¹⁵foursome

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clementine

I've approximately known Luke for three weeks and six days, meaning it's stupid for me to feel this way about him. Three weeks and six days is a crush. Most definitely.

But there's always that one person who felt like more than just a crush, but it wasn't fit for the title of love. There's the confusing middle ground you don't ever want to stumble upon. Yet here I am.

I know I don't love him. We're practically strangers. But it seems so silly to call it a crush, like I'm some school girl who's all over the popular football player. All I can think to name what I feel is that I liked him. That is all. Possibly no more, maybe less.

He's just so sweet to me and he actually has a sense of humour. He likes to tell me stories of him and the band on tour, and I love the way his eyes light up whenever he describes the crowd. I can tell he's head over heels for his career, proud of what he and his three friends have built and succeeded on.

The way he speaks is catching and I always find myself staring in awe. I love the way he carries himself, the passion he holds for his career and his three friends, who he considers brothers, is so clear that I swear he glows while talking.

He's so sure of his career, even admitting that even when the band was just starting out, he couldn't imagine himself doing anything else different.

When I was sixteen, I wanted to be so many things that I thought I'd end up jobless due to my indecision. I loved painting but I always thought my skills were below average, so I'd never get a job relating to it. At one point, due to my hopelessness, I considered being a school lunch lady. Dark times, those were.

As we walk the few blocks between the bar and the studio, he and I talk. I want it to last forever, that we might get stuck in some time loop and all I hear is the warmth and comfort his voice gives me.

I realised that he's the kind of person whose whole being you could get lost into, that when you're with him, nothing else is at the front of your mind but him and him only. Or maybe that's just me.

As we reach the studio, my eyes spot someone sitting on the staircase leading to the front door. I squint for a second to make sense of who I'm seeing. Once I do, I halt at my place, frozen out of shock at the person sitting far away.

Immediately, Luke notices my change of demeanour and puts a hand on each of my shoulders, checking if I'm alright. "Clementine? What happened? Are you okay?" He asks these with a tone I'd swoon over if only I hadn't caught sight of him.

I swallow the large lump in my throat and quickly nod, taking Luke by the arm and turning, wanting to walk away as fast as I can. But Luke stays on his ground, and I'm left a little frustrated - though I understand why he would. He's confused, as I'd suspect.

"Hey, what's happening?" He says a little too loudly. "Where are you going?" He turns me back to face him and I try my hardest not to cry.

"Luke, can we just go the other way?" I plead in almost a whisper-like voice, eyes darting to Aiden, who had stood up from the stairs and looked over at Luke and I with a look in his eyes I could only describe as unfit jealousy.

I can tell Luke can see the panic in my eyes, and I want to embrace and thank him for not freaking out as well. He just keeps asking if I'm alright and I haven't enough calm in me to properly answer.

"Hey!" Aiden's voice calls out and Luke turns. "Clem?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath, turning away as Luke glanced between Aiden and I, probably confused out of his mind. "Luke, let's go please," I hold his hand and I look up at him, my eyes brimming with tears as I hear Aiden's shoes near the both of us.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓Where stories live. Discover now