Not Fine at All (Luke Hemmings a.u.)

Chapter 3

A/N

I picture Matt as kind of a darker, grungier David Henrie. I don't know. It's just something about his eyes.

LUCEY'S POV

We tiptoed quietly into the silent house, Calum insisting on leading the way even though we both knew I could have gotten around on my own just as easily. It wasn't as if I had never been here before. Fortunately, Calum had not woken Luke up when he had been rushing around an hour before, so my anxiety was eased as this meant I was allowed to just head to the guest bedroom and get some much needed privacy, avoiding the inevitable until morning.

"I'll snag you some clothes out of my room so you can take a shower," Calum said in a hushed tone. "They'll be pretty big on you but there is no way you're staying in those wet clothes."

I just nodded, knowing there was no sense in objecting to his nurturing tendencies, then sat on the edge of the bed and waited patiently for him to return. 

My heart stopped for a moment when I heard a door open and some muffled conversation before Calum said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep, Luke."

I heard feet padding down the hall toward my room and Calum stepped in, carefully closing the door behind him. 

"That was a close one," he muttered, and I was sure I wasn't meant to hear it. 

He tossed a pile of clothes at me which I instantly recognized as his favorite gray sweats and a flannel. I guess he knew that even though it was uncomfortably hot outside, I would have trouble getting warm after what I'd gone through tonight. Calum was much wiser than most people gave him credit for. 

Sending him an appreciative smile, I held the clothes close and wandered back down the hall to the bathroom. I flicked the lights on without even having to look for the switch, just like I had done thousands of times before, and dropped my stuff on the floor so I could strip down. The tile was cold under my bare feet but I hardly noticed as the distinct smell of Luke's aftershave overwhelmed my senses. For a second, I forgot I had ever left. 

After ridding myself of all my clothing, I opened the left drawer by the sink in search of the hairbrush I knew the boys kept there, being particlarly mindful of their own hairstlyes, and began trying to tame my ratty mane. My hair was about three days dirty with my makeup badly smudged; I felt that I needed to apologize to Calum for finding me in such a disastrous state. I looked so dreadful I wasn't sure I would have got out of the car to help myself. 

Satisfied that I had done the best I could about my mess of hair, I let my eyes wander down to my right shoulder, where my nasty bruise was beginning to fade. I choked up at the sight of it and began feeling dizzy and sick. It was like I could feel his touch all over my body. Stumbling into the shower, I turned the water onto the hottest setting and went to work scrubbing every inch of exposed skin, trying desperately to rid myself of of the creepy feeling.

The tears had already begun falling again and I just stood under the water, letting it glide over every curve and crevice and wash away any speck of the agony I had just escaped. I reached for the shampoo, disregarding the musky male scent, and lathered it into my hair, striving to make myself completely clean. After I had rinsed my conditioner (again, thank god these boys cared so much about their hair) and washed my face, I turned the water off and reached for a towel.

I gently patted my face dry before wrapping it around my hair, only to chuckle at myself in the mirror as I took in the gaudy orange hue of the material. The boys had always just hung beach towels on the rack in the bathroom as they saw no sense in buying an extra set just to impress visitors, as if they had any visitors besides the others. It had always been a quirk that had annoyed me, but I was currently finding the recollection quite endearing. I scooped my clothes up off the floor and began tugging them on before hanging up the bright towel.