this is technically from [REDACTED] (a verse yall will be able to guess) (this is a wip) (I wrote this in my notes app really quickly) but a friend pointed out it works for canon where they boys are alive again and Luke reunited with his parents, so for the time being this is post-canon. only had to change like one line. anyway. enjoy!
There’s a sharp rap of knuckles against the door. Before either his mom or he can move, his dad is pulling himself up, pausing the tv, and moving toward the door.
Luke pushes himself up straight, jerking forward. “Dad, I can—“
“It’s alright,” his dad says, unlatching the door and swinging it open. From where Luke’s sitting, he can just barely see a small older white woman standing on the patio.
His mom lets out a sharp, withering sigh. Luke glances sharply at her, but her face is poised, neutral, and he turns back to the door.
“Mrs. Macdonald,” his dad says, a tone in his voice that says his not looking forward to this conversation. A tone that, thankfully, hasn’t changed in twenty-five years. “Afternoon.”
“Mitch,” the woman says, beaming. She leans forward, closer where Luke can see her. White hair, big glasses, dressed casually in a way that reminds him that he’s jumped between times. The woman smiles brightly. “Afternoon to you too. And how are you and Emily doing?”
His dad head turns slightly toward the inside of the house, catches Luke’s eye briefly, and then he turns toward her again. Luke swallows. They haven’t discussed anything yet. The whole… situation is untouched. Well, that’s not necessarily true. They’ve talked. They just haven’t talked about what they’re doing next. What it all means. How they’re going to… move forward.
His parents had buried him.
He feels guilty he’s complicated that move, a little.
His dad clears his throat. “Well. Yes. We’re alright. Taking it… one day at a time.”
The woman waves her hands in the air, a chunky turquoise bracelet bouncing up and down her arm. “Oh! Of course. Course. You know, Jim and I keep finding ourselves doing the same, now that he’s retired. I, I mean, really, it’s a wonder how much time there really is in the day! You and Emily still working? You’ll get there someday.”
“Retired,” his dad says. “Wow. Well that’s great, Patty. Almost there myself.”
“Mitch,” his mom mutters under her breath, a sure sign she was hoping for him to do something else. She reaches up and wipes a hand over her face, like she’s hoping to keep herself hidden.
Patty smiles again. She taps his dad’s arm. “So much free time! Have you been to the golf course in Los Feliz? We’ve taken up—well really, Jim has—golfing. And really I never thought it would be something I would find myself doing, but when you finally have all the leisure time in the world, well, it makes a difference.”
“I’ve uh, not tried golfing,” his dad says slowly.
Patty nods slowly, looking his father in the eye. “I’ll admit I never saw the appeal—“
Pat nods. “Yes, yes. Well you should consider it. And—ah!—that reminds me of why I came here to speak to you. Now that Jim is retired, and we’re off doing all sorts of fun things, well keeping up with the house is difficult and your lawn, you know, despite being quite busy working yourself, it always looks so lovely and I was wondering what landscaper you use. Would Emily know? Is she home?”
Before his dad can answer, or intervene, Patty leans in through the doorframe. Her eyes land on his mom first, who straightens in her seat, smiles and waves.
“Hi, Patty, how’re you?” His mom says, smiling not unkindly.
“Well, Emily, I’m doing just wonderfully.” Patty’s eyes immediately fall to Luke. Her eyes narrow behind her big blocky glasses and she looks him up and down, scrutinizing him with a sharp gaze. Before Luke can even bring his hand up to wave politely, she straightens up again, a delighted smile in her face.
“Oh!” Her voice peeling with a delight laughter. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had a grandson—“
Luke jerks back on the couch, but the woman doesn’t pay him any mind. His throat grows tight, his mind feels fuzzy. A word of protest bounces emptily around his brain.
That’s not true, that’s not right, I’m not his grandson, that’s not true.
But the words don’t form. His face falls, from mild interest to hurt, confusion. He doesn’t know why he’s shocked by this. He knows it makes sense. Hell, he’d gotten mistaken as Alex’s kid. This only makes sense, with his relative age, and his parents.
And it still hurts.
Patty claps her hands, threading her fingers together. “Here I come asking for your landscaper, I’m sure this young man could use some extra cash!”
