What's the saddest word in the English Language?
almost.
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A Luke Hemmings fanfiction AU
⚠️Mature content
Oh darling all of the city lights never shine as bright as your eyes.
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It was the late hours of the night or early hours of the morning depending on the perspective. Eleanor was still awake, the dream, unforgivingly circling her mind.
It was the first time in years she couldn't sleep. Unlike the reasons for her insomnia before, this time it was because of a certain blonde and a melody she couldn't get out of her head.
There is no point staring at the ceiling any longer, Eleanor thought to herself. Looking at her phone, the time read three am. She counted on her fingers, five hours, five hours of sleep she had managed. Definitely not ideal, but she would manage.
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor got out of bed, stretching her arms above her head. She put on her black leggings and her oversized baby pink hoodie. On her feet, she pulled up her fluffy socks and fixed her hair, scooping it into a messy bun, stray hair flying in different directions.
Dowsing her face with cold water, she put on some bronzer and some mascara.
Eleanor's first priority was to make herself a big mug of tea, her favorite flavor as it reminded her of England. It was a bitter sweet feeling. Eleanor felt like she should feel homesick but the truth was the opposite.
Picking up her mug, she made her way into the living room.
In the left corner, near the balcony sliding doors, she had set up a small music nook. It had a keyboard, her acoustic guitar, vinyl player and vinyls neatly arranged on shelves and a large, comfy chair to write in along with a few plants of varying shapes and sizes dotted around.
Eleanor curled up into the chair and tried to relax, her legs tucked underneath her as her notebook rested, blank on her knee. She tried to write the song that had kept her up all night and much to the Eleanor's frustration, her mind emptied but she still felt on the verge of a breakthrough so she pursued.
Eleanor desperately needed to clear her head so she stepped outside, mug in hand and leaned on the balcony rail, looking over at the city lights. The lights twinkled and the rainbow of colors merged together to create a piece of art.
Luke hadn't been to sleep yet, he was about to head inside when the lights flickered on next door. He frowned, they're never usually up that late.
He had been leaning, looking over the balcony for hours now, hands freezing, locked in a trance with the night sky, his body unwilling to part ways with the stars.
Luke always felt most at peace when the moonlight shone and the stars burned. Despite the coolness and emptiness of the surrounding city, the loneliness it brought comforted him, like the broken city was giving him an embrace, telling him he wasn't the only one alone.
His balcony wrapped around the corner of the building, considerably larger than most in the building. So from his vantage point he could see their balcony but he was pretty sure they couldn't see him.
