[eighteen]

2K 271 108
                                    




         

eighteen

    There were good days, there were bad days. I quickly learned that Luke wasn't allowed to have bad days. He can be a complete and utter asshole backstage, but the second he gets in the lights, he needs to be perfect. He needs to be happy, he can't be miserable.

    It amazes me how well he's able to pretend, how well he's able to lie to thousands of people a night.

    How am I supposed to ever trust someone like that?

    I could hear the crowd roaring about an encore. I'll never get used to that, I'll never get used to the true excitement fifteen thousand people are able to radiate every night. I don't understand how Luke could still be having a bad day after that. I don't understand Luke.

    He was smiling, he was happy. I saw him on stage, I saw him under the lights. He brought his hands to his lips, blowing a kiss to the crowd.

    Then he turned around, his back facing his fans. That's when everything changed.

    I saw his face drop, his eyes saddening as his poker face laid back on. He took the steps from stage to backstage two at a time, jumping the last one. He brushed past me, not saying a word.

    He didn't respond to Alex calling his name, just flew his middle finger up in his direction.

    Luke kept walking, disappearing down the corridor where all the dressing rooms were. I followed behind his manager, not responding to Alex swearing him out underneath his breath.

    When Luke was in a bad mood, we all were in a bad mood. It feels although Luke doesn't let us be happy if he's not happy. A true, radiance happy is something he will never be.

    Alex knocked on the closed dressing room door, "Luke, you can't hide away. We need to be on the bus in two hours."

    "Fuck off for two hours," he yelled back. I knew Luke was probably on the torn apart leather couch, cuddling a pillow to his chest and crying into the dusty fabric.

    Alex raised his hands in defeat. I could see his chest rise and fall with a large sigh. "Do you wanna try?" He asked quietly, looking at me. "You're a writer, you've gotta know the right thing to say."

    I shrugged, "I can try."

    He patted my back, wishing me a quick good luck.

    I caught my own breath, trying to come up with every possible scenario. He could throw a glass cup at me or something and break my face. He could be trying to escape through the bathroom window. He could be crying into a pillow.

    I opened the door without saying a word, peaking in.

    Luke was sitting on the couch, his eyes looking up to watch me come in. I closed the door behind me, letting it lock into place.

    "Hey, Bud," I said, sitting down on the dusty couch.

    He curled up his feet underneath his body, turning back to face the wall. "Hi."

    "Do you want a hug?" I gave him a soft smile, trying not to crowd him.

    He shrugged, not giving me much of a response.

    I got up on my knees, standing up to fall back on him, suffocating him in my arms. I rested my head on his shoulder, squeezing him tighter. "You were so good tonight, you sounded so great and everything looked so good. I am so proud of everything you do."

    He let out a chuckle, not responding.

    I rubbed the stubble growing upon my chin on his arm, holding him in the tightest hug I've ever given. "You're just so strong, you're living the dream and you're living it so well. You're the most interesting person I've ever met, I cannot wait for your future."

    Luke buried his nose into the crook of my arm. "You're the only honest friend I have," he tells me before asking, "isn't that pathetic?"

    "No," I respond. I loosen my grip and fit myself behind him, spooning him as I rest my head on his shoulder once more.

    "I met you, like, a month ago. No one has ever done what you have."

    "You're intimidating," I truthfully said.

    Luke rolled over, his face a few inches above me. I could feel his breath on my nose. "I don't try to be. I don't try to be anything, to do anything." His hand slowly reached up to my hips, his fingers finding its way under my teeshirt until my cold skin spreads goosebumps around his touch.

    I could feel my pale skin heating up, my cheeks turning a vermillion hue. "It's okay to have a bad day, we all have those. Don't lock yourself up, though. We want to help you, we want to make you feel happy."

    He didn't respond. We went back to silence.

    I could feel his hand rising up my back, his index finger going over each and every bump of my spin. He stopped at my neck, resting his palm below my jawline. I looked up at him as his thumb ran over my cheekbone. "What're you doing?"

    "I'm trying to feel," he responded. Luke's eyes started to close, his eyelashes resting upon his skin.

    With my heart beating fast, I did the same.

    Somewhere within a few seconds, I could feel his lips on my own and I didn't pull back. Neither did he.

The next chapter is reaaaaaally hot and I'm really excited for you to read it.

Peace out.

affectionWhere stories live. Discover now