Had it been prior to May 1995, Luke wouldn’t have thought twice. He’d mowed plenty of lawns around here growing up. But he’d also known most of the neighbors back then, when he was 12 and still taking to the neighborhood barefoot on his bike.
Now, though, Luke wants to sink into the couch and disappear. He tries to force a smile on his face, and he’s mostly successful, but it feels tight and fake even to him. His dad’s face has craned completely toward him. He’s stepped back into the house, away from the door, and slowly, quietly, turned the picture of two-year-old Luke that had caught Julie’s eye face down.
“Where were you keeping this young man? I didn’t even know you had any kids!”
His mom winces.
“Just one,” his dad whispers.
Luke’s breath catches in his throat. He clutches a throw pillow tighter to his chest, falling back into couch cushions that are as unfamiliar as the new neighbors.
“I make it my business I keep up with the neighborhood and know what’s going on with my neighbors. And how, in ten years, did I miss this! Well! Huh! And what’s your name young man?”
Luke opens his mouth to reply, and finds he can’t. He can’t at all. It’s the same thing as before, the words turning themselves over and over in his mind, standing on the dip of his tongue, waiting to be said. It’s his name.
My name is Luke.
“Luke,” his mom says. It takes him a moment to realize she’s sharing his name instead of asking for his attention. Still, his eyes drag down the living room toward her.
She’s sitting with a tight lipped smile, a furrow in her brow. Her eyes look shiny.
“Luke!” Patty exclaims. “What a lovely name! Oh, you look just like your grandmother here.”
“Thank you,” Luke chokes out, shakily smiling at Patty as she invades his parents home.
She continues, unbothered. “My Kelly’s boy Jaiden looks just like his grandpa.” She beams.
“You know,” his dad interrupts, “we, um, we’ve only got Luke here for… we’re trying to spend as much time with him as we can.”
Patty blinks, and then looks between them, and finally seems to notice something in the air.
Quickly, his mom stands up. “I’ll get you the number for the girl that mows our lawn. She lives just up the road.”
“Oh! Yes. Of course.”
Patty tracks his mom over to the hallway before she disappears, and then she turns on Luke.
“Tell Jim I say hello,” Mitch says. “I hope he enjoys all of his… golfing time.”
“Well—“
Emily quickly hurries into the living room, holding a piece of folded notebook paper in between her fingers. She holds it out to Patty in the entryway, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She gives it a squeeze.
“Here you are, Patty, you have a great day.”
Patty blinks. Nods once. Glances at the note, and then nods again. “Yes. Alright. You too.”
Luke doesn’t force himself to lie and say it was nice to meet her, but she seems to forget she would normally do the same, and turns on her heel and leaves the house. Mitch is slow to close the door behind her, eager to not be too rude.
His parents both turn and face him.
“I’m your son,” Luke blurts out, before he can think twice. Tears blur his vision. He can barely make out his mom rushing toward his side, but the moment she sits down on the couch next to him he falls into her side. “I am.”
“Of course,” his mother soothes, “of course Luke.” But his mother’s hand is frailer than it should be, and it brings him little comfort.
Why couldn’t he have guessed that this would happen? Would, not could. Why didn’t he assume that if he were to go out into the real world, a world he had left behind ages ago, people wouldn’t look at them and see a boy and his parents? He didn’t even have to go outside. It came crashing through the door.
Luke’s dad sits quietly on the couch next to them, resting a cool hand on Luke’s back.
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working on congrats au and i really enjoy this opening bit so please have this little snippet:
Julie Molina sits cross-legged on her bed, holding her phone in front of her, erasing every single text message she’s managed to construct for the last several hours.
Every message feels too contrived. Too fake. Too lengthy. If not lengthy, wordy and if not wordy, sparse. She goes between sitting on her bed or pacing her room. She has long swaths of texts she should be responding to, that she would like to respond to, that she just cannot seem to form the right replies for.
Wordy. Sparse. Fake. Disingenuous. Too real. Honest to a fault.
None of them are right, even if some of them are fitting, and Julie mostly wants to take her phone, open her window the full three inches it’s permitted to open, and chuck it out through the hole. She doesn’t. But she’s very, very close.
