Still ▸ Teen Wolf [Book Two]

sixty two ; two lovers

Enjoy the gif of our two favorite Connelly's.

SONGS OF THE CHAPTER: GALE SONG BY THE LUMINEERS

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SIXTY TWO;

TWO LOVERS

SEVEN YEARS AGO

       Luke Connelly was not a stranger to pain. Not physical, nor emotional amounts of it. He could often go days without realizing that he was limping; he could push through the heaviest of migraines without aching to grab medicine for a little relief, and if he got lucky, he could avoid acknowledging a lacrosse injury until his leg was (quite literally) hanging on by a couple of tendons. Coach didn't support that one on game days as much as he did the others. Hell, he was even sure that if he got shot, he could handle that if his organs remained undamaged. He took pride in it, too. Thrived in it. To him, that meant he was beating what the universe tried to tear him down with. It may have also given him a pretty great reputation in school, but he would let that one stay under the radar.

       Luke Connelly was, however, a stranger to heartache, and he had never understood why it was called 'ache' until he experienced it for the first time. It was an entirely different sensation of hurt. It didn't start in his nerves. It didn't slowly puncture its way through every cell and muscle, spreading to the most vulnerable parts in the bloodstream. It didn't trigger a stimulation to the pain where he screamed in alert at the intrusion, much like what he was used to. Much like he could handle. It was a silent killer. Someone could go months without realizing that they were driving themselves to the edge of an end that wasn't happy. Years and years spent building layers to an unexpected collision. Most people weren't given a warning, and those were the people who took the longest to stitch up the scars they got from the blow to the chest.

        Contrary to what Luke originally assumed, there was also a definitive difference between heartache and heartbreak. Heartache, no matter how painful, was temporary. A feeling that submerged in between the words of doubt and throats of people who had screamed too much at one another for it to be even remotely healthy. It was a pause, a halt in the story. But it was not the end of it. Heartbreak was the finalized statement that something was over—a glorious life, a consuming love: gone. Because the pause became too long. The fights became too often. The love became an occupation. There was no chance of repairing heartbreak. Something special was snapped in half in between the pleads to stop and the wishes for it to get better. It was vicious and unkind and unforgiving, and it left two lovers tired of love. It had people wondering why the world was not dead from loneliness yet.

        And while Luke Connelly never experienced why Break was in such a twisted relationship with Heart, he was great acquaintances with the affair Heart had with Ache. "Carrie, please."

        He didn't think he could have pleaded more if he tried as he stared at the blonde girl in front of him. His bright, green eyes were without caution as he grabbed a hold of his girlfriend's hand to convince her of the seemingly impossible. There was already something off about him that night, and it wasn't hard for Carrie Hudson to see that the boy was on the verge of a breakdown by the simple signs of his lacking physicality. His hands had returned to tremors, a growing trait that was picked up at the beginning of the year. His eyes were red, as well. Swollen and irritated as if he spent the evening downing the alcohol that his father kept in a high cabinet. The assumption was only proven correct when the smell of alcohol drifted after his words, intoxicating enough for her to step away. She just didn't know that it wasn't simply one bottle, but the entire shelf in his stomach.