Suicidal- Luke Hemmings.

chapter 11

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Chapter 11

I watched Luke fumble around the kitchen, his hands moving shakily. He propped me up against the wall, thrusting a bag of ice into my hands. I felt sleepy, tired. I knew the weight of my eye lids hadn't changed, but they felt as if they now weighed a gazillion pounds. I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. It was as if life was an ocean, I only remained above the waves until another one came. The current became stronger, forcing me under. I felt as if I was drowning with a life jacket on. My eye's blinked open, seeing bright lights and the fuzzy outline of Luke holding something to his ear. I tried my hardest to leave my eyes open, but I found myself getting dragged under the waves once more.

***

I woke up on the couch, hearing shouting come from the kitchen. Pure curiosity drove me to sit up, just a little. I squinted as I saw Luke on the phone.

"No, I'm positive, we do not need an ambulance, just tell me what I should do!" His tone was impeccably impatient.

His eyes traveled back to where he had laid me on the couch. I faintly heard voices on the other end of the phone before Luke said a short 'bye' and hung up.

"Oh, baby," he murmured bending down next to me on the couch. "I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head.

Tears were quick to swell up in his eyes, making it harder than ever to stay mad at him. "No, no don't be," I whispered hoarsely, scooting towards where the cushion met cushion.

I motioned for Luke to join me, my body curling into his slender one. I was able to lay my head on his chest, only cringing lightly. He rubbed my back a little. I could hear his heart beat slow down as he calmed down. We laid together for a long while, neither of us making a move to change that. I could feel weariness boring into my bones.

"Luke," I whispered, keeping my body pressed close to his.

"Hm?"

"Tell me what you hate about me."

I could feel the tension rising, the way his body tensed up as the words left my lips. "Nothing."

However, his voice was anything but completely positive. "No, stop," I said, "I know there's things you don't particularly like, you hadn't even finished your list of shit when I interrupted."

"I like the slight slouch in the way that you stand, how your lips curl when you smile, they way you reach for my hand. I like the way that you talk and your velvety voice. I like the way you stick with me like you have no choice. I like you perfume, and the clothes that you wear. I like you hands and the feel of you hair. I like how you kiss me, and the way that you grin.

"There are so many things I love about you; why focus on the things that I 'don't particularly like'?"

I let out a exasperated sigh, knowing I'd never get him to tell me more than what I had stopped him to. I was a monster, I'd change that. But I couldn't promise I could change that fact I love suicide. It's not the fact that I would romanticize it; it's the fact that it's the only known way out for me right now. I let the subject for, for now. Then, I remembered the date. It was Luke's birthday, and we had a party to get to.

I sat up, swinging my legs over his. "C'mon," I said, taking his hand in mine. "We have a 'surprise' party to get to."

Luke sat up, letting out a breath. I saw his eyes travel to the side of my head, concern held deep within the blue of his irises. "Yeah, yeah, we have about thirty minutes til..."