Rejects // Punk Luke Hemmings

>Chapter Twenty-Nine<

A slow thumping was the first thing I heard. It was deep and steady, muted by something. Then I noticed breathing. Easy and soft, I rose with each inhalation and sank down with each exhalation. I then felt hot skin under me. My cheek was pressed against it, and my hand rested on it as well. Then I opened my eyes.

A brilliant beam of sunlight pierced the semi-darkness of the room, admitted by the slight crack in the curtains. I could see a few dust motes dancing through the air on lazy, weak breaths of air that were too small to feel. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision, before looking around a bit.

I was situated on the bed with Luke beneath me. My head lay on his chest and my hand on his stomach. His arm was slung over my hip, and his body was turned slightly towards me. I looked at the way my hair draped over my shoulder, trying to hold onto the last bits of sleep left in me, willing them to lead me back into the darkness I had been entombed in mere moments ago.

But I was awake, and there was no going back to sleep for me. I was too worried about what would happen when Luke woke up. Would he be happy? Upset? Unsure of how he even felt? I sure didn't know how I felt.

Slowly, I peeled myself from his skin and sat up, planning on sneaking out before he woke. My body ached from being curled up beside him, and I stretched my arms over my head. I began untangling myself from the sheets, only to have both of my hands trapped in one of Luke's.

"Don't leave Kara..." His voice was deep and rough with sleep as he mumbled the words, still half asleep. "Please."

I sighed, looking at him curiously. He had never looked more attractive. His hair was deflated and sticking up on one side. His tan skin seemed to glow in the half-light. His tattoos stood out in stark comparison to the rest of him, the dark, bold lines contrasting with the soft atmosphere of the moment. He seemed to be a real-life angel, though maybe a fallen one at that.

I didn't respond, just laid back down in his arms. My fingers absentmindedly drifted over the lines of ink on his skin, following each story, each memory they represented. His lips brushed my hair, sending a gentle shiver down my spine. The too-big shirt I wore had ridden up slightly, and his fingers ghosted over the skin on my hip.

"I love you," I whispered after a long while. His fingers had been gliding in circled over my skin, and they slowed to a stop at my words.

"I love you too Kar. More than you understand. I don't want anything to mess up what we have. As long as you want me I'll be there. And when you stop wanting me there, I'll leave if that's what will make you happy. Please remember that."

My breath hitched in my throat as he spoke. My mind was racing and my mouth had gone dry. Did he really mean that?

"Don't give me a reason to want you to leave and I won't make you. Ever," I promised. Looking up at him, I saw a small smile playing on his lips.

"Alright then. I won't be a stupid teenager and make you leave. I promise," he chuckled. Opening his eyes, he rubbed the sleep from them and looked down at me. I smiled a bit, and he did too before leaning down slightly and kissing my forehead. Laying back down, his fingers resumed their slow movement and I settled my head back on his chest.

We just laid there, watching as the stream of light grew brighter and stronger with the sunrise. We probably just laid there for an hour or two, silently enjoying our fragile peace and happiness while it lasted.

The peace was broken by the buzzing of my phone, which rested atop my clothes. I groaned, not wanting to move. Laughing softly, Luke stood and retrieved the device, leaving me momentarily cold and alone. Returning to the bed, he placed the phone in my hand and sat on the edge of the mattress.