Luke.
I had been up since five in the morning, when October called me, and up to now, I still wasn't asleep. I have been up for almost five hours and I spent all of those three-hundred minutes staring at the ceiling. Why didn't she just tell me?
"It's not that big of a deal." I mumble to myself, placing my arms over my eyes. "She's going to fix herself. It's not that big of a deal."
It is that big of a deal. While she's over there, flying in a plane and solving her own damn problems and figuring her life out and how she wants it to be, you're over here, depending on your repair on someone else who doesn't even want to be around you. She's an oxygen mask to you, but you're the deadly gas around her. It is a big deal, because you can't even fix yourself, my mind taunted me, its menacing voice echoing in my head.
"It's not-" my breaths got heavier, as I tried to calm them down. "I'm okay. I'm fine. She's fine. We're fine."
You're not fine. The only thing you are is insane. Let's say you were fine, Luke. Wouldn't you be on that plane right now, rather than here, crying like the little wuss you are?
I held in my tears that threatened to fall down the sides of my face, trying to shake away the bad sneers my head was telling me. I was trapped.
And the worse part is, it really wasn't that big of a deal. I just wanted her to be next to me; I wanted her with me.
A knock on my door shook me out of my thoughts, and I quickly wipe my eyes with my long, rough sleeve.
"Luke? You alright? You haven't come out of your room for breakfast, yet." Ashton walked in slowly, a concerned look on his face as he took a seat on the edge of my bed.
"Me? Oh, I'm-" I hesitated, staring at my fingers rested on my stomach.
"I'm fine." I flashed him a fake smile, hoping that my eyes no longer looked water or red-tinted. Luckily he nodded, buying my act. "Just miss October, that's all."
October Winters. The girl I was in love with. She was everything to me. Every reason why, every poem, every smile. My mind was a mess I couldn't break free from. And the only escape rope that could pull me out was on a plane right now, probably thousands of miles away from me. Or, trying to get away from me. And I missed her so much.
Tremendously.
"Oh, alright, then. Hey, Just so you know, Cal and I are going out tonight. Heading to a restaurant in the South. This time, please don't eat my protein bars again. I've been keeping track of whenever we leave you home alone. Eat the raisin ones instead, not the blueberry." Ashton begged, rolling his eyes and I actually had the energy to chuckle.
"Have fun," I mumble, clearing my throat and sitting up. "Have fun. I'll see you guys later, alright?"
"No jacking off, mate," Ashton chuckled, "Take care of yourself. You know what to do."
Of course I do, I thought to myself, clenching and uncleching my fists. Because I'm always left alone. Because I never go anywhere.
"We'll be off in at nine in the evening, then. And hey," Ashton walked towards him ruffling my hair with his big hand, "Love you, man. October will be back as soon as you know it."
And with that, he walked out of my room, closing the door quietly.
"You're weak," I muttered, laughing slightly at myself heartlessly. "You're so fucking weak."
October.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"Yeah hi, I was just wondering- do you serve vodka?"
"October!"
"What? I'm twenty-one. I'm officially legal now."
We were only an hour and a half into the flight and I felt absolutely terrible. For starters, I was supposed to get the window seat but Michael just had to take my spot, because staring at clouds supposedly helps him calm his nerves. I was too tired (physically and mentally) to start another argument, so I just gave up on the whole thing.
Second, I was going to visit my lovely mother and father - both I haven't seen in two and a half years. I felt like I was going to pass out.
Third, I still couldn't get Luke's voice out of my head, how disappointed he sounded. I should've told him earlier. In fact, I should've brought him with me. It wasn't too early for him to meet my parents, right?
I texted him twice - one when I was about to board the plane and the second before we were about to take off. He replied to neither of them.
I could tell the flight attendant lady was starting to get impatient, but I didn't care.
All I wanted was some damn vodka.
"October, you need to calm down. Here, I have some water." Michael pulled his bag from beneath the seat in front of him, fishing out a half full water bottle and pushing it towards me. "I'm sorry, she's a little...grumpy. We woke up at five, you see." he turned to the woman, who still had a smile plastered across her face.
"I just turned twenty-one today, so I'm leaving. Any vodka would be nice, really. Or alcohol, in general." I shot her a friendly, exhausted smile, and she just stared at me skeptically, still not uttering a word.
I sigh in slight frustration. "Fine. Just- get me orange juice."
Now, she looked scared. Damn it, October, stop letting your mood bring down others.
"I'm sorry," I close my eyes and shake my head, before turning back to the lady and beaming at her. "I would like some orange juice, please." She only nodded and scurried down the aisle, probably thinking that I was nuts and why the people in the airport had allowed me to even get on the plane in the first place.
"You're absolutely crazy. Did you see how frightened she looked?" Michael groaned, hiding his face in his hands and then looking back out the window.
"I just want vodka, is that so bad?"
"Yes! You can't just ask for alcohol on a fucking plane, October. Besides," He quickly looked down the seatings next to us. "I'm pretty sure that mother's kid was listening in on our conversation the whole time," Michael whispered through gritted teeth, his eyes flickering over to the other row of seats next to us.
I shrugged. "Well, sorry that you're only twenty and that you're not legal enough to drink yet. Not my fault."
Michael was about to snap back when the flight attendant returned, holding a cup filled with a slightly transparent orange substance and a few ice cubes. She reached the hand that gripping the cup towards me.
"Screwdriver."
"Excuse me?"
"Screwdriver," she repeated, furrowing her eyebrows and tilting her head at me. "Orange juice and vodka? It's a bar drink, but we don't have orange slices. I asked them, already. Never heard of it?"
I shook my head no, being honest. What kind of a name was "Screwdriver", if it was only orange juice and a shot of vodka?
I turn twenty-one not even for a full day and people already to be an Einstein in alcohol. Jesus.
The flight attendant scoffed. "'Legal now", my ass. Hun, you don't even know the most simplest drink ever created by the hands of man." She pulled the cup back took a sip from it, walking back down the aisle, then turning around a giving us a wide smile along with a wink. Michael and I both shared a look before bursting out into fits of laughter, earning looks from the row of seats next to us.
