Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[10]

"Let us burn one from end to end, and pass it over to me, my friend."

- -

 Sloan

"Luke, I'm already having a pretty shitty day. I yelled at Alice, I yelled at the barista who dropped my coffee, I yelled at my TA because he forgot my essay. And since he's a fucking freshman, he just stood there shivering like a fish before running off—probably to cry in the bathroom. So, make it quick."

I hold my phone between my cheek and shoulder as I dig through my backpack for my keys.

A group of freshmen shuffles past me, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. They look lost, terrified, like the weight of their new reality is finally sinking in.

I do not miss that feeling. I need to be done with this place.

One girl, green eyes wide with curiosity, stares at me as I attempt to balance my books in one hand. When I grunt in frustration, she quickly averts her gaze. I finally find my keys and shove everything else back into my bag.

As I straighten up, I catch the green-eyed girl glancing at me again as she follows her group to the coffee cart. One look at my state, and she's probably even more terrified of college now.

Good. She should be. It sucks.

"I kind of regret calling now." Luke says.

"Why?" I ask, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.

I drop onto a nearby bench and rub the back of my neck. Three hours in a packed auditorium with zero movement has left me sore all over.

"Because I was gonna ask if you wanted to come get high with me and Calum."

I raise an eyebrow. "It's the middle of the day."

"We had nothing to do."

"Oh, poor you. Meanwhile, I got groped on the bus to campus." my voice is sharp, my fingers pressing against my temple.

Luke goes silent for a second. "What? Shit. I'm sorry." His voice lowers. "Fucking hell."

I sigh. "Don't apologize, Luke. It's not your fault. It's just this fucking day."

And patriarchy, sexism, and the objectification of women across the planet—but I keep that part to myself.

It's not Luke's fault the world is broken and hideous. It's not his fault some guy woke up today and decided to abuse his power. I just want to know whose fault it is. I need a name.

The world isn't a good enough answer anymore.

"Are you home?" I ask after a beat.

"Yeah."

"I'm on my way."

*

"You okay?" Luke asks as we walk into his living room.

I nod toward Calum, who's sprawled out on the plush cream carpet, his phone resting on his stomach, music playing softly from the speaker. His hair is a mess, his eyes only slightly bloodshot.

He sends me a kind smile—Luke must have told him about the bus incident.

"It's something I've gotten used to by now. Isn't that sad?" I mutter, pulling my knees to my chest.

Calum nods, saying nothing.

"It's always in the back of your mind. You know it won't be the last time, so you start feeling weary just existing outside on your own. Isn't it so fucking twisted? Knowing? And not being able to do anything about it?"