Again | Luke Hemmings

vii

I woke up to the blinding sunlight that peeked through my window. I check the time on my phone and it said, 10:44am. Too early, I thought. I groaned and rolled over to my back so I could get up.

I walked out of my room to the kitchen and stopped in front of living room when I heard something —or someone snoring. My mind went back to last night and I suddenly remembered that Luke stayed here.

Placing my cereal in a bowl, I poured milk and began to eat my breakfast. The scent of the coffee I was making filled up the room.

I heard a glass break from my living room and I mentally rolled my eyes. He's awake. I saw him struggle to get up to clean the mess he clumsily made and groaned at the hangover he got. I stood at the side of the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, which was directly behind him, and watched him in his current misery.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath but I could still hear him since my apartment wasn't that big at all.

I stayed in my position, watching him as he wiped his bleeding hand on his pants and picked up the remaining of the broken glass.

I had to admit that it is very entertaining to watch him torture himself by cleaning the mess he made even with a bad hangover.

I noticed him flinch again and decided to make my presence known.

"Need help?" I spoke up. Luke jumped on his seat and dropped the broken glasses again.

"I'll clean this up." He mumbled, picking up the pieces once again.

I rolled my eyes and went to the little storage closet I had with the brooms and vacuum. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and walked
back to the living room.

"Here." I said, handing the blond boy the broom and dustpan.

He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked pale. There was something about the way he looked at me that I couldn't understand. He placed the glass on the dustpan and took it from me, cleaning up the rest.

After discarding them in the trash bin, he mumbled something I couldn't understand before heading back to the living room.

He still looked very pale and quite sweaty and I didn't even realize that I asked him a question.

"Do you want to eat first?"

"What?"

I can't get myself out of this now and he looked sick so I might as well be nice to him, for now.

"Do you want to eat first? And I have some Advil for your headache." I spoke slowly.

He stayed quiet for a second before answering, "Okay."

I nodded and prepared him a cup of coffee, double sugar, just like before. He sat down on one of the kitchen stools and rested on the table, shifting on his seat from time to time. I could see the sweat forming on the back of his neck.

I didn't realize I was staring until I felt warm liquid surrounding my feet. I looked back to the coffee and saw that at least a forth of it spilled since I was too busy staring at Luke that I forgot that I was stirring his coffee. I cleaned the damp part of the mug and placed it in front of Luke. I would tell him his coffee was ready but my hand had other plans.

I reached for Luke's back to wake him up, if he was sleeping. I placed it on his back and my hand started to sweat as he was burning.

"Luke?" I whispered.

He lifted his head and was paler than a while ago. The sweat covered his forehead as it rolled down to the side.

"Are you alright?" I asked, becoming concerned at his current state. I pushed his hair back in attempt to wipe the sweat on his forehead.