"And I, I hate to see your heart break

I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close

For all the air that's in your lungs

For all the joy that is to come

For all the things that you're alive to feel

Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal"

✰

It was safe to say that Youngblood was the most massive thing the band had ever released- the song had only been out for a few days now and it was skyrocketing up the charts.

The band was on top of the world, partying after every tour stop until the earlier hours of the morning and swimming in all of the female attention they got. They truly were rockstars, far from the enthusiastic teenage kids Arlo had known before.

She was proud of them, unbelievably so. Even if it hurt to watch Luke become someone who she didn't recognize with the girls and the drugs and the alcohol.

But it wasn't her place to worry about that anymore, for she broke his heart and it would be selfish of her to be upset about something that wasn't any of her business.

It seemed like every single night of the tour had been spent in crowded clubs and bars, partying into the early hours of the morning until someone was responsible enough to drag the group back to the tour bus. Arlo found it to be beyond tiring, especially considering when they went out, she didn't have a drop of alcohol.

Arlo didn't drink when they went out because she remembered her conversation with Luke in the alleyway and a silly, naive part of her brain was hoping that if she was sober, he might finally hear her out.

All she really wanted to do was apologize, but if Luke was anything like the man he was when he was hers, apologies didn't mean shit to him. Actions were what really got through to Luke, unfortunately for her.

Tonight would be their first night sleeping in a hotel rather than in the cramped tour bus, luckily enough.

Four days of sleeping in the tiny bunk on the bus had nearly driven Arlo insane and she was pretty sure she almost rolled off of the edge of the small bed nearly twenty times a night. In fact, Beckham had taken a habit of placing a wall of pillows at the edge of her bed to hopefully prevent it after she complained about it.

Calum said that his mom used to do that for him when he was a toddler learning to sleep in a bed all on his own, so that made Arlo feel great.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Arlo finds herself properly alone. The band and Beck were out partying after the show they had tonight, which they deemed to be their best of the entire tour so far, but she'd chosen to stay behind.

It was no fun sitting in the VIP booth of a sweaty club when you were sober. Plus, the strobe lights always gave the poor girl a headache and she ended up with sweaty bodies pressed up against her in a way that made her cringe. Additionally, she hadn't really mentally recovered from what had happened the night they celebrated the tour.

So, instead of pretending to enjoy herself in a sweaty club, Arlo lays sprawled out on the bed of her hotel room, romanticizing her life as she used to when she was merely a teenage girl in the poster-covered walls of her bedroom.

They were in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania which had a pretty lively nightlife from what Arlo had heard, but nothing seemed better at the moment than what she was already doing. Besides, their next show was in New York and Arlo hadn't been back to that city since that night three years ago, so a lot of preparatory destressing was in order.

Laying on her stomach, Arlo balances a bottle of red nail polish in-between her fingers, holding the cap between her lips as she huffs at the hair falling in her face. The brunette girl always forgot to put her hair up before she painted her nails and she always ended up regretting it when the pesky strands fell in front of her eyes.

Unfortunately, she didn't have her collection of vinyl records like she did back home, so her phone had to suffice. Her phone lays next to her, shuffling through one of her favorite playlists as she hums along, getting lost in the task of making sure she didn't get more of the red color on her skin than her nails.

Strangely enough, Arlo found she felt the most herself- the most beautiful when she was alone. It seemed like no matter how much she loved herself in the privacy of her room or in front of her vanity mirror before an event never seemed to matter, for as soon as she was in the presence of others her insecurities began to fester, growing until they swallowed her whole.

Arlo is almost done painting all of the nails on her left hand when a knock echoes through the room. The girl pauses, quickly turning off her music in order to figure out if the noise came from someone in the hall, or if her door was truly being knocked on.

Everyone that she knew was out celebrating, causing alarm to course through her veins as another knock sounds from her door.

Despite her wariness, Arlo twists the cap on her nail polish, places it on the nightstand, and begins blowing onto the fresh coat covering her nails, being careful not to smudge the color as she makes her way over to the door. She stands on her tiptoes, peering through the circular peephole.

The last person she expected to see was Luke Hemmings.

The girl's brown eyes widen, her heart already thudding in her chest at the mere sight of him at her door as she hesitantly opens the door. "Luke?"

When the door opens, Luke looks more surprised than she does, almost as if he weren't expecting her to answer. "Hey." The blond swallows thickly, his eyes struggling not to take the girl in fully. She looked just how he remembered her to three years ago, not the Arlo that had been tainted by years in the industry and wore higher heels and tighter dresses in order to appease the people around her. "Can I come in?"

