disconnected // l.h

[thirteen]

Luke had a beautiful voice. 

So beautiful that I hadn't even noticed the faint smell of vomit that was coming from our clothes. I couldn't help but sing along, even though I barely knew the lyrics. 

"So tell me where you're hidin' your voodoo doll 'cause I can't control myself,"  I quietly sang, mostly to myself. I smiled at Luke, and he shot me a confused look. 

"Sing it," He encouraged, and my eyes bulged out of my head. I shook my head, but he pushed on, "Come on, just once." 

He continued playing the guitar, and waited. I opened my mouth, hesitantly, "and it hurts in my head, in my heart, in my chest, and I'm havin' trouble catchin' my breath, oh won't you please stop lovin' me to death?" 

Luke grinned at me, and a blush rose to my cheeks. I'd always loved to sing, but no one had ever really known about it; everyone except for Calum, of course. 

"She's am-a-a-a-zing, right?" Calum sang out, still groggy from the alcohol. "She never sings for me anymore." 

"Calum," I growled, embarrassed. 

It was true; I hadn't really been singing as much since college started, considering I'd left my piano at home, and well . . . no one was very interested. I didn't think I had the best voice, but I knew I wasn't tone deaf. 

"She is," Luke agreed, and I shook my head. 

"Please, what about you?" I gaped, "That was incredible; I can't believe you all wrote that. The lyrics are amazing. And, your voice is just --" I stopped myself, and put my head in my hands, "I sound like a fangirl, don't I?" 

Luke chuckled, biting his lip, and setting the guitar down beside him, "Don't worry, it was cute." 

Cute? Oh, God. 

I blushed, looking down at my stained jeans, and I've finally come back to my senses: "Where's your bathroom? I need to clean Calum's vomit off," I considered the words that had just left my mouth and laughed, "Never thought I'd be saying that, to be honest." 

Luke stood up, motioning for me to follow him. When I do, he leads me down the hall to a bedroom at the end of the corridor, which I assume was his. His room was clean; a perfectly made bed, complete with countless fluffy pillows. Band posters covered the entirety of the walls, and a large bookshelf was set next to the door, filled with books of all shapes and sizes.

I hadn't even realized Luke had made his way across the room to the bathroom door until he called for me, "You coming?" I flush, and nod, walking over to where he stood. He turned on the light for me, and I squeezed past. 

"Thanks," I smile, but before I could shut the door, he held up a hand. I waited for a moment while he reached into a drawer near his bedside table and pulled out a pair of black sweatpants. 

I opened my mouth to object, but he stopped me, "No, Leena, wear it. It might be a bit big for you, but it's better than wearing vomit jeans." He looked down at himself as well, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I need to change as well; I'll just take your jeans for dry cleaning, yeah?" 

Before I could respond, the boy hands me the sweatpants, and his hand grazes mine for just a moment, but his touch sends shivers down my spine. He smiles at me, and turns away towards the door. "Any chance you have the same pair in purple?" I joke, and his shoulder shake with laughter before he shuts the bedroom door behind him. 

I turned to the mirror, and groan. My appearance was especially horrific, not including the stained jeans. My hair was a tangled mess that fell down my shoulders and framed my face in dark curls. The eyeliner I'd worn was smudged a bit underneath my eye, and my lip gloss had completely wiped off.