BADLANDS |cake|

Hold Me Down

it's actually been 10 years.

MERRY CHRISTMAS HAVE A GR8 DAY YALL ILYSM

I may or may not be posting something to ao3 today so keep ur eyes peeled! (If I get it done lmao)
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One punch. Another. Keep hitting, Calum.

The muscular young man is throwing punches at a punching bag, sweat dripping all over his body. He's got a fight coming up, and he cannot lose.

Calum would be fine with losing; he doesn't really care about glory and victory or whatever. He just needs a way to release emotions he keeps locked up.

He gets angry a lot. It's not healthy, but rage is an emotion that's rooted deep and runs wild.

It began when he was a teenager, when people kept leaving him. Calum's dad left because of his own selfishness. He shouldn't have mentioned the whole gay thing. How foolish.

Then he lost his mum to grief and his sister to college. He doesn't have any friends, except Michael, the guy who works at this gym. The red haired boy occasionally watches him train, gives him fighting tips.

Calum let all the loneliness, the anger, the sadness run to his fingertips. He found out early on that fists made him feel powerful, and punching pillows made him feel good.

One day, when Calum punched a wall, his mother became afraid of his violence, afraid he'd end up a mirror image of his father. So she started stowing him away in his room. He emerges for meals.

And at night, he sneaks out the back door, goes off to release anything he's got pent up.

At least, this was what the routine was, this was what he lived for for a long time. Until, he felt an emotion he didn't want to keep inside.

Calum changed for the better because of him.

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Luke was an ordinary twenty two year old.

He had just finished college, and had no clue what he was doing with his life now. So he worked a few odd jobs, trying to earn even the tiniest amount to make it by.

The blonde was fortunate enough to not live with his parents, although they would do anything for him in a heartbeat. He was lucky to have them, he loved them. But paying for your own rent is so much sweeter.

Expensive, yes. But still sweet.

However, Luke didn't really live an exciting life. He worked around the city from sunup to sundown, and spent quiet nights alone in his small apartment, drinking a bit of wine while watching the first shitty TV show that came on.

It was boring, lonely, and it often made Luke sad. But he wasn't good at putting himself out there. And by the time he gets home, he's worn out anyways.

And truly, Luke's lost all purpose. He's got no motivation. What even is the meaning of living?

He thinks these things late at night. Sometimes he cries himself to sleep about it. When he reveals all these emotions to his mother, she recommends that he sees a therapist.

So Luke does. The lady is nice and listens to everything he says. It's nice to have someone to confide in. It makes him feel better.

The therapist thinks Luke needs to drop a few jobs and get some hobbies. He quits working at the hectic grocery store, as he's never really liked it that much anyways, and takes up the guitar.

For a while, it works. Music is a great distraction for him. But then the elderly lady next door shouts at him to turn it down, and shut the fuck up. So Luke stops, because he doesn't like making people angry.