Sniffling, she instead chucks it to the side of her bed where it hits her wall of pillows and then falls pitifully to her covers. It vibrates as a message comes through.
Rising from her bedspread, Julie pads back and forth across her room.
She is supposed to be back home in LA.
finally writing again and had a piece I wasn't happy with. just did not sound right. realized it did not have enough of luke thinking about julie. "where is julie?" "why isn't she here?" "i wish julie was here to hold my hand?" and so on and so forth. the chapter is fixed now.
Let's tease you a bit with the teasing WIPs asks😊😇
🌀❄️🌤️🌧️🌈💧🌩️☔🌪️
This took so long. Sorry! ANyway. here ya are! It's all congrats themed ofc except for the first and last questions I think?
🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...
The 90s Fake Dating Juke Au:
Julie was by no means the perfect student, but if she was going to focus on anything anymore, it was going to be school. A year without singing, or music, meant a year of grief, and grief made you do stupid things. Julie's not a straight-A student, but damnit it. She's gonna try.
Only her dad is worried. He wants her to get in trouble. He wants her to do something. And then Carrie was getting on her, focusing on her, pulling Julie back into her orbit.
Julie can kill to birds with one stone. Get Carrie off her back. Get her dad off her back. She can date Luke Patterson.
It's fake, of course. At least, Julie's pretty sure it is.
❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.
As the realization dawned on Julie’s face, Flynn was nodding. “Yup. Yeah. Yeah. You said that. And I guess Nick took that to mean to show up to your house on Saturday after you’d left and, like, ask for you.”
Julie blanched. “Oh god.”
Flynn raised her hands. “It’s fine! It’s okay! I mean, your dad said you were at mine for our project, but we can just play it off like we forgot to tell him the change of location or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” Julie said faintly. “What happened? Did he show up at your house?”
Flynn bit her lip.
“No he did not!”
“He did in fact do that,” Flynn said in a rush. “But! It was fine! Kinda. He showed up. My parents weren’t home anyway. But he was asking me where you were, and I didn’t know what to say? I mean, I couldn’t say, like, yeah Julie’s not here because she’s actually trying to uncurse her guitar so that he can be a real boy again, so I might’ve just–.” She stuttered to a stop, wincing, throwing her hands up into the air with exasperation.
“Flynn,” Julie said slowly. “What did you tell him?”
Flynn grimaced. “I said you were with your boyfriend? And I was covering for you with your dad?”
Julie froze. “Flynn. That’s it? That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I lied!” Flynn exclaimed, stepping toward Julie. She was back to wringing her hands together, shoulders hunched.
“I mean, yeah,” Julie agreed, shrugging, “but it’s not like it’s a big lie–.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend, Julie! If I can remind you!”
Julie nodded slowly, her mind flashing back to kissing Luke quickly on the bed the morning before. She hadn’t seen him since, and it was beginning to grate on her. It wasn’t like he had a phone, they couldn’t text. What Luke was to her, she didn’t know. But they’d kissed twice in twenty-four hours, slept in the same bed, and held hands more than once. They were something.
But boyfriend felt like too light of a term.
She flushed as she through about the kisses he’d placed on the back of her neck. She had calculus in five minutes. She had to focus. She shook her head to clear it.
“This is true,” Julie said slowly. “I’ll just say he doesn’t go to this school?”
“That’s the classic lie! He’ll see right through us!”
“You’re the one that lied! You could’ve just said I was– I was–!” Julie huffed in annoyance.
Flynn threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “See!? It was hard! I was struggling!”
The bell rang shrilly above them. Both girls jumped in place, glancing at each other briefly before hurrying out of the dark room. They didn’t share the next class together, and Julie was forced to sprint down the hallway so she wouldn’t be late to class.
🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.
“Right,” she said, floundering for literally anything else to say. She looked at the truck behind him. “Is that… is that Reggie’s truck?”
Luke shrugged, pulling away and reaching back to pat the hood. He grinned at her, and then at Flynn and Nick. He winked. “Yup. Borrowed it.”
Something in his tone of voice made Julie pause. She looked at the truck, where it was totally blocking the bus lane, and then at Luke. She frowned. “Does Reggie… know you’re borrowing his truck?”
