"I’m so sorry," Luke says with a weak voice. "I’m so, so sorry."
You could hear his faint, breathy words from the other side of the door. You weren’t mad at him, and he wasn’t mad at you. He had walked in on you in your empty room that you used as a getaway room—a panic room, some people would call it. It used to be Luke’s bedroom downstairs but he gave it up for you to have alone time in there. He moved into Mikey’s room upstairs, just across the hall from yours, if you ever needed anything.
The use of the panic room was so you could cry with no distractions. When you’d come out, Luke would be there waiting for you—to hug you and kiss you and cuddle you and make you feel warm. Luke gave you one single rule: don’t bring anything but yourself into this room. He said this to prevent razors or anything harmful to come in here. It had failed this time. When Luke came home, he went upstairs to see if you were in your room; you weren’t. He checked the other guys’ rooms; you were absent there, too. Calum said you were in the getaway room. Luke went downstairs to listen for your cries so he knows not to disturb you. He heard nothing at all, so he barged in.
At the moment, everything went dead. There was no sound and you could only hear a long beep in your ears, like the ones hospitals have when a patient dies. Luke’s eyes watered at the sight of you with your shorts to your ankles as you sat on the wooden floor; he sees the puffy red lines on your thighs and hips that crossed over the brown marks that had faded. Luke didn’t cry, he only got misty-eyed. He just stared. You cried. You broke down immediately and didn’t know what else to do but to push Luke out; you pushed out your boyfriend and screamed at him to get out when he screamed back to let him in. You locked the door immediately as Luke pounded on the other side.
This is where you are now, and this is what’s happening now. You’re on the inside of the door, your back to it with your knees up to your chest, crying like a madman. Luke’s on the other side talking to you through the slit.
"Why did you do it?" he asks. "How long?"
At every sentence, you let out more sobs. The tears won’t stop flowing. You try to make them stop in between Luke’s words, but whenever he talks it just comes right back.
"I need you to open the door," you hear Luke say. "(Y/N), please, I just want to hug you."
You knew that. He always wanted to hug you when you were in this state. You know Luke isn’t crying because if he was, you would hear it in his voice.
You stand up carefully, your shorts rubbing against the fresh cuts. You cringe at the feeling. When you open the door, you see Luke sitting on his legs beneath him, looking up at you. Your eyes slightly widen at the sight of tears staining your boyfriend’s beautiful face.
"You’re crying," you softly whisper.
Luke lets out a soft sob as he wraps his arms around your legs, bringing your lower body close to him and hugging you. He cries with the side of his face to you, rubbing the back of your legs.
"I’m so sorry," he says. "I’m so, so sorry."
"I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up your call when I was recording. I’m sorry for the bad part of my fans. They’re not all bad, you know?"
Luke’s voice was very shaky. You hated hearing that. You only heard it twice—one time when he found out his best friend had died of cancer and the second time is … well, now. You needed him to shut up so you wouldn’t break down harder than before.
"Luke," you say, entwining your fingers in his hair. You’re still crying, but softer and lesser this time.
He stands and towers you. ”I know, I know the fans can be mean,” he says. ”They can be very mean, but that's only the fans that came in from when we were on tour with the 1D boys. Our originals aren't like that. You don’t need to listen to the bad.”
"It’s hard to ignore," you say with a frown creeping.
Luke pulls you hard into his chest and hugs you tightly while you embrace him back. He rubs your back and plays with your hair.
"I don’t want you to be gone," he says. "My biggest fear is losing you."
Moments pass in silence with no more tears. The last one shed when Luke said his last statement. Luke brings you up to your bedroom and tucks both of you under your red sheets. You position yourself to where your back is to his front. He wraps his arms around you and accidentally passes over your marks. You wince.
"I’m sorry, babe," he says, kissing your back near your neck a few times.
Luke moves your hair to the side and traces his fingers along the skin on your back. Nothing soothed you more than his touch. How could someone so loving cry so hard over a girl who thinks she’s nothing? you think.
"Goodnight, love bug," Luke begins his goodnight statement. "I love you. Sweet dreams. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite. I love you."
"I love you so much," you say. "Goodnight, sweet dreams, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite."