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The night had become the only restitution from the days long drawn out heat that panged on every surface.
Though they'd somehow become shorter than the day, Luka and you decide to make the most of it.
When he knocked on your door it was practically fate. He had an amp, you had a guitar and enough weed to smoke for two people. What could be better in an apocalypse?
He hooked everything up and you began to roll and mediocre joint with semi-precision and a giddy excitement building in your chest.
"Dude, I just know this thing is gonna shred." Luka looked at your guitar as if it were the sun itself, and you almost felt a pang of jealousy. He lifted the strap over his shoulder and began to feel the weight of it in his arms.
"Honestly, I think you'd get more use out of it than I do. I'm super out of practice, unfortunately." You admitted before sticking your tongue out to lick the seal of the joint. You didn't notice but Luka's gaze lingered for a moment as he watched you work.
Instead of saying anything he began tuning the instrument, plucking the strings with every twist of the knobs at the top.
You presented your joint almost as an offering as trade for getting to hear his music. A small smile spread over his usually neutral cadence.
You almost offered it to him before he stopped you, "Nah, you're owner of the house. Owner always gets first hit." You smile.
"I mean if you say so." And you spark the thing as it's pressed between your lips, taking a long inhale to compensate for the heat of the smoke.
The first inhale is never really enough to do anything, so you take a few more before passing it to Luka.
He takes the joint to his mouth and begins playing a few starting riffs to warm up his fingers.
"You're good at that." You say absentmindedly, just amazed to be in the presence of another artist.
Luka let out a puff of smoke before replying, "Dude I haven't even started yet."
"Thats why I'm so excited." You said, and Luka passed you the joint before pulling up a stool to sit in front of you.
"Alright, what kinda stuff are you into?" He asked, setting the guitar on his knee. "Rather bold question, stranger." You teased. "You know what I mean." He rolled his eyes.
You thought for a moment. "Uhh.. I don't know? Some Radiohead might be good right now." Luka smile. "Oh, so you're one of *those.*"
"One of what?" You raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly attacked. "I like what I like, okay?" Luka rolled his eyes again. "I'm not saying anything."
Then his hands found the strings, and your heart beat slowed for a second. Like if you didnt focus you'd miss it.
And suddenly it was just you three. You, Luka and the guitar. The beginning notes of Jigsaw Falling Into place faded into existence, filling the room with a sound that was unlike anything that could've came from a speaker or pair of headphones.
Luka was really good at what he does. And you couldn't help but stare in awe, amazement, adoration and whatever other A words you could think of in the back of your mind.
But the *sound.* It reverberated through your body and touched your soul. "This is my favorite." You muttered quietly, trying not to shatter the delicate trance the music created.
"I thought so." He laughed quietly to himself, looking up from the strings since he was confident enough in his ability. He really did have this piercing gaze. No, not piercing. This.. Heavy gaze, that made you want to let your guard down.
Oh, and then he started *singing.*
"Just as you take my hand, just as you write my number down.."
You couldn't help the smile spreading over your face.
"Just as the drinks arrive, just as they play your favorite song.."
Yeah, this song had been your favorite, but the way Luka played it made you really solidify that fact in your mind. Maybe burned or engraved that fact into your mind.
"As your bad day disappears, no longer wound up like a spring, before you had too much, come back in focus again.."
You took another puff from the joint, almost forgetting it had been in your hand. He really did have that effect on you. Like you could forget everything else but him.
And he continued, playing so beautifully and looking at you like you were the only fan he ever needed in a crowd of millions.
Maybe with him, things could always be like this. Easy and complete. Full of substance and lasting a life time.
Maybe the nights could be a little longer every night.