flipped :: lh [UNDER REVISION]

1o.cake

The Friday morning following the night of movies, lucky charms, and mumbled conversations at 2 am, is drowning in tension. Luke wakes up to the annoyed expression of Aries (who looks equally as tired as Luke feels) and Cheryl yelling at Calum about something Luke can’t quite make out. He’s tired after all, had stayed up till three in the morning with his arm bent in an awkward position beneath the weight of Aries’ back. She’s drifting back to sleep when Cheryl stomps angrily over towards them, her fingers curling against a black device Luke assumes is her phone.

Luke barely makes out the outlines of her figure: her hair is messily thrown together in a bun atop her head – she’s wearing her sweater, and she’s flaring out of anger, as well as commanding Luke to wake up. Her voice slick like venom, tone verging on hysterical and homicidal. Luke sits up quickly with a hushed groan, his arm tingling at the tips of each finger, and Aries is simply pulling the blankets over her head as if to block out whatever arguments has yet to come.

“Get out,” she states firmly. She has this urgency in her voice that frightens Luke a little, he’s not sure what went on between the hours of six and seven in the morning, but whatever it was has her riled up.

Luke is equal parts tired and confused but nonetheless answers, “What? But Calum –“ and he’s trying his best to enunciate each syllable, making sure he’s even talking in complete sentences but she cuts him off regardless.

“No Luke. Get out now.” By this point Cheryl has tears at the base of her eye line, and Calum is heaving a sigh from where he’s still standing. “Please,” she finishes, and Luke can’t find it in him to argue.

He stands up catching his balance as best he can in the current situation, his head is dizzy, and fog is still thick in the back of his thoughts. Calum retrieves his jacket, which is tossed absentmindedly against a reclining chair, he runs a hand through his hair lazily slow, dramatic even in each languid motion. Tired, and desperate to find whatever words are stuck in his throat – Luke can see it in the way he bites the inside of his cheek, even in the way he watches Cheryl’s every move.

Luke himself is ordering the turn of events in his mind, figuring out when the last time Cheryl and Calum had time to argue, he doesn’t recall much before Cheryl herself is glaring at Luke through weary eyes, her stare piercing and cold. (Luke tries to ignore the electric shock of pain that shoots through his arm when he reaches out to grab his bag. Also the rush of adrenaline that is desperately keeping him from falling over into a heap against pillows and blankets.)

There’s the awful silence that binds them in the moment, and Luke almost coughs just to break the eerily familiar silence that has befallen them. He doesn’t need to when Calum speaks up, his voice rough from the early hour, “Cher, please don’t be –“ but he doesn’t finish as Cheryl herself walks out of the room with one finger up in the air, explaining exactly what her words couldn’t.

The two boys gather their things, and Luke looks at Calum sympathetically but Calum doesn’t look back. Aries is still sleeping silently, her hair fanned out beneath her head. She doesn’t even seem to have an idea of what is happening. The door is opened for the two, and Luke sighs because even at whatever hour it is, it’s ridiculously humid – warm and sticky almost.

Calum’s truck is parked in the driveway, the red exterior fading into a dull brazen orange. There are a few birds chirping melodically back and forth, and even the sound of tree branches as they scrape the side a window somewhere are heard. It’s too early for talking so Luke only follows Calum as he unlocks the truck and sits inside, hands in his hair as he examines his keys – he’s all too interested in each one of them, they all look the same, but Calum acts like they’re the most fascinating things in the world.