Realistic or Modern Home [Little & DisneyGirl]

[DisneyGirl]

JUST GONNA CALL THIS 1X1 "HOME" UNTIL LITTLE AND I COME UP WITH AN OFFICIAL TITLE LOL ​

CS WIP:
FC:

NAME:
Emma White

Age: 27

Basics:
- Emma's mom abandoned her from a young age and left her with a dad who abused her. The only thing that kept her sane were movies, her best friend Luke and the home that his adopted parents let the neighborhood kids stay at.

- After Luke left their hometown to go to the army and Emma refused to go with him in order to become an actress, Emma took the next Greyhound bus to L.A.

- Emma struggled for a while before meeting the famous Hollywood exec Michael Luxe of Luxe Entertainment at a party. Seeing something "special" in her, he offered a chance at success…for a price. Broke and desperate not to return home to her horrible father, she took Michael's offer. If men like her father were going to use her, she was at least going to get something out of it.

- Emma became quite popular in the Hollywood scene, especially with the male executives who were interested in her. She soon became a star, scoring her own medical drama Dr. Heart that's notorious for its cheesy romances and overdramatic story lines.

- Successful and rich—with lots of socialite friends and a dreamy movie star boyfriend who's also a huge asshole—Emma still finds herself miserable and unable to move on from the pain her father put through. There's not a day that goes by that she doesn't wonder what her life would have been like if she didn't give up the love of her life for a chance at fame and riches.
Little

 

[Little]

WIP.
FC:

Name:
Lucas “Luke” Dominic Morgan

Age:
Twenty-seven

Basics:
- Grew up in the foster system from the time he was an infant. Bounced around different, and often abusive, foster homes until he was thirteen, when he was adopted by a loving elderly couple who took care of other troubled kids in the neighborhood. It was there Luke found family, and Emma. His first and only love.

- Enlisted as a U.S. Marine immediately upon graduating high school to pursue his lifelong dream and longing to do something with his life. Got deployed to Iraq for his first tour.

- Emma broke up with Luke while he was still overseas and in Iraq, via letter. Luke pushed through the rest of his deployment, came home for a little while to recover over the heartbreak, and re-enlisted.

- Luke was then deployed to Afghanistan, where, three months in, he lost one of his best friends to an I.E.D. Luke becomes rattled and shaken for the first time. Goes on third deployment to Iran.

- After sustaining severe injuries while on a mission─a gunshot wound to his upper left chest, as well as shrapnel in his left leg─Luke is medically discharged and relieved from the U.S. Marine Corps, and is sent home where he can heal and move on with his life. Luke is devastated, feels purposeless and directionless now that he’s home. PTSD symptoms begin to slowly emerge.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

MAGGIE ROSEN | 17

basics:

- Her parents divorced when she was three and now she lives in a trailer park with her mom and sister Charlie.

- Doesn't really get along with her mom and sister. Mom's always out going to casinos and gambling their rent money with her boyfriend Hank, meanwhile Charlie is busy partying and hooking up with another boy every other night with Hayley Mae.

- She's a daddy's girl and hangs out with him, his girlfriend Lindsay and their newborn son at their apartment whenever she gets the chance. At first Maggie was not too much of a fan of her fourty year old dad dating a twenty five year old but Lindsay is a lot of fun and takes good care of Maggie's dad.

- Maggie pushes herself. She wants to get out of this town and make something of herself. She's not interested in parties or boys like her sis. She's planning on going to college and getting a career, possibly in medicine. She wants to care for elderly people.

- Too bad she's in love with the town's bad boy who doesn't plan on leaving this town to make anything of himself, but loves her dearly and wants her to stay.

HAYLEY MAE COLLINS | 16

- Her parents are still together but they are anything but happy. It's a toxic household filled with drama and she uses music, hard partying (drugs included), boys and ocassionally cutting to escape her parents' arguing.

- But it's more than just the arguments. Since Hayley was four, she's been keeping a dark secret: her dad abuses her, and it's slowly killing her inside. So she does crazy shit in order to escape the pain and convince herself that this is so not her life.

- Hayley doesn't like most people, except for her older brother and she tolerates Maggie because her brother loves her. Her bro is her best friend in the world, the only person who she feels 100 percent safe with besides the elderly couple who used to care for her.

- Hayley has no dreams or goals or anything like that because she doesn't plan to live for long. She's cynical and doesn't care about consequences. So don't blame her if she's a smart ass and gets herself into trouble.

- Writing is her favorite thing to do and she keeps a notebook of her poems and short stories that she's never shown to anyone but she hopes somebody someday will enjoy them once she's gone from this earth.

Little

 

[Little]

TYLER EVANS | 17
- Comes from a home where his father physically and emotionally abused his mother, and even him when he began growing older and stronger.

- When it got really bad one night this summer, they both packed up in the middle of the night and ran away. His mother sent him to live with his aunt so she could figure things out in the city, get a job and save up for their own house. She tries to make it a point to visit at least once or twice a month despite the five hour drive.

- Helps out his aunt whenever he can, usually meaning he spends all day in the kitchen or at the grocery store looking for a specific kind of mushroom. Is shy at first but is pretty outgoing and sociable once you get to know him. Doesn't talk about his father. Really is just a loving guy.

- Growing up always worrying about his mama and her safety, he never had time to think about himself, and now as a consequence he doesn't know what he wants to do. He doesn't know what he likes to do, and feels aimless, which is why he loves trying a bit of everything now.


IMAGE PENDING
MARCUS COLLINS | 17
- Never having gotten along with anyone in his family but his sister, he often feels alone. Doesn't make it a point to be friendly or hospitable at all--prefers brutal honesty and loyalty above anything else. Has a very fragile and touchy sense of trust and faith with people other than his sister--has difficulty meeting/interacting with a lot of people.

- Doesn't ever plan on getting out of this small town; doesn't feel as though he has much opportunity, so he continues doing the same stuff, getting caught up in the same trouble if only because it's the only thing he knows how to do.

- Has been dating Maggie Rosen for a year and, even though he'll never admit it, can't imagine life without her. He knows she has dreams and a soul too big for this town, and that terrifies him--now he feels like he doesn't have an anchor. He feels like all he's doing now is just waiting to be left behind, so lately he's been getting into more trouble than usual so he can forget about that for a little while.

- Has a full-time job, and has been considering dropping out of school instead of going for senior year so he can continue said job. He's scared once he turns eighteen, he'll be kicked out onto the streets, so he's been saving up some money for an apartment. Hasn't told his sister or Maggie yet.

- Is best friends with his younger sister, Hayley. Is very protective of her, and loves doing anything with her. Feels responsible for her when she gets hurt or in trouble, often leading to guilt which then manifests in anger and aggression that leads to more trouble.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Parties had never been much of Emma's thing, but living in L.A. had taught her well and she could mingle with the best of 'em. It wasn't so hard once you got used to it. You just had to be a good listener, or even better, a great actor; just act like you really cared to hear about that "enlightening vacation" in India or that new avacado based diet everyone's been trying. Gasp and "aww" when somebody whips out their phone to show you photos of their kids, their dogs, or, in some circles, their plants. And always, always act interested in a man who was flirting you—even if he was hideous— just in case he was a director or a producer who could give you that next coveted role.

But socializing in a regular environment? With all her old friends and neighbors who wanted to catch up and talk about the good old days when she'd rather forget about that old life altogether? Where somebody's gross uncle—who worked at a gas station or something lame like that—hit on you?

That was freaking torture.

And she'd never would have come here if not for the fact that Martha and Walter had asked for her to come back and take over their house. She'd left this place and all the memories associated with. To her, it was a past life—the kind that may haunt you now and then in a dream but not enough to the point where you actually remember it because nobody ever remembered their past life. When she arrived in Hollywood, her mind was wiped clean and she was reborn. Emma was a new person. That is, until she got that letter and her fairytale built on a foundation of lies and secrets came crumbling, crumbling down.

She could have said no. But honestly, Hollywood, with all its glitz and glammer, wasn't that great either. Almost nothing was real. Not the people, not the parties, not the pathetic tears she cried practically every episode on her hit show, Dr. Hart. Emma herself started to feel less and less real. Like a character, a fictional being she herself created. And this woman was empty, exhausted, and lost. Almost as much as the little girl she used to be once upon a time ago. Maybe more. Getting to escape all that was very much needed. She considered going on a retreat or one of those "enlightening" vacations but never could find time to tell her assistant to clear out her schedule and book her a trip once she was on a break from filming.

Guess the universe had to force her to take this long-needed getaway.

She just wished it didn't mean having to see Luke again.

"You're not here for him," Emma told herself as she parked her Range Rover in front of the old white house. "This is for Martha and Walter." The man and woman who raised her, who both took her in when she needed somebody to protect her. Whatever problems she had with her ex were irrelevant today. Emma had an important responsibility ahead of her, and for some reason, that involved talking to Luke about her taking over the house. But why would she need to come to Luke's party to tell him about it? Couldn't a single phone call been enough? Couldn't Martha and Walter have told him themselves?

"Emma!" A voice called out as she entered the backyard through the same wooden gate door that had been there since she was a young girl. "Oh shit, it's really Emma White!" The voice called out again. She gave a nervous combination of laughter and sigh, used to this. Being recognized. The young man, a tall and gorgeous redhead who could put Prince Harry to shame, came running towards her. Without warning, he picked the petite brunette up and spun her around before setting her down and giving her a hug. The guy must have seen the look of horror and confusion on her face because his next words were, "It's me. Remember? Calvin? Luke's old friend?"

Calvin. Calvin. Calvin?! The same Calvin with buck teeth and square glasses who used to get called "Chucky" in school because of his resemblance to the Rugrats character? That Calvin?

"Yeah, oh my goodness! Calvin, hey!" Emma replied, her voice enthusiastic enough to convince him that she had totally recognized him. Totally.

"Oh man," he said, "everyone is going to be so excited to see you, especially Luke."

I doubt it, Emma wanted to say, but she just smiled and nodded before he tugged her through the crowds like a kid with a new toy he wanted to show off.

Little

 

[Little]

I want to go home. Just let me go home.

It became a mantra in his mind as he sat, silent, in the quiet outskirts of the party, in the quietest part of the house─his home, he had to keep reminding himself, even if he couldn’t remember much of it anymore, just bits and pieces now─he could find, where people would leave him alone. Where people didn’t want to know how many people he had killed or how many guns he had fired or what combat was like. Where he didn’t have to explain, where people didn’t walk on eggshells around him because they were afraid of upsetting him even though he was already upset, upset that he was here and not at home, home where it was safe and he could be alone and scared and angry, and that was okay. Where he was okay. Or could pretend to be as he downed another sleeping pill that he knew wouldn’t work, as he woke from another dream he wouldn’t ever tell to another soul─maybe not even to himself.

He was hiding, he realized. Luke was sitting alone in a corner closest to the bar, shot glass in hand, because he wanted to hide. But from who? Or what?

It was as he downed another shot that he also realized that he didn’t know. Or simply didn’t want to.

Either way was fine by him.

Let. Me. Go. Home.

Another person he was supposed to remember and recall fond memories with walked by, and Luke smiled a tired smile as he looked up, and nodded in the only form of greeting he knew since coming home after being gone for so long. Too long. He couldn’t remember what was polite anymore, only what was obedient. But there were no commands to obey, only invisible rules and lines drawn in the sand that he was left to figure out on his own. Silly civilian “rules” and expectations he had once felt obliged to follow. Like smiling. He felt stiff whenever he smiled, like he was a wooden puppet suddenly tasked with the mission to look cheerful and happy, and smile. It didn’t feel like he was smiling when he smiled, but rather a part of himself he had created. A part of him that he wanted everyone to see.

