In all eighteen years of his life, Luke Hemmings had never felt so lost.
Not physically lost, per se, as Luke knew very well where he was. But this lostness was in a more mental sense. He felt weighted down and hopeless, almost as if the universe was crumbling below his feet and was falling out from under him.
Not that anyone could tell. They were too busy with their own lives.
But this whole incident was really taking a toll on Luke. He needed to get a grip on his life, and soon.
Luke sighed, looked around. Nothing, no one could help him. (Not that he expected anything, anyway. Luke was awfully pessimistic when stressed.)
Hence the "mental lostness." Usually, in situations like these, there was always someone there for him to guide him on the right path, the right way.
But not this time. This time he was alone, for the first time in awhile, and he hated it.
How he got into this situation, however, was another story entirely.
His flight back to the only place he actually cared about had been cancelled due to an upcoming snowstorm, his mum was pissed at him for not catching the earlier flight with his band members, and now his favorite guitar, along with two full cases of his luggage, were now missing.
Not to mention he was overly tired (probably from endless nights in the studio and the constant amount of traveling which he still wasn't used to even after years of touring), he was stranded in an unfamiliar city for the holidays, and he had absolutely no one with him.
In short, he felt like crying.
Which was odd, because Luke had never been much of a break-down-and-cry kind of guy. Quite the opposite, really: he usually just kept his emotions inside, never to be viewed by the public eye.
But he couldn't deny that in a crowded space filled with lots of people, Luke had never felt more alone.
And, of course, it just happened to be early Christmas Eve morning (in Australia, at least--but where Luke was, it was 'Christmas Eve Eve' night, as all the bulletin boards advertised.) Back home, the traditional holiday festivities were about to begin, and here Luke was, all alone.
It was the worst time to be alone.
Christmas Eve was supposed to be spent with family or close friends, not alone. It was supposed to be a time of excited anticipation, not downright depression.
Luke knew he was being selfish, as his situation could have been much worse, but he couldn't help but wish he was being scolded by his mother for sticking a finger in the pre-Christmas feast, or for eating raw pieces of cookie dough right off the sheet.
He wished he was running around like a chicken with his head cut off (much like the New Yorkers around him), looking for the final touch to his crappily wrapped Christmas presents if it meant he was in the comfort of his own home.
He wished that this year was like all the years before, when playful scoldings and last-minute Christmas wrappings were the least of his problems.
But they weren't.
Because this year, instead of being home for Christmas like he normally would be, Luke was stuck in a city miles and miles away from home with only good-and-not-so-good memories to fuel his Christmas spirit.
They were all that Luke had, along with the one case of luggage he hadn't lost, so all he could do was sit on a cold bench in middle of the airport and reminisce about the good times in a land far, far away.
