panic ♡ muke

6 | there's angels in the airwaves tonight.

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ATTN: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING EVENTS WHICH ARE CLEARLY MARKED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND BE SAFE, MY LOVES.

This is for all the moments when your weakness is your cloak,

And people you love most just beat you to a pulp.

When you cut open your wrist looking for loving and slits,

But find nothing but self hate because nothing else exists.

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Luke's POV

I still remember the day it all started - just like it was yesterday.

I never used to get these panic attacks, believe it or not, and they weren't nearly this intense when they first began. Normally people don't have them unless something traumatic triggers this sort of reaction in the brain. It's scary the way biochemistry can literally control every aspect of your life and there's nothing you can do about it.

When I was five years old, I was introduced to Damon Facciano. My father had just moved my mom and I and my two older brothers to Sydney for his new job as an architect, and Damon was the eight year-old boy with jet-black hair and bright green eyes who lived next door. We used to have a ton of fun together since he had two older sisters and I two older brothers, and often found ourselves playing games of Cops & Robbers and Hide & Seek within the massive plots of forest behind our house - sometimes into the wee hours of the night as we got older. I can't count the number of times I was grounded for sneaking out with Damon past curfew. Not that it mattered to me...I'd sneak out during groundings too.

As we grew older, Damon grew...different. He started dabbling into drugs and heavy drinking, and he was always skipping school or breaking some kind of law. I wasn't really into the whole delinquent thing but Damon was my best friend, and with his age came his enchanting good looks. He was tall and mysterious, his hair dark and his eyes brighter than ever. He had a deep, soft voice and the kind of smile that you had to earn. He kept most of himself hidden away from me when we were in our early teens. I always felt like I was chipping away at the surface but could never get past it. Throw in  the fact that I was an incredibly awkward and shy teenager who'd just discovered I'm a flaming homosexual, and you've found yourself the most mismatched couple in our school.

I was fifteen years old when our dynamic changed. Damon was eighteen now and had been acting differently toward me for the last few months. He'd been flirty, and almost a little shy, dare I say. He'd started staying closer to me than a friend would, and began pulling me into his lap during our video game fests and Netflix marathons. He would always tell me what "pretty boy" I was, too. That was Damon's thing...calling me pretty. I liked it in the beginning. It made me feel beautiful and wanted, and like I was worth something. Damon knew what he did to me...I know he did, otherwise things wouldn't have turned out the way that they did.

After about two months of this strange behaviour, Damon finally kissed me and asked me to be his boyfriend. I said yes immediately, even tearing up a little at the way he'd asked me. He'd set up a little picnic in our favourite park and surrounded it with candles. It was lovely, but everything was lovely in the beginning. Was.

It was the night before my sixteenth birthday and about six months after Damon and I had began dating. I was out with Calum and Michael, who at the time were two of my newest but closest friends. We were jamming in Michael's basement, eating and drinking a few beers and enjoying each other's company. This was a normal weekend thing for us now since we always had a good time together and were even thinking about starting a band sometime soon once we found a drummer.