Luke winced. He flipped the key up in the air and caught it with one hand. He squinted into the sun and shrugged. “He will know by now that it is not outside Alex’s house.”
🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.
I mean. God. Congrats is so angsty and only has one chapter left.
I suppose since I want to write a bit more in that verse, , but haven't yet while the actual fic isn't yet finished, so you'll have to deal with Luke interacting with his parents for the first time in twenty-five years after he's been uncursed. :)
🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.
His head rested on her lap. He’d passed out, asleep. Julie knew she might be crossing a boundary, but she couldn’t help herself; she threaded her fingers through his soft hair, and stared and studied his face. No one spoke, but there was nothing to say. It was over.
💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.
Luke couldn’t keep away. He scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him and laying them both down on the bed. He reached down and brought the covers back up, tucking them in, and hooked his chin over her shoulder. His lips grazed her ear. She shivered in his arms, but it wasn’t because she was cold.
“Something like that,” he murmured, turning into her.
He kissed her just behind her ear, very softly, a quick peck that wasn’t quick at all, that lingered. Then he did it again, two more times. He pressed his lips into the skin behind her ear and nudged her hair with his nose. His hot breath brushed against her skin and Julie kept her eyes closed and sighed, sinking into him. Then he relaxed back into his spot, resting his forehead against her. Her hand had found his in the meantime. Holding it tightly, her thumb brushed over his knuckles.
🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.
The next chapter does not have anything like that and I haven't written anything funny/cracky for the follow up stuff. :/
☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?
Okay, yeah. I think like... if I did an actual burning bones fic it would have to be a whole big like... story. And I simply don't have the energy for that right now. Like it would almost be a "what do i think season two/three/four" would be like kinda thing and like I'd love to do that for jatp! And make it fun and kinda dark but still lighthearted but yeah. Not sure I have the time to plan that out or write it.
🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.
Gonna do fake dating au for this one! Just cause it isn't posted.
fake-dating, jealousy, underage drinking, shenanigans, teens being teens
;)
enjoy! sorry this is so long. and sorry it took so long to answer! my b! <3 forgive me please.
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POV- On congrats specifically. See you can commit even MORE murders on our hearts this time (gimmie the angst)
POV. Rewrite a scene from a different characters perspective. Here ya go! And there's a bit extra. :)
][][][
"I think your son might have written this for you."
Slowly, Emily reached forward and took it. It was familiar and not all at once - Luke had written it in a spiral notebook. Emily still remembered the one. She'd gotten it for him when they'd done back to school shopping at the beginning of the year, humoring his obvious lie and buying an extra notebook for a class that didn't exist.
The edge of the paper was rough, torn, but the rest of it looked just as bad. She wondered where this girl had found it. They'd never been allowed to go get Luke's things from the former owners of the studio. Emily had assumed they'd tossed it all out, and had lamented it's loss in the past twenty-five years.
Luke always wrote like his words would be his last, and Emily tried not to find the irony in this. As she leaned forward to read the ink he'd pressed hard into the paper, tears began to form in her eyes. She had to turn away, collected herself, breath.
Her husbands hand rested on the small of her back. He'd been rubbing a comforting circle there, but it had stopped. Mitch's hand shook.
Emily had to read this through. She turned back. She could feel herself want to fall back, but she couldn't. Her effort went into clenching the paper as tightly as she could, as if it would disappear, turn to dust in her hands.
The girl in front of them sniffled and quietly wiped tears from her eyes.
Emily could only imagine how she herself looked, but she didn't care. She finished and immediately wanted to read it again, and again, and again. She couldn't yet.
"Thank you," she gasped, the words difficult to form. "You don't-." She couldn't continue. She stiffled another gasp, clutching her hand to her mouth to keep her shuddering breath as even as she could.
Mitch took over. "You don't know what this means. Thank you, Julie."
"You're welcome," the girl said, wiping a few tears from her eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry. Too. I-."
Emily reached forward but then faltered, unsure. She didn't know this girl. But she desperately wanted to give her a hug. "You don't have to apologize," she said instead, trying for a comforting smile. "Thank you. Thank you for this. I can't begin to express how... how thankful I am for this."
