Forbidden (Punk Luke Hemmings)

forty nine

I woke up to the familiar sizzling sound and the heavenly smell that came when bacon was being cooked. I felt myself practically drooling at the thought of bacon, I hadn’t had a proper, and decent tasting breakfast since last time I was home which was about this time last year. 

(A/N: okay so I know I’ve never actually mentioned this previously, but as I wrote this I remembered how in some cultures and religions pig/ham/bacon is forbidden (no pun intended), and therefore I sincerely apologise if I offended you in any way by mentioning it).

I sat up in my bed with a smile on my face realising it was Christmas morning. Although, my smile almost instantly disappeared as the memories from last night came back to me.

There’s this temporary moment when you just begin to wake up, when it’s as though every thing in your life is perfect, and you don’t seem to remember all the bad things. It’s a feeling, a moment of pure bliss, although, nothing lasts forever.

Soon enough you’re completely, entirely awake and you remember everything. The good, the bad, and the in between.

I sighed, thinking about how Luke had snapped at me when I tried to help him with a black bag of his. It wasn’t that small, and it was actually a little heavy so the thought of it being any sort of piece of jewellery that Luke would specifically like to surprise me with never really occurred to me. When it did, I pushed it out of my head — jewellery couldn’t be that heavy.

I admit, I did consider the fact that he could be on drugs again, and that’s what he had been hiding from me. But again, I pushed that idea, that thought right out of my head, extremely disgusted with myself for even thinking Luke would go back there.

He practically lost me to drugs, and considering he had just gotten off of a plane, there was no way he could have had drugs on him.

I reluctantly got out of the warm bed, and walked slowly into the kitchen, the scent of a breakfast I knew all to well continuing to get stronger.

I raised my eyebrows and felt my jaw dropping slightly, as I noticed a large red box sitting on the counter. I looked at Luke from behind as he turned off the fry-pan and placed all the bacon on a plate with eggs.

“Luke?” I murmured, my voice dry and raspy since I had just woken up.

He flinched at first, but when he realised it was me his shoulders relaxed and I watched him spin on his heels to face me.

His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, with large, noticeable bags underneath, and his hair was swept in front of his face.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a little guilty for last night. He looked like he had been crying, and I felt my insides twist so violently I wanted to fall to the ground and cry myself.

“Hi.” he whispered so quietly, I barely heard it.

“Are you… okay?” I asked softly. Of course, I was still angry at him from last night, I was still confused. I didn’t understand why he had reacted the way he did, and I was curious to know why. But all the same, my boyfriend of almost 4 years was standing directly in front of me, and it was clear that he had been crying all night and had gotten no sleep, and I refused to ignore that. I loved him with all my heart and despite being angry at him, I wouldn’t stop loving him.

“Not really,” he mumbled, laughing dryly.

I frowned, stepping closer to him and placing my palms on either side of his face. He looked into my eyes and I looked right back into his.

“What’s bothering you?” I questioned quietly.

“You.” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.