Luke's heartbeat pounds in his ears as he asks her the question, watching as her pretty brown eyes go wide. Hell, he didn't blame her. He certainly didn't expect to be at the door of her hotel room either.

The truth was, Luke didn't trust himself being alone.

The Sounds Live Feels Live Tour was one of the roughest periods of his life considering all of the heartbreak and chaos of rising fame he had to deal with. Luke was one of the most famous musicians in the world. He was in a new city every night, with more connections and privileges than he could imagine.

It only made sense that he turned to other substances to dull the ache in his chest and others to heighten the brief euphoria that sometimes managed to run through his veins.

This was the band's first time on tour since then and Luke felt himself wanting to slip back into his old habits. But, he couldn't allow himself to get that bad again, not when Ashton and the rest of the band had spent so much time putting him back together and helping him heal- not when she would be there to watch him fall apart.

Arlo nods almost in a daze, feeling as though she's living in an alternate universe, one where Luke didn't hate her. "Yeah, of course." She steps aside, allowing him to walk past her before she locks the door behind him. "Is... is everything alright?"

Luke looks so out of place standing in the middle of the room, his eyes lingering on her personal items littering the room as a strange sense of nostalgia washes over him. She still used the same suitcase and perfume, though the bottle had been replaced, the cap no longer cracked from the one time he accidentally dropped it.

He doesn't know what to say to her question, for Luke just needed to feel normal, but he didn't know how to say it.

Ironically enough, Arlo had been trying to do the same before he arrived.

"Yeah, I just-" Luke takes his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands unconsciously fiddling with the drawstrings on his black sweatpants. "I didn't feel like going out with the rest of the band but I don't want to be alone either."

Arlo, although slightly stunned at his honesty, does her best not to let it show in fear of giving him the wrong idea. She just couldn't believe he was in front of her, acting so similar to the way he used to.

"I can help with that." She shoots him a small smile.

Luke feels the ghost of a smile beg to tug at his lips, though he quickly swallows it down and kicks off his shoes. Before he can think about how fucked he would be as a result, the blond makes his way over to the bed, making himself at home with his back propped against the headboard.

Arlo's throat feels tight at the view of him sitting on her bed, long legs stretched out lazily in front of him as his biceps bulge out of his tight white t-shirt, flexing as he reaches over to the nightstand to pick up her abandoned bottle of nail polish.

Luke brushes a stray golden curl away from his face, tucking the hair behind his ear as he flicks his blue eyes up to meet her own. "Is this what you were doing when I knocked?" He watches as Arlo's brows furrow in confusion and he nods to her unfinished work. "You've only got one hand painted, sweetheart."

Arlo's stomach drops at the familiar name, averting her eyes to the floor when the intensity in his blue eyes becomes too much to handle. "Yeah, I was." She says, wincing at the shakiness in her voice. "Pretty wild for a Friday night, I know."

To her surprise, a small chuckle falls from Luke's lips, a genuine one too. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you, believe it or not."

A shy smile tugs at Arlo's lips, her cheeks heating in a way that causes Luke's stomach to twist. The warm feeling in his stomach was so familiar and as frustrating as it was that he simply couldn't hate her, he couldn't deny how good it felt to feel just a little bit like his old self again.

"Arlo?"

"Luke?"

"Are you sober?" He asks, his blue eyes shining with a certain unspoken vulnerability.

She sucks in a breath, her fingers fiddling nervously at her sides as anticipation fills the air. "I am."

Luke twirls the bottle of red nail polish in his hands, seeming to have an internal debate before finally, he puts her out of her misery. "You wanna paint my nails?"

A pit forms in her stomach at his words, though she does her best not to show how much they affect her as she nods before quickly making her way over to the bed. She adjusts herself cross-legged beside him, careful not to let the silky material of her slip dress slide up.

She doesn't sit as close as Luke finds himself wishing she would have, but those thoughts slip his mind as soon as she gingerly takes his hand, his nerves coming alight at her touch. Hell, Luke nearly has to dig his nails into his palms to ground himself when she places his palm on her bare thigh.

Luke's fingertips just barely brush the hem of the slip dress she wears and he finds himself appreciating the way the pale blue color looks against her tan skin, the white lace detailing along her chest, and the hem almost as delicate as she is.

