it?" Her hand extended to a spot on my forehead just shy of my temple and grazed it.

Big mistake.

"Ow!" I yelped as I flinched back. Her fingers moved away and I noticed that her fingertips were covered in red. When I looked down at the bare concrete, I saw a streak of my own blood smeared.

"I need to get you inside right now." She grabbed both my arms and pulled me up. In her hasty motion, I ended up leaning more than forward and our faces were inches apart. She smelled like vanilla.

I smiled and Lana did too, but then her eyes went back up to my forehead and that worried expression returned. I felt some of the blood run down my temple.

"Come on." She placed my arm over her shoulders as she wrapped her hand around my waist.

I liked the way her arms felt around my waist, holding me straight, tightly.

We made our way in and we got on an elevator. The white fluorescent lights felt heavy on my vision. I watched as the red numbers on a small screen went all the way up to 17. We were going up to the 17th floor.

Lana still held me at her side even when she began to open the door to her place. As it opened, the lights were already on. I looked in. It seemed to be a sort of loft with a completely open concept. Her bed was near the massive windows that peered out to the balcony, only separated from the rest of the space by a glass wall. The air smelled like sage and lavender—warm and cozy.

She led me in and set me down on a chaise that had wooden carvings and curves like a massive throne. There were matching chairs as well. The furniture was vintage and elegant, very fitting to describe Lana's soul.

Lana gave a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder and went towards the kitchen, She started preparing a cup of coffee. I watched her as carefully as my spinning vision could handle. She did everything with precision.

I won't lie, I felt cared for.

I loved every second of it.

Minutes later she came back with the coffee in one hand, and in the other, she practically juggled to carry an ointment, a packet of cotton pads, and a bottle of antiseptic. Lana placed them all down on a little silver platter that was on the coffee table in front of me.