Dynasty Decapitated

My Thoughts Are Incomplete

((Title from Adderall by Max Frost ))

Luke is sat on the floor of the gym, one leg stretched out in front of him with the other tucked in. He reaches forward, wiggling his fingers, trying as hard as he can to reach his toes. The muscles in his thigh are still tight and there's an ache low in his stomach that burns through the majority of his chest. With a huff, he leans back again and rests on one hand behind him, holding the other in his lap. The cast on his wrist is pink and only has a very intricate doodle of Spider-Man and a realistic looking dick on it.

Luke glances up at Calum, who seems to be peeling the dead skin from around his burns. Luke makes a disgusted noise, so he drops his hands and looks over innocently.

"You're supposed to be helping me," Luke accuses. "That's gross!"

"I'm the gross one?" Calum gestures to a nearby garbage can that Luke had thrown up in twenty minutes earlier.

Luke waves his stiff, pink covered hand at him. "I had a lacerated stomach. I can't imagine I'm not going to vomit everywhere constantly. I am very injured."

"You did two push ups and then threw up," Calum reminds him. Luke waves him off again and looks back down at his feet. It's been three days since his surgery and they've determined that he has some form of advanced healing, it's just slower than anyone else's. He and Calum seem to be healing at the same rate, despite that Calum had grabbed a poisoned bullet and Luke had been smacked around with a big stick.

Regardless of the weapon, Calum's burns are nearly healed, enough so that he can hold things again and he doesn't have to have lobster claws for hands. Luke can walk and work out, but only to an extent as his lungs are still stitching back together and his ribs are slowly cracking back into place. Luke's tried taking up yoga but he's one move in and it's just not going well.

"Maybe I should see a masseuse," he suggests, glances back up at Calum. "My muscles are really tight and other smart words about anatomy."

"I don't- do you go to a massage artist for that?" Calum asks.

Luke doesn't like a single thing about that statement so he immediately tells Calum as much. "Why the fuck would you call a masseuse a massage artist? That's absolutely not the term, no, I hate that."

"I feel like that's the term," Calum places his hands on his hips like he's really considering it, then shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Luke replies immediately, without even thinking about it. "God, yes! Listen, I'm so glad I didn't get kidnapped with you, you really do say the stupidest shit, but at least I can get away from you. I'm stuck with Ashton for the rest of my fucking life."

Calum gives him a short glare, so Luke snaps his mouth shut.

"He's fine, okay?" Luke continues in a much softer tone as Calum starts picking at the dead skin on his hands again. "I don't- I can't explain it, but I can feel him and he's fine. He's upset about something and I don't know what, but he's fine. He misses us."

Calum doesn't look up again, just shakes his head. Luke sighs heavily and goes back to stretching out and trying to touch his toes. The muscles in his thigh pull tight and pinch at his nerves, but he goes lower and lower each time he presses forward, until he can touch the pads of his fingers to his ankle. He breathes out gently and sits back up to relax for a moment before starting on the next leg.

Calum slowly sits down next to him and watches for a while, but he eventually loses patience and says, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Luke grunts as he lunges forward and taps his left shin with his arm cast.