Harsh | Punk Luke Hemmings

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Song: Pretty When You Cry- Lana Del Rey

Luke

“Oh come on Andy, you have to admit it’s funny!” I exclaim. We were currently watching my favorite movie ever, Hot Rod. It was the funniest movie on this planet but Andy didn’t seem to agree. She was a bit crabby, so I didn’t want to push her too much, but I mean this comedy is pure gold. It was the stupid kind of funny, and I loved stupid funny.

“No it’s stupid.” She says and puts a little distance between us and curls up in a ball but still watches the screen. We had gotten but home this morning, from the park. We had spent another night in that damn open field of nothingness. It was an amazing night, on the contrary. We both had way too much to drink and I even sung her some Fall Out Boy. I don’t think I really knew what I was doing but she seemed to like it.

We both had a bit of a hangover, but I recovered fast. I had enough practice with hangovers in the past. Andy on the other hand, she was still taking it a little hard. She was saying how her head hurt, but she refused to take any medicine. I didn’t get it. She had been snappy with me all morning, and it’s now around four and she was giving me the silent treatment. She would just have a few comments here and there, but not a lot like she usually does and it was honestly making me sad. “But he literally dance-punched his anger out,” I said, speaking of the main character of the movie, Rod, “How epic is that?” I was only trying to lighten the mood.

She doesn’t say anything, she just faces the other way and puts her head in her knees, ignoring my comment. I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything. I watch the movie for another 20 of so minutes, sulking in the silence. It just wasn’t that fun without having someone to watch it with. Or I mean it just wasn’t as fun without Andy.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, and crawl over to her. She nods a little but doesn’t say anything. “Are you sure you don’t want some medicine? It’ll make you feel better.”

“No Luke, stop asking.” She snaps, I sigh in frustration. This is going nowhere, and it feels like I’m walking on fucking egg shells.

I pull on my hair a little, trying to think of ways that will make her feel better. “You not telling me what’s wrong isn’t going to help anything.” I say, probably making things worse, but silent treatment from her was torture and I couldn’t handle it. It was times like this where I wish I could control my anger, but I couldn’t.

She groans in pain. “Figure it out, why don’t you.” She adds. The thing about women was, even when they know what’s wrong and can tell you what the problem is, they don’t. It’s because they think it’s obvious to us, when it’s really not. I have had plenty experience, and I still have no fucking clue what there is to figure out. If she told me what was wrong, I’m sure I could be able to help in some sort of way.

 “I don’t know what there is to figure out, can you please just tell me?”

 “Luke, just leave me the fuck alone.” She snarls.

 “Not until you just tell me.” I add, I was being an ass right now, I knew that. I couldn’t help myself.

 She sighs, dramatically and then holds on the forehead. The huge sigh she made probably hurt her head even more, she lays down on the couch and curls up again. If I could just take away her pain, I would but there is no way to fucking do that unless she would tell me why she doesn’t want medicine or if there was something else wrong.

 “You’re being annoying.” She tells me.

 “I know.” I sigh and rub her back to comfort her. “I just hate seeing you like this, or whatever the fuck this even is.”