Sunshine || l.h. {complete}

Thirty Eight

A/N: DON'T HATE ME I KNOW I'VE BEEN AWOL I PROMISE I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER

tbh i started working and going to school full time and i just don't have time to myself anymore. i don't know what a weekend is, either. so love you guys. pls love me back.

ps, hope you like luke's perspective :-) lemme know x

Luke drags himself out of bed the next morning, his eyes dark with sleepiness. He rubs his face and slips his hoodie on over his thick long-sleeve t-shirt he usually sleeps in during the cold months. Shouldering his bag, he slides his shoes onto his feet and shuffles down the stairs.

Turning the key into the lock, he hears a shout from across the fire.

"Luke!"

"Hold on a second, Jamie," he sighs, swiping underneath his nose.

The redhead is bundled up with her little baby in her lap, stoking the fire and adding more logs into it. Luke saunters over to her and ruffles Ella's hair, forcing a smile.

"Why did Belle come for such a short time last night?" Jamie inquires, her light brows quirking upwards. Her questioning is innocent, but it boils Luke's blood. He's so angry and sad when he remembers Belle's reaction to his fight and then her ignoring him.

"We haven't seen her in a while is all," she murmurs as she kisses Ella's head. "If you need anything from me, just let me know."

Luke nods, his lower lip in the bite of his teeth, "I will, Jamie. Thank you."

He appreciates that she doesn't pry and just lets him start his walk to the school without further inquisitiveness.

Truthfully, Luke doesn't know if Belle will ever be back at camp. He's not sure he wants her to.

Of course he wants her to. He just isn't sure if it is what's best for her.

The sight of her retching, fear in her eyes as he touched her with his crimson blood stained hands makes him sick to his stomach.

He fists his hair to try and pull the thoughts from his head.

--

He's both thankful and dismayed to not see her car in the parking lot like it usually is at seven thirty in the morning.

Luke presses the key into the lock of the shower room, slipping inside without a sound.

He goes to the last stall on the right and turns the hot water on, letting it steam up for a moment while he strips down. He's still faintly feeling the bruises from his last fight with Randal.

There's a littering of pale green bruises running over his ribs, and when he hit Wesley he reopened the almost-healed scabs of his knuckles.

"S'going to burn," he grumbles to himself, looking at the raw flesh.

Finally he steps in and lets out a sharp breath at the feeling of the hot water on his reddened skin. Slowly the tension relieves in his shoulders as he rolls them gently, lolling his head around to loosen himself up.

Luke pulls the shampoo out of his bag and starts his morning routine.

But he can't help but feel how deafeningly empty the locker room feels.

She isn't there filling the void.

He misses her voice, how she sings on and off key, how she talks to him about absolutely nothing just to keep the room from being silent.