American Love Affair (5 Seconds of Summer fan fiction)

Chapter 18

(Content Warning: suicide)

"What's up?"  I ask, trying to sound casual.  "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of locked out of my room, and the guys wanted to get a quick drink before coming back.  I am so wiped though that I just wanted to sleep and I forgot my room key..."  His voice trails off.  "What's behind your back?"  

"Nothing."  I say, way too defensively. 

"Lee, give that to me..." Luke holds his hand out, expecting me to drop the blade into it like a dog. 

My mind is racing.  Does he know what I have?  Does he know what I was about to do?  I close the door and rush into the room.  Luke jams his food in and follows behind me.  I can't breathe.  I need air.  I force the door to the balcony open.  Luke steps outside after me. 

"Are you going to jump?"  He asks, the concern growing in his voice.

I shake my head.  We are on the fourth floor so spectators can see us, but I don't care.

"Lee, please don't hurt yourself...just talk to me."  He reasons. 

"I just...I want...to feel something."  I explain, grasping at the air. 

"Lee, please, please don't hurt yourself."

I let the razor clatter to the ground, and Luke walks toward me to pull me into a hug.  I feel my tears wetting his shirt, and I clench my hands around the fabric keeping me close to him.  I breathe in his scent, feeling instantly more grounded.  Luke pats down my hair and holds me tighter.  

"Let's go inside," he whispers into my ear.

I nod and watch Luke kneel down to pick up the razor.  He helps me into my bed and I ask him to curl up beside me in the least sexual way possible.   

"...Do you want to talk about it?"  Luke asks, awkwardly. 

"The fans," I say, trying not to cry again.  "Calum warned me that it would be hard.  But...I wasn't...I didn't expect this." 

"Were they sending you hate?"  He holds me tighter.  "They can be so...cruel sometimes."     

"It's more than cruel, Luke, it's...barbaric.  They told me to kill myself and that I was ugly and I didn't deserve Calum and..."  I swallow the lump in my throat.

"You can cry if you want to.  It's only me."

"I don't...I don't like to cry.  But these girls don't even know me.  They're making assumptions and acting like they know who I am and what I've been through.  But they have no idea who I am," I explain.  "And I don't usually cry.  This isn't even that deep.  It's just stupid teenagers trying to put me down, but...I think I had forgotten how much words hurt.  It brings up a lot of things from the past." 

Luke holds me, and I let myself cry, my sobs muffled by his shirt.  He rubs my back and I sniffle, trying to collect myself.  Luke takes my hand in his and runs his fingers over my wrist, lightly tracing the scars.  He swallows and looks over at the door.

"How long has...have you been...doing this for a while?"  Luke chokes on the words.

I wipe the tears and take a deep breath.  My eyes start to get hot from the tears I am holding back.  I'm not sure how much I should tell him. 

"I started junior year–or maybe it was sophomore year.  I was sad.  And I needed a ...relief, a feeling...I don't know.  Then I kind of fell into it.  It was a habit.  I was addicted.  This is the first time I was going to do it in a long time.  I swear."