Winter Has Come || Luke Hemmings

Chapter Three

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I had been updating on my Tumblr and I forgot to post on here so I am sorry!  I hope you forgive me anyway although you shouldn't. On the side, I have a manip of Luke and Kyara that someone submitted to my Tumblr! Yes, I have chosen Sky Ferreira as Kyara. Happy reading!

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           I woke up the next morning in a panic. It was past eight o’clock and my first class started at nine. I was practically going crazy, shuffling through my closet to find a pair of clean jeans with a toothbrush in my other hand. Hey, at least I can say I’m good at multitasking.

            I sat through writing, arguing to myself over the very forced journal entry I was writing at the time. It was so fake, so staged. When I write, I like to make sure everything is real, or at least as real as I want it to be. I like to express my opinions in it, and make a controversy out of every piece, except, I was given a ‘what did you do on summer vacation?’ essay as a task, and it took a lot of resisting for me not to shoot an insult towards the clearly lazy professor.

            When I was finished describing the sugar skull tattoo I had got in Maine in July, I decided I needed change. I wanted to change something in my life, just to spice it up a little. When I get ideas, they don’t get pushed away until they are turned into actions.

            So now, Charlie and I sit on my bed facing each other, legs crossed.

            “How much longer?” I groaned, flicking my arms up in the air.

          “The box says thirty minutes, and it’s only been five,” she responds, throwing the empty dye box into my empty hands.

            “You’re sure this is going to look good?” I ask, biting my bottom lip nervously. It was always a bad habit; when I was younger, I even managed to draw blood. Truly disgusting, if you ask me.

            “Well you’re kind of pale, so it’s definitely going to look good. I think it’ll make your eyes stand out more.”

             “You better be right about this, or I swear to god I will-“

           “Trust me, it’ll look good!” she chirped. “Besides, it’s just bleach. You could always dye it back, no big deal.”

           After twenty-five more minutes, a bag of chips, and a half episode of Gilmore Girls later, it was time to wash the bleach out. I was nervous, but also relieved because it was starting to itch. At first, I was freaking out because it looked grey, but actually dry, it looked pretty cool.

          When I turned around, Charlie was standing all proud, her lips pressed into a tight smile. She held her breath so long; I was actually considering getting concerned.

          “What are you doing?” I ask finally, not being able to keep up the joker-look.

          “Here,” she said, extending her thin arm and opening her palm which held a black tube.

           “What is this?”

           “Open it!” she clapped, getting giddy again.

         So I did, and in it was a black lipstick. It was the one I was searching for, and I was in love. I smiled at her, and she took it as a thank you.

          “I figured, now that your hair is white and so is your skin, you can wear all the makeup colors you want without looking funny,” she explained.