Maybe even a part of him he wanted to hide behind.

Because the truth was? He didn’t want to be here. Luke had considered, and more than once, not coming at all. Say he fell ill. Say his leg was acting up, that he was in pain, and he needed to rest. Say he was too tired to deal with anyone─but then, that would be too truthful, wouldn’t it? That would have been too close to the truth, and so he had settled. Settled only with the fact that Martha and Walter─mom and dad─were to be honored. Their memory, and their lives, needed to be honored.

And that was the only reason why Luke was here. For them. For the parents that he hadn’t had growing up. The parents that hadn’t loved him because he was their own flesh and blood, because they had to, but because he was theirs. In their hearts. Because some part of them had seen something in him that he hadn’t known was there─and loved him for it. Loved him despite everything.

So he nodded and smiled and explained, as best he could. For them, he silently thought. This is for them. Not for you, or for you. Or for me. For THEM, you naive, obnoxious, spoiled bastards.

Luke tried to remember to breathe in between shots and conversations about things he couldn’t understand, things he longed for but could never have because it was too late, now. Because life had moved on while he was gone. Everyone had moved on, gotten married, had kids, started their own lives. Their own happy little picture perfect lives. And what did he have? Nothing. He had a uniform and a pair of boots that made kids smile and point, adults nervous and look away, and no one understand. That was what he had.

Life had moved on. And even though this party, this banner spelling out in big, childish letters W-E-L-C-O-M-E H-O-M-E, L-U-K-E, was for him, everyone had already moved on and now lived a life he couldn’t understand or relate to. A life that could have been his, if he had stayed. If he hadn’t signed on the dotted line. This could have all been his. He could have had everything. A wife that loved him. Kids that he adored and loved more than anything else in the whole wide world (other than mommy). A dog more loyal and loveable than anything he’s ever known. A house with a big green lawn for the kids to play in.

A life. Not whatever he had, not whatever it was he would be going home to after tonight. An empty, lonely, cold little bedroom made for one, with a bathroom far too small and a kitchen far too cluttered with dishes he hadn’t gotten to yet. But no one wanted to hear about that. They wanted to hear the stories. They wanted to hear how much of a hero he had been, so they could be proud of him. Even if there was nothing to be proud of. In his mind, there was only a life he could have had, to be mourned. Nothing worth celebrating, or being proud of, to be found here.

So he downed another shot, dodged another glance, and hid behind silence and insincere smiles. It wasn’t long, though, until someone found him either by ignoring the signs that he wanted to be left the hell alone, or by not caring.

“Luke?” a voice called out in the crowd. Luke didn’t look to see who it was, and couldn’t find it in himself to particularly care. “Luke!” the voice rang, louder this time. Luke visibly shrank further into himself as he leaned heavier on the bar counter-top, tensing with anticipation for another dreadfully long conversation of how-have-you-beens and what was it like over there and what does he plan on doing now. Questions he didn’t have answers for, small talk he couldn’t find the energy to care about. All pointless. All of this was pointless, so why had he even agreed to this when he knew it was going to be like this? When he knew that the last thing he had wanted coming home, was to be surrounded by a houseful of people he barely knew or remembered, and get bombarded with questions and conversations and small talk he didn’t know how to handle?

And just when he thought he couldn’t do this anymore, just when he contemplated bolting for the door with the excuse that he needed to grab the restroom real fast, and stay in there until they left, Luke saw her. Just for an instant, a flicker, a moment, he saw her.

At first, Luke thought he was just seeing things. He had to blink and rub his eyes multiple times, suddenly inflicted with the fear and paranoia that the lack of sleep was finally catching up to him, that this was a sign he really was beginning to lose his grip.

But when he finally mustered up the courage, with the help of another shot and deep breath, to look again, she was there. She was closer, and was being dragged through the crowd by someone. The same someone that had been shouting his name down for the past few minutes, trying to grab his attention while she stood by, her expression blank with a small smile plastered on. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, the same way his hadn’t.

Feeling his chest contract and his heart pound, Luke had to look away. It was too much. This was becoming too much. In a panic, Luke abruptly stood up and immediately began looking for a way out. He needed to get out. His eyes frantically looked for the exit he already had scanned for upon entering the room, and his legs itched. Crawled with the need to leave. He couldn’t be here. He needed out.

He couldn’t breathe.

Breathe, Luke. You can breathe. Just breathe.

Before Luke had the chance to walk out, walk away from the one person in his life that he had loved the most and had left him, it was too late.

“LUKE! MY DUDE! Look who I found!” It was Calvin, and he was grinning, arm in arm with her. Emma.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

All around Emma were familiar faces she hadn't seen in a while. The thing about familiar faces you haven't seen in a while is that they don't look as familiar as they used to. There's the little redhead girl you used to play Barbies with with those same twinkling blue eyes and that chipped tooth, but she's not so little anymore and she's a blonde now. And then there's your high school English teacher—the one you used to have a crush on—whose wavy black hair has turned gray and flat and he now has wrinkles on his forehead. Emma could have saved herself the confusion, embarrassment and utter shock that came with being face to face with former cheerleaders who let themselves go and nerds who'd outgrown their awkward phases so much so that they were barely recognizable—but Emma had sworn off social media a year ago and, honestly, she didn't expect for everyone to change so much.

Right, because you're the only one with a life and problems of her own... Emma thought, chuckling to herself. Somehow, in her mind, time had been frozen since she left home. Somewhere inside of her, she sorta believed that while she was off starring on TV shows and winning awards and walking on red carpets in pretty sparkly dresses, everyone else's lives back home had been standing still like a scene of a movie put on pause. As if they were just waiting for her return before they could come back to life and resume right where they left off.

A few of them actually recognized her. At least, they seemed to with their whispers and stares. Squinting narrow eyes that struggled to place her, until they went wide, lips that mouthed "Oh my God," or "No way!" But then there were the ones who just smiled politely or ignored her or didn't even seem to know who she was at all, despite her face being on magazine covers all over the world. Or maybe they did know who she was and just didn't care because why should they? She'd forgotten them and so they had forgotten her, too.

This wasn't how Emma imagined it to be. It sounded so stupid now, but way back in the early days of her career, she dreamed of the day she'd get to bump into an old neighbor or classmate and they'd be in awe of her success. Even though she never really planned on returning to this place, she'd like to think of herself being the town legend—kind of like what Elvis is to Tupelo, what Lucille Ball is to Celoron. They'd make statues of Emma and cry as they watched her win her first Oscar on live television and be proud to call her theirs. She'd always said she wanted nothing to do with this town and the people in it, but deep down, she still adored her hometown.

Right now, it felt anything but home.

Who gave a shit if she won an Oscar? If her name was in lights and her face on billboards? How did that validate her life in anyway? How did that give her life any meaning?

Because if I'm famous, then I matter. she reminded herself. My life and all the hell I went through matters. I'm not just anybody. I'm somebody. I'm different. I'm special. I'm loved. Because then I'm not one of them. I'm better. I'm better.

Now all she wanted was to be one of them. Watching one of her old kindergarten friends—Karlie Sommers— holding and kissing a baby boy that a group of women were melting over, Emma wondered what her life would haved turned out to be if she stayed here. She might have gotten married, as she could see Karlie did judging from the shiny ring on her finger. Might have had a kid or two. Might have actually been happy.

Or maybe she would have just walked in front of a train a long time ago and be buried with her mother.

But then there was the other road she could have traveled…

"LUKE! MY DUDE! Look who I found!”

If there was one face in this whole crowd that still felt as familiar as her own, it was Luke's. He'd been a boy just then, and a man was now standing before her, but he was still her Luke all the same. So maybe that's why it broke Emma's heart to feel as if she was just a stranger to him. The awkward silence spoke volumes. He looked anything but excited.

"You remember Emma. Right, buddy?" Calvin asked with a laugh, sensing the distance between the two of them.

"Hi, Luke," Emma said, waving reluctantly at her former best friend/boyfriend like a growling dog she was afraid to touch lest he bite her whole arm off.

What did you expect? For him to embrace you in his arms, pick you up and spin you around? He doesn't care about you either. You left him, too, and he's moved on just like you. Don't be so surprised.

"Just like old times! Eh?" Calvin said, each arm around one of them as he pulled Emma and Luke into a group hug. Emma wasn't sure if he was actually serious or was realizing this was a bad idea and now attempting to make things less weird for all of them. He must have still had faith in the two of them, because when someone called for Calvin's help with something, Calvin didn't hesitate to say, "be right back," and leave Emma and Luke by themselves.

There were so many ways Emma could have started this conversation.

"Hey, how ya been?"

"Welcome back home. How was your time away?"

"Soooo. Long no time no see.."

Instead, without thinking, she went with, "I'm sorry."


Little

 

[Little]

Time slowed down as Luke stood up and turned around, and froze. He felt the wind get knocked out of him as his eyes met hers and hers met his. Everything around him began to blur and fade, and it was as if he couldn’t see or hear anything but her, like she was his universe, his everything─the way it had been from the start. But now all it did was hurt. Hurt to look at her and feel everything else around him slipping away, sucking him into a whirlwind of memories he had long since buried, locked away with the intention to never open them again.

But here he was, now an arms length away from the very person who’d made the very memories he had once tried so hard to erase, to blot out of existence.

Emma.

Suddenly it was difficult to draw breath, and Luke found himself wanting to sit down. Though he didn’t want to notice or acknowledge it─whether out of stubbornness or fear, or some combination of both─he found himself wanting to sit down more and more ever since what happened in Iran. He tried to wave the thought away, dismiss it as him just getting a little tipsy, maybe a little drunk, that was all, but the more he tried to suppress it, the more the urge to sit grew until it was all he could think about, other than her.

Luke could barely hold eye contact with her. His eyes kept bouncing and flickering past her at people walking by, people throwing their heads back laughing, people having a good time in their good lives. He couldn’t focus and couldn’t breathe, and he needed to sit down even though he couldn’t have been standing for that long now. He didn’t know what to say, if there was anything at all to say to someone who left you, left you stranded in a war that continues to live on and fester inside of you, long after you came back home from overseas? A war that would live on even in your sleep and in your dreams, a war that now is apart of you.

What was there to say?

“You remember Emma. Right, buddy?” Calvin laughed nervously.

He didn’t answer, just finally looked at Emma in silence, gave a nod, and looked away and back at Calvin. If he saw her wave as she greeted him, he didn’t show it and didn’t respond in any way to it as he felt himself grow numb, a coldness that only grew as he distantly watched Calvin run off to the next person with that same energetic, infectious grin and “HEY DUDE!” that everyone knew and loved, leaving two strangers alone with an impossible distance to ever bridge in between them.

An impossible distance until she spoke, breaking the silence that had lasted for years.

“I’m sorry.”

Luke almost lost his balance. He reached out to lean against the bar he’d been sitting at as he sucked in a sharp breath, and began shaking his head. “Don’t be,” he managed to choke out before his vision began to swim and his mind swayed and swirled dizzyingly. No longer able to dismiss the need to sit off, Luke took his seat back and nodded to the empty seat next to him as he tried vainly to catch his breath. The tiredness and exhaustion he’d hidden so well now washed over him in dizzying waves, and maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just from seeing Emma, the only person other than his parents and his brothers in the Marines that he’d loved more than himself, but he was tired and he needed to sit and he didn’t want to acknowledge that his leg was starting to act up again and it was beginning to become a pattern, not just a once in a blue moon kind of deal anymore.

