Uncontrollable (Punk Luke Hemmings)

Chapter 39

*Like the other chapter, full version will be on my tumblr here: http://shamelesshemmo.tumblr.com/post/88832797092/chapter-39-uncontrollable-a-punk-luke-hemmings-story and this is the edited version. Enjoy the last chapter before the epilogue!*

Luke's POV:

The bag at my feet, packed and ready to go across the world, is taunting me. Despite the anticipation coursing through my veins, I still feel empty. I had an entire future laid out in front of me, but I didn't have the one person I really wanted to spend any of it with.

Without really noticing, my hands clench of their own accord. The scabs across my knuckles tingle painfully, reminding me exactly why I feel so goddamn messed up.

Her face flashes through my mind, those goddamn eyes burning into me as I struggle to say the words she wants to hear. I know I loved her, why the fuck couldn't I have said it? I should have said it the second I saw her standing in the rain outside, looking as broken as I felt now.

Unconsciously my hand rubs my chest, right above where that goddamn tattoo I got for her is.

I got a tattoo for her, but I can't tell her I love her. Something is seriously fucked up here, and it's not her.

I ache to hit something, to feel the power in my arm, to feel the relief of beating the shit out of someone or something but I know it won't help. The only thing that'll solve this is 20 minutes away and probably hates me right now. I would hate me too.

Snorting, I grab my bag and haul it to my car. I'm so fucked up right now. I've already said goodbye to my mom, and was meeting the boys tomorrow, right now I just needed to do something. To drive. To get away. I gun the engine, shifting gears rapidly as I speed off down the street.

Not entirely sure where I'm going, I just follow the path of least resitance, blaring music to try to drive the thoughts of her out of my mind. What was so special about Andy? I'm all twisted and torn up over a breakup with a girl. Stopped at a red light, my fingers drum restlessly on the wheel, tapping along to whatever beats playing. And then the song changes, CDs switching. And of fucking course it had to be Mayday Parade that played next. For the rest of my life, this band would remind of the girl that changed it all for me. It's Oh Well, Oh Well playing, reminding me of one night at her house early in our fucked up relationship where I'd sat at her kitchen table and listened to her passionately sing along to this song as she attempted to make pancakes. They'd been awful, but sitting with her at 3 in the morning with what felt like our band playing the soundtrack to our time together, it didn't matter. What had mattered was the way she made me feel as if I wasn't some punk kid trying to make it big in a band, but like I was just Luke. The fact that she was going to be it for me, always, had become concrete in my mind as that song played. There was no one other than Andy I would ever want.

Just like that, tires are squealing and gears are shifting and horns are honked as I pull a very illegal move, cutting across traffic to turn around. I know I'm going way too fast but I don't really care anymore. I needed to see her.

Driving too fast and not giving a sidle damn, I pull into her apartment building in record time. I throw my door open, an insane energy and desperation coursing through me, causing me to race up the stairs, an electric buzzing ringing in my ears. If I was thinking rationally, I would realize that tomorrow I'm still leaving for America and that I shouldn't be baring right back into her life only to leave, but I can't stop myself.

My fists pounds on her door hard enough for the solid wood to rattle.

"Andy! I know you're in there, don't fuck with me right now, ANDY!" Even I can hear the desperation in my voice. It's loud and guttural and I would probably beat anybody who heard it up if they weren't her.