Chapter 2

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Chapter 2: Luke

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Movie time

didn't go

very

well

+

"DEAR LORD THE HOLY SPIRIT GOD AND BUDDHAS SECOND COUSIN" I yell at the screen, jumping.

"Holy shit.." he gapes.

"Ew, Mikey why would someone do that!" I yell, afraid, burying my face in the crook of his neck to avoid the blood thirsty man on the screen.

"It's called 'Mentally ill people molesting someone because they are lonely bitches'" he laughs "and it's great entertainment for people who understand the concept that it's just an actor playing a role that he was told to d-holy shit thats pretty bad." He laughs again, squeezing my shoulder.

He agreed that I must, surely, be mature enough to watch one of his shit scary horrors which, can I just say, I hate. Hater af judge me I don't care.

"Luke, are you okay?" He does one of his giggle things, where his neck pops outwards and one side o his mouth raises higher than the other, "you look like you've just had an unexpected spasm attack"

I start twitching and shaking and he was practically pissing himself with laughter.

"LOOK EVERYONE ITS LUKEY" he yells at nobody in particular.

I poke him, "I don't know, I just don't understand the pleasure of watching people die."

"Yes, I guess the pleasure of death is evident, but thats not the reason. Its weird, I don't know? I suppose its the action in which they must perform to actually determine their fate." He says, not taking his eyes off the tv. "The pleasure of death is the impulse of power pounding through your body like a second heartbeat, knowing that you have total power over life and death, well, the character who is going to kill them does. But fantasising the sensation is what does it for me. Its like if I see a girl waiting at the edge of a platform for her train: I could just kill her with a simple nudge. Or I could have stabbed you this morning when we were in the kitchen this morning. Yeah and don't think I wouldn't, just because you're cute doesn't mean you have control. I sound like a serial killer now - thanks a heap you fucking cock block retard"

I just shrug. He feels so warm, like on a cold night how I sometimes curl up next to the radiator or just rest my fingers on the top and just be like 'I feel like I have the right to die now I am so content and happy with my life!'.

HoLY ShiT.

HE DID FUCKING NOT OHMYGOD NOEWEWEEWWWWW.

HE FUCKING

OH MY GOD HE CUT THE DICK OFF

HE CUT IT OFF

AND OH MY GOD THE DEEK IS RESTRICTED YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO CUT IT OFF YOU GROSS SON OF A-

"Luke? Are you okay?" he says nudging me. He pulls the navy blanket up so his bare chest is covered.

Do I look like I'm fucking okay?

"D'ya want me to switch it off?" he says, repeating his tone,"because if your punk ass pussy is too scared I will turn this shit off "

"I just.." I trailed off, thinking about how he called me a pussy--rather insulting for a gay guy.

"I'll turn it off then..?" He searches for the remote, blindly, with his hand and stops when he accidentally touches my.. *cough* wow is it just me or

penis

I nod my head (a bit more viciously than I intended to but okay its called enthusiasm). And maybe I have a boner.

He pulls himself upwards towards the tv so he can switch it off by the button on the left of the tv but then sinks back into the sofa under my ridiculous weight.

"Luke, can I just get the remote please? I can't carry you babe" he huffs.

I pull myself off him reluctantly.

I clamp my eyes shut and wait for the screams of someone being skinned alive to stop. When they do I sprint over to him and fling my arms around his neck, burying my face into his sweet smelling shirt.

"It's okay, haha, you really are scared - well I'd call it wimpyness but I won't judge" he laughs, rubbing my back lightly with one hand. He places the other hand on the back of my head and strokes my hair, his actions softer than his words.

I pull my face back and look at him. I fall in love with him every single day.

"Luke, have you literally just lost the ability to talk?" he smiles reassuringly.

I just grunt. He guides me upstairs into our room and lets go of my hand.

I look around the room, seeing all the posters messily thrown on the walls - there's so many, you can only see a hint of whiteness peeking out from the empty spaces between some of them.

I walk past the desk, with the computer and shit, and to the bed in the middle of the room, up against the wall parallel to the door.

"Sorry, cunt, Im not great with horror" I finally say, getting up and pecking his lips.

"IT SPEAKS!" he screams choking with laughter.

I grab my pillow and hurl it towards him and he ducks literally a second before it hits him.

"ITS. NOT. FUNNY." I yell "what kind of sicko thinks this stuff up, anyway?! Like, ouchies"

He just stands there and laughs hysterically, clutching his stomach.

"Who's the bitch who can't talk now?"

We laugh as he pulls me into bed and fucks me in the butt.

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GUYS THAT DIDNT HAPPEN

Okay, so, sorry for the long wait because I cant get on Wattpad very much because my phone is a bitch and anyway, I hope you like this (very short) chapter

Loadsa luv💕

~DerpDirection xox

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