I don’t want to be here.

Still unable to look at Emma for long, Luke stared down at his mostly empty glass and absently swirled the ice around as he searched for words to say, words that had been locked inside him since the day he got the letter, the last letter, saying she couldn’t do this anymore and that they both needed to move on, that it’d be a good thing for both of them, and he didn’t know what to say.

After several long beats, he finally garnered enough strength to look at her again and hold her gaze. Decidedly too tired for bullshit and small talk, Luke cut straight to the point and perhaps even deflect from what she had said to begin with because he wasn’t sure how to process that. “What brings you back here?” he gestured to the party, to the people laughing and having a good time in his old childhood home that had been just as much of a home to her at one time, too.

Because it sure as hell isn’t me that brought you here. Otherwise maybe you wouldn’t have left me.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Whoa. Where did that come from? She was apologizing obviously, but for what exactly? Sorry for what happened to you while at war? Sorry for leaving you all those years ago and letting you watch me date all those movie stars and pop stars even though half of those heart throbs were gay and the whole thing was a publicity stunt? Sorry for choosing Hollywood over us? Sorry that the only mother and father figure we really had—the only family we really had besides each other—are gone? There was so much to say sorry for, but she supposed she was saying sorry for all of it. Not that it even mattered, but maybe it would. She couldn't change the past and her shitty mistakes, but she could offer her apology. That much she could give him. It's what the man deserved. That, and so much more. God, so much more than she could ever give him.

Luke seemed to shrug it off, like it was whatever. All in the past and behind them, not worth mentioning. He seemed so tired. Tired of everything. Maybe tired of her. Or it could have had nothing to with her; after all, he did just come back from war. Emma looked down, then glanced back up at him one last time, ready to just walk away—until he shone a little light of hope on her. Luke nodded to the seat next to him and she took the opportunity faster than she could think twice about it. She was so eager for his forgiveness, for his approval. Being with him now was more nerve-wracking than any audition or screen test she'd ever had in her life. She studied him like one of her characters and let her curiosity and imagination run away together at that moment. Who was he now after all these years? Did he still have the same dreams he did back when they were kids? Did he still have the same fears? Did he still laugh at the same jokes? Did he ever laugh at all anymore?

And the hardest pill to swallow out of all the possible answers…had he found somebody else? If so, was he happy with her? Had he found the kind of love he couldn't keep with Emma in the arms of another woman? Just the idea of him being with another girl drove her mad. That movie played in her third eye; the one where Luke kissed someone else, held someone else, went to bed with someone else. Each time it starred a different girl but it still hurt all the same if not more. Another woman finding and keeping what she foolishly threw away, doing all the things they used to and living the life Emma should have been living. But she couldn't blame them—Luke or the girl—if that's what happened; because when you left a treasure to rot in the pouring rain, you shouldn't be surprised when somebody ends up picking it up, dusting it off and taking it home. It wouldn't be waiting for you at lost and found because it wasn't yours anymore.

She wondered if he had shown said girl that letter. If he'd gotten close enough to someone to share his broken heart and if she told him about her shitty ex, too.

Emma realized she'd been staring at him when those blue eyes looked up at hers, fearless and piercing. Almost accusing, but too exhausted to even be that. More like impatient and dreadful, wanting to get this over with as he asked her, “What brings you back here?” She gasped, caught off guard. She hadn't planned on doing it like this; she'd hoped she at least could have gotten in a drink or two in before…

Emma cleared her throat, a nervous tic she'd always had. The one that drove her acting teachers and directors crazy in the early days because she'd do it before every scene until she finally mastered her nerves enough to let go of the bad habit that followed her into high-pressure situations like this. All eyes on her, or at least, two blue eyes on her. With no where to escape and hide.

"It's about Martha and Walter," Emma started, sounding so different. So grown-up and mature, feeling anything but those two things. Ha. What an actress. She didn't win an Emmy for nothing, but now was no time for a peformance. She sighed and closed her eyes before adding, "About their house, specifically." She pulled out the letter written in Walter's small and precise handwriting right then, passing it to Luke with shaking hands. "They want—wanted—me to take over the house. That's why I'm back."
Little

 

[Little]

“It’s about Martha and Walter.”

Luke visibly stiffened and shifted slightly in his seat, nodding.

She went on. “About their house, specifically.”

Time slowed down again and Luke felt his vision begin to swim as he was unable to look at Emma. He closed his eyes and waited for her to say it, say what he had known all along but hadn’t wanted to believe.

“They want─wanted─me to take over the house. That’s why I’m back.”

Luke didn’t say anything for a long time, just stared down into his glass before waving down the bartender to get it topped off again. He downed the shot and grimaced, still unable to look at her. It made sense, in a way. It was why he never got a letter from his lawyer to talk about the property, because it’d never been given to him to begin with. They’d given the house─his home; and the only home he’d ever had─to her, the woman that he’d loved and the woman that had left him, over their own son. The same son they had had to constantly reassure that they loved him just the same, if not more, if he had been born of their own flesh and blood, that he was their son and not adopted son, that they were his family and he was theirs.

But they didn’t ever plan to leave him the home they tried so desperately to make him feel apart of, make him believe was his just as much as theirs, did they?

This was too much. This couldn’t be real, could it? Was this some sick joke God or the universe or whatever the hell else was playing on him? Here, you know what would be a funny prank to pull on the guy who just came back home from overseas with a fucked up leg and an even more fucked up, pathetic life? Let’s take away his only childhood home, and give it to the girl who crushed and grinded his heart to nothing but dust via letter! Ha ha! Funny!

Luke wasn’t laughing. “This is a fucking joke, right?” He was looking at her, now. “Please tell me you’re fucking pulling my leg, Emma.” He sucked in a sharp breath and quickly pushed out his chair, stumbling backwards in the process as he stood up, shaking his head. “No. No. There has to be some kind of mistake.” His words were slurring together now, and Luke was starting to feel queasy. He remembered then that he hadn’t eaten much of anything before drinking, a mistake he’d be paying for surely in the morning─but he didn’t care.

“So you’re telling me that they wanted you to take over the house, my home, over their own son?” Luke couldn’t keep the hurt he felt out of his voice, and off of his expression as it contorted, feeling confusion and disbelief wash over him in waves as he swayed slightly from where he stood. I’m drunk, a part of him tried to reason. I should just go home and sleep this off, talk to Emma about this in the morning when I’m more sober, and try to reason with her, make some kind of deal.

But Luke could not be reasoned with. Not like this. Not when this was his home, the only thing he’d have left of his parents. She couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t take this from him. Not when she’d already taken so much. Taken his heart with the intention to never give it back, and now this too?

No. No.

Luke couldn’t let her do this.

Luke stared at the letter she held out to him, and shook his head angrily. He didn’t want to read the letter they’d written to her instead of him, giving her his home without ever having so much as talked about it to him or asked him about it. That would have been too much to ask for, to be included. And almost immediately, he felt like he was a kid again─left wondering if they really loved him at all, if he would ever feel like he was family and not an unwanted addition, not some outsider patched on. All the pain and yearning and wondering from when he was a kid he’d tried so hard to bury─and even Walter and Martha had tried to soothe with their constant cooing and comforting, whispered words at night that they loved him, that he was wanted and loved and wonderful─came bubbling back to the surface, and it was all Luke could do but breathe. He needed to breathe and he couldn’t do it in here, in the very home that was being ripped out from under him.

Almost at once, the anger he felt turned to a bitterness his thirteen year old self had known well. “Maybe they adopted the wrong kid after all.”

And with that, Luke left. Walked away the same way she had so many years ago, only staggering and struggling to keep his balance as he did so.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

It was almost like he knew and right then and there, something told Emma that this was not going to go well. Not by a long shot. She bit her lip and cleared her throat again. "Luke—?" but he was more preoccupied with drinking, and that annoyed her. Not that Emma didn't enjoy a good glass every now and then in her lonely hotel rooms and trailers. "Would you look at me—please?"

The stupidest thing was at that moment she felt so over-dressed. High heels and designer skinny jeans with a light grey cashmere sweater and the best kind of make up money could buy that totaled to at least the thousands. She looked like a million bucks but felt like a piece of shit, especially with a guy who was more interested in getting drunk than talking to her when once upon a time she used to be his everything. Luke had that magic way of making her feel like the most amazing woman to walk the planet; a feeling no money could buy. And now he had the power to absolutely and completely destroy her. He reeked of alcohol, a drunk ghost of her past.

“This is a fucking joke, right?”

What? Did he just—? Really?

"You think I'd joke about something like that," Emma replied, narrowing her eyes at the son of a—ugh! "You think that I would fly all the way over here to the other side of the country to pull your fucking leg?" She shook her head, refusing to believe any of this. She didn't even want the damn house! She was so ready to just let Luke deal with it or let Martha and Walter lose the house altogether but she had the money to take care of the place and Martha and Walter wanted her to take care of it and so after a lot of back and forth she finally put aside her wants and fears and came back here. Even though that meant facing Luke—her biggest fear; because it was the right thing to do. That couple was the only reason she made it to adulthood and she would go to the ends of the earth for them and this is what she got in return?

"Look, I get why you're upset. I don't know why they chose me but …" she said, trying to stay calm. Jaw tense and heart pounding. He was drunk, stumbling and slurring. Anything Luke said next Emma couldn't hold against him. That's what she kept telling herself anyway until he hit her with this one:

“Maybe they adopted the wrong kid after all.”

And suddenly, Emma stopped feeling so sorry for him.

"Hey!" She called out after the shock wore off, a feeling like the realization that came after a slap in the face or a car crash. And now he was just gonna run away. "They were practically my parents, too, Luke. They cared me about, too!"

But he wasn't listening; he was gone.

With tears in her eyes, Emma pushed past the crowds, cursing his name. Now all eyes were on her but she was used to the attention. Wasn't the first time people saw her have a meltdown in public. She'd had her Britney Spears Lindsay Lohan moments; plenty of nights where she'd stumbled out a nightclub, wasted and swinging her purse at the paparazzi. Public humiliation was something she was familiar with so she paid no attention to them until Calvin grabbed her arm and asked her what was wrong.

"I can't do this, Calvin," she confessed, breaking down and sobbing. "I can't." Emma broke free, running to the refuge that was her Range Rover. She drove off like the faster she went, the more she could erase the whole past.

Like a scene out of some cliche movie, it started raining about a half hour after she left and Emma just aimlessly wandered around the neighborhood with her windshield wipers working overtime. Driving always helped her clear her head and as she calmed down a bit, she came to the acceptance that maybe she was being too harsh on Luke. Emma had never had a real family until Martha and Walter, true, but neither had Luke. He was adopted and for as long as Emma could remember, he had a hard time believing that he was loved but man did he try. This whole thing with the house was going to hurt him of course. Why hadn't she seen that? He was their son for crying out loud. Why hadn't he gotten the house? Emma pulled over in front of a Mexican restaurant she recognized that was next to a FroYo place she didn't recognize and sighed, resting her head on the wheel.

"Why me?" She asked Walter and Martha, wherever they were. "Why did you send me back here?" She waited, but the only answer she received was the sound of the rain drops dancing on her front window.

Emma moaned, knowing what she had to do next. She turned the car back on, and went looking for him.


An hour later, just before Emma was convinced that it was no use and she was wasting her time, she saw a figure leaning down to sit down on the edge of the curb not too far from where the party had been. The rain wasn't so bad now—in fact, it was pretty much gone—but she still wasn't going to leave Luke here. She parked nearby and walked over to him, hands in the pockets of her black peacoat, before sitting down next to him.

