Let Me Be Your Superhero

Chapter 3 (Luke's POV)

Disclaimer: Possibly Triggering (but stay strong loves you're beautiful and I believe in you)

Also sorry for taking so long to update. x

Calm down Luke. Calm down. She's just a girl. So she was looking at you, so what? Nothing. I probably had something on my face. But she was staring. No she wasn't.

I walked down the stairs towards her locker. I loved seeing her reactions. Oh dear god what if she was looking at me cause she knew it was me sending her the notes in her locker. Shit. I shouldn't have put my fucking initials on it.

She opened her locker and started packing up her stuff. A girl walked by me and I saw her look at me, then at Lexi, then gave me a weird look and kept walking. What the fuck was her problem? Lexi stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder, then swept her hand across the top shelf of her locker, finding my note. Oh my god this is it, this is what a heart attack feels like, I hope she doesn't see me collapse... Shut up Luke. She opened the note and began reading it. This was probably my worst one yet, I'm really not very creative. She probably thinks I'm a creep... My thought's were interrupted by the most beautiful sound on this entire planet. She was giggling. My heart jumped but then got really warm when I realized that I was the reason for that giggle. Okay, that was enough indulgence for today. I picked up my guitar and started walking down the hall toward the front of the school, past Lexi. I stared straight ahead as I walked past her, and in my peripheral vision I swore I saw her glance up, but I was probably just imagining things. 

I walked out to the parking lot and found my car. I put my guitar in the trunk then slipped into the drivers seat. I'd just passed my drivers test and was allowed to drive alone now. I'm really glad that I didn't have to take the bus anymore, I don't really like crowded places, or people. I turned the air conditioning way up then took off my jumper before buckling up. I fucking hated having to wear a fucking jumper every day, but it was better than the chance of somebody noticing the pink lines that covered my arms. The scars stretched all the way from my wrists up to my shoulders. Most of them ran parallel to each other, some scattered in different directions, then there was the word. "LAME." That was probably the biggest mistake because it stood out the most. I regret all of the scars, but at the same time I found them beautiful. Under every scar is a battle I fought, and won. They are the reason I am still here. I put the car in reverse and backed out, dashing out of the parking lot and driving home.

***

There's something about the air at night that is so much better than during the day. There's some sort of emptiness to it, like all the stress of the day has washed away. A cool freshness that fills my lungs and clears my mind of all my anxieties and fears. I feel like nothing can get me down at night. It strengthens me, gives me the power to take control of my thoughts and grounds me. I wonder what the air is like in other places, if it's not as clean, if the mountains here make it sweeter. I live in Aurora, Colorado, right outside of Denver. I feel like in the gentle night's breeze brings down the cool air from the snow-capped mountains, with no solar radiation to taint it. I find myself out here a lot. The last time I checked it was 2:11 am and I was awoken from a terrible nightmare. I jolted awake and had immediately noticed the sting of fresh tears in my eyes. This wasn't uncommon, most nights were filled with nightmares, one recurring one. So I hopped out of bed and came out here to lay on one of the pool loungers and stare at the stars, breathing in the night's air. This is probably my favourite spot in the world. Well, of the places I've been. There's one place that I would love to be more than this, but I doubt its ever going to happen. 

I don't know what it is about her, but it just makes me feel all tingly inside. When she smiles, I just want to smile. When she's sad, I just want to make all of her worries go away. I've seen them, the scars on her arms. They started showing up last year. I don't know why they did, but it triggered something inside of me, a strange emotion that I'd never felt before, and all I wanted to do was make it stop. Make it all go away. Her pain, her scars, anything that upsets her, I just wanted to make it all go away because I know how it feels. I know how it feels to feel so low and so shit that you take a blade to your skin. I know what it feels like to be so happy and content and to just have it all taken away from you leaving you hopeless and confused and alone. I know how it feels. And I don't want anyone, especially her, to ever feel like that. I started 2 years ago, in August. That's when my dad left. Found a pretty young girl and decided he couldn't handle me and my mom, that he was better off without us. To be with us made him feel sad and trapped. To feel so unwanted already, but then to have your dad just leave, like you meant nothing to him. That's why I started. When he left I started calling myself Luke Hemmings, taking my mother's last name rather than keeping his, Charleston. I still haven't officially gotten it changed, but once I turn 18 I plan to do so. 

***

I woke up to a blinding light. As I opened my eyes I realized exactly what had happened. I'd fallen asleep outside again, awaken by daybreak and singing birds. I had about 2 hours before I had to get my ass out the door so I decided to write Lexi another letter. I'd show up early today and put it in her locker before she got to school. She'll be so happy. I caught myself smiling at the thought of her smiling. Shit I'm so creepy.

I needed to write something that hinted towards who I am. I'm not getting any younger, and she isn't getting any happier, so I might as well take it up a notch. After scraping 11 different notes I was finally satisfied with what was on the paper. I went inside, tucked it in my bag, grabbed a sweater, and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. My mom was in the kitchen cooking what smelled exactly like bacon. She noticed when I walked in from the opposite direction of the stairs. 

"Fall asleep outside again?" She rolled her eyes and a faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Yep."

"Jesus, Luke, when was the last time you used your bed?"

I laughed, and she took that as a reply. My mom knows I don't like to talk very much, but she never doesn't attempt to pull something out of me. She's probably just worried about me, just like I'm worried about her. She's strong though, I wish I could say the same about myself. We ate breakfast in silence, then I went upstairs to get dressed. I was feeling quite....bold, today. I put on my one pair of coloured jeans and a plain black tanktop. One splash of colour was as bold as I was going to get. I found my black jumper and pulled it over my head, immediately hating the fact that I had to wear it. I quickly gelled up my hair and ran downstairs, giving my mom a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving out the front door. I had my bag on my back and my guitar in my left hand as I walked out to my car. The air definitely wasn't as nice as the night, but it was nicer today than usual. I hoped this meant a good day ahead. As I got in my car and pulled out of the driveway, I braced myself for the unknown, slightly excited for a reason I wasn't even certain of.