Julie's eyes flickered back toward where her guitar was leaning up against the wall. She smiled and turned back to Emily. "I'm glad I could do something."
Mitch didn't have the same qualms she did. He reached over and squeezed Julie's shoulder, just like he used to Luke's before he became a teenager and didn't want them to anymore. He slipped the song from Emily's hand and kissed her temple. Emily leaned in just slightly.
"I'm going to go call the boys. See if they remember this."
Emily nodded. "I'll walk you out, Julie?"
"Thank you."
Julie turned back to her guitar and picked it up almost tenderly. She hesitated a moment before she took the strap and put it over her head. She turned back to Emily, a slightly furrow in her brow, but she smile kindly.
"Do you play?" Emily asked. She didn't want this girl to leave so soon, but she didn't want to put pressure on the girl.
"I do," Julie said. She laughed. "I wasn't very good. But my teacher. He's amazing. I'm lucky to know him."
Emily couldn't help but smile. "Well, iut's a beautiful guitar. That strap was Luke's, you know. I embroidered it for him." She was so tempted to ask what else of Luke's might've been left, shoved into an attic somewhere. The former owners had moved, and hadn't even bothered to let Emily and Mitch a chance to grab their missing sons things.
Julie's became a flurry of emotion. Wonder, curiosity, then she winced as if she were in pain, eyes shifting to the left, and then she straightened and focused on Emily again. "Oh! I didn't realize, I'm sorry. Do you want-?"
Yes. No. What good would it do Emily? It was a guitar strap. Her son was still missing. "Keep it." And she found she meant it. "I'm glad it's getting some use. Especially on an instrument like that. Luke loved his guitars." She found herself reminiscing despite herself and she stared wistfully over Julie's shoulder, envisioning a younger version of her son, the only version she knew, in the living room just behind them.
"I swear," Emily said, "he acted like they were the most precious things on the planet."
Julie laughed lightly. She reached back and rested a hand on the neck of the guitar. "We agree on that then. I think mine is the most perfect on I could've got."
Emily couldn't keep the smile off her face. Julie sounded like Luke. He would've liked her, Emily thought. "Hold onto it then."
Julie smiled back. "I will."
As the door shut behind Julie, Emily turned back to the empty house. Mitch appeared almost instantly at the end of the hallway and wordlessly held his arms out. Emily walked silently over and fell into him, returning the hug, holding her head to his chest.
The tears came again, and she didn't bother keeping them in. "I want him to come home."
"I know," Mitch said. "I know, hon."
Emily pulled away and sniffed, looking away. She didn't want to see Mitch's face when she spoke her next words. "Do you think... you think he's still out there."
Mitch opened his mouth and then closed it again. He kept his hands around her waist and she could feel the shake in them. They were both older, so much older, than they used to be. Luke was still seventeen - Emily couldn't see any other version of him anymore. Just the seventeen year old boy. Twenty-five years worth of birthdays and he was still...
He was still seventeen.
She had believed he was out there for years. But then the police stopped actively searching, they called off the investigation, cleared the last people to have ever seen Luke... and Emily still didn't have her son.
"I don't know," Mitch admitted quietly. "At this point I'd... I'd be happy just... having..."
A body to bury properly.
"Yeah," Emily agreed. She swallowed and swept the tears away. "What did the boys say?"
"Only Alex really answered, Reggie was at work." Mitch smiled fondly. "Alex said he remembered Luke writing it, but he'd completely forgotten about it. We're still having dinner with him next week."
Emily pulled herself fully away and sat on the couch, sinking into the blue cushions, holding her hands in her lap. Mitch followed her and rested his hand on hers, twisting their fingers together. She smiled. "He always said that Luke didn't hate us."
"They all did."
"I know but..."
"They wouldn't have admitted if he did," Mitch agreed. He smiled sadly. "Luke felt everything so... strongly."
Emily felt almost guilty. Memories of herself and her son, herself and her own mother, swirled around her mind. Mitch tapped his tumb against her hand and leaned into her. "Just like you."
"He was too much like me," she said, sighing. "He needed some of your calm."
"That would've been some other kid then, not our Luke," Mitch said.
"You're right," she agreed. "And I'm glad we had the kid we got."