Say something, Em. Say something. Anything.

"Did you know there's a frozen yogurt place next to that old Mexican restaurant you and I used to go to?"

Well, that was a start.

"They got rid of the ice cream place we used to get our banana splits and opened a frozen yogurt shop! Where are we gonna get a banana split in this town now?"

Little

 

[Little]

It only occurred to Luke once he was outside that he didn’t have a plan, that he didn’t know where he was going or even how he’d get home. He certainly couldn’t drive home; he could barely walk in a straight line because he’d had one too many drinks. So Luke did the only thing he could think to do after pacing back and forth down the street the house was on, feeling confused and frustrated that he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go; he leaned to sit down on the curb, and wait. Just like he’d done as a kid when his foster parents didn’t show up again after school to pick him up, leaving him sitting on the curb of the empty school parking lot an hour or two after the last class because everyone else was gone, waiting for foster parents he wasn’t even sure remembered─or, for that mattered, cared enough─to pick him up.

And then, just like in the movies, it started raining.

He was hammered drunk at his own welcome home party and it was raining and he didn’t know how he was going to get home. Things were great. Mom and dad would be proud of me, he thought somewhere between the haze and fog, and felt laughter bubble inside of him. He was sitting on the side of the road, pouting in the rain and feeling sorry for himself if only because no one else would. He was pathetic. What a fucking loser. Luke laughed, and the sound of it startled him because he hadn’t thought he’d laugh out loud─but he did and the realization that he’d scared himself made him laugh only harder until his chest was shaking silently and he was doubled over on the side of the road in the pouring rain. He laughed until his stomach and cheeks hurt. And then he was crying. Or maybe that was just the rain.

Luke brought his fingertips to the corners of his eyes to vainly check if he was crying, feeling the laughter begin to die and the confusion to settle in. Slowly, he sat upright with his shoulders rigidly set back, and looked up quickly and took in his surroundings, as if realizing he’d been caught in a dream. Home. I’m home. But was he?

No. That wasn’t right. This isn’t home, he remembered. This is Emma’s home, now.

Luke started laughing again, his body racked with silent shakes as he stared down at his hands, and then at the ground. He was getting soaked but couldn’t find it in himself to care─they were just clothes.

He couldn’t tell how much time had gone by, and he was getting sleepy and wondered again how he’d get home, or if he’d have to pass out here until morning.

And just when he got his head wrapped around the idea of sleeping here─maybe find a nice tree to sit down and lean against─he saw something. A figure. It approached him and he realized that it was no longer raining, and wondered how much time had gone by again. Time was beginning to blur and Luke wasn’t sure how drunk he was anymore. Nothing was clear and everything was hazy. His mind was foggy and he was tired, and he wanted to go home even though he couldn’t remember where that was.

It took him a moment, but he eventually registered the figure. It was Emma. Luke wanted to laugh again because it seemed to be too silly to be true, but he didn’t because he somehow knew that would be strange and unacceptable even though he was drunk and could barely think. The figure wordlessly plopped down beside him and a moment of silence passed between them. Luke wasn’t sure what to say. He felt dizzy and wanted to go home.

Take me home.

Abruptly, her voice filled the void that was inside his mind. “Did you know there’s a frozen yogurt place next to that old Mexican restaurant you and I used to go to?” A pause. “They got rid of the ice cream place we used to get our banana splits and opened a frozen yogurt shop! Where are we gonna get a banana split in this town now?”

Luke didn’t say anything for a long time as he seemed to process everything she’d said. And when he finally did say something, his words slurred. “I guess that means we have to make our own, right?” A lopsided, drunk grin curled the corners of his mouth as he hazily looked out into the street, hugging his legs closer to his chest as a cold breeze blew, making him shiver slightly. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you’re dressed up.” He glanced down at his own clothes─a simple plaid flannel and white t-shirt─and laughed. “Guess nothing changes.”

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Luke may have been intoxicated, but judging by the way Emma was talking, you'd have thought she was the drunk one. They were exes who hadn't seen each other in years. They had just gotten into a fight. Luke had been out here in the pouring rain while Emma had spent almost two hours looking for him and that's what she chose to say to him? If he got up and walked away from her now, she honestly wouldn't have blamed him. What kind of way of greeting was that especially after what they were going through right now?

“I guess that means we have to make our own, right?” He slurred, and a lopsided, drunk grin curled the corners of his mouth. She stared at him, speechless; and took a few seconds to process the fact that he didn't totally hate her. Or was too wasted to care or remember that he hated her anyway. She laughed at his mention of her being dressed up. "Well, some things never change." Emma partly agreed with a nod as she looked down at their feet. Then she looked back up at him, into his eyes. "But then, some do."

Like me. I've changed, for the better, too. You'd see that if you only gave me a chance. Emma wanted to say. And their relationship had changed forever—or had it? More silence, until she mustered up the courage to tell him, "Come on, Luke. Let me take you home."

Oh, fuck. That sounded wrong. "Uh, as in like your home. Not mine, or actually Martha and Walter's. Well, I guess it's my home now technically—but anyways let me take you home…but not in that way. Oh, gosh. I'm gonna stop talking now." Emma laughed, nervously. Once upon a time ago aka just a little over ten years ago, she wouldn't have blinked an eye at making such a comment to Luke. There was once a time when she practically lived in his house, in his room. Many nights of her sleeping over without Martha and Walter knowing or at least not saying anything about it, especially when they'd go out of town. Luke was Emma's first and she'd even had a pregnancy scare in junior year. And now here she was, embarrassed to be giving him the wrong idea when her sixteen year old self loved to tease and drive him crazy with the thought of what they'd do when they were alone.

"C'mon," She said, in a gentle voice one would use with a small child. As awkward as it all was to be holding him up like this she did so anyway so he wouldn't slip and fall in his drunken state. She tried to hold onto him as she pulled him up but Emma was a tiny woman and Luke was much bigger than she—even more muscular than she remembered. The Marines probably did that to him. She lost her grip and dropped him back onto the concrete. "Shit!" She cried, frustrated. How was she supposed to help the drunk young man get back to the car much less his home? Would she be able to carry him back to his front door? Would he even be able to tell her where he lived or was he that out of it?

With all her strength, Emma pulled him back up again and, when she felt herself losing him again, she pulled him closer. And oh, how many feelings that brought back up again. They were practically nose to nose now, thanks to her; and she couldn't stop herself from staring at those lips she used to have the pleasure of kissing all those years ago. Who had kissed them ever since she'd left? Who kissed them now? Did anyone ever kiss this boy like he deserved? Emma thought she might have been about to before snapping back to her reality and goal of getting Luke back home, placing his arm around her shoulder to steady him. Damn, he was heavy but there was no way Emma was gonna let him stay out here. Even if she had to fight him on it.

"Tell you what," she began, breathing heavily, "you let me drive you back home and I'll stop by the grocery store on the way and get some bananas and ice cream and even some chocolate syrup and nuts and sprinkles for us. Then we can make our own banana split. Hell, maybe I'll get some Mexican food to go, too. Get us some of those extra cheesy nachos with extra sour cream. We'll have the worst stomach aches and food comas of our lives. It'll be great." And maybe I'll even get some much needed booze for myself… Emma thought. She freaking needed it after a day like this. "How does that sound, Luke? You'd like that? Hmm?"

Little

 

[Little]

But then, some do.

Her words echoed in his mind as he stared down at his feet, intentionally avoiding her direct and knowing gaze while he tried to groggily think of what that meant. Was she saying that she had changed, or that he had? Or that they both have? His head started to hurt thinking about the different answers, the different paths they led to and came from. He was too tired for this, and so he stopped thinking about it and pushed it aside for later, like everything else in his current life.

Luke half-heartedly and absentmindedly pushed around some pebbles with his boots, watching the way they rolled and bounced against the street as he tucked his hands inside his pockets and swayed along with the invisible waves of dizziness that kept crashing down on him, wave after wave until he closed his eyes, as if squeezing them shut would somehow stop the world from spinning out of his grasp.

“Come on, Luke. Let me take you home.”

Luke’s eyes opened and for a long moment, he thought he’d heard her wrong. Home?

Did she mean─?

“Uh, as in like your home. Not mine, or actually Martha and Walter’s. Well, I guess it’s my home now technically─but anyways let me take you home… but not in that way. Oh gosh, I’m gonna stop talking now.”

No. She didn’t.

Luke looked away and nodded with half a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Back to that home. Got it.

“C’mon,” she said in a gentle voice that seemed to calm him the way no one else could or ever had been able to, and he obeyed if only because he was too tired to fight her. Slowly, and with the balance of an infant just learning to walk, Luke unsteadily rose to his feet and─without even thinking or meaning to─shot his hand out to her arm and tightly gripped it to keep from falling. And when another wave of dizziness hit him, he swayed unsteadily into her, and was evidently too much for her small body to take, because the next thing he knew, he was staring straight up at the night sky, seeing more stars than he remembered there being.

“Ow.” Then he was laughing until his stomach hurt and tears were welling in his bloodshot eyes. “Did you just drop me?”

His vision swam as he lay in a drunken heap on the cold pavement, laughing and wheezing in between his short breaths as the back of his head began to throb and even swell. “I guess it doesn’t matter if someone dropped me as a baby if you dropped me as an adult, right?” Just as he caught his breath, Luke went into another laughing fit until he couldn’t breathe and the corners of his vision began to blacken slightly.

And then the exhaustion hit him all at once, out of nowhere.

Luke could barely stand up again, even with Emma’s help as she struggled to get a grip on him and pull him up from off the ground. He started slipping from her grasp as his eyes began to close sleepily, but she pulled him closer and he smiled drunkenly, and barely managed to get out, “You’re nice and warm.”

It took a while before Luke was standing─leaning heavily on Emma’s small body, but still standing for the most part─and even longer before they began painfully inching their way to her car with Emma doing most of the work.

"Tell you what," she began, breathing heavily, "you let me drive you back home and I'll stop by the grocery store on the way and get some bananas and ice cream and even some chocolate syrup and nuts and sprinkles for us. Then we can make our own banana split. Hell, maybe I'll get some Mexican food to go, too. Get us some of those extra cheesy nachos with extra sour cream. We'll have the worst stomach aches and food comas of our lives. It'll be great.”

Luke’s mouth curled into a smile listening to her, and found himself nodding tiredly but excitedly as his blurry eyes set on the car and he began putting more effort in walking and keeping his balance while also very aware of her hand pressing against his side to hold him steady, the way it made his stomach flip and the memories it brought back to him all at once in flashes and glimpses he eventually pushed away, shoved away into a box labeled “FOR LATER” but would get thrown away anyway.

He closed his eyes as they reached her car and─after a few attempts and Luke getting frustrated with himself─slowly climbed into the backseat, where he then laid down across all three of the leather seats on his back and closed his eyes tiredly and listened to the way the car hummed. “That would be nice,” he finally mumbled in answer to her earlier conversation, smiling again into the darkness as she drove. “Ice cream and extra cheesy nachos and stomach aches and food comas sounds nice.”

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Once she felt herself able to carry Luke—or at least the best a little woman like her could carry a man of his size—Emma felt her whole body relax, her muscles lacking the tension she had been so aware of at the party earlier. Ironic, considering a girl would probably feel anything but relaxed when single-handedly helping a drunk boy to the backseat of her car, but hey, she wasn't complaining. She was just happy that Luke accepted her offer and didn't hate her as much as she might have believed. Or again, alcohol could have just made him not care as much as he would while sober.

