ARI.

I know he's not dead.

And it's that imperative piece of information that helps me sleep at night - though it's not an easy slumber. It's sleep plagued with life-like nightmares, waking up in cold sweat, and screaming at the top of my lungs till someone barges into my room to wake me up from the Hell that was my own mind. I'd sit on my bed, shivering in my sweat-drenched shirt while crying profusely into the caring embrace of either Ashton or Calum. After thirty minutes of torture, I'd convince myself that I was okay. The door would close shut, I'd lie back into my pillows and welcome the darkness of my room like an old friend.

Before I'd try to fall back asleep however, I would turn to my side to face the bedside table and grab the charging cellular device. Tapping through my phone, I'd stare at the only text message that ever mattered to me. An untraceable, blocked number, dated exactly ten days ago, almost to the hour, was a simple clue that gave me faith-- but there was no denying that my faith was quickly running out.

From: BLOCKED - Tues, Dec. 9 - 3:26AM
I'm OK. Don't look for me. Don't tell my mum. Promise me. I adore you, baby girl. Hope you can forgive me. xx

That's all I had. That's all the physical evidence I had to ease my mind; to keep the hope alive that Luke was okay. But with no other text since the first one, I wasn't 100% sure that he truly was alright. It scared me, consumed me, ate me alive till my mind was immersed in Luke's safety and whereabouts. Where the hell was he? Where was he sleeping? Was he eating? I know Luke wanted me to keep his text a secret, but as each day passed, I grew more worried about him. It took every ounce of me not to fumble, not to succumb into the guilt of lying to Mrs. Hemmings about hearing from her son.

Every day she'd ask, and every day I'd lie to her face.

"You'd let me know if you hear from him, right Ari?" This was less of a question and more like a plea coming from Mrs. Hemmings.

She gazed down at me with bags under her blood shot eyes. I could tell she's been having sleepless nights, crying to herself in an empty house-- probably passing by Luke's room with the urge to say goodnight, but breaking down in remembrance that her blue-eyed son was not inside.

"Of course. I'll let you know first thing if Luke comes in contact with me," I decided that it was much easier to lie to Mrs. Hemmings if I looked a little passed her head, instead of directly into the pair of eyes like were identical to the boy I adored and missed so much.

"Thank you sweetheart," she pulled me into a hug, giving my back a light rub. Her hug was encompassed with so much love and care that it was definitely an embrace meant for Luke. It made my stomach hurt knowing that she was dying inside.

"I'll drop by your house during winter break so you're not alone," I told her as we separated from the hug. "But I pray everyday that Luke will be home by Christmas next week."

"Me too," Mrs. Hemmings nodded her head, "me too."

I gave her one last reassuring hug before bidding her a goodbye. I strolled through her empty classroom and out the door, where excited cheers echoed through out the corridors. Midterm exams were officially over and winter break had finally commenced. My classmates ran through the halls, jumped for joy, and broadcasted their happiness of the long awaited break.

To say I was jealous of their worry-free expression would be an understatement. I yearned it; like ice-cold water to ebb a dry, scratchy throat. I wished I could enjoy the holiday season like the rest of the school, but I couldn't. My heart, mind, and soul wouldn't let me enjoy the simple pleasures of Christmas break-- not when my mom was still in the hospital, and my best friend was somewhere out in the world hiding from the world.

I sauntered to my locker, spinning the dial on the combination lock till all three numbers were activated. Pulling the metal latch, the locker door opened wide to reveal my worn out text books and folders. On the inside of the door, in the midst of Polaroids of my friends and the withered photos of my dad, hung a simple, black and white flyer with a hauntingly beautiful image of Luke. As I pathetically stared at the missing persons flyer, a brackish, daunting cloud vacuumed all happiness away from me, and without warning, the piece of paper was suddenly snatched from my gaze.

"You need to get rid of this," Ashton scolded, crumpling the flyer in his hand and tossing it aside. "You're going to keep giving yourself nightmares if you keep looking at it."

"He's my best friend," I explained with a sigh, throwing my tattered Literature folder into my locker before slamming it shut. "I just want him to come home."

"We all want him to come home," Ashton corrected, leading me back down the hallway, "but you shutting down isn't going to do much. Wherever Luke is, he might be scared. You have to be the strong one; you have to be strong for him."

I didn't answer Ashton. I just kept walking alongside him. The two of us were like the grey pieces in a rainbow box of crayons. Among the laughing, cheerful crowd around us, we had a perpetual reaper of despair following our every movement. Ashton and I always stuck out in a crowd-- if our clothing choice wasn't a blatant clue, then our outlandish demeanor sure was. But now, as the friends of the missing boy, we became more of a freak show than before.

"I'm sorry by the way," I began, walking through the front entrance and into the frosty air, "for waking you up... again."

"I forgive you," Ashton stated almost immediately. He definitely felt pity for me; felt pity for the poor little girl with a mother in the ICU, and the adornment of her life missing on the streets somewhere.

"You didn't have to forgive me so easily you know," I told him, following Ashton to his car as I stuffed my nearly frostbitten hands into my jacket pockets. "You've done so much for me; both you and Calum. Feeding me, staying the night with me, keeping me company. The least I can do is let you guys sleep through the night."

"Don't worry about us," Ashton assured, unlocking his car. "Cal and I, along with our family just want you to be okay. It's been a tough few weeks. And I know I already told you this, but my mum says you're welcome to stay at our place if you want."

"I could stay at yours. Your mom misses you. You and Calum have been sleeping over for the last ten days," I pointed out, slipping into the passenger seat. "If my sister didn't insist on staying the night with our mom in the hospital, I'd have her."