"Me too." Mitch reached into his pocket and pulled the song out. It was refolded along the creases. He pulled his hand from hers and unfolded it carefully, worried the old paper might rip. He read the words again, but Emily couldn't. Not just yet.
Earlier, the first time, she might have. But not just yet.
It's good. It's amazing. Her son was talented. But it's not the same. She wants him home.
I'll do Congrats for this one as well. :) Kinda match the one I answered here. Almost a follow up?
POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective.
Someone has come into the loft.
It isn't sure, but it's fairly certain. The person is quiet. It had barely noticed the them come up the ladder. There's no crack in the boxes for the guitar to see, but suddenly there is.
A girl shifts the boxes out of the way. She's looking right at the guitar, her big brown eyes wide. For a moment, she doesn't move, and they stare at each other.
The guitar is reminded of the woman that had come up a few times, but it knows it's not her. They don't have the same face, not really. The hair is similar. A sister? A cousin. It's not sure. She's pretty. It would've liked her, before.
She's climbing over the space she's cleared and reaching and before the guitar knows it, she's grabbing it around the base of it's neck and taking it out of the space it's been wedged into. It'd been stuck and she has to pry a little.
For the first time in who knows how long, it gasps. It hasn't made any sound in so long. Oof.
It's free. She turns it over, inspects it, looking it over. She turns it around in her hands and holds it up to the window, toward the light that it had only ever caught a sliver of. It's strings are rusted and it can feel where it's wood isn't as put together as it used to be. Will she stick it back?
It hopes not.
Then she speaks. “Ouch,” she mutters. It's a nice sound. “You’re really worse for wear.”'
This is true. It had seen better days. But sticking it up in the loft has been a blessing and a curse, and as suddenly... taken aback by her presence, it's glad that someone has finally come. It's curious about her. She's pretty. Her voice is nice. She's freed it. She needs a guitar.
It's a guitar. It can be a guitar.
She looks around the loft and then sighs.
“All of this will have to go,” she said, her brow furrowed.
The guitar wilts. Oh. They're selling junk. Well, it'll do. It won't get to know her, but it wasn't like there was much to it anyway. Her or being sold... it's the same.
She doesn't put the guitar back though, and it feels thankful. A thrill runs through it. She's taking it down the ladder.
And then she bangs it against the railing. And the guitar can't help it, it shudders.
“Oops,” she said. She looked around the studio, but it's empty.
Yeah. Oops. But who cares. It's over. It's finally over.
And all Luke feels is relief.
BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project.
I'll do Congrats for this one!
Luke doesn't know how long he's been up there. It's hard to tell, hard to know. The only thing he can see is a sliver of light from the tiny window in the loft, and the only way he knows the days are passing are when it changes. He's mostly in the dark, and he could count the days but he can't sleep.
He can't do a lot of things now. He'd leanred he could move, and then had abused it, and now he's wedged between the wall and a box.
No one comes up to the loft anymore. The boys had come back to the studio only once since Bobby had put him up there, and then that was it. No amount of yelling had done anything, it hadn't brought them up there, so when they never came again, and he heard voices, he just... didn't bother.
He doesn't know how long he's been up here, but he knows that the owners of the studio had sold the house.
Luke almost wishes Bobby hadn't stuck him up here, so that he could finally be free of this.
Eventually, after the old owners have moved out, new ones come. He can hear their voices faintly below, but he ignores it, and thinks about... lot's of things. Things he's thought a million and one times before. What he could've done different, what he could have changed. What would happen when someone finally relieves him.
Until he hears someone below. Until he hears the ladder to the loft creak. Until, through the barest crack in the boxes obscuring him, he can see a woman.
She's got curly hair, tanned skin, and she's humming under her breath.
And a small part of Luke, whose heard someone play music, play guitar below, a part of Luke hopes.
He doesn't know what she's doing, but she's moving things around. The song she's humming isn't recognizable, but she's singing it well. Then she's really singing. It's beautiful. It's light, and she's not trying, but it's some of the first music Luke's heard in...
in...
he doesn't know how long he's been up here. It's hard to tell, to know. But he hears her sing, and he hopes.
Can you hear me?
But she doesn't answer. She sings away.
So he sits. And he waits. And he thinks.
