EGL // lashton

thirty eight

It was late at night, everyone was probably asleep by now, but Luke was wide awake. His cheeks were stiff because of the dried tears, making them hurt along with his lips that were swollen from his teeth biting down on them violently.

His face was drained from color and his hands were shaking. His wrist hurt and even though he had cried for hours while cleaning it up, it was still bleeding.

And Luke regretted it all.

He felt so bad for doing this. He didn't mean to, he never did. He never wanted to go back to how he felt when he was younger, years ago when those sharp objects were like some kind of safety for him. He never touched them, maybe just once or twice, but they were there and they were a comfort.

Something to promise Luke that if he wanted to leave, he could.

But Luke didn't want to leave, he was just seeking comfort. A stinging comfort that created lines that released a dark red liquid that was so beautiful yet terrifying that Luke had to close his eyes to be able to continue.

He didn't want to, believe him, but he thought that it may let go of some regret and guilt he was carrying. It didn't, because now he felt like he was drowning in an ocean of regret and guilt, and it seems like he forgot how to swim. Because suddenly, he was slipping under the surface and he was drowning and he could barely breathe and he was sinking and he was terrified, but he thought the bottom of the sea was calming, so he stayed.

Luke wasn't actually drowning. He wasn't actually filling up his lungs with saltwater and he wasn't actually slowly sinking down to the deepest depths of the world, but it felt like it.

He was mad at himself for feeling like it. He should be happy, life had been so amazing and then suddenly everything just made a drastic turn and suddenly Luke was driving in full speed over to a wall built by the darkest souls of reality.

Luke was going to crash, if he hadn't already.

He just thought he deserved to punish himself after hearing Ashton's voicemail. It was all a message about life and death, and Luke knew it was all because of him, even though Ashton didn't really say it out loud. Ashton could have just said "This is all your fault, and I hope you understand that" and Luke would probably feel the same as he did now.

Because it was all Luke's fault, and no one could tell him different. Not even Ashton, because the older boy had already proven it was Luke who made him press a gun against his forehead and pull the trigger.

Maybe Luke should do the same? Maybe he should find a gun and hold it against his forehead to have his whole life flash in front of his eyes. Maybe that's eye opening, to have death so close you then realize you don't want it anymore.

Luke needed that, because now he wasn't sure if death was his best friend, or his worst enemy.

He didn't want to die, but it would be a relief if he did. He had caused enough trouble for everyone he knew and cared about in this city, and he couldn't fix it. He wanted to grow old to live and to love, but Ashton was right; we all live to die, so why delay it?

Luke shook his head and clenched his bloody fists while shaking his head. No, he did not want to die, because death wasn't even close to as beautiful as some described it.

He had read several novels about beautiful love between one fully living and one close to dying, and the authors made it seem so.. easy. But death isn't easy, and neither is it beautiful. You either die in seconds and leave everyone in shock, or you lie on a bed for days, weeks, or even years, and let people wait until you finally take that final breath.