twenty nine

It was a rough few days, a rough few nights. No one spoke of Luke's breakdown, we all knew better than that. We went on with our lives as if we were living in some perfect kind of world where emotions didn't exist.

I found myself waking up next to Luke more and more each night of the week. It was here and there and then every night. I got used to waking up next to him and it felt weird not to anymore.

We had a little over a month left together, I don't expect any of this to carry over into my real life.

I opened my eyes a little past 9 in the morning, I was cuddled into Luke's arms. My face was pressed against his chest and I paused for a minute to take in the sound of his lungs breathing in oxygen. I listened to his heartbeat ricocheting in his chest. I felt my skin pressed against his, his hands wrapped around my spine.

I knew that the second he woke up, his arm would be off of me and he'd roll over. Let's just pretend we never happened, it's fine, I guess.

I can't believe that this is all real, I find myself saying those few words often. I can't believe that blood is moving through Luke's veins and up to his brain, I can't believe he's in some wonderland as his fingers subconsciously rub against each vertebrate of my back.

I can't believe his nose and open mouth is taking in oxygen and I can hear it pushing in and out each inhale and exhale through his lungs.

My head rose and fell with each breath he took, each became more and more deep until I could hear him let out a groan. He stretched out, his back arching.

I moved over before he could push me off. "Hey," I said softly.

"Mmph," he responded. He opened his eyes then closed them once more, blinking a few times before deciding to keep his eyelids shut.

"How're you feeling?"

He shrugged.

"Do you wanna go out to breakfast?"

Another shrug left his body.

I jabbed my finger into his rib, electing a jump from him as his blue eyes opened up to see the world. "Wake up," I said.

"Don't abuse me." He got comfortable in his bed once more, pulling the sheets over his bare body and rolling until his back faced me.

I moved closed to him, pressing my hands to his back and connecting the freckles on his back. "These looks like constellations."

"Thanks, I grew them myself."

"This mole is in the shape of Florida," I pointed out, pressing the small, brown dot.

He turned around, trying to see his back. "I didn't know I had a mole back there."

"Maybe it's cancerous."

"Stop," he giggled, "that's not funny."

"Cancer isn't a joke, Luke."

He rolled onto his back, giving me a side-eye. "If I go to breakfast with you, will you stop bothering me?"

"Probably not." I reached up my hand, forming his content lips into a smile.

He laughed and began getting up.

I'm pretty sure I was putting happiness into his sad body. I hoped to wake up to him every morning one day. It's time to admit that I have fallen in love. 

What do you think is going to happen once Michael hops off tour?