✔ Run Baby Run ✖ punk hood au

xxxiii - father of the year

g w e n:

Academics were always important to me. I was raised in a household where education was of utmost importance. Both my parents were university graduates - my dad also holding a Master's degree. From an early age, I excelled in my studies. I always worked hard for my perfect GPA because I knew that doing well now would reward me later.

But Calum was the perfect distraction.

There wasn't a television show, movie, video game, or ice cream flavor that could distract me harder than the dark-haired bad boy I was so deeply fond of. With Calum around, studying for final exams, reading novels, or writing term papers was impossible. So we needed a break. Nothing ridiculously serious, just a small hiatus so I could catch up on my school work.

My head was down, eyes darting back and forth between my Literature textbook and the laptop on my desk. Relaxing, classical music hummed through my speakers on low volume, and an apple pie scented candle burned nearby, to keep me from going absolutely insane. As I carefully crafted a well-written term paper for class, the reality outside of the four white walls of my room slowly came into play.

There was a clamorous crash, and moments after I heard a scream. I lifted my eyes from the text before me, to the door and waited in silence for any other sudden sound. Then before I could wave it away something normal, I heard another high-pitched scream.

"Help!"

I stood up and ran to my door in rapid speed. My fingers latched onto the knob and after turning it, I cranked open the door with such force that it banged against the adjacent wall. The yelling was less muffled as I followed them down the hallway and down the stairs.

"Luke, son," Mr. Hemmings was calm, as opposed to the tornado of emotions and tears Mrs. Hemmings was in.

I approached the scene, both Hemmings hovering above Luke who was lying on the couch. I observed the area around them, noticing several shards of glass splattered against the kitchen tile. That's probably where the crash came from.

"What's going on? Is Luke alright?" I asked in a haste, stepping up to take a peer at the boy who clutched onto his inhaler like his last taste of oxygen were inside.

"He suddenly passed out," Mr. Hemmings informed, calmness still radiating around him. Mrs. Hemmings held onto her son with care, rubbing his shoulders as Luke took deep breaths into his inhaler.

"What? Why? How?" I wasn't exactly sure what questions to ask, nor did I know how to ask them, so my mouth just spat out random words hoping Mr. Hemmings could understand the blabber.

"I think he's just stressed," Mr. Hemmings concluded, "with the school term almost being up, and Luke's last year in high school," Mr. Hemmings turned from me, back to his son, "you're okay Luke. Deep breaths in, son."

I took this time to gaze at Luke - a boy, that even though his bedroom was across from mine, I rarely saw him. I've been cooped up in my own room for ages that I almost forgot what the daylight looked like. I barely even saw him at school, and when I did, it seemed like Luke was always in a rush.

My eyes stayed planted on Luke, noticing that he was paler than ever. He had deep, dark bags beneath his eyes, and there was a touch of worry that seemed to coat his skin like thick lotion. I felt guilty - utterly and completely guilty for leaving my friend on the back burner. I neglected Luke instead of taking the time to check up on him. I highly doubted he was stressed about school, and I was for sure that his anxiety was rooted from the same reason why Calum tended to be on edge: Fiora.