As she begins painting his nails, her own hands shaking with nerves, Luke watched as the strap of her dress falls off her shoulder and he fights the urge to adjust it for her. "Since when do you wear stuff like this to bed?" He blurts.

Arlo's hand falters as she swipes the color on his nails, slight shock overtaking her system as Luke's eyes scan over her. The air in the room is suddenly too thick and Arlo finds it hard to breathe with the way his blue eyes intently look at her.

"I don't usually." She admits with a wince, focusing extra hard on making his manicure neat. "It's usually old t-shirts, but I kind of splurged on this when we went to Paris and I feel guilty not wearing it."

Luke ignores the use of "we", choosing to focus on the fact that she wasn't as different as he thought her to be. "It's pretty." His voice is barely above a whisper, but Arlo hears it all the same.

The brunette girls breathing stalls in her chest, her cheeks flushing as she pinches her eyes shut momentarily, doing her best to ground herself. But, it's no use, for Luke keeps talking, breaking her resolve with every word.

"Did you mean what you said?" His voice is laced with so much vulnerability that Arlo's heart aches as a result. A gasp nearly leaves her lips as Luke's free hand reaches out for her own, gently grasping her wrist in order to stop her movements and capture her full attention.

Arlo nods, almost feeling like she's in a trance as her brown eyes connect with his blue ones. They were so, so close and her chest was beginning to heave with anticipation. "When?" She asks, her voice breathless.

Luke's eyes zero in on her parted pink lips, the way her brown eyes look in the warm glow of the lamplight intoxicating enough to draw him closer until he's sitting up fully. "In that alleyway a couple of weeks ago." He clarifies. "When you said you were sorry for..." He cuts himself, unable to say the words. "When you said you weren't better off without me."

Arlo takes her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes on the verge of fluttering shut as Luke comes closer and closer until she can feel his breath fanning against her cheeks, causing a shiver to go down her spine. "I haven't been myself since I lost you."

Maybe, it's the way her perfume is invading his senses, or maybe it's the way her tan skin seems to be glowing even at the late hour- hell, maybe it was the way Luke caught a glimpse of his favorite cluster of freckles on her back. The blond doesn't know what exactly does it, but suddenly he's spilling his deepest truths to her.

"You never lost me." Luke's voice is so low that Arlo has to lean closer in order to hear him, his breath catching in his throat as they're suddenly mere inches apart. "Three fuckin' years of trying to hate you, yet I never stopped being yours."

Arlo's lips part, all of the air seemingly being sucked from her lungs as his words echo through her mind over and over. "If I could go back, I'd change everything about that night." Arlo admits, her voice wavering. "Breaking your heart is the worst thing I've ever done."

Luke's blue eyes sneak a glance at her lips, only inches apart from his own and practically begging to be claimed. "Then why'd you do it? Everything could change if I just knew why you-"

A loud thud echoes through the room, so loud that Arlo and Luke practically jolt away from each other. He's standing from the bed in a split second and Arlo looks at her thighs with flushed cheeks, hastily screwing on the cap of the nail polish.

Giggles float through the thick wood, a pair of familiar voices following afterward and both Luke and Arlo know who's behind the door. Once the cap is secured, Arlo quickly makes her way over to the door, trying her best to quell the shaking in her hands as she reaches for the doorknob.

As soon as the door is open, a very drunk Beckham Hale stumbles in the door, waving goodbye to an almost equally as drunk Calum Hood who had helped him to his destination. "Thanks, Cal!" The green-eyed boy slurs. "Lo! Hi baby, I missed you." Beckham coos, cupping Arlo's cheeks to place a sloppy kiss on the skin.

Arlo cringes, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, a groan leaving her lips as she supports Beck's weight. Her smaller arm wraps around his waist, keeping him upright. "How much have you had to drink?"

Beck doesn't even answer her, instead stumbling his way over to the bed and flopping down face first. Arlo looks at the boy taking up most of her bed, exhaustion taking over her just looking at the situation.

"Luke? What are you doing in Arlo's room?" Calum asks drunkenly, his brows furrowing in confusion as his vision blurs slightly.

Luke clenches his jaw, a million different emotions swirling through his veins after what he'd witnessed and none of them were particularly good. "Needed a charger." Luke lies through his teeth, not sparing Arlo so much as a glance before the slips past her, his body brushing against her own as he exits the room and disappears into the hall.

Calum stands stunned, his inebriated brain struggling to catch up with the sight in front of him. "Either I'm really drunk, or you guys just hate fucked."