Upon A Star

Chapter 11

She settled her belongings in his room. Luke had been too kind to her; he had given up his own room, his bed, and his comfort for her. He would sleep on the couch by placing a pillow or two along with a blanket. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Regardless, she felt bad. She felt like she was imposing, she felt like a burden.

"Please, I insist," he repeated for the hundredth time.

They arrived late. Getting stitches and getting a prescription wasn't as quick as they'd thought. The moon was illuminating the dark sky along with the distant twinkling of the silver stars. She smiled as she admired the dancing stars outside the window, such a great place they lived in, yet she was locked away in her own problems to notice.

Once Celeste stopped fantasising what kind of world existed amongst the stars, she turned around to face him, but she noticed he was already settled on the couch. A pillow was propped under his head; meanwhile, his body was already tucked in the white blanket. But guilt continued to torment her. She was the guest; she would sleep on the couch.

"Please, I feel horrible. I've invaded your home and now your own bed. Please let me sleep here and you can sleep in your bed. This doesn't feel right," she sighed in exasperation whilst pleading by widening her eyes in hopes to persuade Luke.

"If you tell me one more time I will scream," he announced firmly and stitched his eyebrows together in warning. He was clearly getting annoyed. She was going on and on about this issue for the past hour or two, and at first he would reply playfully, softly, but now, he was clearly going to stick to his decision. No games.

"Fine," she sighed and as soon as she turned her back on him anxiety began to drown her.

She had only felt guilty for imposing so far, but now, the reality of the day was beginning to sink in and it was torturing her heart and her lungs. She felt like her blood and oxygen supply were running out.

"Are you okay?" a distant voice echoed, but her pulsing heart ignored the sound. Instead, the drumming of her heart against her chest sent chills down her entire body, her spine felt stiff and her fingers trembled. Her eyes squeezed shut and she crouched on the cold ground.

"I can't do this," she found herself whispering, when suddenly, her anxiety was soothed by a gentle arm on her shoulder.

Timidly, her scared eyes turned to find Luke crouched beside her. His hand on her shoulder and his eyes fixed on her. He wasn't smiling, and he wasn't angry either. He was concerned. His lips were stitched together and no sound escaped while the crinkles on his forehead rose as he continued to observe her as if she was a wounded dog.

"I can't do this," she repeated, but this time, tears rolled down her eyes and ended their wake by splashing in the corners of her lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

"Come on," he finally spoke with a gentle tone.

Taking her hand in his, he helped her get on her feet. And once she was steadily standing, he guided her to the couch where the previously folded blankets were now creased and messy. They both sat together, their knees touching. But they didn't move. Instead, Luke wrapped his arm around Celeste's shoulder and she followed his gesture by nuzzling her cheek on his chest. Closing her heavy eyes, she found that her heartbeat had relaxed, and she was at peace. She was fast asleep in the safety of Luke's arms.

-

Nick held his drink and formed circles. The ice cubes shook and bashed against each other, the liquid splashed a little and droplets landed on the rim of the glass. He took the glass to his lips and downed another gulp and his throat burned, and so did his stomach. But in the moment he didn't care. All he wanted was to drown away the sorrow.

This was already his third drink, and it was half-empty. But this was only his third drink, not his third shot. He took many shots before he ordered the drink, so everything around him was fuzzy and uncertain. But he didn't care. He needed the courage, he needed the push – he had to do, what he had to do.

A girl sat next to him and her cleavage was on full display in her little, black dress. Ignoring his moral instincts, he ordered a mojito from the bar. Minutes later, it was prepared and it look tasty. He was tempted to drink it all, but he had to do what he had to do. So he tapped her shoulder and she turned around to face him.

"May I help you?" she asked in the dim lighting as she sat on the barstool next to him.

"I would like to offer you a drink. A beautiful girl like you can't drink and be alone," he charmed his way to her with his flirtatious smile.

Gladly, she took the mojito and puckered her lips on the straw. Her lips mischievously curled into a smirk as she took a sip or two, meanwhile, her eyes seductively melted into his. And even though he couldn't remember what her exact eye colour was, he could recall them being beautiful.

As soon as her enticing lips stopped drinking, he smashed his lips against hers. He didn't care. He let her red lipstick smear all over his face, he let her perfume diffuse in the air around them and cling onto his clothes. He let himself do what had to be done. And he was already on a good path.

After all, Nick had to be blinded in order to save her. Because Cora promised him that if he broke the heart of the one he loved, she'd be safe. So that was what he would do. But he needed alcohol to help him do what had to be done. Alcohol could blind him to do the right thing, to save the one he loves.