Imagines and One-Shots (Book Two)

Broken Boy Meets Broken Girl (Luke Hemmings) - Part 1 *

Trigger warnings: Mentions of depression, attempted suicide

~

The last place anyone expected Luke Hemmings to end up was a rehab center. The band was in the middle of a tour when news broke that the singer was being admitted into a treatment facility as a result of depression and random spouts of rage. No one even realized anything was wrong until he lashed out at his bandmates, his tour manager ultimately deciding that the best thing at that point was to cancel the rest of the shows and send him home to get help.

He'd been there for a couple months now – attending group therapy every Tuesday as well as seeing the therapist one-on-one every Monday and Thursday. And that was how he met you.

You'd been there for longer than he had – finding yourself in rehab six months ago for what? Luke didn't know; All Luke knew was that you annoyed him beyond the point he thought his patience could go.

You would sit quietly in the Tuesday evening group sessions, only really talking when someone asked you a direct question. When Jessa, everybody in the group's therapist, asked you how you were feeling, you would answer with the same response every single time: a small, barely even audible 'I'm good'.

And it ticked Luke off to ends of the earth.

~

It was yet another Tuesday in the hellhole that was group therapy sessions. Everybody was already there by the time Luke sauntered into the room, making Jessa perk up in her chair.

"Everyone's here!" she smiled as he sat down in his usual chair across the circle from you, "Let's get started, shall we?"

She did her usual spiel – thanking everybody for coming and reminding them that they were free to get up and get snacks and drinks from the table off to the side as they pleased – before she got into the routine of asking how everyone was. She did this every week – picking person after person to ask about their feelings. Some people's answers depended on the day they'd had leading up to the meeting, but one person's answer always remained the same: yours.

"How are you today, Y/N?" Jessa asked, looking to where you were sitting a couple people away from her.

"I'm good," you said softly, your eyes never leaving the toe of your shoe.

"Just good?"

"Just good," you barely nodded.

"Okay," she sighed – she never quite understood why you were so talkative in your one-on-one sessions with her and not in group ones – but she pressed on anyway. "How about you, Luke?" she asked the blonde across the circle.

"I'm good," he copied your response.

You didn't look at him, but he did notice your throat move slightly as you swallowed. You silently got up, walking toward the door.

"Where are you going, Y/N?" Jessa asked when she noticed you get up from your seat.

"Bathroom," you murmured, quickly turning the corner. Luke got up as well, causing Jessa to sigh again.

"Where are you going, Luke?"

"Same," he answered harshly, hearing her sigh a little louder that time but allowing him to leave the room anyway.

Luke walked out of the room and went in the direction you'd gone in. He caught a glimpse of you rounding the last corner, but you hadn't turned toward where the bathrooms were. He cocked an eyebrow as he followed you quietly, waiting until you were about to close a door behind you before running to it so he could catch it before you locked it.

He heard you squeak in surprise as he slipped through the opening right before the door closed. You tried to leave the room, but Luke pressed his palm to the wood and forced it shut.

"This doesn't look like the bathroom," he stated as you huffed.

"What was your first clue?" you grumbled, looking up at him and narrowing your eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" he ignored the question.

"I enjoy being alone," you replied, "Is that a crime?"

"You can only tell people you've gone to group therapy if you stay in the group."

"Why would I tell people I've gone to group therapy?"

"Why not?"

"You know what? Maybe it's just because you're famous and you'd rather tell people than have them find you coming out of this building, but some of us would rather try to forget we have to come here," you spat back.

"And why do you have to come here?" Luke returned, "Every single time Jessa asks you how you're doing, you say you're 'good'. Well, if you're so fucking good, why do you have to be here?"

"It's real rich that you think I'm gonna spill my guts to a person who openly mocks me every week instead of a therapist," you let out a dry laugh, "That's pure gold right there; You should consider becoming a comedian."

"'Good' people don't need therapy, Y/N," he reminded you, taking his hand off of the door, "So why don't you either start talking about how you're feeling or stop wasting everyone's time by showing up to these things with the same fucking 'I'm good' speech every fucking week?"

"Why don't you fuck off?" you suggested, shoving him away from the door so you could open it and leave.

You ran out into the hallway – Luke immediately following. You were too fast that time, however, because when he turned the corner you'd taken, you were nowhere to be found.

~

i know this is pretty short but the next part will be much better, i promise. also please please please read the imagine that inspired this one bc it's so good

i hope you all enjoy this little miniseries because i'm really proud of it and i hope you are too

inspiration: https://ever-since-kiwi.tumblr.com/post/162240885176/the-train-part-three