Luke was the sort of tired that sleep couldn't fix.
He was huddled up in the darkness on his bed, curled up on his side as tears rolled down his cheeks. His wrists were stinging painfully and sticking to the tissues he had hastily wrapped around them. Red blood bloomed on the white of the tissues like roses and Luke's heart ached.
He was just so tired. It almost didn't seem worth fighting anymore.
His parents were going through a rough patch at the moment and the fighting was wearing him down, and Ben and Jack were relentless in their mission to make Luke feel about that fucking small. Luke got the shit ripped out of him at school and he didn't even know why, and he was fucking tired of it.
He was so fucking tired.
