don't you go // lrh

/thirty four/

/the worst/

/amara/

The only sounds when I woke up were repeating guitar loops and the occasional clink and clang of cooking pots knocking against each other with a hint of the ice machine here and there.

Eagerly, I hop out of bed. I can't get to the bathroom or a tooth brush in my mouth fast enough. It slows me down so much I decide to comb my hair while taking my morning piss.

Important to note I haven't needed a morning cigarette this whole time. I feel like that's a good thing. A great thing.

Luke's standing before the stove nodding to Is This It? By The Strokes when I make it to the kitchen.

"Morning." I chirp.

"Mornos." He nods, adjusting a hat over his bed head.

"Didn't take you for a morning person." I note, grabbing a chilled water bottle from the fridge.

"I'm not."

"No?"

"I'm a perpetually jet lagged person." He says, turning on the stove.

"Trying to burn the house down in my sleep I see." I tease, hopping up on the kitchen counter.

"Oh fuck off heh. I make a mean scrambled egg." Luke chuckles.

"I'll believe it when I see it." I joke, wondering when he managed to learn how to cook while also being a famous musician.

"You gonna talk smack or you gonna tell me if you want cheese or not?" Luke dares, very professionally buttering the pan.

"Not necessary." I shake my head.

While I set the small table, I wonder if he's doing this because of what I confessed to last night. It's no crime. I just don't want him to be suddenly hyper aware of my food intake. It's a burden I don't want to add to his load.

But damn it. It's just an egg.

A damn good egg at that.

"Is the quiet good or bad in this case?" Luke asks, sipping the orange juice and licking the excess off his lips.

"Good." I say between bites.

"Told you! Scrambled eggs are my bitch." He boasts.

"Okay, okay. They're not that good." I say despite adding a forkful to my toast.

"Such a bad liar." Luke shakes his head, laughing.

"So did you kill all our friends or something? Where's the lot?" I wonder, I haven't seen them since the road trip it took to get us here.

Luke snorts, "Jesus. Do you still think I'm a serial killer?"

"I haven't ruled out the possibility yet."

"They're three houses down heh. Freak."

"Woah! Touchy subject?" I giggle.