stoical - l.h.

twelve

❀❀

When the headlights are brightening the street and moving closer to the house, I'm exhausted from crying and not being able to stop. I am numb and empty, not filled with anger like I had been, but I still cannot stop crying. I can barely stand up because of the tiredness in my bones and in my mind, Every part of me throbs with pain and discontent, and I don't know how I am supposed to handle it. I barely even register that Luke's here to pick me up. It is only when I hear a car door slam that I look up, blinded momentarily by the bright lights.

"Lavender?" I hear Luke's voice say. It's almost completely dark out by now, and it's hard to see him at all. "Is that you?"

I don't respond, just try to stand up so that I can get out of here. I can't even do something as simple as that. When I feel how weak my body is, I collapse back to the ground and let out the loud, jarring sobs I'd been trying to keep inside. Luke rushes to my side and tries to help me up, but I hate the feeling of his hands on me.

"Don't," I say softly, letting out another shuddering breath. "I don't want you to touch me."

"Okay..." Luke comes as close to me as he dares, and I can just barely make out his features in the porch light. He looks so much different than he has in school that I can barely recognize him. "Can I at least help you get up?"

I shake my head vigorously, then regret at nausea washes over me. Without really thinking, I say, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

I feel my stomach churning and my throat tightening, but I don't actually know if it means I'm going to be sick. All I know is that I seriously don't feel good, and something is wrong. I want to get out of here so bad. I'm longing to be anywhere but here, but I can't even get up.

Luke crouches down so he's at eye level with me, but I don't give him the eye contact he's probably expecting. "Hey, are you drunk?"

"N-no," I state firmly. "I'm not."

I might scorn him for asking such a question, but even I am questioning whether I'm drunk or not. I don't remember drinking alcohol, but I feel so out of it, maybe someone slipped some vodka in my hot chocolate or something. I know, I definitely would've tasted it, but I am currently willing to consider all explanations for why I feel so terrible.

"Oh, okay." If I didn't know better, I would say I hear disappointment in his tone. The way he looks at the ground, as if he, himself, doesn't really know what to do makes me further think he's expressing some sort of discontent. But I'm too messed up right now to really think about it. "Well, you have to get up if you want to get in my car. I can help you, if you want, or you can do it on your own."

For some reason, his words fill me with anger again, and I whip my head up to stare him in the eyes. I can't see much of them, but I know that somewhere beneath the night's shadows they are a blazing, vibrant blue. I wish I could see that color now, but it is much too dark.

"Why are you nice to me?" I ask. My voice sounds hopeless, rough. I can't stand it. "Why did you even come here?"

Luke shakes his head in confusion. "You called and asked me to pick you up. I came to get you."

I shake my head right after, spreading my hands in frustration. "No, I mean why? You're such an asshole in school, I don't even know you..."

I lose control to the crying again, and I run my hands through my hair again, over and over again. Scrubbing my face of all the tears, I wait for an answer from the boy in front of me. He just looks down in disbelief. Like he doesn't have an answer to give me.

"I..." His voice is as deep as it is on the phone, but hearing it in real life is so much better somehow. I am drawn to it, though I would never admit such a foolish thing out loud. "I've already told you why. You're like me, and you deserve to get help like I have. Now, come on. We can talk more in the car."