started a new story, inspired by "Amnesia" so I figured it's only fitting if it's about one of the 5SOS boys. most of these are probably gonna be about Luke because fave. ok enjoy :) :) :)
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I lean on the wooden door frame, peering inside the small bedroom. Our bedroom.
Luke is sitting on the floor, carefully folding the assortment of band t-shirts scattering the surface. I lean further on the frame, the realization of his imminent departure slowly sinking in. I feel the tears begging to drop down my cheeks, but I swallow them back.
I have to be strong for him, its the only way this can work.
I sofly knock on the door, catching his attention and meeting his bright blue eyes. His face is hollow and the dark circles surrounding his eyes look out of place next to the ocean encased inside. I know that the grief is equally split. It's so hard not be selfish, knowing he's the reason for our seperation, even if I know it's just as difficult for him.
He rises slowly from the ground, and with every step I can feel my heart crushing beneath the soles of his feet.
Engulfing me in his arms, I can't hold myself together any longer. The sobs are uncontrollable and the tears pouring from my eyes come as though they've been collected over centuries, waiting for this moment to escape.
I start feverishly running my hands over his chest and down his arms, trying to memorize the dip of his collarbone and the curve of his biceps before they disappear for the next eight months. I move to the hollow of his cheekbones and the stubble grazing his chin and the curvature of his cupid's bow, praying I don't forget the feeling of his arms around my waist or his lips against mine.
But I know better. I could never forget all the stupid little things. Like the way he takes his lip ring between his teeth while he watches TV or the way he giggles when I pinch his sides. The way he clings for me in his sleep and the way that "I love you" sounds rolling off his tongue in that adorable Austrailian accent.
Shared moments bombard my mind and I try to catch them like chasing butterflies in a field. I catch few in their state of vulnerability, and the rest soar past my net and I can only hope to see them sometime again.
"Please stop, baby, please," he pleads. "I can't handle seeing you like this. I'm not leaving forever, I'll come back to you. I promise."
His words swell my heart for a fleeting moment, but soon the warmth subsides and the sadness returns. I know he'll come back, but eight months is too long.
Eight months surrounded by beautiful women and the screams of fans and his three best friends and thousands of miles away from me. Eight months I'll sleep in an empty bed, and wake up to cold folded sheets on the right side of the mattress. Eight months of only silence bouncing off the walls of the small apartment.
For eight months the love of my life will travel the world and fulfill his dreams while I soak my pillows with the pain of his absence and patiently wait for his return.
"It's just hard. I'm so proud of everything that you've accomplished, I just wish you could stay with me for more than a day at a time. I just wish we could be together." I look up into his eyes and am victim to the undertoe of the ocean beneath them.
"I love you so much, I'm just tired of missing you." I say, wishing for his understanding. His fingers rise from their place on my waist and his knuckles start to stroke the side of my cheek.
"I'm tired of missing you too."
My mascara is running down my face and pooling black under my eyes, and in that moment I wish to be miraculously diagnosed with amnesia. I want to forget the pain swimming in his eyes and the sandy blonde of his hair and the way he feels pressed against my back and the way that our mouths move in unison.
I dread the memories that will haunt this apartment, the sound of his laughter ringing through the halls and the strings of his guitar floating through the bedroom before he goes to bed. His voice belting from the bathroom as he sings during his morning shower and curse words muttered in the kitchen when he decides to surprise me and cook dinner.
I want to go to bed tonight with every memory we've ever made, and wake up to an empty bed and a blank mind. I want to live my life without the heartache and the anguish, and have all the memories flood back with his return.
I wish I could wake up with amnesia, because I'm not fine at all.
