Jet Black Hearts / l.h.

𝟐𝟖

Friday, October 31, 2018
7:45 p.m.
The Hemmings Residence

"Ace of Spades."

"Go fish."

I frown and reach forward for another card to add to my hand.

We've been playing Go Fish with a standard deck of cards for the past hour or so. Which sounds boring, but it's really not with Luke. He jokes around and makes me snort-laugh a few times. We usually have deeper conversations, but throughout our game, we've just been making it light—seemingly meaningless, but still meaningful.

After getting Luke to come out of the bathroom, I convinced him to just get comfortable, change into pajamas, and have a fun and relaxed night.

"But I'll just feel weird wearing my pajamas when you're wearing normal clothes," he had said. I assured him that it'd be fine, that I wouldn't judge him or anything. But, he persisted. That's how I wind up wearing an old sweatshirt of his. It's a bit loose on me because it's not a size small since he wore the sweatshirt back when he was at a healthier weight. If I wore the sweatshirt he wears now, it definitely would be a tight fit, even though it hangs off of Luke's frame.

I'm also wearing a pair of his old sweatpants. They're not as loose as the sweatshirt because I have curvy hips that fill the pants.

We had originally planned on watching Halloweentown, but a few minutes in the movie, Luke pulled out a deck of cards. Since neither of us know how to play any real card games, we started Go Fish.

That's how we got to where we are now: spread out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in my lap, a large square blanket over our legs, Halloweentown playing in the background, and playing Go Fish with dealing cards.

I offered Luke popcorn a few times. I know that I shouldn't push it with him, especially after his little meltdown an hour ago, but I can't help myself. My knees brush up against his and I can without even looking at them that they're knobby and extremely boney. It makes me sick knowing that he's doing it to himself. It makes no sense as I watch him be a goofball during our game that he'd ever starve himself to the point of getting hospitalized on multiple occasions.

I couldn't just sit inches away from him with a bowl of popcorn in my lap without trying to feed him some.

"Do you have any ..." Luke's forehead creases as his thinks, studying his cards raised in front of his face. "four of hearts?"

I tear my eyes away from his collarbone jutting out from his chest under his thin shirt and blink down at my own cards. "Go Fish."

Luke pouts and reaches for the mess of cards lying face-down on the coffee table. As he plucks a card off, I have to force my eyes to look away from his ribs pressing against the fabric of his shirt as he stretches.

"You sure you don't want any popcorn?" I ask, popping a few in my mouth. "It's really good, and I feel kind of bad for not sharing."

Luke hesitates. He licks his lips, rearranges the cards in his hand, and glances up at me with his ocean blue eyes. "Sure," he says quickly, like if he said it any slower he'd change his mind and take it back. I hold the bowl of popcorn out for him and he takes a small handful of about six pieces. His eyes stay trained on his popcorn.

It takes a few moments, but he eventually brings a piece to his mouth. As he chews it slowly, I try not to make it obvious that I'm watching him. People watching him while he eats is one of the most uncomfortable things for him.