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#i can't escape those feelings of absolute uselessness and it's affecting how i talk here too.
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Dying in L.A. (L.H)
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Requests are open!! // Masterlist
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The sheets were cold. That was the first thing you realised when a strange dream woke you up. Still in your slumber, you stirred your body and moved to the side, looking for the warmth of your boyfriend's body, but all you found was an empty spot. That was the reason of your coldness, you thought, while stretching you arm to reach your phone from the nightstand, the light from the screen blinding you against the dark in your room. 4:16 A.M.
An intense chill went up your whole body when your bare feet touched the cool floor. Still barefoot, you went out of your room while adjusting the belt of your loose dressing gown. A soft sound of music guided your steps downstairs to the living room, where the squinted door let the soft notes of the piano escape. You opened it silently and rested your body on the frame, observing the man playing and singing softly.
There he was, in his natural habitat, with his back facing you, shirtless and with curly bed hair, playing an instrument at ungodly hours. Being honest, seeing him like that, absolutely absorbed in his music, was one of your favourite things about living with him. Music was his everything, something anyone could tell only by talking to him for a couple of minutes, and it wasn't just because he was in a famous band. He lived surrounded by music, every minute of his daily life. You loved how he played or sang anything when he was happy, the way it seemed to be the cure to all his problems on a rough day, how it was his way to say whatever he couldn't express with spoken words.
You realised, still from your spot by the doorframe, that it was one of those times. It wasn't only the song he was playing what told you so, but the way his body seemed tired while playing. The room had a special atmosphere, you could feel it, something that reached your heart and clenched it. You couldn't say what it was, but it was there.
But nobody knows you now
When you're dying in LA
And nobody owes you now
When you're dying in L.A.
He continued singing while you walked towards him, your bare feet making no sound at all. He knew you were there, but he didn't stopped playing. Standing behind him, your hands slided across his broad shoulders and your arms rested on top of them, your body pressed against his back as you put a light kiss on his blond curls. You stayed like that for another minute while he finished playing. The final notes from the piano faded in the air and left you both in silence.
"What is it, babe?" You finally whispered, careful.
You felt him moving inside your arms and he spinned his body so he was sitting facing you. You stood in between his legs as he hugged your waist and rested his head on the exposed skin of your collarbones. You felt him breathing deeply and then he started to shake, but it wasn't because of the coolness of the night. His body felt heavy on yours while he started sobbing, but you stayed without moving, holding him as warm tears ran down his face. You just waited for him to calm down, running your fingers through his curls soft and gentle, trying to make him feel better while he poured all those tears. You spent who knows how many minutes like that until his sobs started to calm down.
"I..." Luke started to talk, still from his position on your chest, "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't think I can be on the band anymore. I don't know how to make music or write lyrics, everything I do is horrible, I feel useless," his words fell from his mouth like he didn't have the strength to keep them anymore, kind of rushed and rumbly. "I'm sorry" he murmured.
Your heart clenched when you heard Luke speaking. You knew how much work he had lately, you'd seen it with your own eyes: the long days at the studio, the short nights at home with you when he slept just a few hours before getting up again, the bag under his eyes in the morning, the tiredness on his body when he came after 16 hours working. You knew as well about how inspiration seemed to have abandoned him, how it had been weeks since the last time he wrote a song and how unusual that was for him. More than exhaustion, that was his major worry, the reason why his mood changed so easily and insomnia was hitting him hard.
"Shh, it's ok babe," you said back, "it's only for a little while, until everything goes back to normal again. Everything's gonna be alright, I promise. You have nothing to be sorry about."
"But I have." You could hear the hurt in his raspy voice. "I'm the one who wanted to come here, the boys are here working with me because I wanted to make music in L.A., and I dragged you here as well to be with me."
"Hey, stop saying that." You placed a kiss on top of his head while he tightened his arms even more around you. "The boys are here because they wanted to come, I'm here because I chose to come and live in L.A. with you. You didn't drag anyone anywhere, love," you told him softly.
He took a deep breath and without looking at his face, you could feel him furrowing his eyebrows, like he was trying to look for the right words to express what he had inside. "I feel like... Like I'm drowning." His voice came out broken. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him like that, like he was about to fall apart. Your eyes started to prickle but you held back the tears, you knew it was worse if he though he was making your cry as well. "Sometimes... some days I feel like I can't breath. Like this city's slowly choking me and I can't do anything to stop it. I can't be here anymore... I just can't."
You rested your chin in top on Luke's head, still resting on your chest. It was the power of LA, you thought, the glimmering city full of shadows. The place where you could be the highest star one day and thrown at the bottom of the out the next one. Toxic, hypocrite, decieving... that's how you perceived it sometimes, a perspective only given by the months living there. If you, who weren't an important part of the fame, fortune and success of the city, could sense that, you couldn't even imagine how that was affecting your boyfriend, always in the spotlight.
"What if we go home for some time?" you absently asked, trapped in your train of thought. Those words made some effect on Luke, who raised his head from your chest and looked at you rather confused. The expression on his face, in between the sadness and the confusion, almost made you smile, as he looked as a curious lid waiting for an answer. "I was thinking about Australia," you continued, lowering your head so you could see his face. "We could go and have some family time, maybe some surfing as well. And lots of sun, it's summer now there," you looked at his teared blue eyes and he nodded in response. "We buy the tickets tomorrow, what do you think?" He nodded again and you separated from him a little bit, stretching your hand to him. "But first bedtime, ok?"
Luke rubbed his eyes before taking your hand. He stood up from the piano bench and followed you through the darkness in your house to your bedroom, where he climbed to the mattress after you. He pulled you to his chest, leaving a sweet, light kiss on your lips first, then another one on top of your head. You spent a couple of minutes like that, enjoying each other's company, trying not to think too much about the day after.
"I'm already home, baby," he murmured when you were about to fall asleep, "you are my home," being those the last words you heard before your eyes closed and dreams went to catch you.
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