Rejects // Punk Luke Hemmings

>Chapter Forty-Eight<

"Luke, I swear, it's fine."

"I just.... I feel so terrible about what happened..." His voice was quiet even coming from my phone. I was sat up on my bed, running my hands nervously through my now short, uneven hair.

Beauty tip: never cut your own hair while crying and having a panic attack. It won't turn out very well.

"I know. But it wasn't your fault we got separated. It wasn't your fault any of that happened," I shrugged.

"I still feel like it was though," he returned stubbornly. "Did you sleep well?"

There it was. The million dollar question. What would I say? "Oh, you know. Just couldn't sleep because every time I closed my eyes I felt like I was going to get trampled again. So then I started pacing around. And did I mention I cut all my hair off on a whim because I hate the way I look?" That obviously wouldn't help anyone.

"I guess..." I lied, probably unconvincingly.

"You don't sound very sure of that, Kar. Did anything happen?" Guess my lie really wasn't convincing.

I was silent for a long time before he spoke again. "What happened?"

"Can I come over?" I finally muttered. I wouldn't be able to tell him over the phone.

"Of course you can."

"'Kay. I'll be over in a few..."

"I love you," he reminded me simply before I repeated the three words and we both hung up.

Taking a deep breath, I thanked the fact that mom had gotten called in to work today. I wasn't sure how to explain to her what happened to my hair. Getting up, I quickly put on a grey sweater and some jeans before slipping on a pair of shoes and heading downstairs. I was careful to avoid my reflection, not wanting to see the product of last night.

I drove as hastily as the speed limit would allow, eager to just get to his apartment. As I entered the lobby, the receptionist smiled and let me in, recognizing me from my normally daily trips in with Luke.

I took the elevator to the eight floor and practically ran to apartment 813, knocking on the door as tears started to prickle behind my eyes. Not ten seconds later, I was wrapped against Luke's chest. He kissed my head gently over and over again, telling me it was okay and that everything would be alright.

A minute or two later he took a small step back. His navy tee had two spots on it where my tears had soaked through, and concern was laced through his features as he looked me over. As I wiped at my eyes with my sweater, he understood what happened, why my hair was....destroyed, to say the least.

"Come on, no crying in the hall," he urged softly. I nodded and stepped inside fully, hearing him close the door behind me. I turned to face him again as I slipped my shoes off, seeing he was still in a pair of pajama pants. His hair was flat on one side and somewhat insane on the other.

"Kar..." he breathed, his eyes scanning my face, my hair, my hands as they fidgeted in front of me. "A-are you alright? Why didn't you call like you said you would?" His eyebrows drew together, forming a little line between them.

A small, bitter laugh escaped my mouth as I looked at the ceiling, trying to get rid of my tears. "Yeah, I'm just peach you. I also didn't think you would've wanted to get up at four in the morning, right?" The words were sharper than I'd anticipated, and I instantly wished I could take them back.

"For you, I'd stay up for days. You should know that by now..." He whispered, taking slow steps toward me. His hands slid beneath my hair, resting on my cheeks as he tilted my head down to press a kiss in the middle of my forehead. "I would have tried to help."