"You know what? Forget it. It's okay," Ashton turned the key into the ignition and I quickly found myself adjusting the vents so the warm air could defrost my face. "You should stay somewhere that's familiar to you. I don't have a problem spending the night and I'm sure Calum doesn't either."

"Are you sure?" I questioned, glancing over to my dimpled friend. I felt a pang of guilt punch my gut at the thought of both Mrs. Irwin and Mrs. Hood.

"It's not a problem," Ashton reassured, giving me a nod and a grin. "I promise."

I was glad. It wasn't that I had a problem with not being in a familiar place, it was more of the idea that Luke needed a place that was familiar to him. Part of the ongoing nightmares that haunted my sleep had to do with Luke calling out for me, screaming my name and trying to get into my house. He'd call for me, worry etched on his face as he'd bang on the doors and windows of my house but no one would answer. I was scared of that nightmare coming true. I was scared that Luke would come back home, throw stupid pebbles at my window, but I wouldn't be there to answer. I needed to be home for Luke; I was his home.

Ashton dropped me off at my empty home, promising to be back before it got dark. He needed fresh clothes and wanted some time with his siblings before he came to my aid once again.  I picked up the newspaper that I neglected to grab at the foot of the driveway before walking up the concrete pathway. As I entered the house, a rush of loneliness wavered over me, prickling my skin like tiny needles. It was so cold, in terms of presence instead of temperature. I couldn't help but to let a few tears trickle from my eyes in reminiscent of this once happy, healthy, perfect home. Even after my father passed and it became the house of three crazy women, it was still a place that was brimming with love and laughter. My house didn't feel like a home anymore; it felt like an abode that lacked the humble, lacked the welcome, lacked the family.

It was heartbreak at its finest hour.

I rushed up the steps to my room, dropping my things to the floor before quickly unbuttoning my jeans to slip them off. Grabbing a clean pair of sweats, I slipped my legs through them, finally relieved at the level of comfort that adorned my body. I plopped down onto my bed, seizing the rolled up newspaper. Unfolding it, I quickly scanned through the pages for anything interesting-- well, more like articles that mentioned arrests of a tall, blonde male or God forbid, reports of discovered bodies fitting Luke's description. I just needed some kind of sign, anything, that let me know Luke was safe.

I continued to peruse the paper, flipping the pages until I got to page five. Full of color and full of life, a large photograph of Brayson Cole was featured center page. Our Local Hero, Our Local Angel the headline read, in large, bold letters. This wasn't just some measly obituary. This was an entire article, written articulately that perfectly depicted the life Brayson lived and the impact he was on the entire city of Percival Shores. The story was perfect, beautiful and was the best way our coastal town could say thank you to my little man.

After reading the article, I took one last glance over, smiling at the wonderfully captured photo of Brayson. As I kept trailing my eyes across the page however, my vision landed on something oddly particular, yet coincidentally interesting. At the bottom of the photograph, at the end of the caption, were four words I did not expect.

Photograph by Reese O'Hara

Then it completely dawned on me: Reese published Luke's therapy files into the Percival Shores Herald. He stole the private files using his computer skills, and with access to the newspaper, he probably was able to put the files in right before print. It made perfect sense to me. And with a camera to capture angelic photos of Brayson, Reese probably used the same equipment to spy on Luke and I.

Reese was the reason for Luke's downfall, the reason why my best friend felt the need to run away. Reese was the one who turned Michael away from his truest friends who loved him the most. Reese was the reason for making my senior year one filled with anxiety and fear. Reese was the perfect villain. His sweet demeanor, charm, and good looks could captivate anyone, making him least susceptible to scrutiny. No one would suspect him-- not when he was a volunteer at a children's hospital, a photographer for the local paper and a college kid. Reese played the part flawlessly, and if I wanted Luke home, I had to put an end to all of this.

And fast.

Because before I could even put down the newspaper in my hands, a soft jingle escaped from the side pocket of my book bag. Curious, I walked over to my school bag, dropped to my knees to inspect the source. I pulled out my cellphone from the pocket and pressed the circular button. With the screen glowing in my face, my eyes read over a text message that struck more than fear in me. It sparked absolute terror that I swore could've completely stopped my heart.

From: (671) 415-9372 - 5:02PM
Poor Luke all alone in the streets with no protection. An easy target for complete eradication. Say goodbye :)

//

OH WHAT? A quick update... sorry for being slow with updates lately. But this chapter was seriously one of my favorites to write. That being said, it went by much quicker. And yes, LUKE IS MISSING. And has been missing for the last ten days. Basically since the day he pushed Ari into the wall, he went missing. Things are building up in this story and you'll probably hate me for what I have planned *evil laugh*... haha And with about 50-52ish chapters carefully planned, we are slowly reaching the end. There will be an Epiologue and I might do a Character Ask at the very end if you guys want it.

THANK YOU so much for reading this story. It blows my mind every single day to see it grow. I started this story summer of 2014 and I wasn't even sure if this story would get exposure. Honestly, it's all thanks to FANFIC HQ for adding my story to the 5SOS list and for temporarily featuring it during the holiday season. Without them, I'm not sure if this story would've reached more than half my readers. So BIG SHOUTOUT to FANFIC HQ... check them out because if you're looking for well-written, bomb stories on any fandom, that's the place to go!

ANOTHER NOTE, some of you are wondering WHYYY Ari/Luke doesn't just try to trace the number or reply to any of the text messages since there's a number. There's a reason behind that which will be revealed next chapter.

THANKS again for voting, for reading and for commenting! I LOVE reading all your theories and your funny comments. It makes me smile throughout the day!! Thank you and I love you guys!