He was doing this for himself, something that also made logical sense to other people. It wasn't easy for Luke to do this and as he began walking around the park, the strong sense of picking was already begging Luke to stop.
As he tried his best to push through that intense need, Luke put his head down and brought both of his hands up to his chest, his left thumb starting to scratch at the nail on his right middle finger. The smooth coat of green nail polish wouldn't even chip. He knew he'd have to stop and sit somewhere so he could get a good bit of it to come off. Then he could spend some time on his other fingernails that he painted. That sounded like a good and relaxing idea instead of taking this walk that he decided to go on.
It was supposed to help clear his head, at least that was what he read. Exercise was supposed to be a good thing for people who had anxiety. So far, Luke didn't take that to be true because all he could think about was picking at his nail polish.
Luke let one of his arms drop back down to his side while his other hand was brought over to his mouth, his fingers shakily tracing back and forth over his bottom lip, all while trying his best to keep his head up. He was afraid of making eye contact with anyone as he did this because once they looked at him they would notice his nails. Then they would think that he was a weird and probably make fun of him right after they came to that conclusion.
As he began rapidly thinking about that he felt his ears and face start to heat up, which he couldn't help but let out a small groan for because this little exercise was doing the exact opposite for him. He shouldn't be left alone with his thoughts.
He felt his pace picking up to move faster, to go to someplace where Luke felt safer. As he walked he began to chew at his nail, which helped cracking the nail polish off. He walked past a woman holding hands with her daughter, the small child looking over at Luke and then pointing over to him. He couldn't hear what she was telling her mother because his brain was buzzing with all the negativity he felt whenever he grew anxious. Luke just assumed that it must have been something about him, which only fueled the cruel cycle that was spinning around uncontrollably in his mind.
The first few benches that he noticed already had people sitting on them, and he would rather have one all to himself so people didn't stare at him while he picked at his fingernails. Surely, he could just sit on any bench and start at it, making whoever occupied the space with him to get up and leave. If he didn't find an empty bench soon he would just have to go with that plan. The hand at his side shook, fingers rapidly tapping at the side of his leg, as he became more apprehensive that his needs weren't being fulfilled fast enough.
Luckily, which was something that Luke ever thought he was, he was able to find an empty park bench. He slowed down his pace and sat down at it, his hands being hidden in his sleeves while a few people walked past him. He kept his head down, counting to himself as his eyes rolled up to watch the pairs of feet that walked by.
As he raised his head, he stopped when he noticed someone sitting across from him. The other boy wasn't close to Luke. He was sat under a tall tree on the other side of the park's path. Luke's fingers began to move within in his sleeves as he focused on the other boy, who was leaning his back against the tree and hitting his legs with something. From the distance, Luke couldn't make out what it was. He could barely see the other's face but when the other boy lifted his own head, Luke immediately ducked his down, hands coming back out from the sleeves so he could start on his therapeutic ritual of picking at his nails.
It took a few times, digging further each one, to get his nail underneath the polish. Once he had his first wash of satisfaction, the chips being the size of grains of sand, Luke's lips parted while he placed every ounce of concentration he had on getting the two layers of nail polish off of his fingernail. Luke learned from past experiences that he needed to have a clear coat over the colored ones because then they'd chip without him being the one to do it. He didn't like that because this was something he was supposed to have the control over. This was supposed to be his way of fighting through his anxiety.
Three green flakes had fallen on Luke's black jeans and Luke stopped picking at his thumbnail. With his index finger, he touched one of the flakes so it would stick to his fingertip. When he turned his hand over, his pointer finger being the only one up, he brought his hand closer to his mouth so he could study it. His eyes narrowed in on the green flake that was there. He took in a deep breath before letting out a sigh, his lips blowing out air onto the flake. It wouldn't budge and Luke knew that it wouldn't. It reminded him of his nervous energy. No matter how hard he tried, he'd be stuck in his anxious bubble.
He wiped his hand back down on his pants and turned his hand over again to see that the flake still hadn't removed itself from his skin. The only way he knew how to rid of it was to pick at it. The scratch from his nail picked it up and Luke felt a little bit better.
Then Luke couldn't help but to look out to see if that other boy was still there and if he still had his head up or not. Maybe he had watched Luke and Luke didn't even notice it. Now, he was going to be wondering that the entire time that he sat on the bench.
The other boy was still there, his motions done with, and Luke wondered what he was doing there. What had brought him to the same park that he was in? As far as Luke's curiosity with other people went was based around them thinking that something was wrong with him. That's what he thought with every new person he'd come across.
While Luke was thinking about that other boy from across the park, he was still chipping his nail polish away. He didn't even have to look down and watch himself do it, which he actually enjoyed doing.
Then as the other boy stood up and brushed himself off from being sat in the grass, Luke felt himself retreating back, slouching into the uncomfortable park bench. His lips closed into a thin line as the other boy began to walk towards Luke, instead of away from him. His body began to heat up again in that same way it had moments ago as Luke could finally see more of the other's features. He had light colored hair and wore a bandana around it. In his one hand he carried drumsticks.
When the boy noticed that Luke had been the one staring at him, he sent him a small smile and said a quick "hey" before turning and walking back towards the entrance of the park.
Luke had froze in that moment, not being able to say a simple word back. He felt himself starting to sweat under his jumper as soon as the boy stopped in front of him.
Before Luke went back to picking at his nail polish, while thinking he was a massive fool for how he reacted to the stranger, or how he didn't react rather, he did feel a smile of his own tugging at his lips. He couldn't think of a time he didn't have to smile by force to try and hide his nervousness. Just because he smiled now didn't mean that he wasn't nervous around the boy with the light hair, bandana, and drumsticks. He actually felt a bit petrified of him.
At that final thought of the other boy, Luke dropped his head back down and was able to pick off one entire hand's worth of fingernail polish. He closed his fist now that he had the bare nails and looked down to his jeans where most of the paint chips now were. As he stared at what he was able to accomplish, he felt himself begin to relax. Then he got up from the park bench and slowly walked back in the same direction the other boy had gone off in.
That was enough walking for one day.
YOU ARE READING
Chipped Nail Polish (Lashton)
Fanfiction[Short Story] Where Luke wears nail polish and picks at it when he's nervous to deal with his anxiety. Ashton happens to make him very anxious.