And then she saw it: Luke was smiling. Smiling. Because of her!

Emma's heart practically jumped out of her chest, and if it could, her heart would be doing cartwheels and cheering, too. It's the beer, not you. That pessimistic side of her reminded her, but she ignored it. For now.

"Yeah? You like that?" She confirmed, grinning up at him. "Okay. Okay…"

Even in a situation such as this, Emma couldn't help but be aware of how close she was to her ex. She was extremely aware of her perfectly manicured hand pressing against his side. For good reason, however. She wasn't committing a sin or crossing a personal boundary of his. Just helping an old friend. That's it. That's all. Mhm.

So stop beating so wildly, you stupid heart. Chill out, will ya?

Goodness knows how she got that boy in the backseat. Emma practically had to push Luke's swaying body into the vehicle as he climbed in like a sleepy child whose bed time was hours ago; counting it as a miracle that he didn't stagger backward and fall on top of her.

Figuring Luke had fallen asleep that quickly, Emma hopped into the driver's seat and started the car. She was just about to make a left turn on the next street when she heard him say, “That would be nice." Thinking it was probably only her imagination playing tricks on her, she dismissed it until he added, “Ice cream and extra cheesy nachos and stomach aches and food comas sounds nice.”

Emma smiled.

Guess nothing changes.



Ordering nachos was the easier part. Emma could hide behind her sunglasses—which must have looked like a ridiculous fashion choice in this weather but whatever—and slightly change her voice in order to sound like a completely different person as she went through the drive-thru.

Getting the banana split was trickier.

That tension was back in her body again as she pulled into the Ralph's parking lot, just flowing through her spine and causing her hands and knees to shake. "I'll be back in a few minutes, 'kay?" she whispered to Luke, checking her rear view mirror to see if he was still breathing. Yup, still alive. Thank goodness. Shutting and locking the Range Rover behind her, Emma put her grey hoodie over her head—she ditched the sunglasses, though—and made her way past some teenagers smoking and goofing off by the entrance and into the cool and almost deserted store. The only customers so far being just a mom picking up some milk with her toddler and a teenage boy flirting with the cute cashier girl who wasn't giving him a second of her attention no matter how hard he tried.

That was something Emma missed about living in small town America. There were so many people in the city, which at first was exciting to her, until it wasn't anymore. Quantity rarely lead to quality; and maybe just maybe it was better to have a town with very few people but they all knew you and almost all loved you rather than a big city where you'd never run out of friends to make but they never really became friends because they never really got to know you and you never got to know them.

Right now, Emma didn't want to be known. But known she was, in some way. She had picked up the bananas, ice cream and everything else to make her and Luke's special treat when she decided to make a quick stop at the wine section. As she surveyed a bottle of Rosé and wondered what kind of wine Luke enjoyed, or if he was a wine kind of guy at all, Emma heard some familiar voices.

"She's back in town? Are you sure?"

"Definitely. Jessica saw her arrive at the welcome home party with Calvin by her side and Connor says that she and Luke got into, like, a really big fight."

Taylor and Amber. Emma's best girl friends. Well, former best girl friends.

"I hear Martha and Walter left her the house." Taylor added.

"They left Emma the house?" Amber replied. "Why wouldn't they leave it to Luke? He was their son, for cryin' out loud. She—why she doesn't even deserve that house after how she left those three! How she left all of us!"

A small pause.

"I miss her," Taylor finally said. "Call me crazy or a fool, but I do."

Amber sighed. "Yeah, me too. But let's just face it. Things will never be the same again. We just gotta let her go."

Tears formed in Emma's eyes and then she bolted towards the cute cashier girl, dropping whatever insane amount of cash she had on her. "Keep the change," she gasped for air, rejecting the tears and letting her throat burn as consequence. And then Emma was running towards the car and throwing the groceries into the passenger seat and somehow in the middle of that she found enough strength to stop herself from crying and push herself to start driving.

Of course, there was one problem: she had no idea where she was going.

"Luke," Emma said, hoping he wasn't totally passed out. "Where do you live?"
Little

 

[Little]

Luke slowly opened his eyes and didn’t find the ceiling fan staring back at him. Even more slowly, it occurred to him that because he couldn’t find the ceiling fan, he wasn’t home but was someplace else. The ceiling looked funny to him; it looked fuzzy. And it was gray, not the unpainted, bland white that went along with the rest of his cold, empty apartment that even his landlord said looked like no one even lived in it.

I’m in a car.

Luke’s expression only contorted in more confusion, and he frowned.

He closed his eyes again. He was too tired. Maybe this was just a dream and all of this would go away in the morning. Yeah, that was it, he groggily thought. He wasn’t in the back of a stranger’s car─he was at home, sleeping and dreaming on the living room couch, one of the few pieces of furniture he did own, because he hadn’t made it to his actual mattress in time again. That was all.

But when he mustered the strength to peel his eyes open again, he was still met with the fuzzy, gray roof and not the ceiling fan.

Luke was still in the back of someone’s car, and couldn’t think of why. A quick glance around the interior told him that the car was locked, and off.

Maybe I’m finally dead, he tiredly thought as he closed his eyes. Maybe they’re finally taking me home, finally taking me out of Iran.

They always did say that the only way home was in a body bag or missing a limb or two. He remembered that and wanted to go back to tell them that they were right, that he was finally coming home but in the back of someone’s car.

And he was asleep again for some time, and when he woke up he realized that he wasn’t dead, that if he really was dead, he wouldn’t keep waking up.

It was only after staring at the fuzzy gray ceiling for a long time that he remembered. Emma. The fight. Him downing shot after shot, even before Emma showed up. He was just drunk, not dead. But somehow this realization that he wasn’t dead, that he was home but not in a body bag or missing a limb or two didn’t comfort him like he had thought it would.
Luke leaned his head back and sighed, inhaling and exhaling shallowly as he closed his eyes, waited for the moment to pass as he reminded himself that he wasn’t dead, just drunk until it became a mantra in his mind.

Not dead, just drunk. Not dead.

He was home, and Emma was here. She was getting ice cream and nachos and she was taking him home and he was okay. He wasn’t back in Iran or Afghanistan or Iraq.

He was home.

And when he opened his eyes again, Emma was back and the car was on and wasn’t locked, taking away some of the tightness that he hadn’t realized was building inside his chest. And when he glanced at her, smiling a little, he noticed a shift in her─had she been… crying?

Luke’s expression softened and he felt his stomach churn. Had he done that?

With his words slurring heavily and sounding slightly gravelly from the short time he slept, he asked almost like a child having to wake up his parents because they had a scary nightmare again, “Are you crying?”

He asked at the same time she said, “Luke.” A pause. “Where do you live?”

Luke blinked and frowned, and furrowed his brow together as he thought for a moment. And seemed to hesitate before mumbling through his address, and closed his eyes again and let everything fade and slip away for a little while more.

He smiled a little bit as he reminded himself that he was home and wouldn’t be alone, at least for a little while.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Emma ignored Luke's question about her crying, choosing instead to use that smile she had mastered in her years of being a public figure. That kind of smile that oozed confidence and showed off pearly white teeth. It said, "I got this". The kind that people saw and knew right away that they didn't need to worry about you. Didn't matter if your world was falling apart or you wanted to die, so long as you had a pretty mask to hide behind. That mask was Emma's security blanket.



The apartment was a shithole. That was the nicest way to put it. Although it wasn't located in the friendliest side of the neighborhood, the outside wasn't too bad. A little run-down with loud neighbors—you know, the ones who watched their television with the highest volume possible and let their small children go on wailing for hours with a few "shut ups" here and there; however, that wasn't what concerned Emma.

The inside of Luke's apartment is what made her stop in her tracks.

"This is where you live," Emma said, not so much a question as much as it was a realization, an understanding. It was so...depressing. So dead.
Four white walls that felt suffocating and bare with the exception of an American flag and a picture of him in Iraq with his buddies. How patriotic, Emma thought and, on impulse, her eyes scanned the walls for any more pictures she might find—as in a picture of a possible girlfriend. To her satisfaction and relief, Em didn't find such evidence of a woman in his life and she immediately felt shallow and selfish for taking pleasure in that. His little beat up television set had to be their age at least and she was pretty sure his couch had been abandoned by the side of a freeway at one point in time. There was a lamp next to couch that would have been perfect for reading had it worked—but it didn't she soon found out—and she could barely make out the coffee table with all the empty beer cans on top of it. In fact, the beer cans were everywhere. On the floor, on the couch, even in the kitchen which is the first place she hit so she could start preparing the banana split.

Empty beer cans on the counter.
Empty beer cans—as well as dirty dishes—in the sink.
And empty beer cans in the fridge even, where she found no sign of food.

She did, however, see a cockroach hanging out on the ceiling.

Emma let out a little yelp and said, still sounding cheerful though it was forced, "On second thought, I'll just make the banana split in the living room."

The last thing Emma wanted to be was a snob. After all, before she was living in Hollywood Hills mansions and luxury New York lofts, she had been living in a tiny and practically ancient house not too far from this side of town. A cockroach and some dirty dishes were not going to scare her. She'd make the best of it somehow.

"Why don't we watch some TV while we eat," she suggested, trying to turn the television on. It took a few tries and some banging on the side of it to get it work but the grainy screen came to life soon enough. You couldn't see a damn thing on it. No matter how many times she changed the channel, the audio and visuals just seemed to get worse and worse. "Or we don't have to watch TV," she said, with an embarrassed chuckle. There was something about this place bothering her. Sure, it wasn't a fancy living situation by all means but something had her feeling…a little sick to her stomach.

Emma was opening the container of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry swirl ice cream when she heard a loud thump and a crash coming from upstairs. She jumped, and froze for a moment before hearing the sound of a baby screaming at the top of its lungs and a couple screaming at each other.

"That's it!" A woman cried. "I can't take it anymore, Hank. I want a divorce! This time I mean it."

"You ain't going anywhere, not with my kids you don't!" The man shot back. "Get back here, bitch!"

"You put your hands on me one more time and I'm calling the police, you worthless drunkard!"

A dog began barking then, which only caused the baby to scream louder.

Is that what had Emma worried? The early signs of a drinking problem? Her dad had a drinking problem and this apartment couldn't help but remind her of it. She didn't judge her ex for enjoying a drink now and then. Em liked to get a little tipsy every now and then, too, but there was something about getting drunk by yourself that was so sad. Maybe it wasn't even the drinking that bothered her most but Luke being so fucking alone that killed her, and the empty beer cans—his only companions—were proof of the pain that came with the loneliness. Guilt. Guilt was the name of the thing she was feeling. She had caused this.

Well, then. If Luke was gonna get drunk, then he was gonna get drunk with her by his side and it was going to be the happy kind of drunk. Not the sad or mad type and not in this place where it was probably so easy for him to sink into a hole of depression and not come out of it for goodness knows how long. She probably shouldn't have planned on drinking that night, especially when Luke was in the condition he was, but he needed the alcohol as much as she had needed it for whatever reasons—whatever demons—he was wrestling with. Emma patted Luke's back and started putting the stuff away. "We're not staying here, Luke. I can't let you stay here." She announced out of nowhere. "Not tonight."

But where would they go? Back to her shitty motel room?

"I'm taking you to your parents' house."

Little

 

[Little]

The rest of the car ride went in silence. Luke wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing, instead opting to stare at the ceiling from where he lay on his back. Even before the Marines, Luke hadn’t been one much for mindless chatter and things said only to fill in the silence─Emma knew that, and had understood it even back when they were kids. It had been why Luke took Emma for a romantic picnic under the stars instead of a sweaty, crowded venue of horny teenagers for prom. It had been why Martha had worried so much about him in the early mornings in the weeks following the adoption─Walter, he just isn’t talking; he just shrugs every time I try to ask him how school went! she’d whisper to her husband in bed, her forehead wrinkled with the telltale signs of worry.

