"I'm jealous of the rain

That falls upon your skin

It's closer than my hands have been

But I always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was

Heartbreak and misery

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way

You're happy without me"

✰

Luke braces his hands against the mirror in front of him, the bright fluorescent lights of the vanity table burning through his closed eyelids. He was in a new country thousands of miles away from the small town he'd felt trapped in for so long, preparing to play for tens of thousands of people.

But all he could think about was her.

It'd only been two weeks since she left him standing in that pouring rain, his heart bleeding on the floor as she stepped right on it wearing the pretty black heels he'd bought her the day before. Luke didn't know how he was going to get out of bed most days, how could he be expected to play a show?

His phone rings.

It's almost embarrassing how fast he reaches for the device, hope flooding his chest as he checks the screen for her name. It's not and he hates the way his heart drops at the realization. But, it is a number he recognized.

He answers, clearing the emotion from his throat. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hemmings?" An accented voice echoes through the line.

"Mhm." Luke hums, not having enough energy to sound the least bit enthusiastic. How could he when everything that made him love life connected back to her? Her books, her lips, her words, her laugh, her habits, her scent on his sheets-

"I have a reservation for-"

Luke hangs up before the words can even leave the man's lips. Suddenly, it's clear exactly what the phone call was for and the realization nearly sends Luke to his knees.

Luke Hemmings, the rude, player of a teenage boy had spent days scheduling a date in each and every city on the tour. He'd meticulously planned to do something with her at every tour stop, just so she would know that no matter how busy his career made him, she'd always come first.

How fucking stupid was that?

"Luke, we've got to be in the wings in five." Michael suddenly pops his head in the door, his voice gentle. Luke hated that Michael's green eyes were filled with pity, he hated that they all seemed to walk on eggshells around him like he might break any second.

"I'm coming." Luke mutters under his breath, his knuckles turning white as he grips tightly onto the vanity table in order to steady himself.

His blue eyes open, leaving him no choice but to stare at the reflection of what looked to be a shell of himself. The makeup artist had put some sort of skin tone colored product under his eyes and some pink shit on his cheeks in an attempt to make him look more alive, but not even that seemed to help.

Luke knew the fans were worried about him. He tried to avoid social media at all costs, for they had noticed that Arlo didn't seem to be around anymore. Seeing their posts about how he looked miserable in interviews and Arlo's disappearance only made him feel worse.

He tilts his head back, carefully scanning the perimeter of his nose for any lingering substances. After he nearly walked into an interview with white powder dusting his nose, Luke had tried swiping the substance on the inside of his lips but it didn't hit as strong as when he inhaled it.

Luke hated that he did enough coke to know that.

After ensuring that he looked as decent as he could, Luke makes his way towards the door and straightens his black and white striped shirt- the very same one he'd been wearing when he hastily tugged Arlo into Calum's hall closet and called her Lo for the first time. He makes sure not to mess with the wires attached to his pants that the sound tech had already set up.

As stumbles down the backstage hallway, the sound of screaming fans causing the floor to vibrate under his converse-clad feet, Luke can't manage to feel anything but the emptiness of her absence. The substance in his veins helps dull the ache in his chest as Luke is handed his guitar pics and in-ears, her little drawing still printed on them.

Getting new ones would mean saying goodbye to the last memory of their relationship. Besides, he didn't think he could go on stage unless she was with him, even if she hurt him beyond belief.

A tan arm suddenly snakes around Luke's shoulders and suddenly the blonde is tucked into Calum's side. "We've got this." His best friend whispers. "I know playing Outer Space/ Carry On and Vapor for the first time is going to be tough-"

"They're just songs." Luke croaks, his blonde waves of hair falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head in denial. "Don't worry about me. 'M fine, Cal,"

Calum Hood looks to Luke with nothing but worry on his features- the whole fucking band had been looking at him for the last two weeks and it only made him feel worse. He hated that Ashton felt the need to hide away when he was texting Arlo, he hated that Calum and Michael pretended they didn't miss her too.

More than anything, Luke hated the fact that he didn't hate her.

Luke Hemmings fell hard for Arlo Abbott. He fell without warning with no fear of hitting the ground, for he never thought his Lo would let him slip through her fingertips without being right at the bottom to catch him. He loved her so goddamn recklessly- hell he still did.

The sad part was, Luke didn't even care if she cheated on him, that was the last fucking thing on his mind. He loved her so much that he had already forgiven her for kissing someone else the second it happened.

He would have loved her still if she told him that she wasn't ready to say that she loved him yet. Luke would have simply reassured her that he loved her and that he'd wait for her to love him too- he'd love her harder, he'd do better to make her see how they were meant to be.

