Beating Heart// Lashton

Chapter 3

Once upon a time in a land far away

There lived a little boy and he drank all day

Friends called him stupid and his brothers called him gay

Emptied all the bottles 'til the pain went away

[...]

Everybody gets high, why the hell can't I?

-Everybody Gets High By Misso

Luke's POV

"There's our baby bro," Ben said from the couch as I walked through the door. He sounds sweet, but trust me, he's not, and by the look on Jack's face, I knew something was up.

"Shut the fuck up," I kicked off my shoes and dropped my backpack onto the floor.

"Damn, someone's grumpy," Jack said.

"Damn, someone's annoying as hell," I said and immediately regret flooded my body. Jack's eyes turned dark and the stupid grin was gone from his face. I started running to the stairs.

"You're fucking dead!" Don't worry, he screams this at me a lot and I'm still alive.

They were right behind me as I got to my room. I tried to close the door, and I thought I was safe, but I noticed Ben's foot in the door. Oh shit.

Ben threw the door open and it was like letting a bear out of its cage. Jack ran in and literally jumped on me, causing my body to slam into the floor with a huge bang. Ben held my hands down as Jack slapped me so hard that I knew I'd have handprints there for hours. 

This went on for a decent amount of time, and by that I mean a hellish long time. They only let me go when we heard the garage door shut and knew mom was home. They fled my room before she could come in and hear what was going on. She doesn't know this happens, and she never will, because if I tell her, that's when my brothers will literally kill me. 

I got up and went into my bathroom to splash water on my face in some hope that would get rid of the marks on my face. I was deep into examining the handprints when my phone rang with the loud ass ringtone I set for Michael. 

"Hey," I answered, my voice unfortunately betraying me with a crack. 

"Luke, mate, band practice?"

"I'm really not in the mood."

"Okay, so band practice," Michael said with a lot of emphasis on the two words and I was too tired to figure out what he meant. "Be here in five."

"Mate, what do you not understand-"

"See you in five minutes, bye." He hung up the call. God fucking damn, Michael, fucking shit. I don't feel like doing anything right now.

--

The garage was filled with smoke. I passed the joint to Calum, which he graciously accepted. I was laying on the couch, my feet on Michael's lap.

"Goddamn I love weed!" Michael shouted.

"Maybe say that a bit quieter, mate," Calum suggested.

"Nah, I fucking LOOOOVE weed!" He shouted again.

"Agreed," I said.

Michael patted my shins. "And to think that our little baby boy Lucas thought this was the devil's lettuce just a month ago. Oh Calum, we have raised him well."

"Shut the fuck up," I laughed and made an attempt to hit his arm but it was too far of a reach. 

"Want another hit?" Michael asked, holding the blunt.

I nodded violently. He passed it and I took a massive hit off of it.

"Seriously Calum, he's a full on stoner now."

I exhaled the smoke, "I am not, I just like weed whenever I'm in a shitty mood, it makes me happy," I explained.

"And you're in a shitty mood all the time...so you're a stoner," Calum pointed out.

I shook my head and passed the almost done joint to Calum. "I just think I need to smoke anytime I have to deal with Jack and Ben. I think that would fix everything. Can we do that? Just light it up at any possible chance they're near."

Calum exhaled. "So all the time?"

"Hell yes!" Michael shouted. We did a fist bump.

"Guys, you're both high as shit," Calum shook his head. "We can't be high at school and if you've forgotten, they go to our school. I know they completely ignore you at school cause they don't want anyone to know you're related, but they're still there."

"Pssshhh," I waved him off.

"Bro, you couldn't handle being high all day every day, when you're sober you don't even like smoking once a week," Calum continues.

"Yeah, we literally have to peer pressure you into smoking every band practice," Michael pointed out.

"Whatever," I said while I reached for the roach from Michael. 

He shook his head, "We're done," and he put it out in the ashtray. I made a pouty face. 

We ended up having a jam session, while high as ever, so we could say honestly that we had band practice.

"We need a drummer," Michael said, in which Calum and I agreed.

Today ended not so bad.