savior || luke hemmings

ch. 23

songs for this chapter

close as strangers- 5 seconds of summer

won't go home without you- maroon 5

you belong to me (electro mix)- cobra starship

"Mum?" I yell, shutting the door behind me as I enter the kitchen of our much bigger, much colder new home in Syndney. We've been here for a month and you think I would've grown somewhat used to it, but I can't. There is nothing for me here. No friends, no baseball, no band practice and worst of all, there's no Vera. I walkk over to the cabinet closest to the stove and grab a bag of Doritos, popping one of the nacho flavored tortilla chips into my mouth. "Mum?!" I call out again and this time I get a response. Within seconds, she's in the kitchen, a basket of laundry purched on her hip.

"What?" She asks, annoyed. Her hair is thrown into a messy ponytail with sprigs of auburn (she recently dyed her hair and the color reminds me way too much of Vera) sticking out all over the place. Her eyeliner, which looks like it's been on for days, is smudged underneath her eyes.

"Jesus, sorry but I called you like fifteen times."

"Twice, Luke. You called me twice. What's wrong?" She sits the basket of clean clothes onto the island and turns around to open the fridge. 

"I think... I don't know. I've been really sad lately."

Mum removes the bottle of water from her lips and raises an eyebrown before letting out an exaggerated sigh, like she's been holding it in for days. She turns again and grabs the stack of mail off of the top of the refrigerator and fumbles through it rather quickly. She smiles a bit when she lands of what she must've been looking for and pulls out a mint green envelope with fancy, cursive lettering on the front. She puts the rest of the mail back on the fridge and hands me the envelope, "this came this morning. Take it, go upstairs and read it. I think it'll make you feel a bit better."

I take the envelope from her hands and nod, making my way out of the kitchen and through the living room where I jet up the stairs to my bedroom.

I shut the door behind me and lock it- I know who the letter is from and I don't want to be disturbed by anyone while I'm reading it. I kick off my sneakers and throw myself, literally throw myself, onto the bed while smiling to myself like a damn idiot. I rest my head on the pillow and look over to my left. Sitting on my nightstand is a picture of Vera and I during a winter bonfire we had, right before the accident. She's laughing hysterically, her hand covering her mouth and my black skullcap is pulled down tightly on her head. My arm is around her shoulder, lips pressed to her cheek while still forming a smile somehow. It's one of my favorite pictures of us.

I tear open the envelope, careful not to rip it too much as I clearly want to save this letter. The first thing I notice is that the piece of paper on which the letter is written somehow smells like Vera- lavander and vanilla. I unfold the paper and quickly scan it before setting my eyes back on the top and reading it.

Dear Luke,

You have been gone for all of a month. And let me tell you, it has had to have been the hardest month of my life so far.

The Skype and FaceTime calls are nothing compared to hearing you laugh in person at four o'clock in the morning with your arm around my waist. I miss you so much it's starting to scare me.

Please, please come home. To me. Come home to me. We can get married like you wanted to and you can move in with me (even though my grandfather would probably make you sleep on the couch but that's okay). Nothing is the same without you. Mikey, Ash and Cal aren't the same without you. I'm definitely not myself without you.

The boys finally decided on a name for the band. They wanted to call it 5 Seconds of Summer. Mikey was telling me that you had suggested that name months ago and they should've listened then. I think it's funny though that they have a name for the band but they don't even play anymore. They've auditioned a couple of people to take your spot- even Lil auditioned, did you know she can sing? - but no one was good enough to replace you. You're irreplaceable Luke.

You're probably wondering why I'm writing you a letter in 2014 with all the technology that we have, right? Well, the truth is, I'm just really old fashioned. I thought it would be cute for us to exchange letters like we were some old-school set of pen pals. Plus, I've never written you a handwritten letter before and I thought you'd enjoy this.

Prom isn't for another two months but I've gotten asked a couple of times by a couple of different people. Truth be told, I don't think I'm going to even go. If you're not here, there's no point. There is no one else I would want to share that sort of memory with. Why did you have to leave me?

Matt has been making snide comments at me every time we cross paths. At first, it bothered me but I really have grown to learn how to ignore it. Oh, him and Missy aren't together anymore; they're actually done for good. She found out what had happened at Winter Formal and went crazy. She apologized to me like a million times and even though I still wouldn't trust her around you, she's not that bad of a person. We actually hung out the other day and it was nice.

I know I could've told you all this over one of our many video calls but truth be told, I really don't think about the little things when I'm staring at you through a screen. All I could do is think about how tragically handsome you are; how your eyes shine just like the Pacific Ocean, how that one, loose strand of hair is always flip flopping onto your forehead. But mostly, when I stare at you through a screen, all I can think about is how lucky I am.

Well, I'm gonna stop writing here because I feel myself on the verge of tears (what else is new?) and I don't want you to receive a letter stained with tears.

I love you and I'll see you soon,

Vera.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't at least feel  like crying while reading this letter. Seeing how much she actually missed me made me realize one thing: Vera is it for me. There is no one that would ever be able to make me even feel a quarter of what Vera makes me feel. 

I gently fold the letter and place it back in the envelope. I walk over to my closet and take out a shoe box that was sitting on the shelf, full of small mementos of my relationship with Vera so far, and place the letter inside. 

I look over at the cable box and see that it should be around six o'clock in the evening, the day before (weird Australian time) in Connecticut. So, with this, I decide to call the one friend I know would be able to help me with what I need done. He's got his ways of doing things and no one ever finding out about it. I'm going to call Michael.

I reach into my back pocket and take out my silver iPhone 5s, swiftly unlocking it. I quickly scroll through my contacts until I come to the name "Mikey Clifford", with a guitar emoji next to it, and press call. He answers on the third ring.

___

"Alright, so you promise that you'll be able to do this?" I ask for the fifth time during the span of this half hour conversation. I could feel that Michael is getting annoyed with my nagging but he won't say anything. He just chuckles a bit on the other side of the phone and then lets out a sigh.

"Hemmo, I said I've got it all covered. God, don't you trust me?" He asks sarcastically. "It kinda hurts that you don't trust me."

"Shit, sorry Mike. I trust you. I really do, it's... Life that I don't trust, if that makes any sense."

"Oh it makes a lot of sense, dude. Anyway, I gotta go. Mom needs help with dinner."

"Alright, man. Thanks again."

"Sure thing. Oh, and Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Trust me, you guys are meant to be. Nothing is ever going to get in the way."

With that, I hung up the phone and tossed it onto my desk. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at the ends a bit out of pure nervousness and anxiety that my plan won't go through the way it should. But, if Michael said that he was gonna do it, I trust him. And I know it'll all work out.

I grab a pen from the cupholder on my desk, and tear out a sheet of paper from my binder. Putting the top of the pen to the paper, I begin to write Vera a letter.