To Fix Yesterday | l.h.

1.0

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight that poured in through the windows. I tilted my head up to see Luke's face; his eyes were closed, his lips were slightly parted, and his breathing was slow and steady. I looked down to see his arm draped over me and my hands on his chest.

I sat up slowly with caution, trying not to wake him. I failed, though, for he immediately responded. He let out a whine and pulled me back down next to him, holding me closer and tighter than he was before. He buried his face into the crook of my neck.

"Luke," I groaned, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"What? Stay," he mumbled in a raspy voice.

"Luke," I repeated a little louder.

"Skyla," he replied, a small smirk appearing on his drowsy face.

"I have to pee," I whined, squirming around in his arms.

Luke sighed and slowly released his grasp on me and scooted back about an inch. I muttered a thank you and trudged my way into the bathroom. I silently decided to take a shower after running my fingers through my hair and feeling how greasy it was.

As I was washing myself I saw the scars along my thighs and wrists, reminding me of the times I've self harmed. I gently brushed my fingers over a scar on my hand I had from a time I burnt myself. I started getting anxious about the fact that I had been hanging out with Luke and he could've seen my scars.

I quickly wiped the tears from eyes even though I was alone. I finished my shower and put what I was already wearing back on; a white t-shirt and blue pajama shorts. It was still just coming to my realization how much my scars were being shown off.

I quickly shuffled out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. I looked down at my scars. I tried to hold them in, but I couldn't control the sobs that escaped my mouth. I couldn't help the fact that I was crying. I hardly did anymore, I had mastered bottling up my emotions, but bottling up emotions always came with outbursts and meltdowns that could be triggered by even the littlest of things.

"Skyla?" I heard Luke's voice ring from outside my bedroom door. "Are you ok?"

I tried to reply but all that left my mouth was another sob. I couldn't believe I was so foolish, so careless, flaunting my scars around for the whole world to see. Well, not the whole world, but for Luke, which was bad enough. No one knew about when I used to self harm, and I didn't want anyone to know. I wasn't ready to, nor did I know how to tell anyone.

"Skyla? What's wrong? Please open the door," Luke begged, desperately yanking on the doorknob.

I hurriedly changed into a long sleeve shirt and leggings, putting the shorts and t-shirt into my laundry basket. I wiped the tears off of my cheeks and walked over towards the door, opening it to reveal a frantic Luke.

"What happened? Are you ok? Why were you crying?" he interrogated, worry written all over his face.

"Luke, calm down. I'm fine," I whispered, looking up at him with reassuring eyes.

"No, you're not," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"I am, I really am," I said a little louder, trying to convince him.

He began to say something else, but I walked passed him and into the kitchen, not giving him a chance to finish. I abruptly stopped walking when I saw the pile of pancakes sitting on the island. I turned around and looked at Luke, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I thought it would nice if I made you breakfast," he mumbled, looking down at me with innocent eyes and a huge smile on his face.

"You didn't have to do that," I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest.