My hand started to shake as I raised the tip of the gun to my temple. I had hot tears streaming down my face as I scrambled through the crap in Luke's nightstand. I let out a cry of frustration, not finding any paper. My whole body was racking in sobs, basically tearing apart the bedroom to find a damn piece of paper. I ripped the drawer open, finally finding a little square of paper. I quickly found a pencil, all of the pre-written suicide notes came to my mind, pages and pages to say who exactly made me feel this way- but only a few words were written; I love you, Luke. I dated the piece of paper, throwing it onto the bed so he'd find it after my body. As I turned around, I saw his figure in the doorway, his eye's stormy and full of tears.
My heart skipped a beat; he was coming closer to me.
"Baby, baby, please," he was now on his knees, begging me to let the gun go. "We can just go cuddle, I'll make things better, I promise. Just, please, drop the gun."
I cried harder, stepping a few steps away from him. "Don't move closer or I will pull the trigger," I threatened, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.
"Princess, please," he begged so more, and I started to tune him out.
When was I finally going to pull the trigger? "If I killed myself," I said, cutting him off. I know had his full attention, something I hadn't had for weeks. "The stars would still appear in the night sky, the sun would still come out and the earth would still be bright, the earth would still rotate, winter and summer would still come..." I paused for a long while. "So why not?"
Luke facial expression changed from sad, to more of angry. "You want a 'why not'?" He questioned, anger so great in his voice I attempted to cower in fear. "How about the way you best friend's mother will throw up by the side of the road because she's crying so hard. How about the way your friends will sob for weeks, in their showers, in their bedroom, in their bathroom. How about the way your mother will cry every time she looks at herself in the mirror and pictures herself bringing you home, How about the way your father's eyes will never stop mirroring the image of your bloody body. How about the way your sister will wake up every morning and see your door and convince herself that you could still be there, just in sleeping your bed. How about the way your boyfriend will sit in his room in silence, unable to eat or sleep, or even fucking shower, because why would I want to continue without you? How about the way your family will sit in your house after the funeral looking blankly at one another, because God knows they can't find a fucking thing to say that doesn't just float through the air where you should be walking. Don't you dare tell me it won't change things. There may be stars in the sky and wind in the air and sun in the clouds. But without you, I do not want them. Don-"
The sound of a gun trigger stopped both of us. I looked at it and tried to make it work, but it wouldn't. Why not? I filled it with bullets and made sure to do an experiment round. I tried to do it again, closing my eyes hard. Nothing. Luke then rushed over, throwing the gun across the room so I couldn't reach it. It started to go off, two bullets hitting the mirror on the wall.
I jerked up, breathing a bit heavier than I should from just sleeping. Luke moved in his sleep, his arm wrapping round my mid-section and pulling it closer to him. I tried to wriggle from his grasp, but failed. I reached over his body and reached my phone from his night stand. No wonder I'm having that dream again, I thought, knowing it was two years after trying to commit suicide. It was July 15th, the day before Luke's birthday. Now, Luke was even more famous. He was almost up there, at the top, with One Direction. I curled into his Australian body, sighing lightly. My vision was blurry, so I can't really tell you what I was seeing. I reached over him again, trying to grab my glasses. With my luck, they slipped from my fingertips, landing on the ground. This time, when I tried to leave Luke's grasp, it worked. I could feel the shorts I was wearing digging into my hips. I let out a frustrated sigh, knowing I had just bought these two weeks ago and they fit perfectly fine, loose even. I didn't feel like going around the bed, so I tried to climb over Luke, that not working out too well. I ended up slipping on my glasses, and hitting my head on the night stand. I cringed at the sound of a deafening cracking noise. My breath hitched, knowing they were now cracked. My fingers grazed over the broken glass, tears threatening to come up, but I wouldn't let them.
"Shit," I growled under my breath, biting my bottom lip.
I heard the sheets move, and his face was looking over at me.
"Are you alright, princess?" he asked, looking worried.
I nodded, unable to speak. I knew he had stepped on my glasses before, they hadn't broken then. I stood up, and Luke followed after me, wrapping two arms around my waist and holding me against his chest.
"I love you, Ariana," he murmured onto my bare shoulder. "You so beautiful this morning..." his voice trailed off looking to my glasses.
I nodded, he told me this so frequently I was started to just think it was a joke. I wasn't beautiful, I had just broken my glasses that probably a fucking whale couldn't break. I walked to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I heard Luke shuffling around, and I figured I'd just get dressed when he was out of the room.
"Ari, please don't lock the door," Luke said after shaking the knob a little. "You know how worried I get."
My face was emotionless, bag under my eyes showed the sleep deprivation after a few months of living off four hours a sleep, everything really got to you. I just unlocked the door, not telling him when or if I ever did. After a few moments, Luke walked in, holding my face in his hands and giving my lips a big kiss.
"Babe..." his voice trailed off as he looked at me. He doesn't like what he's seeing, my mind told me, and I knew it too.
"Yeah?" my voice rose up at the end, my eyes looking up at him.
"You look a bit... tired," he murmured. "Get back in bed, I'll make you something to eat, okay?"
"No." the words left my lips without thought. "I-I mean, I'm not that hungry, I'll just sleep..." I said, fiddling with my fingers as I moved out of his way.
"Ariana," he said, grabbing my wrist. "I know what you're doing, and stop. I'm going to bring you breakfast, just go back to sleep." he insisted, leading me to my bed so I wouldn't trip.
Luke took my glasses from my hands looking down at them. I could feel angry rise in my stomach; why did I have to weigh so much?
"When do you wanna get these fixed?" he asked, laying on the bed, and cuddling up to me.
"They shouldn't have broken," I mumbled, sighing softly.
He didn't say anything, but he kissed my temple, where, two years back, the gun had been pressed. I can't tell you how much I wished the bullet would have gone through my skull.