And even now, hammered drunk in the back of Emma’s car, many, many years later, Luke was content to be left alone with his thoughts for company.

It took a while and some effort─mostly on Emma’s behalf as Luke swayed and stumbled across the parking lot─but before he knew it, he was back home.

If you could call a dark and empty and depressing apartment home.

As he fumbled with the key, he convinced himself that he didn’t need a lot, and that was why he had been more than happy to take the shit hole apartment that hadn’t been remodeled since the early 80’s, but he knew the truth. And the truth was, this was the only shithole he could afford, but even then he wouldn’t be able to afford this for very long with the stack of hospital bills he had piling up on his counter, among other things he wasn’t ready to deal with quite yet.

They didn’t stay for very long.

“We’re not staying here, Luke.”

Luke didn’t say anything, just turned to the front door and waited with a nod. He had been too ashamed to say anything to try to explain as she looked around at all the empty beer cans, and so had silently stood by the front door, watching her take everything in and trying to see his home the way she must have. And the only thing he kept coming back to was that she might think he was a drunk. A low life that washed out, couldn’t get things right so he turned to the bottle to cope.

But he wasn’t becoming a drunk. He would know if he was, and he wasn’t.

Right?

The car ride back to the house was silent. His heart pounded wildly against his chest, and for a while he was afraid she would be able to hear it because it was so loud. The car felt like it was moving too fast, the stops too sudden. Everything was suddenly too loud. Luke closed his eyes and reached out to grip on the edge of the seat until his knuckles turned white and he was left wanting, wishing only for the car ride to be over.

And when he opened his eyes, the car finally stopped. Luke sat up too quickly and felt the world beneath him sway and pull down at him. Groaning quietly, he blinked away the dizziness and unbuckled himself. And when he looked out the window, he felt himself freeze. Suddenly unable to move, Luke found himself breathless as he was suddenly taken back to being a kid, just a eleven year old scrawny kid that wasn’t smiling or frowning with earbuds in as he sat, numb, in the back of his social worker’s car stopped in front of another house that wouldn’t ever become home. Except, it did. Eleven year old Luke hadn’t known it at the time, but this would become his home, because two years later, his adoption papers were finalized and he legally became Luke Dominic Morgan, son of Martha and Walter.

But now home was empty, with the very people who had made it so warm, so comforting, now dead and long gone.

Luke slowly climbed out of the car. Once out, he stood, leaning against the car door for support, and stared at the house as he had many, many years ago, and hesitated. He looked to Emma for reassurance, and felt emotions he hadn’t acknowledged in years bubble over─and for the first time in a long time, felt like crying.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Emma's eyes met Luke's, feeling the same fear and hesitation, before she opened the door. Shaking hands barely able to insert the key that unlocked more than just their old home—but all the memories and ghosts that came with it. All the pain, the joy, and in-between. Another life when things were simpler and Emma and Luke were safer. Or felt like it.

The smell was the first thing Emma noticed. Cinnamon and vanilla mixed with a little bit of pumpkin pie, the scent after Thanksgiving and before Christmas. Emma remembered Martha telling her that smell was the most powerful sense and maybe that's why she always made sure the house smelled like holiday cookies and cakes even in the summertime. Emma removed her pea coat, taking in the warmth of the house. Strange. It had been abandoned for some time now, and yet it still felt...lived in somehow. Emma didn't believe in the after life—well, she wasn't sure if she did. But she couldn't deny that she could feel something—their spirits perhaps—still occupying this space. Emma may own it now, but it would always be Martha and Walter's house.

They'd left behind their vintage bobblehead collection and nature paintings and, then of course, there were the pillows. Seeing those knit positivity pillows laying on their couch made Emma giggle. "Oh, I remember these," she said, "They still have—had—these?"

"Try to be a rainbow in someone else's cloud." That one was by Maya Angelou.

"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" From Martha's favorite musical, Annie.

"The best is yet to come."

Emma's smile fell at that last one. Was it really yet to come? And if so, when the fuck was it coming? Because she had been waiting a hell of a long time for it to show up. The pillows were corny to put in nicely, but corny was always Martha and Walter's style and even if Em didn't believe in that crap, it still made her feel closer to the couple and comforted.

Nothing much had changed. Furniture had been re-arranged here and there and they had finally gotten a computer which made Emma laugh. You could barely get Walter to use a fliphone much less a Mac and yet here it was. Kudos to whoever convinced Walter to let such an abomination in his house. All this stuff. Waiting patiently and loyally for their owners to come back. Walter would never gleefully show off his Elvis bobblehead and Martha wasn't ever going to fall asleep on one of her beloved pillows again. Everything else had changed but the little cozy home she'd grown up in stayed the same. Well, there were some things that did stick out just a little besides just the computer and furniture placement. Like, copies of fashion magazines and bottles of cheap nail polish on the coffee table. As well as a pack of cigarettes and a box of Trident—Emma hadn't known either Martha or Walter to smoke or chew gum. But Emma could still hear Martha's laughter coming from the kitchen, could still see Walter watching his game shows on his favorite tattered recliner.

She wasn't prepared for what she saw next. In a small corner of the living room was where they kept their family photos. There were photos of Martha and Walter as children and teenagers, as well as wedding and vacation photos of the happy couple. And there was Luke throughout the years, evolving from an angsty eleven year old who refused to smile in photos all the way to an awkward but extremely cute teenage boy who Martha captured a photo of in mid-laughter to a well-raised young man in uniform serving his country. There were photos of Emma in there, too. She and Luke grinning at the camera as Luke gave her a piggy back ride. The two of them going to the homecoming dance together. Some of the photos were just by herself, some of them included all four of them. And then there were the most recent photos. Cut outs from Emma's magazine covers and posters. Images of her posing on the red carpet and press releases praising her performances and star quality. There was a whole section dedicated to Emma just as there had been for Luke.

They never stopped loving her, and somehow, that was everything.

Emma turned to look at Luke.

Well. Almost everything.


"Alright, let's eat," Emma said, serving the nachos and ice cream splits before taking her seat on the dining room table. There wasn't much conversation going on, and Emma let it be that way for a while. Luke was probably hungry, after all; but the silence. The awkwardness. It all started to drive her insane.

"You like wine?" She asked, popping open the Rosé and pouring it into two glasses. "This one's kinda sweet, but it's bubbly and delicious. I know it's pink, but don't let that scare you. Take a sip."

Something was missing, but what? What did two people need while getting wasted—or in Luke's case, more wasted? The answer stood right in front of Emma. Martha's little retro red radio. The one she and Emma used to listen to the country countdown with along with some of the classics. Music.

Rap was the first thing that came out of the thing when Em turned it on which, again, seemed strange but she just changed channels. She finally found the country and folk station and swayed to Patsy Cline as she sipped her wine. For a moment, she swore she could hear Martha sing along. Emma kept on drinking, kept on dancing to more songs, until…

"He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Coming home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door…"

Maybe it was because she was drunk. Maybe it was because she wanted his hands on her. Maybe she just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Whatever it was, it gave Emma the courage to pull Luke, her Luke, out of his chair and silent misery and into her arms. "Please tell me you still remember this song," she told him, laughing into his neck. Oh yeah, she was definitely drunk. She kicked off her heels and grabbed a mixing spoon from kitchen counter, then began to sing using the spoon as a microphone, "But the Colorado rocky mountain high, I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky…"


Little

 

[Little]

Luke was hobbling now. His knee─no, his whole leg─was on fire but he didn’t want to show it. He didn’t want Emma to see him hurting, though he couldn’t have explained why if asked. So Luke hobbled and staggered his way inside home, seeming to sway only more as he shifted his weight from one leg and to the other. He looked around with blurry eyes at everything and soaked in all the memories, and all of the joy and pain and love and everything in between that came with them. Everything was powerful, overwhelming, and could not be ignored or brushed aside. His whole life was here, laid out in these walls adorned with pictures taken with pride and love, in those cheesy pillows he’d once been so embarrassed by when inviting friends over but now loves.

And in her.

Luke was looking at her now. Watching the way her slender shoulders seemed to soften and sink into some kind of acceptance as she took everything in with her own blurry eyes. Maybe reliving all the things he felt and could see now, too. All the memories and the heartache and laughter he could feel warming inside of him, bubbling and threatening to surface in an uncontrollable, all powerful eruption. His eyes followed where her hands rested at her sides, the way her head almost seemed to be tilting skyward as she inhaled a scent that could only be described as home. Their home. And it was then, there standing in the doorway just trying not to hobble or limp or fall, that Luke’s own shoulders seemed to soften and sink the same way his expression did.

Almost in a whisper, he mumbled to himself almost incoherently, “This is your home too.” It was a reminder for himself that these walls and these pillows and pictures weren’t just his or Martha’s or Walter’s─they’d been hers, too.

Luke’s previously stone expression broke and softened as he watched Emma drift around from one edge of the room to the other, almost ghost-like as she floated and hovered over the memories filling every touch, every smell, every sound, seeming to drown in the memories and the past and all the what-could-have-beens. Just like he was as he drifts, floats almost, across the room to stand behind her from a distance before outstretching an arm and letting it hover in the air just above her shoulder before withdrawing it as he thought better of it, and decided instead to take a seat in Walter’s recliner. He thought better of that real quick, too; it never felt right to sit in Walter’s recliner, even while he had been alive. Instead swaying his way over to the main couch, the only neutral seating area in the living room that didn’t belong to Martha or Walter, Luke sat down and almost sighed in relief as the pressure immediately alleviated some of the burning in his leg. He leaned back into the cushion and closed his eyes for a while, just listening to Emma shuffle around their old home that was as alive as ever and excitedly remembered this pillow and that picture. As he closed his eyes, he almost could pretend that he hadn’t ever left and things were the way they used to be. That they were still just teenagers madly in love, oblivious to the rest of the world. Or that they were older now, maybe even married, just spending the evening relaxing in each other’s company as they reminisce about the past.

But all was not as it was supposed to be.

He opened his eyes and, to his surprise and even confusion, found Emma with a drink in hand, and a plate of ice cream and nachos in the other. Luke blinked his eyes rapidly before shooting up quickly─had he fallen asleep? Feeling his heart pound against the inside of his chest, Luke brought his hands up to his face to rub the sleep─was it even sleep?─away from his eyes. He opened his eyes and found the world swaying again, suddenly making him all too aware of how hungry he was and how shitty he would feel in the morning if he didn’t eat something, and eat something fast. His stomach churned and it took everything for Luke not to double over, groaning while clutching his side. He squeezed his eyes shut until the feeling passed.

“Alright, let’s eat.” Her voice broke through the silence and his thoughts, pulling him back to reality long enough for him to stand up and make his way over to the dining table where he took his usual seat out of reflex and habit. And just as instinctively, Luke turned his head towards where Martha would usually sit, where Walter would usually sit with his crossword puzzle and that calm, knowing smile that made its appearance when Martha inevitably complained that he was paying more attention to his crossword puzzle than her and Luke even though he’d been following conversation the whole time and knew exactly what they were talking about at any given point in time. He looked to their empty seats now and felt his expression waver. Only for a second before it fell still once again.

