𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

24. happy halloween, brother

sunday,
october 31st, 2020

LUKE HEMMINGS

I was stressed until I saw her.

In fact, I was fucking fuming until I saw her. That's what she does, I think. She distracts me from all things outside of her, or us, and I quite like that about her.

"Who is it?" I call, padding towards the door of my flat.

I made sure to dress myself in a t-shirt and joggers before I could open the door. I'm sure whoever is on the other side wouldn't want to see me naked.

When nobody replies, I grumble, flinging open my front door.

I freeze, feeling my entire life chip away at me, tumble down around me and I cannot catch my breath at all.

He smirks at me, sickeningly, "Happy Halloween, brother."

I scowl, going to slam the door in his smug fucking face but his booted toe stops the door before I can do so.

I'm seething, truly raging and I can only see red.

"What the fuck..." I hiss, "Are you doing here?"

My eyebrows are furrowed and my heartbeat is through the roof, as well as my blood pressure I'm sure. I feel sick. Genuinely sick, because I haven't seen his face since I left Australia. Or since he left, should I say. Four god damn years ago.

"Ah now," Jack tuts with a grin, "Is that a way to welcome your only brother?" He spreads his arms open wide, as if he's expecting a hug or something.

I scoff, "Are you fuckin' kidding me? Don't call yourself that. You're not a brother to me," I snap, "How'd you even find me?"

Jack doesn't even seem phased by my words. Instead, he shrugs and says, "Grandma," he states simply, making my head spin. She knows I hate him, she knows I don't want him here. "C'mon, Lucas, you always knew I was her favourite."

"Bullshit," I growl, feeling red hot with pure rage and wanting nothing more than to punch him square in the face.

He chuckles emptily, "Let me in, Luke. Let's talk."

"Fuck off," I say lowly, narrowing my eyes at his amused expression, "Get the fuck away from me. You're a fucking psycho, flying from Australia for what? For this?" I scoff angrily, running a hand through my hair out of stress, "You're fucked, Jack. Leave."

I clench my fists as I recall the events of this morning. I hate talking about it, I can't talk about it. That's why when Cal approached me privately at the bottom of the stairs in Rocky's pub, I snapped. He knows something's wrong, he hasn't seen anger to this extent from me in far too long.

And he remembers why exactly.

But, pressing Ezra up against a wall and watching her sink into my touch, and feel her lips on mine, it all makes me feel so much better than it necessarily should. I've said it before, she's fucking addictive.

"I think—" I begin to say, but the sweet girl in my arms kisses me softly, just once, before I can finish my sentence. I chuckle, trying again, "I think you should—" She does it again, and my eyes fall closed as I relax at her touch. "Maybe you should—" She kisses me. "Get back to your friends."

Ezra captures my needy lips in a final, sloppy peck and I don't remember how to stop smiling. She grins, cheeks ablaze with the all too familiar blush I know I provoke.