To Fix Yesterday | l.h.

0.9

My parents sat in the front seats of the car, staring at the road in front of them. Someone talking on the radio made a joke I didn't understand, causing my mom to laugh. I smiled. Her laugh was so beautiful, and it made me happy that she was happy. But then again, a lot of things made me happy.

I looked out the window next to me and watched the rain splatter on it. I looked at the moon blurred from the rain and clouds. The moon was full, shining brightly throughout the dark, Louisiana night.

It happened before I could even comprehend it.

The truck was coming right towards us, quickly making contact. Glass shattered everywhere, some cutting into my exposed skin, which was nearly as bad as the pain I felt when I saw my parents.

I sat up, panting. I lost a lot of sleep do to reoccurring dreams about the accident. I placed the palm of my hand to my forehead, feeling my clammy skin.

I sat in bed for a couple more seconds trying to catch my breath. I then slowly got out of bed and walked into the hallway. I stopped and looked at the closed guest room door, remembering that Luke was in there. I raised my fist to the door, getting ready to knock, but stopped. I lowered my fist and walked into the kitchen.

I pulled open the freezer door and took out a pint of cookie dough ice cream. I took a spoon out of my utensil drawer and brought it over to the seat I took at the end of the island. I pulled off the lid of the already been opened pint of ice cream and jammed my spoon into the dairy goodness.

I looked over at the clock on the microwave. It read two fourteen am. I wondered if Luke was awake, which immediately led to me interrogating myself.

Why are you thinking about Luke?

Well, he is basically my roommate now.

Why do you care if he's awake or not?

I mean, it's two in the morning, I was just wondering how late he stays up.

Why do you want to know how late he stays up?

Just want to get to know him better, I guess.

I thought you didn't care about him and didn't want to know him?

Well, he's living with me now. It's different.

Why were you going to knock on his door earlier?

I was going to ask for some company, but I decided I didn't want to wake him.

Company? Are you lonely?

I have been for fifteen years. I'm used to it.

Then why would you ask Luke for company?

I aggressively took a bite of ice cream, frustrated with myself. I didn't know what to think of Luke anymore. I didn't want him to be my friend, but the more time I spent with him the more I became convinced that he was. It wasn't that I had anything against Luke, it was that I just didn't want friends. I didn't want to get attached to anyone and end up losing them. I had trust issues, that I knew.

I began thinking about it more as I got close to the bottom of the ice cream pint. I was lonely and I was used to being alone. I didn't particularly like it, though. I didn't want to be lonely, I was just used to it. Yet, I still didn't want any friends.

No wonder my aunt and uncle couldn't stand me, for I was beginning to get sick of myself.

I scraped the rest of the ice cream off of the bottom of the now empty container.  I looked up at the clock which then read two forty one. It was hard to believe I sat there debating with myself for almost half an hour.

I slowly got up and walked over to the trashcan to throw away the empty container. I set my spoon in the sink before turning on my heel and out of the kitchen. I walked down the hall and stopped in front of what was now Luke's room. I stood there for a couple seconds, staring at the door.

I eventually worked up some courage. I raised my fist before lightly using it to make contact with the door once or twice. I then patiently waited for Luke's response which came quite quickly.

"C'min," he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.

I slowly opened the door and stepped inside the room. Luke was lying on his side, facing the door and using his elbow to prop himself up. He was rubbing his eyes with one hand, and his hair was very messy. It was obvious he just woke up.

"What's wrong? Are you ok?" he asked, alarmed by the fact that I was standing in his doorway at three in the morning.

"I'm lonely," I whispered, wondering if it was even audible to him.

He chuckled and looked up at me, a huge smile spread across his face. "I thought you were used to being lonely?" he asked. I whined, partly from tiredness and partly from impatience and annoyance. Luke just chuckled again.

"Come here," he said, waving his hand to signal me to come.

I hesitantly walked over to his bed and crawled under the covers, keeping about two feet of space between us. I pushed away the few strands of hair that fell in front of my face. I snuggled into the blue and white striped pillow which belonged to Luke. It smelt like him.

"How's your head?" he asked as he pulled the blanket around me.

"Ok," I mumbled. I had a slight headache, but it wasn't too terrible.

Luke scooted closer to me, not being very subtle about it. He eliminated at least one foot of the space that was between us. He rested the back of his hand on my forehead, leaving it there for a couple seconds before pulling it back and sighing.

"You're a little sweaty," he said. My anxiety kicked in. Was I still sweaty from my dream? Or was I sweating from what I was thinking about earlier? "It's a side effect from having a concussion," he explained as if he could read my mind. I nodded.

He scooted even closer, leaving only a couple inches of space between us. His face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath, and smell it's minty scent. I tried scooting back, but stopped myself when I realized I was going to fall off the bed, which caused me to move closer to Luke, almost eliminating the space between us completely.

"How's your nose?" he asked, his voice now a whisper.

"Sore and swollen," I mumbled and let out a yawn.

"Why are you awake?" Luke asked, yawning a bit himself.

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Bad dream," I whispered. "About...about the car accident I was in when I was three...when my parents died."

"I'm sorry. Do you have those a lot?" he asked. I just nodded in response. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," I whispered, starting to drift farther into sleep.

"Is that why you're broken? Because of your parents?" Luke asked, trying to have a conversation with someone who might as well be a zombie.

"Partially," I slurred, too tired to realize what I was saying. Too tired to realize I just admitted to being broken.

"What's the other reason?" he asked.

I didn't answer, for I was almost asleep and didn't want to ruin it. Besides, I wasn't going to open up to Luke. Or at least not yet. I was still able to feel him wrap his arms around me and pull me into him, the space between us becoming nonexistent. I didn't object, I was too tired for that. In fact, I snuggled into his chest, figuring I might as well get comfortable. He had his arms wrapped around me and his nose buried into my hair.

"I'll fix you," was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

i should've just fucking named this book broken omg