Come find me | Luke Hemmings

Thirty Eight: A year from now

I met him on a Friday at UCLA. We kissed on a Sunday at the pier. We slept together on a Tuesday at my flat. We became fuck buddies on a Thursday as we talked in my room. I broke the friends with benefits deal on a Friday night at the Club. He broke my heart on that same night. I said I love him on that Friday night and he ran away. We got back together on a Wednesday. But broke it off on a Tuesday. He met my family in Canada on a Friday. He said he loved me on a Saturday at the park in my home town. We started dating that night under the moonlight.

He left for tour on a Friday. He cheated on me on a Wednesday. I asked for a break on Thanksgiving. He killed a man on Christmas. I left him the next day.

I run our story in my head daily, keeping myself from forget anything.

Today is Summer's first birthday, she's turning 1 year old and I never met her. I stayed in Brooklyn this whole time without keeping in touch with any of my beloved friends. Mom and Dad don't know where I am, they stopped looking for me after the eight month because I wasn't returning their emails or Skype calls. Every now and then I send a letter to Taylor just to make sure she's alright, they have settle down in London and life couldn't be any better.

For me it's like my life is dormant since I left Luke. I wake up five in the morning and jog around my block then take a shower and hop on the subway to get to work by seven. I have lunch precisely at one pm with my two work friends: Amanda and Alicia. I work until five pm and take the same subway back to my place, I can't call it home yet. Then I have dinner by myself while watching TV until I get sleepy and drop my sorry body onto my bed. Next day out: repeat.

Everyday my fingertips ache to call Luke, I wrote his number at the fridge. Since I got rid of my last number, he wasn't able to find me. I keep track of him just like everyone else: by the gossip channel. These 16 months away were cruel to Luke, on the TV I could see how bad he was going. Several pictures of him getting out of clubs completely drunk and wasted, infinite rumors of affairs with groupies, getting trouble by punching paps, he even got arrested for driving while drunk and that almost cost him the label deal.

5 Seconds of Summer couldn't be better. They're finishing the second album and have been collaborating with big artists like Ed Sheeran and All Time Low. I see them on TV and remember the time where they'd play on the college circuit at the beach or at local bars.

I remember everything. These memories are keeping me sane because otherwise I'd snap and end up in a mental institution.

16 months have passed. I saw Luke exactly once: we saw each other at the airport. I was going to drop my boss for her flight to Dublin and he was leaving to London. Our eyes crossed and I couldn't move. He bit his lip and I looked down, but when I looked up again he wasn't there anymore.

The worst day of the year was my birthday. I made sure no one at work knew about it. I got several emails from Calum begging for my new number, Taylor FaceTiming me and going straight to voicemail. Even Ashton and Mike made an effort to email me. But not one single signal from Luke.

I called Taylor this morning, letting her know my number after 16 long months. She said the boys are having the last show of tour in London and after it there'll be a party for Summer. I told her I'd go, at least to the party.

And so I did. My boss, Emily, is a very kind woman in her 40s. She said I could take my vacation days and even offered me to take the office's plane. Which I gladly did. I kept thinking during the flight what would I say to them. "Hey guys, sorry I disappeared, we're cool right?" I'm pathetic. So I decided to go with the flow.

I arrived in London and took a cab to the address Taylor sent me as her new home. I stare myself on the mirror at the lobby before getting into the elevator: My brown hair was all the way down to my back with soft waves making me look I go to the beach every day. My body is thiner because of the morning jogging, my eyes are tired and scared because I can't relate to people anymore. I shake my head and get into the elevator pressing the number 12. They're living in a pent house.