eleanor and lucas
~
It was Christmas Eve and Elle was in someone else's house.
Elle sat silently in front of the lavish dining table adorned with an assortment of expensive food and golden trimming, her feet placed firmly on the ground and her hands folded on the velveteen cloth that covered her lap. It wasn't every day she had the chance to sit in such a monstrously large house with minuscule decorations that she couldn't afford and yet they wouldn't even realize they'd bought such things, thus her heart beat faster than an Olympic runner and her eyes were darting back and forth to the maids swarming the kitchen- almost as quickly as her heart. To Elle Fitzgerald, staying for dinner at someone's house was one thing. But staying for dinner at someone's house for Christmas and completely neglecting her parents was a different thing.
"Elle, honey, would you mind calling Lucas down here now? We're about to start eating." Mr. Nixon, the burly man dressed in a dark green suit with a red tie on smiled sympathetically at her before rushing to the door to greet new visitors.
She didn't hesitate to move- in fact, she practically ran up the stairs. Anything to avoid having to meet even more people than the ones already crowded in their 'living room'. (Elle thought that the word gigantic ballroom hall fit the room much better than "living room".) So she ascended the spiral staircase breathily, only to find Luke standing at the very top step with a cheeky grin on his face.
"What do you think you're doing? Do you how many times your dad has called you down to eat and you're just standing here like freakin' Jack from The Shining?"
The smile on his face grew even wider. "Elle, I was just waiting for you to come up here. I need help choosing a tie."
"But you have one on right now." She took his satin tie between her thumb and index finger, feeling the unfamiliar fabric against her skin. But he shook his head and led her into his bedroom anyway (-which, might she add, was four times the size of the room she lived in). She'd been in it multiple times before; white walls, black sheets, stainless floor. His room was the living definition of minimalist, but now, it'd been turned into something of a more cozy state- something that Elle wasn't sure was a good or bad thing.
"I hate that you're so goddamn rich," she murmured genuinely, picking at all his ties and suits and blazers as she heard him shuffle in behind her.
"Well I hate that you're so goddamn beautiful." His hands found the small of her back and pulled her closer to him, further away from his dresser. "Elle."
"Luke-"
He sauntered over to his bed with her in his arms and he fell back, his glittering, dark green eyes focused solely on Elle's blue ones staring down at him. "God, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages, you know that?"
"You've only been gone for a week," she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck. "And trust me, missing a week of school would make me forget about everything."
"That truly does hurt my heart, Eleanor."
"Elle," she corrected with narrowed eyes, though there was still a playful charm to her gaze. "Eleanor makes me sound old. And in a nursing home."
"Why would you ever go to a nursing home when you could stay here?"
She paused, before shutting her eyes and sighing. "Luke," she breathed, rolling off of him and rather onto the spot beside him on the bed. Their hands intertwined, she swung her arm up, lifting their hands into the air. "You can't just. . . Say. . Just. . Stop making me think that there's a happy ending to my story, because with a life like mine-"
"Don't you fucking dare. Your life doesn't depend on your mom's shitty decisions or your dad's terrible parenting. Your life depends on you, Elle. And if you're going to let your mom take over, then be my guest, but just know that. . . It's not going to work." He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek, making his way down her neck then to her shoulder blades. "I know you, Elle. And I know you can do better than this."
"Better than this?" She laughed, though there was no sense of humor evident in her tone. "I honestly believe that I'm going to die soon. Everyone knows I'm going to die soon. I don't know why you're still bothering with me."
"Don't say that."
"No, I will say that. Because you could have any other girl in the whole goddamn world, you could be in Bali right now, whoring off with models, or you could be in bed with Lina Deutch right now, or-or not with a corpse."
Luke rubbed his eyes, brushing the brown hair from his forehead and sighed. "Do you remember when we first met? I wanted to run you over with a tow-truck carrying a dozen cars."
"That makes me feel a whole lot better."
He chuckled roughly. "But then, I talked to you, and you told me to, and I quote, 'Fuck off, dickhead' and at first, I didn't know why you hated me so much, but I hated you a lot, too, so I tried to get you back for it. I was an idiot. And, I mean, having a locker right beside yours was fucking hilarious, because every day, you'd stare at me with the same bland face and tell me to grow a pair, and then you'd slam your locker door closed. And whenever I left you notes in your locker, you'd hunt me down and shove them into my face, remember?
Then I found you crying. I saw you, Elle. You didn't have scars on your wrist, you had scars everywhere- but I don't think that you let anyone see them.
I realized why I wanted to run you over with a tow-truck. But, for the sake of my sanity, all I'm gonna say is that it wasn't because I hated you." Luke let out a breath and pulled Elle onto his chest, his hand still holding hers. "I'm always here for you," he muttered, "always."
And then, she breathed. Because at the taste of his sweet, Christmas-flavored lips and the sound of his warm voice and the feel of the heat between them, it felt as if everything was alright for once, as if nothing could go wrong.
"I'm in love with you, Eleanor Fitzgerald."
It was Christmas Eve and for a moment, Elle was home.
