enemies (with benefits) » l.r.h || completed

thirty two

Brian

It's been awhile since I fully enjoyed myself; sitting in my room with no homework to complete, no essays to stress over, all of my tests were taken. Now, I could lay freely in my bed in my underwear as I smoked a cigarette while Imagine Dragons played softly through the speakers. It was probably the greatest time of my life until someone burst through my door and jumped on my bed.

"Brian!" Luke sat on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

"Dude," I grunted, squeezing my eyes shut. "couldn't you have knocked so I could put pants on?"

"Nah, I've already seen you naked and I still don't find you attractive," he swung his feet and the motions made him weigh down on my stomach even more.

"What do you possibly need?" I breathed, trying to shove him off.

"There's a baseball game you promised to go see with me, remember?" He moved off of me and onto my bed. I pulled the pants I had lying on the floor on and rummaged through my drawers for a (semi)clean shirt.

"That's tomorrow," I informed him, pulling the shirt over my head. I looked down at it and realized it actually wasn't mine.

"How'd you get my shirt?" Luke pointed. "That's my favorite one." My eyebrows furrowed, attempting to think back to how I had gotten it in the first place. I owned a lot of similar-looking black shirts. Maybe I had picked it up, thinking it was mine, when I spent the night at Luke's.

"I have no clue," I pulled it off and chucked it at him, pulling out another shirt. "anyway, since when are you pumped for baseball? You've never played or seen a single game."

"It gives me something to do," he fell back onto my bed. "Vanessa is going on vacation to Florida for the week so I have no one to be with." My face must've contorted or something because Luke's eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"It seems you only hang out with me when you can't be with Vanessa," I pulled on socks then grabbed another cigarette, lighting it quickly.

"That's not true," he said carefully. He watched me take a puff and exhale the smoke. I rubbed the back of my neck and shrugged.

"It seems like it is. And, not to sound like a bitch, but it sort of sucks."

"Brian, I hung out with you just the other day," Luke defended.

"Because just the other day, Vanessa wasn't available to spend time with you," I looked over at him, knocking the end of my cigarette as ashes fell into the tray. His entire face frowned; his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, everything just frowned. Oh God. His face only gets like that when he's about to cry.

"I-" he wiped his eye, even though it was dry. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I did that." His voice creaked. "I don't mean to."

"Luke. . ." I sighed, rubbing my face and sticking the cigarette between my lips, letting it set there.

"No, you're right," he sniffed, making me look at him. His eyes shined more than they normally do. But not with the natural sparkle of happiness, but with the artificial sparkle of depression as tears fell down his face. "and I'm sorry for crying. I've been emotionally unstable since I found out Vanessa cheated on me and I cried far too much when I didn't want to that it just happens." I shook my head, taking my cigarette and putting it out. I wasn't even halfway done with it.

"It's okay. I'm getting pretty sensitive, too," he wiped his face with his arm, looking down at the ground. "listen, I'm still going to that baseball game with you tomorrow." He nodded. "Wanna stay here tonight?"

"If it isn't a bother."

"You know it isn't," I shoved my hands in my pockets. He nodded once, still looking at my floor as his picked at his fingers. "hey, don't do that. You'll get blood everywhere."

"Sorry, you know it's a habit," Luke sighed and fell back on my bed again, folding his hands on his stomach. I walked over and sat down next to him, examining his fingers. They were destroyed.

"Dude, what have you done?" I picked up his wrist and looked at each finger; scabbed skin, freshly opened skin, dried blood, hang nails and skin. I think one was infected based on how purple it was. I squeezed it and he jerked his hand back.

"Owh?" He raised his eyebrows and held his finger in his fist. "Why did you do that?"

"Because it's purple, Luke. Your finger is infected. What has made you so nervous?" He shrugged, looking at his finger and his face scrunched up.

"Gross," he held it to my face and I gagged, shoving it away.

"Go to the bathroom, squeeze it as much as you can, then wash it. I'm getting you rubbing alcohol and a band-aid," we both got up, him to my bathroom, me to the hall and getting rubbing alcohol, Neosporin, and a band-aid.

"Brian!" Luke called, his voice faltering.

"What?" I called back, going back to to the bathroom. I looked at his finger, now less purple, but still disgusting. "Dude, you have not even the slightest clue how terrible that is." He washed his hands and dried them. I poured the alcohol on his finger and he flinched.

"Owh," he muttered. I handed him the Neosporin and band-aid.

"Stop doing that. That's one of the worst habits to have."

"Ironic, coming from you," he smiled, patching up his finger.

"Do you see my finger turning purple?" He shook his head, still smiling. "Exactly. Now, stop it." I smacked his hand, then his face.

"What was that for?" He pouted, rubbing his cheek.

"Because you're stupid," I went back to my room, getting my shoes and a jacket. "come on, I want a sandwich."

"Jersey's?" He followed me out, playing with the bandage. I nodded. "Want me to drive?"

"Are you in a decent mental state to drive?" I grinned. Luke punched me in the arm, rolling his eyes.

"I'm in perfect mental state. Asshole," he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed downstairs. I sighed and followed him down.

"Brian, pick up milk!" Was the last thing I heard from my mom before closing the door behind me.

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