Hazel Eyes | Lashton

Chapter Eleven

"You're too mean, I don't like you. Fuck you anyway. you make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs. It hurts but I won't fight you, you suck anyway. You make me wanna die."-Afraid(The NBHD)

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"Mom?"

Liz Hemmings gives her son a cold look before it's melted off her face with a warm smile.

"Honey! That's no way to treat your mother after not seeing her for so long." Her voice is as smooth as chocolate, sweet as sugar, but there's something hidden behind the sugary facade she's putting on.

"How did you find me?" Luke has millions of questions floating around in his head and mushing together. To be honest, he's terrified and trying to stop his shaking body from shaking-hunching himself down where he's tiny and unseen.

It doesn't seem to be working.

Liz coos, still placed on the couch, "You didn't think you could hide forever, did you?" The once warm smile is replaced with one that's menacing, causing Luke to cower away.

"I didn't think you'd find me so soon." He admits, barely over a whisper. Of course, with her motherly super-hearing, Liz hears and stands up, laughing.

"Aw, how cute. Baby Lukey though he could hide from mommy in the big city." Her voice takes on a teasing tone, and Luke flinches away from her. Visions of the last time this happened whirl through his mind causing him to squeeze his eyes close.

"Please, don't," Luke gasps once her manicured hand grabs on his arm, "Don't hurt me again. I'm sorry! Please I was getting better!"

It was true, he really was getting better. From the visits with Ashton and Harlow to taking photos in the city he loves. The dark thoughts clouding his didn't have time to be heard in between the laughs, shameless flirting, and camera clicks. He was finally happy (or the closest thing to happy he's felt in years). He was ever three days clean. It wasn't much but it was a damn good start opposed to opening his skin two to three times a day.

Most of all, he was slowly but surely falling in love.

He knew he wasn't-well not yet anyway-but he did defiantly have a liking towards a certain flower child.

His mother, Liz, standing in his living room was a big wake up call that no, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be happy.

"Stand up Lucas. I won't hurt you." Not with Calum a room over who's eavesdropping. Luke feebly nods and straightens himself out. His arms are wrapped loosely around himself, his eyes cast downwards in fear.

"Y-you said that l-last time." Why the fuck would you say that, dumbass? Do you want to die that badly?

Liz's hold on his arms tightens and her other grips his shoulder with more strength then Luke knew she had. Her sharp manicured nails dig into the soft flesh of Luke's skin. Luke lets out a cry of pain before biting the inside of his cheek, silencing himself; he doesn't want Calum to worry. He wants to cry-god how he wants to let the tears stream down his face with all the pent-up emotions he's held in for weeks, months, years-but he can't, won't, let his mother have that satisfaction. Never.