✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

17. Familiar

ARI.

My psychology teacher told the class once that everyone dreams each night, we just don't remember all of them. When we wake up after a so-called dreamless sleep, we are wrong - every sleep has a dream. We also have more than one dream every night; not two dreams, not ten, but hundreds of dreams. We only dream about things our mind already knows, so when a familiar song danced in my mind during a deep slumber, weaving into my dream seamlessly, it was jolting to wake up and realize where it came from. 

At 2:45AM my room around me was dark except for the bright glow emitting from my phone screen. Groggily, I turned over to face my night stand, seizing the device. The light blinded my eyes and hastily I shut them to block the blazing illumination, but not before I caught glimpse of the name that boldly flashed on the screen. 

Luke Hemmings. 

I tossed the phone back onto the nightstand in annoyance and rolled over to face the wall. I closed my eyes, adjusting myself back into a comfortable position beneath my blanket and slowly drifted back into sleep. For thirty seconds - because not too long after I shut my eyes, my phone rang again. 

"Leave me the hell alone Hemmings," I groaned, grabbing my phone and putting it on silence before dropping it onto the carpet next to my bed. I exhaled, screwing my eyes shut, hoping that Luke would get the picture that I did not want to speak to him. 

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

My eyes flew open as easily as they could close. I laid in my bed, listening to the soft, yet annoying bangs coming from my window. I pushed the covers off of me and headed towards the irritating sound. Pulling one of the white slats downward with my finger, I took a peak outside. 

Standing in front of his car with the headlights still on was none other than Hemmings himself. I rolled my eyes, letting out a groan as I watched him throw tiny pebbles at my window. 

"You're going to crack it," I muttered to myself, turning around in the darkness and grabbing my phone off of the floor. I dialed Luke's number, continuing to watch him from the window like a creeper. 

"Ari!"

"Hemmings, what do you want? I'm trying to sleep and you're standing there throwing rocks at my window,"

"Can I come in?" Luke asked, as he looked up towards my window. "I don't feel good." 

"Lucas, have you been drinking?" I guessed. 

"No, Ariane," he declared, putting a sassy emphasis to my name. I rolled my eyes. "Okay... maybe a little." 

"And you drove here? Luke that's the dumbest thing you could've ever done. What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"I'm sorry," he sounded wounded, like I had just kicked him in the stomach and left him out in the rain. "I just... I need you right now."

"Are you alright?" I gazed at Luke with somber eyes. His chin was to his chest and from two stories up, I could feel a yearning for help that exuded from him. I was still upset that he didn't tell me about being beaten to a pulp earlier today, but I had to let that go. He needed me, and I couldn't give him a half-assed friendship.

I sighed, "yea. I'll come down and get you." 

Luke hung up the phone and I let my finger drop from the blinds. Quietly, I scampered down the stairs and to the front door. After punching the 4-digit security code on the alarm system (which happened to be the date of both Christmas and my dad's birthday), I opened the door. The cool air skimmed against my skin and quickly I hugged myself, only now remembering that I wasn't wearing any pants.