Luke was looking towards Emma now as she talked. He almost didn’t hear anything she said even as he watched her lips move, instead too focused on the way her eyes looked back at him with something he couldn’t name. Or the way her mouth curved into a slight smile whenever she talked and looked back at home, perhaps out of reflex or even politeness, but even so, the sight was enough to warm something inside of him he hadn’t known was still there. He felt his breath catch suddenly, forcing him to look away as she began pouring what looked to be wine into two glasses.

His eyes wandered aimlessly, occasionally stopping to stare at something intensely before moving on. He didn’t so much as glance at the glass of wine and plate of nachos and ice cream in front of him, almost as if he’d forgotten completely they were there already. Even though drunk as can be, Luke’s gaze was intense and focused wherever they went, occasionally flickering back to Emma to watch her expression, make sure she wasn’t upset with him for not paying attention, before bouncing back to whatever he’d been studying before.

And then he heard it. Slowly at first, and then all at once as Luke snapped back to reality.

"He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Coming home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door…"

A drunken smile found its way around the corners of his mouth as memories, memories of her and of them, came flooding back as the song lulled on. Luke absentmindedly reached for the glass of wine that had been untouched, and brought the glass to his lips as his eyes looked up to find Emma walking towards him, reaching a hand out to him. The surprise of it almost made Luke choke as he gagged, throwing him into a coughing─and then laughing─fit as her hands wrapped around his arm, pulling him out of his seat gently and urging him to follow her. He didn’t fight or resist to her movement, instead following wherever she wanted him to go with a slight smile tracing his lips. Then they were in the middle of the room with her in his arms, or him in her arms, swaying side to side to the slow beat of the music with her head resting in the soft corner of his neck, making him painfully aware of where her hands were rested on his sides and back, and even more aware of the fact that he still loved her. Even after all these years, after spending thousands of miles overseas, alone and hurting and facing the worst and hardest things he would ever face in his life, the spark was still there. He still loved her. And maybe he was just drunk, maybe he was losing his mind finally, but he could swear he felt it in her, too─felt that she could feel the spark, too, seeming to electrify every touch, every look they shared as they swayed, dancing gently to the song he hadn’t heard in years.

“Please tell me you remember this song,” she laughed into his neck, her warm, drunk breath sending shivers down his body.

A large smile lifted the corners of his mouth, making its way into his voice as he spoke. “Of course I do,” he said softly, closing his eyes for a brief moment as the memories came flooding back. “I just haven’t heard it since I left.” His smile faded slightly before he recovered quickly.

Then Emma, being the Emma he had always known and loved, kicked off her heels and grabbed a spoon, and began singing her heart out like it was a microphone and like she had a live audience. Luke laughed until he couldn’t breathe and his sides hurt, something he hadn’t done in a long time. It felt good, he decided.

He was tripping over his own feet now and sometimes even over hers as they swayed. The room wouldn’t stop spinning even as his head did, and it took him a moment to register that it was more than him just being drunk; his leg was on fire again. Luke’s expression contorted in a brief flicker, his eyes changing with the pain that seemed to come in waves. His smile was gone and now all Luke was looking at was his seat past Emma. The music faded and his vision tunneled. He needed to sit, and he needed to eat. He was too drunk and already knew he wouldn’t remember any of this. He’d wake up in the morning with his head on fire, and wouldn’t remember any of this. Wouldn’t remember the way her hands had grabbed and rested on his sides, the way her head still fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, the way they were laughing and dancing now.

But Luke pushed all of that aside, saved it for later, and instead chose to focus on the here and now, even if it would be forgotten in the morning. He laughed and let go and for the first time since he came back from overseas, didn’t feel the need to be on guard. Didn’t feel the need to scan for threats he mentally knew weren’t there because he was home, but did anyway out of habit and as a comfort thing. Luke lost himself in the music, in the sound of her voice, and found himself smiling more than he had in years.

When the song finished, Luke slowly pulled away from her but didn’t step back. He looked at her through hazed eyes and started laughing, pointing towards the dining table. “Our ice cream is probably melting,” he slurred with a lopsided grin.

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Your lips pressed against the bottle
Swearing on a bible, baby, I'd never leave ya
I remember how bad I need ya, when I taste tequila
---
Luke was right. The ice cream probably was melting. And it was getting late, and so Emma probably should have been heading back to her hotel in a few minutes but…but…she didn't want to go back to that empty hotel room, alone with her thoughts and memories. Demons who swirled in her mind and ghosts of the past who followed her around. She hadn't been able to sleep in her bed by herself without being visited by nightmares and if she went back now, especially after being in this house with Luke where it was safe and familiar—

Radio commercials advertising weekend car sales and movies coming soon to a theatre near you played in the background as Emma silently finished her ice cream and sipped her wine. Wine. When the hell did she ever start drinking wine? Not until she started going to fancy Hollywood parties and going on dinner dates to five star restaurants with powerful men. It had been a constant companion of hers, a friend to help her forget about what she was about to do once the dinner was over and she went back to said man's place. Wine also helped her forget those nights ever happened sometimes. Back in the day, though? Em was a red cup of beer at a house party kind of gal. Sip tequila from the bottle while laying in the bed of a truck kind of teenager.

"What are we doing drinking this stuff anyhow?" She asked Luke, studying her glass with not so much disdain as much as boredom. "Do we got anything else in here?"

Not that she expected Walter and Martha to have kept any liquor in their old refrigerator, but she figured Luke might. It wasn't like the two of 'em never snuck alcohol into the house and got drunk in his room together back in their younger days. Emma laughed and shook her head at the memory as she found herself peeking into the surprisingly full fridge. Wow. Luke had really stocked up. Or had it been Walter and Martha's food? Hot dogs, mustard, ketchup. Some boxes of waffles. Cans of Coca Cola and a two liter of Diet Sprite. A half-eaten jar of pickles. This looked like a college kid's fridge. It had to be Luke's. Who else's?

"Jose Cuervo!" Emma cried out in delighted surprise. "Lucas Dominic Morgan, you had tequila in this house and you didn't tell me?!"

Wasting no time in putting the wine away for another day—if that day ever even came—Emma took a swig of the bottle, wiped her mouth and passed it to her ex-boyfriend before plopping back down onto her seat. "This feels so good," she groaned, laughing for no reason at all except maybe the light airy feeling in her mind and the butterflies in her tummy. "Just eating real food and drinking real alcohol. Not like in L.A. where everyone's a fucking vegan and does yoga with their dogs, like 'Oooh, me and my chihuahua are gonna go to Doggy and Me Yoga and then go eat a slice of avocado for lunch afterwards!'"

Oof, poor Emma. The alcohol was strong with this one.

"These nachos are amazing," Emma continued, chewing the cold and soggy cheesy leftovers that tasted like utter heaven to her right now. "I can't remember the last time I ate nachos." A pause and then she joked, "I'm too busy eating slices of avocado and I don't even do yoga or have a chihuahua so I don't know what my excuse is," before laughing again. "No, but I don't eat. Like at all." She confessed, and she knew it to be true but the words still felt strange to say out loud. She didn't eat and she was acknowledging it. Was this how an alcoholic felt when they admitted to being, well, an alcoholic?

Em took another swig of Jose and licked some nacho cheese off her thumb then added, "Nobody does. Not the people I'm surrounded with anyway. And when we do, we—well, I don't, but a lot of my friends or whatever, they, you know. They don't keep it in their system and I tried that for a while but not eating full meals was easier so I just snack on almonds and lettuce all day like some little mouse usually. Or just drink a lot of water. We all have to mantain a perfect size zero. It's in our contracts and all that. I almost lost my show because I gained weight a few years ago, went up to a size two and the network was planning to pull the plug on my show or at least replace me with someone hot and younger. I was too fat."

This was all perfectly normal, to Emma at least. But something about saying it out loud made it seem…sad. Depressing, in fact. And the way she shared this information with Luke so matter-of-factly? Yikes.

"Of course Hal, our show's creator, was upset with me, but he helped me keep my job," Em continued on; and she consumed more alcohol than needed because the next thing that came out of her mouth was, "As long as you keep sleeping with them, you'll be okay. You'll have a career."

She wasn't too far gone not to know what she just told Luke, because she started laughing again and said, "Oh my God, I'm not supposed to be telling you this."

However, the laughter didn't last for long. There was a long silence. "I didn't get all those parts because—what I mean is, I didn't get where I am because of my…talent exactly. I…" Emma looked away from Luke's eyes and her eyes found the spot where Walter and Martha had dedicated a wall to her fame and achievements. What a joke. What a sad joke. If only they'd known what she'd done to get there. Would they have hung up her photos then?

"I was all alone in those early years, living in this shitty little apartment with rats and no heat. Seeping on a mat because I didn't have enough money to buy myself a bed, but I had my dreams. And hope. So much hope. I was just a kid. I didn't know—anyway, I went to this fancy party with a friend I was waiting tables with at the time. Her boyfriend's cousin was friends with security and had an in and we crashed the place and that…that's where Michael found me. As in the Michael Luxe. I was so desperate, and he told me he wanted to make me a star. That he was gonna make me a star. And he did. He invited me to his home and he—"

Emma almost couldn't say it. No. No way. She couldn't say that word.

"Forced me to prove my worthiness to him," was how she put it instead. "I had to prove I deserved his loyalty and when I did, he kept his promises. I had my first TV role that very week. And then things just took off from there."

Funny thing is, Emma wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow. She wouldn't remember telling Luke, "I missed you so much and I wanted you there in the city—in that shitty apartment with me—so badly. And I was so mad at people in this town for not believing in me and for you not coming with me and I wanted to just prove all of you wrong so I did what I had to do to show you all. Now look at me. My mom would be so proud."

Her eyes met Luke's again, "I'm all alone. I thought someday I'd come back and see Martha and Walter again and maybe I could—I could—"

Could what? Take it all back? Go back in time and start over? Emma could never do any of those things, so all she did in that moment was collapse in Luke's arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for leaving you. I should have stayed with you. I should have married you and went with you and I regret not making that choice every day of my life."
Little

 

[Little]

"Jose Cuervo!” Emma cried, her voice practically booming with excitement. “Lucas Dominic Morgan, you had tequila in this house and you didn't tell me?!”

Luke only smiled a cheeky smile and shrugged. His unfocused eyes then followed her as she plopped back down into her seat.

“This feels so good,” she groaned. “Just eating real food and drinking real alcohol.”

The corners of his mouth slowly pulled up into a hazy smile as laughter poured out past his lips. “I know what you mean.”

“Not like in L.A. where everyone’s a fucking vegan and does yoga with their dog, like ‘Oooh, me and my chihuahua are gonna go to Doggy and Me yoga and then go eat a slice of avocado afterwards!’”

Luke was either too drunk or too confused to know what to say to that. Maybe both. So he just flashed her a somewhat confused smile.

Thankfully, Emma continued for him. “These nachos are amazing.” Luke’s glazed eyes focused in on his own plate of nachos and nodded eagerly in agreement before stuffing his own mouth with a cold, greasy nacho. “I can’t remember the last time I ate nachos.”

“Me either,” Luke groaned. “Probably before I got deployed.”

Emma joked, “I’m too busy eating slices of avocado and I don’t even do yoga or have a chiuaua so I don’t know what my excuse is.” She laughed before continuing, “No, but I don’t eat. Like at all.”

Luke’s smile wavered and began to fade from his eyes.

She continued. "Nobody does. Not the people I'm surrounded with anyway. And when we do, we—well, I don't, but a lot of my friends or whatever, they, you know. They don't keep it in their system and I tried that for a while but not eating full meals was easier so I just snack on almonds and lettuce all day like some little mouse usually. Or just drink a lot of water. We all have to maintain a perfect size zero. It's in our contracts and all that. I almost lost my show because I gained weight a few years ago, went up to a size two and the network was planning to pull the plug on my show or at least replace me with someone hot and younger. I was too fat."