But, she didn't just cheat and tell him that she didn't love him- she left and that was something Luke couldn't control.

It hurt to not have earned her love in return but it hurt more to have her ripped out of his life as if she hadn't become his entire fucking world in a few short months.

Luke plays the entire show on autopilot. He doesn't stumble on lyrics or miss his cues, he plays all the right chords and makes sure to interact with the crowd, though all of his bandmates were thinking the same thing- the passion wasn't there.

And they knew it was because he'd lost his inspiration- his muse.

As the concert nears its end and the drug in Luke's system begins to wear off, allowing his heartbreak to seep into his lyrics, a tangible longing taints his tone. Luke steps up to the mic, his fingers languidly strumming the chords of the guitar as he pinches his eyes closed, the lyrics coming from the deepest part of his tattered soul

"You said please, keep on holding your hands and the , it came too soon, I will wait for you to love me again..."

Luke wakes up in a cold sweat.

His chest is heaving as he sits up from his wrinkled white sheets, messed up from the way he'd been tossing and turning in his sleep. Tired blue eyes lazily find the clock on his bedside table, the time reflecting one in the morning and causing a strained groan to leave his lips.

He instantly knows that he won't be going back to sleep anytime soon, hell he was surprised he'd managed to drift off in the first place. Luke hadn't slept through the night in a long time and that probably wasn't helped by the fact that he didn't often end the night in his own bed. Luke usually found himself on the kitchen floor, the couch at a random house party, some girl's bed, or more recently the pool chairs outside.

Luke's bed was massive and it always felt too empty to sleep in it alone.

His eye drift to the desk on the other side of the room, his notebook laying on the corner of it. He'd had the damn thing for nearly three years and it still wasn't even half full. Luke wasn't even sure why he bought a new notebook after giving his old one away to Arlo, who he was positive never even found the damn thing, but he figured it was a habit.

Luke felt weird walking around without a moleskin notebook shoved in his back pocket.

Writing used to come so fucking easy for him. Want You Back had taken nearly three years for him to muster up enough courage to finish and the only other pieces in his notebook couldn't even be classified as songs yet, they were just broken lyrics.

His mind drifts to her and the words she'd never gotten to read in that annotated poetry book and his notebook. A familiar pain radiates through his chest and although it nearly knocks the breath out of his chest, he chooses to welcome it instead of drowning it out like he always did.

The label was getting impatient and he knew the boys were ready to make new music. As much as it hurt to relive his heartbreak, Luke knew it was time.

He slides an oversized hoodie on over his bare chest, not bothering to slip sweat pants on over his boxers considering Ashton is already sound asleep. Luke drags himself down the stairs, his fingers trembling as he approaches the piano in the corner of the living room.

The seat is cold against his bare thighs and the moon reflects off of the pool water creating a pretty view from the living room window. Luke exhales as he sees that it's drizzling- not quite enough to pour down, but enough to fog up the large windows.

With his blue eyes on the raindrops rolling down the glass, connecting with others to gain speed and fall faster, he begins to relive that night. His fingers find the piano keys, playing a simple, haunting melody. It needs work, he notes, but it's enough to get the basics of the song for now.

"I saw you looking brand new overnight"

Luke remembered feeling a shift in her attitude that night, as if the second they walked into the club things had already changed. When she kissed him she didn't seem to hold him as close and every time he tried to tell her how pretty she was, she didn't seem to want to listen.

That was the worst fucking feeling- knowing something was off but not being able to tell if it's all in your paranoid mind or if you actually should be worried.

His voice wavers as he sings, humming the melody to fill in the gaps while he hastily writes down the lyrics. Although once it becomes too hard to focus, he takes out his phone and begins recording a voice memo instead.

Luke wasn't used to having to do that- Arlo always wrote the lyrics while he sang.

"Flashing back to New York City, Changing flights so you'd stay with me, Remember thinking that I got this right"

He tried so fucking hard to be who she deserved- changing his flight from New York to San Francisco just so he could be with her longer. Even if the trip was so short they barely had time to do anything, it was something.

Luke used to be so proud of himself, for Arlo seemed so happy when she was with him. Had he imagined it? There was no way... something had to have changed. He still didn't know what that was, but deep down he still feels at fault even if she was the one who broke him.

"While I'm cleaning up your mess, I know he's taking off your dress"

Luke's voice cracks, threatening to break as his voice becomes a painful whine of emotion, the vision of her pressed against the wall with Beck making his way up her dress flashing in his mind. That image haunted his nightmares and even after three years the ache that it caused in his chest hadn't dulled, he didn't think it ever would.

