stoical - l.h.

thirteen

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The calming blue of Luke's room is the first thing to greet me when I open my eyes the next morning. There aren't any lights on anymore, but the amount of sunlight filtering through the windows of the room is enough to fill it with light. When my eyes first open, I lay unmoving, comfortable. I'm all the way against the wall, my back pressed against it, and my knees are tucked into my chest. I can already tell my back is going to hurt when I get out of this position, but I also know I subconsciously wanted to be as far away from Luke as possible, not only because it's weird to sleep next to him but also because even in sleep, I feel bad for intruding on his life.

When I finally decide to move, it is only to turn my head slightly to the right. My breath catches at the sight before me, my lips parting in a surprise that doesn't even make any sense. Luke is sleeping beside me, not close at all, completely under a different blanket. We don't touch at all, and I shouldn't be thinking about the fact that we're in the same bed since I consciously know I fell asleep in his bed last night. What, did I expect him to leave the room? Sleep on the floor? In a way, I'm glad he didn't go out of his way like that. It makes me feel better about being annoying.

My vision is blurry and I wonder where my glasses could be since I know I fell asleep in them last night. Even so, I can see Luke since he's up close, though his features are a bit blurred. He sleeps on his back with his face to me. His eyes are gently shut, lips parted slightly. His left arm is strewn out beside him, towards me, which is the only thing that makes us near to each other. I shamelessly watch him for a few minutes, and it is similar to the way I enjoyed watching him focusing yesterday. It fills me with concern and apprehension, but I admit that I like looking at him. The butterflies fluttering around my stomach are a sure indication of that, and it's too strong of a feeling to lie to myself about.

When I begin to shift around to my side so that I'm fully facing Luke, I watch curiously as he, himself, begins to stir from his deep sleep. It starts with his head moving into his pillow, like he's trying to get more comfortable. Then his lips move together and apart again, and I hear a gentle sigh from him. Soon after that, his eyes are blinking sluggishly against the harsh sunlight shining directly on the bed. It provides quite the warm feeling, but I can see it getting a little annoying since it's probably this bright every single morning.

With his eyes barely open, Luke says, "Lavender, are you awake?"

The butterflies in my stomach have a field day off of that one. His voice is so different first thing in the morning. It is a completely different sound from in the middle of the night on the phone, or his normal voice throughout the day. It is deep and barely there due to underuse during the night. I have to swallow hard before I can even think of an adequate response.

"Yes, I'm awake," I whisper.

His eyes open further, the bluest I've ever seen in the direct sunlight, against the white pillow beneath his cheek. He blinks lethargically. I wonder how much sleep he got last night. Since I fell asleep really early, way before a normal bed time, I could assume he probably went and did whatever he needed to do and then came to sleep, but I wonder if he actually did sleep. The look on his face tells me he might not have as much as he wanted to. Plus, I don't even know what time it is. I'm assuming it's early in the morning since the sun is up and out, but I can't be sure.

"Are you all right?" he whispers.

I nod my head and bring the blanket up to cover my mouth. I breathe against it and feel it heat up with my breath. I realize it smells like all the things I noticed last night, like cinnamon and detergent and cologne. I wonder if that's what Luke smells like, but then I decide that it's weird to think about that and I try to forget about it.