Uncontrollable (Punk Luke Hemmings)

Chapter 36

*OKAY SO THIS VERSION IS THE EDITED VERSION, AND IF YOU WANT TO READ THE FULL VERSION (read: mature) THEN FOLLOW THIS LINK: http://shamelesshemmo.tumblr.com/post/86961311762/chapter-36-uncontrollable-a-punk-luke-hemmings-story TO READ FULL VERSION WHICH WILL BE ON MY TUMBLR

Widening in response to my words, Luke's eyes search mine, flickering from my eyes to my nose to my lips to a water droplet racing down my face in rapid succession. He breathes deeply even as his fingers tighten their grip on my face.

"What are you trying to say?" He shakily asks.

"You know exactly what I'm saying." I sadly reply.

"Don't fucking say that. You're soaking wet, I'm soaking wet, let's just go back to your place and discuss this." Luke doesn't wait for a response, gently pulling me towards his car. The lightning is still crackling overhead, lighting up his figure in front of me. Robotically, I buckle myself in, the familiar scent of Luke's car washing over, the familiar sound of a sad song filling my ears.

We drive the short drive in silence, both of us knowing exactly what's about to come and postponing the inevitable. A charged and melancholic time together is better than no time together at all.

He stops the car much too soon, walking through the rain to hold my hand as we walk up the stairs. Icier than usual, his wet hands slip against mine as we go up. It doesn't feel real, the way our hands fit together so perfectly, with a wall rising more each second between us.

My hands are freezing, once again shaking too hard to unlock the door, Luke taking the key gently from my hand to place it in the keyhole. It unlocks with a soft click, just a small sound against the cacophony of the storm still playing out behind us.

I kick my shoes off as soon as I'm inside, my height sinking down a few inches without the support of the heels. Turning to face Luke, I stand there and stare at him as he stares right back at me, hands deep in his pockets. He sighs, taking a hand out to run through his sopping hair, dripping quietly onto the floor beneath him.

"Luke-"

He cuts me off with a fierce shaking of his head, coming towards me. "No, Andy. Go shower, we'll talk after. I promise."

Unable to take the intensity of his gaze, I make for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I turn the shower on, the hot water quickly steaming up the bathroom, making me unable to see myself in the mirror, something I'm glad about. I don't want to see the wet, forlorn, lovesick girl who is being left behind by the only boy she's ever loved staring back at me.

Stripping off and stepping into the shower, it doesn't even surprise me that the thought crossed my mind. I'm in love with Luke. I've known that for a long time. I was crazily in love with Luke Hemmings, and he was leaving in less than a week. Leaving me here. In less than a week.

Hollowly, I scrub my head and body, barely noticing the scent that always used to make me smile. I don't even bother to dry my hair, just tossing on a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt of Luke's I knew I shouldn't wear anymore, but couldn't help but reach for. Sliding with familiar softness against my skin, it feels so right, and make an ache pang through me. What were t-shirts compared to the real Luke?

I leave the foggy bathroom to find Luke sitting with his head in his hands, cross legged on the floor. Not daring to approach because I know if I get close to him I'll do something stupid like kiss him instead of doing what I knew I needed to, I call out softly to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "You can shower now if you want."

He gets up, nodding vaguely at me, making more of those pangs run through me as he brushes past me me into the bathroom. The fact that right now he has clothes here to change into and how in a week the only clothes here of his will be the t-shirts I've stolen makes me want to cry. Hearing the water turn on in the bathroom, I busy myself with making tea, needing the comforting act to distract myself from the boy I love in the bathroom and the rain lashing against the windows still and the way my hands shake. I even try turning music on, humming along as I bustle around.