Bookshelves - Luke Hemmings

1

I was pretty certain that the boiler was still broken and the water pressure was too high but, as the ice water smashed onto my back, I honestly could not have cared less. It was water, wasn't it? What did it matter if it was going to leave trails of icicles across my skin; it was water. It was cleansing and refreshing and not skin. My legs stung, but the possibly cold water hadn't caused it. In fact, I think it was soothing the ache in my bones (which should not have been the case, considering the cold causes a dull ache in the bones) and the stinging on my skin. Apparently, I'd scratched my legs raw until they'd bled, pooling the viscous red liquid around my feet at the shower's tiled floor.

The metallic shower head shot water at my skin, shocking my muscles into tensing suddenly. The possible coldness clawed at my limbs, but it was somehow making me feel a lot better than it should have been. My tears mixed with the water as my fingers gripped my hair and pulled, not at all softly, in frustration. It didn't even hurt. Was that normal? It was knotted and tangled and pretty much resembled my heart and what was running through my head at that moment. The fact that it was red only added to the irony of the situation. The blazing fire of my mind was just sat there, biding its time. It was waiting to destroy me like he had. It was waiting to smash up my bookshelf with an axe and watch it burn to the ground, in pieces. I didn't want to crumble and fall yet.

I dragged the soap across my skin in an attempt to wash off the bruising, but all it did was remind me of how soft he could be and how he held me. He'd hold me again in the morning and I'd get to experience his delicate kisses again, the kisses that I loved. The kisses that had left me in pieces on his bedroom floor. I hated myself for what had happened; I loved him, and I knew he loved me. I let my fist connect with the tiled wall, though I knew I'd be heavily questioned about the damage later, both from him and my best friend. It wasn't like my parents were ever going to notice, and my sister was too busy having illegal sex and smoking weed, anyway. What did they care?

My finger nails hurt and there were bruises forming on my ribs and thighs, and the water couldn't wash that away. The water would never wash anything away except the dirt, my blood, and the tears that stained me face. But I could pretend.

"Is the boiler working again?" My hair trailed down my back, soaking my shirt. I'd considered tying it up but hadn't been able to find the energy. I dragged a chair out from under the table, not really caring about the screeching sound or the scratches it was probably going to leave on the floor. Mum had stopped caring a while ago. "No, it's still dead." Pretty much half our house was dead. The lights had blown the week before. "Jade couldn't cope with it this morning. She went to your dad's for a bath." I shrugged my shoulders. I probably would have, too, if I'd have been able to actually feel the temperature. "Did you have a nice night at Kai's?" She was only trying to make discussion, but I wished she'd stop. My fingers trailed to my left wrist and started to scratch, only softly. "Yeah, we watched a couple of movies and ordered takeout." I wasn't going to tell her that we'd slept together but I was pretty sure she wasn't that stupid. She'd put me on birth control and let me stay at his house; she more or less had to have known what was going on. "Can I go to Luke's, please? He's practicing with the band tonight."

I didn't have to wait for her to say yes before I was halfway up the stairs, shirt off and hair in an (incredibly loose) braid, over my shoulder, soaking my arm. I didn't bother changing out of my sweats, knowing full well that he'd be wearing the exact same thing when I got there. I discarded my cookie monster shirt in a corner and swapped it out for a long sleeved Pierce The Veil tee, which I'd acquired at Soundwave this year. If I was going to look like a bogan, at least I looked like a bogan with decent taste in music.

"Did you know that elephants can't jump?" Was the first unexpected question that Luke Hemmings bombarded me with as I set foot into his bedroom. "Elephants? Why are we talking about elephants?" I half expected Calum or Michael (probably Michael) to jump out of a cupboard somewhere with a ukulele and break out into a song about elephants, but it didn't happen (much to my disgust. That definitely would have brightened up my day). "It's my fact of the day." I blinked at him and placed myself on his bed. Why this boy was my best friend, I had no clue, but he was and I loved him, so who really cared why? "Also, you look like a bogan." I rolled my eyes and threw a pillow at him, missing his head by about thirty kilometers. "A bogan with terrible aim."
"Well, at least I don't look like a baby." Which Luke most definitely did. He didn't have the chubby cheeks that Calum had, his dimples were not as deep as Ashton's, and his smile wasn't quite up to the cheeky standards of Michael's, but he had this strange sort of innocence about him (even thought he was the least innocent boy I knew - except Michael - and his jawline had some huge potential to become very important one day). "Amber, get over yourself. You're five feet tall... barely." He wasn't joking, either, much to my distaste. We got to being twelve years old and he started to grow without me. I kept my morbidly tiny feet and short frame and he shot up. Luckily, he kept his baby cheeks and fluffy hair. I actually looked how a sixteen year old should.

Ashton was the first to show up, cajón drum in hand. He was a half hour late, so Calum and Mikey had dug themselves into even bigger holes than Ashton already had. "Your mum let me in." He was the newest. He'd been with the band for quite some time, now, but he still wasn't really comfortable just walking straight on in. It wasn't like Liz minded. As long as your intentions were good (and Ashton was the most pure-hearted human being I'd ever come across), she didn't really have a care in the world. "Mate. just walk in next time. We've been telling you for weeks." He nodded, shyly, his dimples making an appearance. Who knew dimples could get so deep? He took a quick glance at my sweats and placed himself on the bed, just as a panting Calum came stumbling into the room. "Michael's gonna be late. Mali wouldn't drive us and I had to run and I-"
"Calm... You're over a half hour late, Cal. We figured."
"You alright, Calum?" I chuckled to myself. He must have bounded right past Liz and straight up the stairs without stopping to say hello or let her know that no one was dying. "Fine, thanks, Liz! Just a bit late!"
"Alright. Well, I'm going out. Michael's down here if you want him!"

A/N-- So was this even acceptable? I hope so!! This is my first shot at writing properly so any kinds of critique or help is definitely welcome!!