"Fuck." Luka mutters angrily, pushing his hands through his hair. 

Roman's voice breaks through the silence that followed. 

"Yo, not to break up this tremendous moment, but we need to get out of here." I turn back to Roman, whose hair is a wild mess of tangled strands, and whose eyes hold a panicked look that betrayed his attempt at humor. 

"Where are we supposed to go, huh?" Luka growls lowly, but his voice is more desperate than angry. 

"We can decide that later, but for now, let's focus on not dying okay?" Roman wheels back into the house, and I start to follow. 

Luka isn't moving. 

I look over my shoulder, and his eyes, ringed with sleepless bags, are boring through me. 

I walk towards him slowly, grabbing him by the arm. His gaze is glued to me, to my eyes, never wavering. 

Even despite the lack of sleep, his face is still unbelievably perfect. His full lips are parted, slow breaths escaping from them. He smells of smoke and panic and it's an oddly intoxicating scent. 

"Let's go." I whisper, tightening my grip and slowly leading him into the house. 

"Roman, where are you?" I call out, dropping my hold from Luka's arm and slowly wading into the kitchen. 

He's by the counter, a duffle bag at his side, stuffing bag after bag of chips inside. 

"Getting nutrients." He says, his mouth half full of pringles. 

"Seriously? And Lays is nutrients?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Hey, only god can judge me." He snaps back, turning back to the pantry. 

I roll my eyes, turning around again to Luka, but he's already half way up the stairs. 

"Let him be for a little bit, Kat." Roman mutters. 

"He's so confusing.." I whisper, too low for Roman to hear. 

"Alright, I know that you need to consider your very obvious attraction for him, but we also need to get out of this house before we, you know, die." 

"Can you go five minutes without being sarcastic?" I ask, but there's a laugh under my breath. 

"No, not really. Now get upstairs and get whatever you need, we're leaving in five." 

I walk up the stairs, my bare feet sticking slightly to the wood panels. I can hear slight rustling in Luka's room, the door closed. 

I stare at it for a second, just waiting for it to open. Considering if I should open it first. 

If I even want it open at all. 

But my body and mind know better than my heart, and lead me over to my room. 

I don't know what Roman expected me to pack, I have a few t-shirts and my cell phone, but other than that, nothing. 

It's not like I had much at West's place either way. 

It's not like I had much to begin with. 

I grab the shirts, stuffing my cell phone in my back pocket and I turn back towards the door, padding slowly away from the room. 

I pass Luka's room again, stopping. 

My body leans against the cold wood of the door, the back of my head resting against it. 

How did my life become so complicated. 

I just want to be back home, my real home. Sitting on the backyard swing, the smell of my mother's cooking wafting in through the back door. 

Mom, walking out through the screen door, smiling at me, and waving me in for dinner. 

Walking along the green grass, littered with patches of dead weeds, hopping up to the patio and through the screen door, greeted by a pot of mac n cheese with hamburger bits. My absolute favorite, ever since I was four and couldn't decide if I wanted mac n cheese or a burger, so my mother just mixed them together. 

She always knew what to say, what to do. 

"What do I do now, mom?" I whisper into nothing. 

I don't know why I expect a response. 

But what I didn't expect was the door to be opened behind me, and falling flat on my back, halfway in the hall, and halfway into Luka's room, staring up at his face from the floor. 

We stare at each other for a second, the t-shirts I had been holding strewn across my stomach and chest. 

"Mind if I drop in?" I blurt out, already feeling my face turn crimson with embarrassment. 

He fights a small smile, the corner of his lips quirking up, then falling back to their regular curve of apathy. 

"Come on." He mutters, leaning down, the duffle back on his shoulder shifting slightly, grabbing me under the shoulders and hoisting me to my feet. 

"I could've picked myself up." I whisper. 

"I know you can." He breaths back, and we're chest to chest, mine heaving. 

The air is charged, as it always is when we're this close together. 

"Is that all you have with you?" He asks, pointing down to the clothes, now fallen to the floor. 

"Yeah, I don't have much." I whimper, the reality of it hitting me. 

"You have a lot more than you think." 

I look up to his eyes, and let a small smile creep onto my lips. 

"Like what?" 

His eyes flicker down to my lips, and he swallows slightly. 

"You have me." His voice is low and raspy, a slight hitch present. 

He leans down slowly, his lips drawing dangerously closer to mine. 

"Guys, let's go!" Roman shouts from downstairs. 

Jesus, Roman. 

I move back slightly, murmuring to myself and leaning down to pick up my shirts. I straighten up, and suddenly Luka's arm is around my waist and he's dragging me closer. 

His lips connect with mine, the kiss so soft you'd think they were all part of some wonderful dream. 

He kisses me slowly, and then pulls back, placing a kiss on my forehead. 

"Come on, before Roman has a stroke." He whispers, grabbing my hand and leading me down the stairs, my lips still buzzing with the fire of his kiss. 

What the hell just happened. 

"Alright you two, I know you're sexually active teenagers, but seriously, can we find a later time to get busy, maybe, ya know, when we don't have to be on the run?" 

"Shut up, Roman." Luka and I both say, and we head to the driveway outside where Luka's car waits. 

Luka opens the trunk, throwing his bags in, and taking the shirts from my hands to throw them in too. 

He turns back to Roman, helping him out of the chair and placing him in the backseat, pushing his wheel chair into the large trunk. 

He slams it shut, and stares at the ground momentarily, letting out a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry." He whispers. 

"For what?" 

"Every fucking thing." He says, looking up at me. And I see for the first time how tired he looks, how hollow and just...sad. 

"Don't be. We can feel sorry for each other when we have the time. But for now, let's get the fuck out of here." 

Okay, I know I know I always apologize for updating late, but senior year is kicking my butt. But college apps are almost all done, not really, kinda, even when I do so much for them it always seems like a whole other list of things pops up. 

Let me know how you guys are doing in the comments! I miss talking to you guys and seeing how happy you guys are at each update! I'm really trying guys!