thestorms

Il brutto della dipendenza è che non finisce mai bene, perché ad un certo punto qualsiasi cosa sia quella che ti fa stare bene, smette di fare bene e comincia a farti male. Eppure dicono che non ti togli il vizio finché non tocchi il fondo. Ma come fai a sapere quando l'hai toccato? Non importa quanto una cosa ci faccia male, certe volte rinunciare a quella cosa fa ancora più male.
—  Grey’s Anatomy
"Snow Storm" a Luke Hemmings Imagine

(This Is Just A Short Intro To A Hopefully There Mini Fanfiction Story)


The winds whipped around outside your home and you sat in your most comfortable chair looking outside. The
storm was raging worse than it had in days, trapping you indoors for the time being.
“You alright?” You heard from behind you and nodded at your loving boyfriend.
“Yeah, i’m fine.”
“What are you doing?” He sat in front of you and you ruffled his hair with your hands.
“Just watching outside, loving it while i can, you know, before i go.”
His hand gripped yours tightly and brought it to his lips, leaving a small yet passionate kiss. You felt the
warmth of his lips and smiled contently, even after his lips left. “You’re not leaving anytime soon, nothing
is going to take you from me. I won’t allow it.”
“You’re going to have to allow it, the appointment is tomorrow and they’re going to tell me when my last day
will be. You’re going to stay in the room with me, tell me everything will be alright, but you’re also going
to let me go when i have to go. This, thing,” you paused, regaining the breath you lost when you spoke, “It’s
taking over and it’s going to win. I’ve fought this for as long as i can, i’m not going to be able to do this
much longer, Luke, i just can’t.”
Luke shook his head, not wanting to believe the words you were speaking. “I said it before, (YN), and i’ll say
it again, you’re not leaving me this way. You’re going to stay here with me, we’re going to get married, and
have all those amazing babbies you want. It’s going to happen, i promise you.”
“Don’t.” you whispered hoarsely, you hated promises because there really was no certainty to them coming true.
Luke knew that and still, here he was, promising you something that was, to you, very much impossible.
“I will, (YN). I promse you that you’re going to get through this. We’re not going to let this sickness take
you. We’re going to find a way to keep you here with me. I love you and you’re staying here with me and that’s
the final word of this conversation, okay?”
Not having the energy to talk anymore, you just nodded your head and Luke picked you up bridal style and brought
you to your bedrooom upstairs, laying you down gently, he kissed your forehead. “I love you, (YN). We’re going
to make it through this storm, we really are.”

(What do you think?)