What's the saddest word in the English Language?
almost.
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A Luke Hemmings fanfiction AU
⚠️Mature content
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The dull blackness of her hands pressed against her eyes as the rush of intrepidation filled her.
"Just a little longer El" Luke chuckled, squeezing her knee as he continued to drive up the dirt road.
Shifting the car into park, he released an anticipatory breath he had been keeping in for far too long. His eyes traveled to the girl in his passenger seat. Her smile beamed as her left knee bounced excited for him to reveal the secret. His heart almost burst.
"Stay there sweetheart". He unclipped his seatbelt and made his way around to her side. Luke opened the door and leant across her to unclip her seat belt. He could hear the faint sound of her inhale and the small smile on her lips.
Cedarwood would always be her favorite scent for it reminded her of him.
Taking her hand in his, Luke helped her out of the car. The cool winter wind circulating around her warm cheeks. Together, they took a few steps forward, "open" he whispered.
Fluttering open her eyes with gust, she gasped and stumbled backwards into his arms.
"Luke, oh my goodness, is this even real?" Her eyes eagerly scanned the entire scene in front of her. A towering architectural masterpiece stood in front of her. It was a real life tree house. And not the kind you have in your back garden that eventually gets too wet and too unsafe. This was a real life tree house.
Fairy lights twinkled against the dark, woody hues of the forest and the snow heavy clouds above. Her head craned up as she spun slowly. She followed the smoke from the chimney as it twirled and dissipated in the winter winds.
Luke placed a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her from behind, his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck.
"Want to see inside sweetheart?" He mumbled against her neck as he placed sweet kisses on her skin.
She nodded and flashed him a quick smile before pulling him towards the wooden ramp. He chuckled at her child-like innocence.
Luke unlocked the door and held it open for her to enter, "after you baby".
Bubbling with excitement she stepped into the treehouse, the smell of firewood and dusty books infused in her nose.
In the center of the far wall, a glowing fire roared and provided the place with much needed warmth. Surrounding the focal point, there were three overly large and overly comfortable sofas strewn with blankets and cushions of varying color and texture.
To the right of the room, stood an open plan kitchen fitted with everything anyone could possibly need.
To the left of the room a narrow, spiral staircase ascended to the upper level. Beneath it and surrounding it, books of old and books of new filled the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Eleanor's hands clutched at her cheeks as she struggled to apprehend the dream-like place.
