The Worst Things in Life Come Free to us|L.R.H

13- broken ribs and broken hearts.

*Luke Pov*

"Whiskey Princess

Drink me under, pull me in

You had me at come over boy

I need a friend

I understand

Backseat serenade

Dizzy hurricane

Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone

You're salty like a summer day

Kiss the sweat away

To your radio"

the music explodes in my ears as i force the headphones to their maximum.

as i lay staring at the ceiling all i can think about is Tessa.

Tessa, tessa, sweet, beautiful, delicate Tessa.

she was like a breathe of fresh air.

when she arrived i was refreshed, for so long I've only ever been surrounded by people that try so desperately to be accepted, to fit in.

but not her, never her. because she doesn't care.

in so many ways that's great, but it's also terrible.

because the upfront it appears she doesn't care, everybody knows she does.

and everybody cares about her, but she doesn't even know.

she's so blinded by fear and crowded by her thoughts that she's oblivious to everything and to everyone.

i want so badly to lie down next to her. just to wrap my arms around her so maybe, then she'll finally notice i care, that i want her, and i'm willing to take down those concrete walls she's built around herself, even if it means crippling myself in the process.

not to fuck, like in those movies, not to even have sex, just to be together in the most innocent sense of phrase.

as i blink back the tears in my eyes and turn on my pillow, i think, if people were rain, i was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.

*

the door slams open and my eyes go wide as plates.

Rob walks in, tipsy on his feet, with a beer bottle in hand and an angry expression traced over his face.

i sigh.

here we go.

i take out my earphones and force my self to sit up.

there's a moment of silence, as if he was so drunk he had forgotten what he wanted to blame me for.

"bloody useless; absolute lazy ass," he begins to spit. "it's like you're trying to kill your mother! work her to the limit!" he yells, taking a step forward. "you're meant to be a good son. but you're shit, terrible, a worthless piece of trash, an ultimate waste of space,"

i'm so fucking done, i really, really, honestly am.

for so long now, I've tried to be brave, I've tried to suck it up because crying and moping does nothing and helps no one.

and i think I've finally been pushed to the end of my rag.

i violently jerk up to my feet and point a shaking finger at him.

"oh yeah? and what do you do, huh?" my voice breaks even though i'm not sad, i'm angry, so so angry and it's ready to rip me apart. "all you do is drink and blame me for your failures! you're nothing but a drunk prick!" i scream, and i don't care if other people here, because right now i feel my blood boiling as everything pours out of me.