"And I know that you don't, But if I ask you if you love me, I hope you li-li-li-lie"

Luke's throat becomes tight as memories of his last desperate attempt to cling to her flash through his mind. He doesn't even feel pathetic for begging her, for who doesn't want to be loved in return? Truthfully, he wouldn't have given a fuck if she lied right to his face- that's how goddamn much he loved her.

The flashbacks hit him all at once, suddenly becoming too much. It had been a long, long time since Luke had willingly felt these emotions and it was draining him. He shuts his notebook, stopping the recording on his phone.

Silence settles in the large room as Luke's mind drifts. Had she meant what she said the night before? Luke was still reeling from their conversation, from being so close to her again and his brain was too clouded by her presence to fully process her words.

"Promise me you'll ask me again when I'm sober?"

Before Luke can second guess what he's doing, he hastily climbs the stairs, hurrying down the hallway until he finds himself at Ashton's door. He cracks it open, finding the hazel-eyed boy sprawled out on his bed, dead asleep.

Luke tiptoes over to the side of his bed, leaning down to gently shake him awake. Ashton does so with a startle, flinching as he squints his eyes. "Luke? What time is it?" He says groggily.

"Late." Luke answers simply. "Can I use your phone? I want to order food."

Ashton furrows his brows sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand like a toddler would. "Why don't you just use your phone?"

Luke's mind blanks and he blurts out the first thing he can think of, his fingertips toying with the sleeves of his hoodie. "It tastes different when I order it from your phone."

Ashton is too tired to do anything but roll over and retrieve his phone from the charger it was on, lazily holding it up for Luke to take. "Fair enough. Knock yourself out."

That's all Luke needs to hear, quickly shuffling out of Ashton's room with his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He makes sure to shut the bedroom door behind him, his heart steadily crawling up his throat as he begins scrolling through his contacts.

Luke finds Arlo's contact just as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. As he takes a seat at the piano once more, his eyes zero in on her contact picture- a photo of a much younger, high school-aged Arlo with a goofy grin on her face that would have made Luke smile as well if he wasn't practically shaking.

Calling Arlo used to be an hourly thing, but now... it felt like pulling teeth. It takes him a good ten minutes to work up the courage to press the call button, his hands shaking as he holds the device to his ear.

"Ash? It's nearly four in the morning." Her voice answers groggily.

Luke chews nervously on his bottom lip, tears brimming his eyes though he doesn't know why. "It's me, Arlo. It's Luke."

Silence.

He hears shuffling on the other line like she'd sat up in bed and then the sliding of a door before wind echoes through the receiver. "Luke? Why are you on Ash's phone? Is everything okay?"

Luke almost wants to scoff at the irony. Is everything okay? That question was laughable, for he hadn't been anywhere near okay since she'd left him. He chooses to dodge the question instead. "Are you outside? It's raining."

The slight wind whistles through the speaker. "I love the rain." Arlo says, a certain thickness in her voice.

"I know." He answers quietly, his free hand clenching the fabric of his hoodie in his fist. "Are you okay? You know after..."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Arlo answers immediately, almost too fast.

Luke swallows thickly, his own nervousness pushed aside as worry for her takes center stage in his mind. He hated that he hadn't been the one to take her home the night before. He selfishly hated that Beck had been the one to comfort her as well. "It's okay if you're not."

He hears nothing but the wind in response.

"I'm going to get the security footage from the club." Luke declares, though he doesn't know why. He'd been planning on finding out exactly who the guy that touched her was, but he told himself he wouldn't admit that to anyone. "He's not going to get away with trying to slip something in your drink and touching you like that."

"It's not a big deal, Luke." Arlo answers warily. "Nothing even happened-"

"Don't fuckin' do that, Lo." Luke's voice is low and stern, his blood boils and he wishes nothing more than to be in front of her so he can take her face in his hands and force her to look into his eyes. "None of what happened was okay-"

"Well, I just want to forget about it." Arlo's voice wavers. "Really, I appreciate you wanting to help and everything but-"

"Are you sober?" Luke cuts her off swiftly, guilt flooding his system as he hears her begin to get worked up.

"Yes." Arlo says hastily and he swears he can hear hope in her tone.

Luke's pink lips part and he prepares to say all the words he'd so desperately been holding back since the moment he saw her again. But, he couldn't do it like this, over the phone in the middle of the night.

He hangs up and as the line goes dead, a haunting click echoing through the living room, he feels an all too familiar loneliness flood his veins immediately.