Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

31.2 - good ultimatum

A/N: I'm not very pleased with this chapter. And I'm kind of scared that you won't be either. I don't know why I'm not happy with it, maybe I wasn't in the mood (although I wrote it like 4 days, bit by bit), or maybe because this is about Luke and Devon and it feels kind of foreign (but the previous chapter involving Devon weren't foreign or stange at all).

Anyways, I really do hope you like it, at least one sentence. 

Shoutout to derickamishae and acel84 - thank you for being such quick reader and voting!! AND ALL THE REST OF YOU - OVER 400 COMMENTS ON THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER - WTF!!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU GUYS. YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY ALL THE TIME!!! (also, what do you mean 38K reads and over 2.5K votes, amazing!!) Best of luck to you and - 

Happy reading x)

Chapter 31.2 – good ultimatum

I'm the last one to go. And I tell Greg that he's welcome to come see the play. "Should I bring you flowers?" he asks, and when he says it, he's not Greg the bad guy, but someone like us delinquents.

"Surprise me," I reply nonchalantly and give vague gesture. "Hey, did you ever go to anger management as–" I trail off.

He smiles. "Sort of."

"Cool," I say as I fiddle with the keys. "Don't give up on the bad ones. Not even those like Mickey." Even though Mickey is a major douche.

He gives a nod. "Don't worry. He's going to someplace he can't wreak such havoc."

"But not here?" I raise my eyebrow.

"No, not here. Have a safe drive," Greg says. "Bye, Lucas."

I drag my feet to my car and get it – my dear piece of junk of a car that I brought Devon here with. I wish it smelled like him, but it doesn't. Gives me all the more reason to go and find him, though. And spend a quiet evening maybe on some kind of rooftop, glancing at the setting sun, and later staring at the stars. No midnight swims. We can just take our shirts off.

I look at my phone, it's almost five. It was sunny before, but now the weather matches my mood – all grey and dull. Yeah, no point in watching the sunset when there's no sun.

The gas station is empty except one blue car. I go to the drinks and take three beers, one for Sam and two for me, and then add some granola bars – snacks for later when I just need to bite into something in anger. Eileen taught me that trick, and I know I should buy carrots or maybe beef jerky – foods that you can only eat angrily, but instead I go for something sweet and bad for the health. I guess I've always been a sucker for sweet things. Thankfully all sweet things are attracted to the bad ones. But now that things have changed, which am I – am I bad or good? Am I sweet?

I drive past my house. My father is home, I see the TV playing. And he's the reason I don't enter the house, but instead head for Sam's place immediately.

The first thing I do is throw my clothes into the washer. I place my hands on the lid and lower my head. It was one hell of a time I had in anger management. Now it's just hell. But that's okay. Tomorrow I'll go see how my baby has been doing (and this time I don't mean Devon, I mean the play).

I hear footsteps, but don't move. Perhaps calming breaths will help me get over this nauseating feeling in my stomach and in my brain.

"Ok, I'll call you back, Mick," she says and stops at the open door. Sam leans against the door frame and makes lazy circles with her thumb on the back of her phone. "I didn't hear your car."