(( Okay, so I know I did the Prologue title in Latin, but I know more French than Latin and Brinuggedy used French sooooo, like, why not? XD
~ HukeSophiaLemmings))
I stumbled awkwardly through the streets. I couldn't see straight; my vision was blurred and everything moved in trios. The world whirled around me continuously to the rhythm of my pounding head.
Yet even drunk, I knew my objective; my apartment. Looking up as I took balance again a street lamp, I saw my hotel building. Entering, I walked towards the elevator. Oh hell no; I was not taking the stairs in this condition.
I clicked the button and waited. I heard a high pitched 'ding' and looked up slightly to see the doors open. I slid forward, and I would've fallen if it wasn't for two arms scooping me up gently and pressing me against a warm wall. Is it a wall? I don't know, do walls breathe? I can't even remember. The person steps forward, helping me into the elevator with them.
"Breathe. Come on, in time with me." The person says. It's then that my confused mind suddenly realises that I'm not breathing, and that tears still stream down my face. I do as the person says, stopping the tears. I listen to their soothing heartbeat against my back as I steady my breathing.
I come to some sense and lean forward slightly to click the button for my floor.
I turn. I can't say that I remember, nor can properly see the stranger.
"Thanks." I slur.
"No, it's fine. That's my floor anyway." They smiled reassuringly.
And then the train of sorrow hit me hard and the feeling of being broken returned. I crumpled down, seating myself in a corner with my knees to my chest as I sob uncontrollably. How could he do this? How could they all do this?!
The person sits beside me. "Breakup?" They ask. I nod.
"I always end up broken. 4 years now, and all relationships spiral downhill. So much heartbreak. But no. I can't do it anymore. No more guys. Ever." I wipe my eyes. Now I think back, I have no idea why I told them that. There is silence.
I don't realise us reaching our floor, nor that the person stood up. I remain seated, picking at loose threads on my hoodie sleeve. I hear a deep sigh as two arms lift me up and carry me from the elevator.
"Where's your apartment? What number?" They ask.
"Put me down, I'll go."
"You can barely walk. Number. NOW." They say sternly.
"Okay, okay, 762." I say; handing them the keys. That is the right number, right?
And then I point blank pass out.
~
When I wake up, I can barely open my eyes. My head is throbbing mercilessly, and the light streams through open curtains. Open curtains? My bedroom curtains are never open. I rub my eyes, and eventually, they adjust to the light. Wait.. Those aren't my bedroom curtains. Not even any set of curtains at all in my apartment look like that.
I looked around a room I don't at all recognise, and then at myself. I notice that I'm still wearing my skinny jeans, but my hoodie is gone and my 'Guns 'n' Roses' shirt has been changed to an oversized 'Nirvana' shirt.
I hear gentle guitar strumming from the next room. Curious, I stand and quietly walk up to the door. There is a thin, half-wall similar to a counter in front of me. Back facing me, there sits a boy behind it. He looks to be a giant (even seated), his blonde hair seemingly messy. And then it begins.
Everybody's got their demons,
Even wide awake or dreaming.
I'm the one who ends up leaving,
Make it okay...
See a war I wanna fight it;
See a match I wanna strike it.
Every fire I've ignited-
He paused as if unsure of what to sing next.
Faded to grey.
I sang. His head turned to me, giving a brief smile that I returned before urging him to play on.
But now that I'm broken
Now that you know it
Caught up in a moment
Can you see inside?
'Cause I've got a jet black heart,
And there's a hurricane underneath it,
Trying to keep us apart.
I write with a poison pen,
But these chemicals moving between us-
He stopped again.
Are the reason to start again...
I sang. He stopped as if contemplating the next words. So I sang them as he strummed instead, taking a seat beside him.
Now I'm holding on for dear life;
There's no way that we could rewind.
I finally get a chance to take in his features. His perfectly chiseled jawline, vivid cerulean, almost ocean-deep eyes, black lip ring. I continue singing as my eyes wander onto his fingers as he plays the guitar like an angel plays harp.
Maybe there's nothing after midnight,
I pause this time, no lyrics in mind.
That could make you stay..
He sings. He clears his throat, setting down his acoustic guitar.
"Umm, hi." He utters, deep Australian voice present. I'm surprised; there's not many Aussies here. I don't trust my voice, but I just wave 'hi' awkwardly.
"If, um, you're wondering.. I didn't kidnap you. You gave me the wrong number, so I brought you back here. I hope you don't mind. Oh, and you puked all over your hoodie and shirt last night; they're in the dryer now. I hope you don't mind the Nirvana shirt, and I swear I spent a really long time trying to undress and dress you without looking. A HELL of alot of time." He blurts out, making me giggle like mad.
"Okay, 1. Chillax. 2. I LOVE NIRVANA DUDE STFU. 3. Thank you. And 4. You really didn't have to put in an effort like that." I smile. "No other guy ever has." I mutter under my breath to myself, but somehow, he hears.
"But I do. No girl deserves to be treated or thought of as a whore - conscious or unconscious. It's cruel. It's pitiful. It's... Disgusting. And it breaks people physically and mentally. I'd never break someone." He sighs, smiling afterwards.
"Luke." He holds out a hand. I can't believe he's just said that. A guy has just said he'd never treat me like a whore. Umm... WHAT?! He said he'd never break anyone.. He's the bipolar opposite of all of the boys I've ever met, I'll tell you.
"Pandora." I grin, shaking his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Luke."
"Pleasure's mine, Pandora." He chuckled. I took a glance at his clothes when he gave me a close-eyed smile; Blink 182 tank top, white and blue flannel, skinny jeans with ripped knees and an all-black pair of Vans.
"You have good music taste. And a angel's voice. And you strum that guitar so effortlessly, it's kinda scary but... More amazing, ya know?" See, I've never been a person whose afraid to state my mind. So I don't get embarrassed by saying that. I smile to show I'm telling him the truth.
He bites his lip, playing with his lip ring as his cheeks visibly redden.
Oh, okay. That's so totally not hot at all - note the sarcasm.
Suddenly, he giggles.
"Oh, duckbilled-elephant-NUGGEDYBUGGEDY, did I just say that?!" My eyes widened.
He tried to stop laughing and answer me, but after no luck he just nodded.
"Oh my god." I chuckled with him.
And then I remembered what I wished for.
11:11.
I wish for a decent guy to come around and show me what love is about.
Or maybe I just needed to be happy; to have friends. And Luke was a great new beginning - a start where I could forget my pained past. Question was, could I ever really forget?