Luke didn’t know what to say to that. He leaned forward onto the table and reached for the bottle, taking a large, long swig before passing it to Emma. “You’re not fat,” he told her softly and very matter-of-factly, suddenly seeming something close to sober. “Going up to a size two doesn’t make you fat, Emma. Your size isn’t what makes you beautiful.”

If Emma heard Luke, she went on as if she hadn’t. “Of course Hal, our show's creator, was upset with me, but he helped me keep my job," Em continued on, "As long as you keep sleeping with them, you'll be okay. You'll have a career.”

Luke didn’t move, didn’t seem to react in any sort of way as he sat there.

She started laughing as if she had told him something funny before telling him, “Oh my God, I’m not supposed to be telling you this.”

Luke only flinched at the sound of her laughter before wrapping his arms around himself tighter.

“I didn't get all those parts because—what I mean is, I didn't get where I am because of my…talent exactly. I…”

Luke couldn’t look at her. Not because of what she’d done, but… because of the black pit of rage he felt welling up in his chest. He was just drunk and needed a minute to calm down before he─

“I was all alone in those early years, living in this shitty little apartment with rats and no heat. Seeping on a mat because I didn't have enough money to buy myself a bed, but I had my dreams. And hope. So much hope. I was just a kid. I didn't know—anyway, I went to this fancy party with a friend I was waiting tables with at the time. Her boyfriend's cousin was friends with security and had an in and we crashed the place and that…that's where Michael found me. As in the Michael Luxe. I was so desperate, and he told me he wanted to make me a star. That he was gonna make me a star. And he did. He invited me to his home and he—”

His throat was tight with emotion and his eyes were closed. He opened his mouth, stammered for a long moment, but nothing came out.
“Forced me to prove my worthiness to him,” was how she put it. “I had to prove I deserved his loyalty and when I did, he kept his promises. I had my first TV role that very week. And then things just took off from there.”

Luke didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t seem to move at all. What she said next, though, was enough to knock the air out of him. Make him feel all the pain he’d been repressing, pushing down.

“I missed you so much and I wanted you there in the city—in that shitty apartment with me—so badly. And I was so mad at people in this town for not believing in me and for you not coming with me and I wanted to just prove all of you wrong so I did what I had to do to show you all. Now look at me. My mom would be so proud.”

Her words played in his mind over and over and over again. I missed you so much and I wanted you there in the city─in that shitty apartment with me─so badly.

And when he opened his eyes, Luke didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do with the rage, the guilt, the heartache he felt welling in his chest all at once. He felt like he couldn’t draw a deep enough breath, like he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning when he abruptly stood up from his seat, pushing his chair out with a harsh squeak. He stood, frozen, for a moment with his mouth hanging open before he made his way around the table to where Emma was sat.

And he hugged her.

Luke wrapped his arms around her, and just held her. His silent tears wetted the back of her shirt as he held her and whispered, over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have stayed. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry. I should have been here for you. I'm sorry."

But the next thing he knew, she collapsed in his arms and was whispering something to him. It took him a moment to make out what she was saying. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you. I should have stayed with you. I should have married you and went with you and I regret not making that choice every day of my life.”

Luke’s throat tightened and rendered him unable to speak for a long time as he just held her in his arms, doing what he should have been all along. Being here for her. Holding her.

He forced a weak smile, but his lips trembled as he spoke. “I should have stayed,” he croaked. “You were right. You were right about everything, Em. I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that, locked in each other times and whispering that they were sorry, for a long time. Luke’s thumb traced circles on her arm, and at some point, he leaned down and gently kissed the top of her head. "I missed you, too."

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

It felt good to be held again by someone who loved her, and it could have been the vulnerability of the moment or the Jose Cuervo or his tears or his apologies or his kiss on her forehead—but it was most likely a little bit of all these things—that lead Emma to press her lips against Luke's and kiss their pain away. It'd been many years since she last shared one with him but she still remembered the taste perfectly: sweet and just a little bit salty. Kind of like him. A sweetheart, but God knew he had a bitter side to him that she'd loved all these years in a way no else could. They were meant to be together. They were meant for each other and no one else…

"Oh shit, I think they're fucking dead."

"They are not! You hear that? The girl's snoring."

"Yeah, but I don't think the guy is breathing."

"Yup, definitely dead. Probably murder."

"Or suicide by alcohol poisoning, I mean look how much they drank…"

"Is that the Jose Cuervo? Damn, I was saving that! Someone call the cops!"

"Because we might have harmless home squatters? It's fine, guys."

"No, 'cause these assholes drank all the Jose Cuervo, that's why!"

"Maybe the nachos did them in. You're not gonna eat that, are you? Ew, gross!"

"Free food is free food, man."

Emma woke to a blurred vision of four figures looking down on her—aliens? angels? Was this the afterlife? But it only took her a few blinks for her vision to clear and see that they were no angels.

They were teenagers.

She immediately jumped, falling to the floor as she screamed, "Stalkers! Stalkers! Jenkins, call the bodyguards!"

"The fuck?" One of the kids said, a willowy blonde in a little tank top and shorts. She crossed her arms and chewed her gum, unimpressed. "Lady, who you callin' stalkers?"

Emma studied her surroundings. "Wait, this isn't my mansion..." She thought out loud, earning a fit of laughter from the kids. One of them, a grungy looking male, was eating last night's nachos. Last night…the memories started to come back to her, but all Emma could remember was Luke. Taking his shirt off, making out with him on the couch, and then passing out in exhaustion before they could do anything further because she was just so tired. Who were these kids? What were they doing here? Why was the creepy goth girl grinning at her?

"Robbers! Robbers!" Emma cried out, shaking Luke in pathetic rich girl desperation. "Luke, we've got robbers!" Then, before they could try anything on her and Luke, Emma ran to the kitchen and grabbed a frying pan Rapunzel style to protect Luke and herself with and started swinging. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Chill out, lady!" The kids cried out, ducking and dodging.

Little

 

[Little]

Luke gasped awake as seemingly all at once, there was screaming and movement and—

Emma?

"Stalkers! Stalkers! Jenkins, call the bodyguards!"

"The fuck?"

Luke's head snapped to the source of a new, unfamiliar voice that belonged to a blonde teenage girl Luke is sure he's never seen or met in his life. The girl continued, "Lady, who you callin' stalkers?"

Adrenaline rushing through his veins now, Luke pulled himself to sit upright and—was shirtless?

"Wait, this isn't my mansion..."

A chorus of laughter erupted, meanwhile Luke was still bewildered and just trying to get a grasp on what the hell was going on. Was he awake? Was he passed out at the party still? No, I left the party and Emma came and looked for me, and took me home. There were vague wisps of memories that he couldn't quite seem to get a hold of, no matter how hard he tried.

And then the missing puzzle pieces started to come together to his horror in brief flashes and glimpses that he wasn't sure were in order. Woke up next to Emma. Had taken me home last night. Both drunk. Very, very drunk.

And it wasn't very hard to connect all the dots from there, as much as he didn't want to.

Sitting up a little too quickly, the room around him began to dizzyingly spin as he tried to make sense of everything around him. He was back in his childhood home, for one thing—so at some point in the night, Emma had taken him here. Luke didn't remember much, but he remembered bits and pieces of being back at his apartment which meant that—shit. Emma knows where I live. Assuming she remembered last night better than he did, that is.

And just glancing at Emma, Luke suspected that she didn't remember last night any better than he did. Her hair was an absolute mess, looking as though a hurricane had gone through it during some point of the night, and she was still in last night's party dress and makeup. Luke imagined he must have looked just as disheveled, if not more so. And he didn't even know where his damn shirt was.

Emma was screaming again, snapping Luke out of his groggy thoughts. "Robbers! Robbers!" She cried out, shaking Luke desperately. This, of course, only made him groan and fight the wave of nausea that came over him from the abrupt shaking. He curled up in a tense ball and went back to laying down on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut.

And it was then Luke freaked out and questioned if any of this was real.

"Luke, we've got robbers!"

"This isn't real," he mumbled into a couch pillow, his cheek squished into the soft material that was exactly as he remembered it.

And then the weight beside him was lifted as Emma stood up, and practically bolted to the kitchen where she then grabbed a pan and... started swinging at the kids.

That had been the last straw for Luke.

"WOAH EMMA!" He sprang to his feet and was stumbling as quick as he could towards her and where the kids had gathered around her, all shouting and exclaiming various things at the same time so that there was a chaotic symphony right there in his childhood home's kitchen.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins once more, Luke held his hands out to Emma with widened eyes. "Emma... look at me," he told her gently. "Please put the pan down. Emma? Emma. Look at me. You need to put the pan down, okay? It's okay, Emma. They're just..." Luke trailed off and looked all around him at the kids. "Who the hell are all of you? And why are you in my house?"

D DisneyGirl

 

[DisneyGirl]

Emma wondered how the hell Luke could be calm at a time like this. There were strangers in his home right now! Somehow they had a found a way to break into the house and were probably going to tie them both up and do Lord knows what if the two of them didn't do something fast. "Stand behind me, Luke," Emma demanded, using the pan as a shield as she continued to swing here and there like it was a damn lightsaber. "I got this."

She must have looked like a mad woman with her little frying pan and bird's nest of hair, but it was just the sad reality of fame. Being a public figure made her already anxiety-ridden self extra neurotic thanks to all the crazies who'd tried to break into her hotels and limos throughout the past couple of years. Once upon a time ago, Emma used to be able to sleep at night without worrying about restraining orders and mentally unstable fans trying to get to her and possibly kidnap her, but those days were long over. She already had a long list of stalkers—some of them teenagers but mostly grown men—to give her a lifetime of nightmares. She didn't need any more trouble, especially in her own hometown.

Luke begged Emma to stop, to put the pan down. Part of her wanted to believe these kids were no trouble, but then all those bad memories came flooding back. The ones of guys of all ages camping out in her back yard and recording her while she dressed for bed, and then there was that group of school girls who had broken into her home and practically wiped out all of her belongings while she was on vacation in the Bahamas. "You heard him," Emma spit out at the kids. "Who are you? And why are you here in his house?"

"His house?" The goth girl asked, actually seeming offended. "This isn't your home. This is our home! Who the hell are you guys?"

"Okay, look," a tall freckled young man interrupted, "let's just all take a deep breath and calm down. Now miss—Emma—please…put the pan down—" he continued, laying a gentle hand on Emma's arm which was a bad idea on his part because that just instantly triggered her neurotic celebrity ass. She immediately swung her pan, but instead of hitting the freckled boy, she ended up missing him and went straight for Luke's face. Of all people. "Oh, shit!" Emma cried, as soon as she heard the kitchen utensil make contact with her ex's nose. "Shit, shit, shit!" She dropped the pan and was at his side in no time. "Luke, I am so sorry! Oh my God!"

Man, fame really had made her go insane.

The kids looked on in horror and shock for no more than five seconds before taking control of the situation. "Hayley, get some ice," Emma heard one of the boys say, the one who was less Abercrombie and Fitch model in the making and more punk skater kid. "Maggie, try to find the first aid kit. Tyler, help me lift him up and lay him back down on the couch." At this point, Emma didn't even bother in questioning them, more concerned about Luke and the damage she caused him. Why was it no matter what happened, no matter how pure her intentions were, she always managed to hurt the poor guy?

Little