leaked (l.h.)

38

When we both have showered, have cleaned up from the events of the morning it's around eleven AM. I sit at my vanity, a needle between my teeth as I focus on the task at hand: the guitar pic Luke had given me at his concert last weekend. I want to keep it with me long after he's gone.

"And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills," Luke sings as he sits on my bed. He's dressed in his boxers and his hoodie from last night, his legs criss-cross as he holds his guitar on his lap. His hair is wet, gentle curls on his forehead sticking out from the hoodie over his head. Gentle purple marks cover his neck and his chest. Same for me, except these bruises are ones that I don't want to heal. I want more of them. "Well, the landslide will bring it down."

I take the needle and poke a hole in the pic, listen to his gentle picking at the guitar in his embrace. He smells like me, since he had to use my wash in the shower that we shared. His voice is quiet, as if he's not trying to disturb me. But he could talk forever, sing forever. And I'd still listen.

I thread a chain around the homemade charm I had just created, and when I turn to Luke I walk over to where he sits. The same t-shirt from this morning covers my body, and besides my panties and a pair of fuzzy socks that's all I wear.

"Look what I made," I smile softly, hanging the guitar pic in front of him. His attention moves from his guitar and to me, and when he realizes what he is he grins. His eyebrows raise as he takes it in his hands. "You gave me this."

"Whoa," he smiles, looking at it as it rests in his hands. "That's a good idea, love. You should make me one, too."

He reaches to his wallet, which lays on the bedside table on his right. He reaches inside, pulling out one of the pics I had made him so many weeks ago. The one he used at his concert, the one that brought him to where he'll be in two days time.

I turn around as he puts the cold metal around my neck, holding craft between my fingers as he fiddles with the necklace. I nibble on my bottom lip as he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. His arms wrap around my body, resting his head on shoulder as he watches me examine the pic. He's warm.

"That's my lucky pic," he whispers in my ear. It's used, worn and dented. "Did you know that?"

I shake my head, laying back into him as I see that the ink that once used to be his favorite album is faded. "No," I whisper. "I didn't know that."

"I made sure to bring it when I came here. And it worked."

"You didn't need luck," I turn back to him, running my fingertips through his hair as I peck his lips. "I would have said yes even if it killed me."

I bring the pic to my vanity, doing the same thing to the old one as I did to the new one around my neck. It's much easier this time, since I know exactly what I am doing.

I finish quickly, tossing the needle back into my Mother's jewelry kit I had borrowed for the necklace from hobbies that have come and gone. I walk over to him, watching how he brings the guitar back on his lap again. Slowly, I bring his hood down to expose his covered neck. I clasp it together, and like he did to me I press my lips to the bottom of his neck. I feel his gentle shiver as he is covered in goosebumps, a small giggle escaping out of my mouth when I feel him lay back onto me. And once again, he plays the song from earlier. He loves that song, and so do I.

"Grace," he whispers quietly. "I don't want to go."

"What?" I raise my eyebrows as I wrap my arms around him. He lays between my legs, his head on my shoulder. "Why?"

"There's too much I am leaving behind. Way too much."

"You won't be gone forever," I hold him close. "You'll be back. Right?"

"Right," he nods. "But still, something just... tells me that I shouldn't go. That I shouldn't leave you here alone."

"I'll be okay," I whisper. "I promise I'll be okay."

"Do you want me to go?"

"Of course I do," I look up at the ceiling above. "I want you to love you dream. You told me how you wanted to play arenas and your the world, right?" I feel his fingertips trail up my arm. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I want this so much," he whispers. "So, so much."

"So, you go," I whisper, and although I don't want him to go either, I can't justify him staying behind for me. I just can't. As I whisper these words to him, I run my fingers through his hair. He's so beautiful, his body is so touchable. We've been together for less than a day, and I feel like it's been longer."And I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

"Promise?" He turns to look up at me. "Do you promise to wait for me?"

"I promise."