Forbidden (Punk Luke Hemmings)

thirty

We were in his car, kissing. I pulled away, with a tear slipping down my face. 

“What’s wrong angel?” he asked. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave, Luke. You lied,” I cried.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, moving a strand of hair behind my left ear — like he always did. I noticed it was a habit. “Look at me, I’m here. I’m here with you baby girl, and I promise you, that I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not without you.” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

I nodded, leaning in to kiss him again.

I dreamt about him again. But then I woke up, and although I was completely aware that none of it was real, I could still taste him on my lips, I could feel him on my skin, his scent lingered - his presence felt so real. Yet it was not. It was such a heartbreaking encounter to have, to feel something so real - to see him, be with him. But then to wake up, alone.

When I first arrived home, I slept at dad’s for week. I loved my dad, I loved being with him. But my heart was broken, and no movie night with dad could stitch it up. Dad understood, I think it was the best thing for both of us — he couldn’t bear to see his little girl in pain. 

I had been staying at Luke’s apartment. Sleeping in his bed - on his side of the bed to be exact, sleeping in his clothes, showering in his body gel, washing my hair in his shampoo, drinking my coffee from his mug. All of it was just making the whole thing harder on myself, but at this particular time - it was the only thing truly easing my pain.

I hated it. I hated being away from him. But I knew it was for the best, he needed it. In all honesty, I really think that WE need it. I think you truly discover how much you really love someone when you’re apart from them. I hope he thinks that too.

God, all I do is sit here, wondering what’s on his mind. I wonder if he’s thinking about me still, for all I seem to be able to do is think of him. It’s like a never-ending maze, all possible exits just lead back to him, it’s impossible to leave. But do I even want to leave? The answer is: I don’t. 

I seem like such a hopeless little puppy without him, lost you could say. I could deny it all I wanted if I was accused of being so, but I know it’s true. I’ve begun to live in a world where I’m nothing without him. I mean, who would’ve thought it would be me with the broken heart? I came to Sydney, such a bright and bubbly girl — and here I am, practically shattered into a million pieces over a boy. Sounds pretty ridiculous doesn’t it? I mean, it’s come to the point where I can’t even imagine a future without Luke. I don’t want to see — God, I don’t want to be in a world without Luke Hemmings. 

I just want to see him again, I want to be hypnotised by those piercing, blue eyes, over, and over again. I want to stare up at him, as he seductively bites his lip, followed by his signature chuckle because he knows I fall in love over and over again when he does so. I want to hear him sigh when I mess up his hair, I want to watch in awe as he throws his head back in deep laughter. I want to feel his heated breath on my neck as we fall asleep. I want to fall asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around me, and wake up the same way. I want him to walk into the kitchen in the morning and wrap his arms around my waist, giving me a cheeky kiss on my shoulder and I want to slightly turn my head around and look at his sleepy grin because he loves the smell of bacon, and he loves when I cook breakfast in the morning. I want to “save water” with him, as he cheekily pulls me into the shower, and smothers me with hot, steamy kisses. I want him to call me angel, to call me princess, his baby girl. I want him to shower me in cuddles and kisses. I want him to notice that I’m unusually grumpy, and duck out to the shops, bringing back my favourite chocolates, a milkshake and some tampons.

I just want him again — I need him again. 

It sounds pretty damn pathetic, but in all honesty I can’t live without him. I mean, sure, I’m here — perfectly healthy, I’m breathing, yes — I am alive. But I am not one bit, living. Being alive is completely different to living. To live is to have an exciting and or fulfilling life. Which is something I can’t seem to do without him. Whenever I’m around him is when I am truly living, I’m throwing my head back in laughter, my eyes are sparkling with joy and delight — I’m feeling a tonne of emotions all at once. He makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he makes me scream at the top of my lungs until there’s nothing I have in me left to give. I’m so afraid that I’ll never get to live again. It’s so completely obscure, how a person can go from meaning absolutely nothing to you, to absolutely everything, in such a short time-frame. Never did I ever think, that the asshole who gave me a hickey at a party without permission would end up being the love of my life.

“The love of my life”, it’s such a weird thing to say. At first glance I think everyone would be quite shocked by he and I, I mean — we’re so young, right? Clearly, we can’t be ‘in love’. That was sarcasm, by the way. How can a person’s age depict how they’re allowed to feel? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. Yes, of course, age restrictions are appropriate for many things. A five year old shouldn’t be allowed to drink, drive or be involved in sexual activity — they’re not mature enough, of course. But why should there be an age restriction for love? Yes I know, there isn’t one. But that doesn’t mean that no one will look at you funny if you were to tell them “I’m 17 and married”. It’s so stupid. Life is so short, so why shouldn’t you live why you get the chance. If someone makes you feel more alive than oxygen does — shouldn’t that mean something?

It’s quite ironically funny in a way, I mean considering my mother died of a heroin overdose my father was always warning me about drugs, always strict when it came to them. He warned me about drugs sold in the street — but never the ones with pearly white teeth, hypnotising blue eyes and a heartbeat. If I could inject him directly in to my bloodstream, God dammit - I would. He’s my heavenly addiction. And the thing is, I’ve just had to go cold turkey on my drug. It’s one of the hardest, most scariest things I’ve ever had to do. But I guess it’s okay — because soon I’ll have my baby back.

The scariest thing about being away from him, is that when he gets back, will he still love me? 

I can’t help but die to know, if that question is lingering in his mind too. 

A/N
Okay omg I'm actually so sorry. I haven't updated for a whole two months, I feel absolutely horrible oh my God. It wasn't intentional, I swear, it just kind of happened. Thank you all so much for one million reads, God, I can't believe this suckish story has one million reads. Thank you all for being so patient [or not], and I apologise that this chapter probably doesn't live up to all the chapters you should've gotten in that two month break but the next one will be longer I swear, I just wanted to leave this one with Daniella's thoughts. 
Love you all so much,

- Ash xxx