Revolution || Lashton AU - boyxboy

f o r t y

So I didn't plan this chapter or anything in it one bit. I rediscovered a song called Home by Gabrielle Aplin (sidebar) and it kind of totally broke my heart in the best way, and then I wrote this chapter. I liked it; you'll probably all hate it, but I liked it. Anyways, here you go, Chapter Forty, hold onto it for dear life, because this story is ending rather soon. Got me all broken heart emoji.

Luke

The absolute, worst thing in the entirety of the world, is that sometimes, when you love someone, you have to break their heart.

And that's just the worst thing on either parts.

No one wants to break a heart and no one wants to have their heart broken.

I don't want to have my heart broken.

That's such a shitty thing.

And when someone you care about more than anything in the entire world breaks your heart right down the middle has got to compare to burning alive on some unbearable scale. Because when you love someone, you gotta lay all of your trust in them. And having your heart broken by them is a complete betrayal of your trust.

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that it was necessary.

Because your heart is never ever never on the same page as your brain.

Never.

And so you can tell yourself over and over and over that they didn't mean to hurt you, no matter how evident that fact may be, your heart will only continue to scream and cry and bleed and resist your arguments.

And soon enough the poison in your heart will seep into your brain, and you'll start to think all about how if they really loved you, they wouldn't break you like that. It's wrong, so wrong, though, because you shouldn't live life always trying to find someone to lay blame on.

Especially not when it comes to someone you care about.

You should never ever blame your own faults on someone you care about more than the sun and the moon and the air you breathe and infectious music and the trees and long naps and rainy days all combined. 'Cause when someone matters to you that much your mind should be doing everything it can to convince you that their perfect.

Which, really, they kind of are. It's not their fault you broke so easily over something that they didn't think and didn't want to break you. It's your fault for being so goddamn sensitive to the world, isn't it?

It is.

Blaming the fact that you can't withstand a bit of pain for someone you love on that very person is a sick thing to do and you're a filthy bastard if you do that, really, and you don't deserve to exchange a single breath with that person.

Then again, if we're going to go throwing the title 'filthy bastard' around, you might as well just call me Lucifer in the flesh.

I've never been a role model, anyways.

So really, isn't it my fault that waking up to a letter slipped under my door like this was all some cheesy 80s romance movie, totally and utterly and completely broke my heart?

The contents of the letter, at least.

(The 80s aura would have to be dealt with later; God did I hate anything to do with the 80s.)

It was all some big thing, where I rolled out of bed a few days later with a smile on my face and found the letter, read the messy chicken scratch across the lined paper stained with ink blotches where he held the pen down too long without writing, and began to decompose internally.