the hating game ; lrh

forty-three

I FIND LUKE SEATED on the couch in the living room, his elbows dug into his knees and his head resting in his hands.

I let out a long breath before approaching him slowly, cautiously, as if one move might awaken a beast — and rightfully so. I'm not quite sure which Luke I am going to face — the sad, woeful Luke or the angry, fired up Luke. When I finally reach the couch, Luke still makes no move to look at me, but I know he must be aware of my presence. So, I slowly take a seat and place a careful, soft hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Hey," I breathe the word softly, again in fear of some type of outburst. "You okay?"

Finally, Luke lifts his head from his hands, to my surprise revealing a red, splotchy, tear-stricken face. I try my best to allow my neutral expression to remain as Luke sniffles and wipes his nose. He doesn't appear to be crying hysterically, simply softly, but I am surprised all the same.

"Everybody thinks I'm a terrible person," Luke manages to choke out, his gaze not quite meeting mine, but rather trained on the floor.

I shake my head instantly, my hand coming forward to rub his back soothingly. "That's not true," I argue.

"Yes it is!" Luke cries out, finally coming to look up at me through teary, blue eyes. "They think I drove off that bridge on purpose."

I shake my head again, brows furrowed as I watch this typically strong boy fall apart at the words of a few ignorant teens. "No they don't, Luke," I assure him, though even I'm not sure that this is true. "Nobody thinks that."

He seems to ignore my words this time, only shaking his head and leaning back into the couch, staring directly forward at the fireplace.

"People really think that I hate you so much that I'd try and kill you." The words escape cold and low, like a harrowing thought that had been echoing around Luke's mind for days, but that he had been too afraid to voice — and it likely was.

Seeing him this way breaks my heart in two. He seems so defeated — his limbs soft and numb, his body slouched, his smile empty. Deep, dark circles are pressed beneath his eyes, sinking the now hollow beings further into his skull. He seems almost... dead. And all because of the accident. It seems that regardless of how many times I attempt to soothe him — regardless of what words or actions I use to convince him that he is forgiven — he will not forgive himself.

"Luke..." I trail off, unsure of quite what words to use when none of them seems to work.

He turns to me again, eyes filled with tears and the only emotion that he seems able to display as of recently — guilt.

"I feel awful," Luke confesses, tears already beginning to stream down his face. "Rory, I'm so sorry. What I did... everything I've done..." he is unable to get a full sentence out now, beginning to sob, his head buried in his hands, "...I'm awful."

My heart shatters all over again as I watch Luke break down before my eyes. All those walls Luke built up to protect himself from others, to stop everybody from seeing the real him, have fallen right before me — that's how I know this must be bad. I wonder if this is how he felt watching my life almost fade in the accident. Once I put that into perspective, I begin to understand, even just a little, how he must be feeling — particularly with the entire world seemingly blaming him.

"Luke," I attempt to pry his hands from his face, but he continues to hide away from me. I let out a sigh and resort to stroking through his hair gently. "You need to forgive yourself."

"I can't," he sobs instantly, shaking his head.

I let out another sigh and pry his hands from his face again. "Look at me," I instruct, doing my best to portray a firm and stern voice, and to my surprise he does look up. I take a moment to stroke away the tears on his face, pressing a soft kiss underneath both his eyes, before speaking. "What happened is nobody's business. It's between you and me, okay? Nobody else." Luke nods at this, though I'm not sure he entirely believes it. "I forgive you, Luke — in fact, I never even blamed you." Luke nods again, though he still doesn't appear to really be taking in my words, so I lean forward and grasp his face gently but surely.