ten years. [lrh]

one.

10 years later.

Amanda's breath hitched as she took a step into the water, feeling the small waves lap against her toes.

Her last night in LA. Tomorrow, she'd be on the first plane back to Sydney, returning to her 5 jobs and her therapist, who suggested taking the trip in the first place.

'You're a beauty.' She whispered, staring into the nothingness of pink and blue, growing darker as the sun set.

The beach was more crowded than usual, packed with dozens of occasions along the strip of the sand. Amanda was the odd one out; alone and quiet at the feet of the ocean.

She didn't want to go back home. Things were so... relaxing, here. Terms like stress and anxiety were unknown to her. Struggling financially? Not here. She even picked up a pen, for the first time since her last book got rejected by numbers of publishers. Her mind was cleared; her regrets had finally vanished.

Amanda stepped back, curling her wet toes into the sand. Sandals in her hand, she walked by the water, observing other people and their activities.

There was a wedding reception, contained under a few canopies. She could hear laughs, and singing, and the sound of glasses being tapped together. A few metres away, there was a crowd of photographers. Constant flashing of lights, and yelling. Amanda figured there was some sort of celebrity. This was Los Angeles. Everyone was a celebrity.

'You've done good, babe.' Amanda said to herself, patting herself on the back as she recalled the events of her holiday. From massages, to shopping, to concerts, she had done exactly what her therapist told her to do. She had unclenched her jaw and dropped her shoulders and relaxed. It's not everyday something like that would happen.

The stars were beginning to make an appearance overhead, and Amanda's stomach sank. The evening had turned into a clear, cloudless night. She could count every single ball of gas above her, if she had the time to.

Count all of the stars above you, right now. Amanda wondered if he was counting for a split second, before mentally slapping herself. She wasn't allowed to think about the things that ripped her heart from her chest. She wasn't allowed to like those things. No matter how good they had felt on her skin.

It had been ten years, and Amanda had seen Luke Hemmings grow into a man... from behind a screen. He became the music legend he always said he'd be. It seemed as if the only catch was removing Amanda from his life, and he didn't seem to hesitate. When he stopped replying to her texts or calls, she started to suspect things had ended.

When he never came home after that six-month tour, and photos of him in London started surfacing on the Internet, Amanda's fears had been confirmed.

Through the new platforms of social media, Amanda had watched Luke with teary eyes. She had watched him marry Clara Mac, a (slutty, Amanda thought) model. She watched him drop out of his band and pursue his own career. She read the nasty rumours that constantly popped up and sometimes, she'd believe them. She saw Luke Hemmings turn into something unrecognisable, and dealt with the loose ends he hadn't bothered to tie up.

*******

Goosebumps erupted across Amanda's arms and shoulders as the night wore on. She didn't know she would be out this long, so she didn't bother bringing a jacket. Now she was regretting Past Amanda's actions.

God damn it, Past Amanda.

She walked up to the grassy dunes at the top of the beach, sitting down on the least sandy patch she could find. The beach was ablaze with light, and people scattered all over, drunk and dancing.

The group of paparazzi were nowhere to be seen, and Amanda wondered who they were after this time.

She was broken off by a body slamming into her own and tripping overhead. Pain erupted in the side of her arm and she groaned, being brought back from her calm trance.

'What the fuck?' She jeered, jumping back to her feet. A man had fallen over her, into the long blades of flax. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to recover, so she could give him a piece of her mind.

'I'm so sorry, miss, I honestly had no idea, I couldn't see you...' the man turned around, brushing the sand off his jacket and ruffling his hair.

The light from the festivities below them hit his face and Amanda froze.

She was looking into those eyes. Those eyes that were once filled with so much hope, but were now replaced with dark loss.

His expression mirrored Amanda's. Amanda wanted to pinch herself. Her knees felt weak, like they were balancing on the clouds. Any minute now, and they would give right in.

No. She thought. No, no, no, no. You are fucking kidding me. That is not-

'M-Mandy?' The man faltered, a hand creeping up to his mouth. Amanda gulped.

She hadn't heard that nickname since 10 years ago,

when the only person who ever called her that was Luke Hemmings.

——————-
im so excited for this
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tysm
— epihphany