Disconnected ; Lashton

25. Disengage

I straighten my shirt out for the millionth time and sigh. No matter how many times I try to fix it, I just look stupid in this dumb button-up. The only reason I’m wearing it in the first place is because I have somewhere important to be today, and I need to make a good first impression. Is it even worth it, though? What good is it if I’m just uncomfortable and insecure the entire time? I guess the uncomfortable part can be solved- the insecure part, not so much. That’s kind of stuck with me no matter what shirt I’m in.

I groan and start unbuttoning the tight-fitting neck, giving up on the shirt completely. It’s just Thanksgiving, it can’t be that formal, right? As long as I wear something plain and clean I won’t stand out, I think? I opt for a pair of black skinny jeans with no rips or zippers or anything, as well as an equally boring simple black long-sleeve.

I’ve been a ball of nervous energy ever since Ashton invited me to his house for Thanksgiving. Apparently, it's a whole thing for his family- his mum will be there, aunts and uncles, grandparents, children, the nine yards. I feel a little bit of ease knowing that Michael and Calum and a few of their family members will be joining as well. Maybe I can use them as human shields if all hell breaks loose.

I could really use a nice car ride with Ashton right now, but since my mum is invited too, she’s going to drive us there instead. I fix my hair in the bathroom with shaking hands and eye my lip ring. Should I take it out for this? I don’t know what Ashtons extended family thinks about piercings and I want them to like me. Then again, if they dislike me because of a piercing, I probably shouldn't care about their opinion in the first place. I decide to leave it in and exit the bathroom before I can change my mind. No more staring in mirrors today, I’ll probably puke from the anxiety it's giving me.

Not looking in a mirror somehow gives me just as much anxiety, though. I can’t help it, I catch my reflection in the mirror in the hallway and start staring again. I huff at my appearance. I don’t even know what the problem is but I hate what I see today. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was over hating my appearance, but apparently not. Well, maybe I am a little, but not completely. It’s not that I find myself ugly, it’s just… it’s hard to explain. The only thing I can think of when I look at myself is if I look like a girl or not. My mum always assures me that I don’t, but she's my mum! Of course she’s going to say that.

If I step into Ashtons house and one of his aunts calls me a beautiful young lady I might punch her in the face- or cry- or both, actually. At the same time. Maybe I’ll pass out too. Triple threat.

“Luke, honey, are you ready to go? It’s nearly time, we don’t want to be late.” My mum calls from down the hall. I walk to her side and nod to tell her I’m ready. I’ve been ready to get this over with since, like, five this morning when I woke up in a cold sweat. Nightmares seem to find me when I’m the most stressed out. I wring my shirt in my hands but drop it and frantically try to flatten it out when I realize that I’m wrinkling it.

“Nervous to meet your boyfriends family?” My mum asks teasingly. I roll my eyes but nod again because, yes, I am.

I curse my stupid brain in the car ride to Ashtons house. I should be excited about this, but because I’m so afraid of people- afraid of everything- I’m too nervous to be excited. I want to be excited! I sort of wish Thanksgiving was just Ashton, Calum, Michael, and our mums. Lauren and Harry, too. That would be perfect. I just don’t like meeting new people. I’m not any good at it. I’m not any good at anything.

The back of my throat feels so dry as we approach the Irwin household. There are way too many cars parked out front and I know it means way too many new faces, new names, new sets of eyes I’m expected to look in. I feel my heart sink because I recognize the dryness in my throat. That scratching, pulling, desert-dry sensation. The urge. The dryness that comes with that urge- the urge to hurt. With any stressing, high-anxiety situation, it follows me. Normal people don't deal with inconveniences by hurting themselves. I’m trying to be normal, I’m trying so hard and I haven't made any mistakes since that day with Ashton but I don’t know how long I can keep going.