For a few weeks after that evening, it was my turn to watch over Luke.
"You should eat," I walk to his Mother, who sits stagnant on the living room couch. She stares at the floor, like usual, a shell of the woman I had met only once before. Her face, pale, and her eyes dull. As if any sign of life she once had was sent back to Australia with her husband and his ashes. "You're not going to feel any better if you don't eat."
"It's a waste of time," Ben yells as he grabs his keys off of the hook by the door. "She's not going to listen to you."
He, unlike his siblings, took the loss a lot easier than anticipated. At least from what I can tell, he's spent most of his time at his girlfriend's or at the gym. His job had allowed him a week or so off of work.
"It's worth a try," I say softly, setting down a bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup in front of her. That's what my Mom had given to me when she noticed why I wasn't eating as much as I used to. "Mrs. Hemmings, just a tiny bite."
"I'm not hungry, darling," she says quietly, shaking her head as she moves herself to her feet. She snaps out of the trance that comes when she realizes that her husband is gone. "I think I'm going to go lay down."
"Okay," I nod, running my palms across my thighs as I watch her shuffle towards her bedroom. "Sleep well."
As I find myself alone in this living room, I bring the soup I had made for her back into my hands. I sit back on their couch, sighing softly as I sit criss-cross in front of the muted TV. Luke, asleep in his bedroom, only comes out once or twice a day to show me that he's still alive. Jack, who was only in town for his baby brother's birthday, found himself staying a lot longer than anticipated.
"You don't have to stay," Luke's raspy voice says as I bring a spoonful of hot liquid to my lips. "You can go home."
I raise my eyebrows as I hear his voice, looking up at where he stands in the doorway leading to his bedroom. His hair is a mess, his eyes red rimmed and puffy. He's been sleeping the pain away, although I can tell that it's not going as well as he wants it to.
"My Mom is picking me up after work around nine, if that's okay," I say, setting the bowl down on the coffee table in front of me. His house isn't like mine. It's small, cluttered, covered in cigarette dust from the previous owners. Cobwebs line the ceiling, and the amount of packed boxes that are stacked against the living room walls almost ruins the coziness. "I made soup, you should eat."
"The same soup from yesterday, and the day before?" He scoffs, watching how I pull myself off of the sofa. "If that's the case, I don't want any."
"Okay," I nod, ignoring the pain in my chest from the sharpness of his words. "Well, I can run to the store and get you something else."
"No, no," he shakes his head. "I just came to get some water."
"Alright," I nod, sitting back down as I listen to his creaky steps into the kitchen. I bring the bowl back into my hands, bringing the liquid between my lips. Truth is, I can't afford to buy them anything else. My funds have run low from the temporary distraction of farmer's markets and secondhand stores. But still, I try to feed them despite how incredibly empty their pantry is.
I don't think Luke found the letter I had written him. And I don't think he will anytime soon. I wish I had the balls to go get it back into my possession, but Luke has hidden the songbook once again. And I don't think he realizes what was in it.
When he had told me his Father had died, I held him for what felt like hours. I laid on my back with his arms wrapped around my body, closing my eyes as I tried to comfort a broken heart. Luke, my rock, was falling to pieces in front of me. And despite how hard I tried, nothing I do or say seems to make the pain sting any less.
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leaked (l.h.)
FanfictionGrace's life was average at best in her small town outside of Chicago. High school has its ups and downs, and for the most part, she was able to dodge them. That is until her quarterback boyfriend gets his hands on a picture that was never meant to...