Forbidden (Punk Luke Hemmings)

forty

Daniella

I couldn’t find any words to describe the feeling I had felt in the pit of my stomach when I had opened the front door. I had recognised his knock straight away, yet part of me still refused to believe that he was the one who had knocked. 

Prior to when Luke showed up on my doorstep, I had been crying. The worst kind of crying, too. You know when everything just feels as if it’s falling down around you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it? After so long, everything just adds up, and the simplest of things is enough to tear your whole world apart. I had returned from Daniel’s place not long ago, and dad wasn’t home. I remembered him telling me something about hanging out with some of his mates from work. It occurred to me that I had made the biggest mistake possible. I felt so dirty, I had betrayed him. It doesn’t even matter that we were broken up, because it felt as if I had cheated on him anyways. I couldn’t get rid of the disgusting feeling in the pit of my stomach no matter how hard I had tried. I even showered, scrubbing every inch of my body with the body wash that Luke always complimented, as if it would somehow rid my body of the awful feeling that lingered. After my shower, I had made a hot chocolate. As I carried it to my room, being the klutz I was I stumbled a little as I entered my room; causing the mug holding the hot chocolate to crash onto the floor. Hot chocolate went everywhere, as did shattered pieces of the mug.

It was such a simple thing that could’ve easily been cleaned up, but at that moment, it felt like the worst thing that could possibly happen.

I crumbled, falling to the floor in tears. My sobs were loud and uncontrollable as I rocked myself back and fourth until they eventually were silenced, but I hadn’t stopped crying. I continued rocking back and forth, my mouth open, sobs threatening to escape, but nothing came out. Silent crying is the worst of all.

All I wanted as I rocked back and forth, all I could think about was him. Luke. No, scratch that. I didn’t want him, I fucking needed him. I craved him, all of him. I loved him so fucking much and no matter how hard I tried to rid the thoughts of him from my head, they stayed there, permanently — like a tattoo.

I continued crying as I heard the familiar knock from my front door echo throughout the house. At first; I thought I was hallucinating, that all the crying had made me hear funny. But after a few minutes I realised someone was actually knocking on the door.

I wanted it to be Luke, hell, I needed it to be Luke. But there was something at the back of my mind, telling me ‘Don’t be fucking stupid, it’s not him, and you know it’.

I still ran to the door though. I still opened it without hesitance. 

My eyes widened at the sight in front of me. He was here. It was as if he had heard my sobs and pleads all the way from rehab. He always seemed to know, no matter what. 

No words needed to be exchanged, as I launched myself into his arms. It didn’t take him any time at all to react, and the comfort of his warming arms wrapping themselves tightly around my waist was something I had been longing for for months. 

Despite the fact that I was standing in the doorway of my own house, I had never felt more at home than I did in Luke’s arms.

He held me tight, so fucking tight, and I held him tight, so fucking tight. I didn’t want to let go, and something told me that he didn’t either. I was afraid that if he loosened his arms only a little, that all of this would disappear. He would disappear. I couldn’t bear the thought of him ever leaving my side again. I didn’t want to leave his arms.

I hadn’t even noticed that I was sobbing into his chest until he spoke.

“Shhh baby girl, it’s okay. It’s fucking alright.” he had whispered ever so gently into my hair, kissing it mid sentence. His hands ran up and down my back in a soothing matter as we stood there in the doorway for what felt like hours — refusing to move from our heavenly embrace.