Upon A Star

Chapter 21

It was a beautiful evening for Luke; he was sitting on his porch watching the sunrise. The deep blue sky faded into a light orange that quickly transformed into a friendly yellow, with clouds floating by like giant snowflakes.

His thoughts remained, but his eyes focused on the sky. The sky that was everywhere, wherever he turned his head, the sky was there. Pink, orange, blood red and yellow merging into one beautiful sun, captivating those who observed it.

Even though the sun was shining, the shine in his life was missing. Work was uneventful and he missed her angelic face. The way her eyes flirted with the camera, the way she smiled that big, genuine smile to him. She charmed him, each and every single time. She never failed to lift his spirits. He loved her, adored her, but she was infatuated with superficiality, the supermodel, the guy that all girls chased ... Nick.

The grass bristled against the soft breeze, and the sun greeted Luke warmly, but his heart remained tough, and his ribs squeezed tightly against his chest. And he was suffocating inside.

Whilst he was here drowning in his own thoughts, she was off on a romantic adventure with her prince charming boyfriend. Whilst he was here breaking down, she was building herself up, each and every single day; she was falling for the other man.

"Hey," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and to his surprise, she was right in front of him. As if heaven had heard his prayers, she was standing there.

Her hair glowed brighter than the sun, and her eyes glittered emeralds. Her lips formed into a smirk and he was awestruck.

His thoughts stuck in his throat, and he couldn't let go of them. So with a deep breath, or two, he finally managed to utter a reply. "I thought you were off in Paris."

"Well yeah, but we wanted to come back. You know, with work and what not." She smiled, and he melted as easy as ice cream. "And plus, I missed you buddy," she punched his shoulder and he felt himself fall slightly backwards.

"Missed you too," he whispered, squeezing away the urge to fight the word 'buddy'. So instead, he changed the subject. "How was the trip?"

"Well, it has been a while and I'm kind of worried. I've been feeling crap lately," Her face fell white and he was startled at this response. He'd expect her to be smug, and gloating, the normal reaction from coming back a happy and in-love young girl.

"Are you ok?" He pressed the palm of his hand against her shoulder, and she stared deadpan right back at him.

Her lips squeezed shut and her eyes focused on the ground. She then pressed her hand over her stomach and moaned painfully, her knuckles blushed a ghostly white and anxiety dashed straight through Luke. Her forehead crinkled and her eyes froze on the ground underneath her feet. She crouched down, folding her stomach in half while digging her fingernails straight into her hips.

"Celeste?"

"I-I," she stuttered and covered her mouth and finally, a loud gurgling gagging sound bombarded.

He rubbed her back calmly, and she gurgled gibberish. When finally, the bile crept out of her throat and splashed onto the concrete pavement.

Gently, he slipped his hand through hers, their fingers intertwining. Once she was done vomiting onto the grey solidity, he guided her inside where she laid on his couch. The back of her head rested on the headrest with her hair falling like a golden waterfall on the edge, meanwhile, her legs plopped onto the other side lazily. She was exhausted, sickly and clearly, something was wrong.

"I'll make you some tea," he offered as she lay there motionlessly.

She choked on the two words that seemed most fit in the moment. "Thank you." She barely managed a smile, but in that instant, the major concern was what was wrong.

Celeste's usually sweet and angelic face was sickly and pale, with droplets of sweat prickling on her hairline and rolling down her temples, landing just a little bit above her brow bone. Her eyes reddened and her well-known smile dropped. Her body slumped, and she was as light as a feather. And if she fainted, neither one of them would've been surprised.

Clinking the teaspoon against the rim of the teacup removed the excess droplets of tea. And pouring a little milk and adding two teaspoons of sugar were the final touches. Returning back to his snow-white dream, she was just as he left her. The only thing new on her was an updated droplet of bile that covered the edges of her lips whilst sweat dried and crusted on her temples.

"We should take you to the hospital."

"I'll be fine," she replied in a raspy voice.

"Are you- what I think you are?"

"No," she interrupted confidently.

"I am taking you to the hospital."

"Luke," she whispered gently. "Please don't."

"Celeste, it's for your own good." He gave her the tea he had lovingly prepared by sitting next to her on the couch, straightening her up so that her spine was upright; he even assisted her to physically sip the tea. Her hands were as cold as a snowflake whilst clutching onto the porcelain cup as if grasping on for dear life.

She tried a smile that was clearly forced. But his mind didn't change, she was vomiting out of nowhere and she was visibly weak. She was going to get checked up at the hospital.

-

The nurse pierced the cold needle right through her vein, and she barely blinked. The pain recoiled as the bile that slithered inside her acted as a distraction from the blood that was being squeezed out of her tiny, vein.

Cold, metallic droplets landed like scarlet pearls a little below her knuckles. The needle was removed, followed by the nurse's gloves that stretched and snapped back in a messy state.

So she sat up in the hospital bed, with fresh and clean white sheets. The four walls also a clinical white, as well as her pillow and blankets that hummed sterility.

Luke kept her company, and held her hand for as long as it took. He held her hand and reassuringly squeezed it as the nurse drew her blood, and throughout the entire waiting hour of her results, he rubbed his thumb in the palm of her hand, managing to almost lull her to sleep.

An entire hour rolled by with their eyes focused on the ticking clock that was nailed on the wall opposite Celeste's bed. They were staring, and the only sound that broke their shared silence, was the ticking, ticking, ticking of the heartless, emotionless and worry-free clock.

When suddenly, the door swished open to find the same nurse that drew her blood. "Celeste, congratulations," she beamed as if vomiting, sweating and almost fainting was a normal and congratulatory situation.

"How is this 'congratulations'?" Luke interrupted harshly at the beaming, petite nurse who was twirling her short, grey hair with her fingers apprehensively considering their reactions.

"You're pregnant," she directed this to Celeste. And Celeste directed her reaction to Luke, and she was stunned, and so was he. And the silence was shared again, with only the sound of the ticking clock to remind them that the world they were on was actually spinning, that this was actually real life, not a dream.