Mrs All American - luke

45

L U K E

Fuck.

Despite being exhausted, I cannot sleep. Not after what just happened. Not after that damn phone call with Dylan and not after everything he just told me.

My mind is everywhere, but it's mostly telling me to pick up the damn phone and call Sam and tell her everything. I'd practically beg for her to forgive me. She still loves me and I want to scream for being such a fucking idiot. God, why am I such a fucking idiot? Why did I hurt Sam so bad?

Most of all: why and how could she possibly still love me after what I did to her? I know I made things pretty damn difficult and ruined absolutely fucking everything with her and I, but now I'm really starting to hate myself for it. I'm really mad at myself for doing what I did.

Not only that, but I have no idea what to do. I can't hop on a plane to New York right now and see her. As much as I want to, there's absolutely no way. I can't call her, because that wouldn't be right. That would be such a dick thing to do and she would probably scream at me if I tried to apologize over the phone. She probably wouldn't answer anyway.

Anyone can probably see that I don't deserve her, Dylan said it himself. Maybe I should just give her time. She'll be okay in time. We both need time. Things are too messy right now and I don't wanna make them worse by trying to fix them. I just need to really think about what I need to do to make things right.

Though I don't know what to do, I know that I miss her so fucking much. I miss her so much that it hurts and it makes me dizzy. I miss talking to her and having her around. I even miss her calling me out on my wrongdoings and not taking any shit from me. I miss sleeping--not in that way--with her and playing with her hair. I miss her.

I miss my Sam.

And though it is selfish of me, because I could never deserve this from her, I'm really hoping she misses me, too.

*****

It's been another month and it's like my own head likes to fuck with me. Because lately all I've been able to do is think about Sam. My thoughts have been nothing but Samsamsam and it's driving me fucking insane. My head is really fucking with me.

And I don't even know how many fucking songs I've written about her.

I don't know how I've managed to get by these past few months, but it's obvious I am not happy. I'm tired. I'm lost. I'm honestly heartbroken. And it's all my own damn fault. Not Sam's.

"Dude, are you alright?" Ashton asks. We're in our dressing room, about to perform on TV, and not an ounce of me wants to go out there.

Not when my mind can't focus on anything but Sam.

"I'm gonna fuck up this performance so bad," I mumble and look down at my shoes.

Ashton sits down next to me. "You're not gonna fuck up anything. Tell me what's going on."

"I just can't stop thinking about her," i say as I shake my head. I don't need to say her name for him to know who I'm talking about.

"Hey, it's okay. You miss her, I get it," he says. "It's okay to think about her."

And then I just decide something mental. I know what I'm going to do. It might be a little stupid and it's probably going to cause a lot of problems, but I'm going to do it anyway. I need to stop caring about what people think and what they will say.

Because no matter what, I'm going to chose Sam over everything else. Nothing is better than her.

"It's okay," I whisper and look over at Ashton. "I know what I have to do," I say and Ashton just looks confused as hell.

But now I'm thinking about the possible outcome if I go through with this. It's been a month since I've spoken to Dylan and that was when Sam still had feelings for me. Maybe Sam has moved on. Maybe she doesn't love me anymore and has decided I'm a shithead. Fuck, who knows? Maybe now she has a fucking boyfriend or is seeing some guy. I can't believe I'm thinking about this, but if she has a boyfriend, I'm really hoping it's Dylan. He'd be good to her.

Alright, so maybe I shouldn't do this. There's a slight chance that Sam might not want anything to do with me and honestly, why would she?

Fuck it. I'm still doing it.

I'm not nervous, which is strange. I'm usually not nervous before a performance, but I should be 'cause this is so different. I should be nervous for what I'm about to do. Part of me is, but I'm trying not to think about it as I grip the strap of my guitar and run on stage.

I step up to the microphone and say, "Hi, we're 5 Seconds of Summer and we suck, but you showed up so thanks."

The show starts as usual. We perform the first song and my head is starting to pound already due to all the screaming and jumping around. As the show went on, I was starting to feel a little bit nervous.

Then the second to last song ends and I take a few steps back, looking over at the crowd. I walk over to Calum and tell him, "I know we're supposed to sing Long Way Home, but I wanna do Lost Boy."

"What?!" He exclaims. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Just- don't ask anything. I'll tell you when to start," I tell him and walk over to Michael to do the same thing.

I get the same reaction from him as I did from Calum and when I look at Ashton, he mouths, "What the fuck are you doing?"

When I step up to my microphone again, I begin to doubt myself. Fuck, I'm about to make such a fool out of myself. "Um, so, hi," I begin. "I have something to say..."

I look over at Michael, who still looks so confused, but honestly so am I. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I feel like I have to. I can't wait any longer. I need to do this. And it fucking sucks that I'm doing this on national television, but what other option do I have?

"So, I'm probably about to make a fool of myself, but that's okay," I begin as I grip the microphone with both hands. "Last year, I met a girl. Her name is Sam.."

a/n: cliffhanger oops

literally guys..... i finished writing this story i cried for 7 years