Drowning In Color | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Seriously, fuck this shit," Luka groaned and swore at his bike, which was covered in a sticky substance. Eggs were the obvious culprit, with their shells littered all around the floor. "Wait here," he ordered, while he went to the janitor's closet to find a bucket and rag.

I could tell how mad he was feeling as he stormed away from the parking lot. Especially since it had Joanne written all over it. Personally, I don't get how childish pranks like this could be fun, if it meant somebody else's misery. Then again, I'd gladly accept some paint all over her shiny handbags and miniskirts.

Feeling that it was gonna take a while for Luka to find the janitor to get the key for the closet, I sat on the pavement by the bike. At the very least, I could play a game while waiting. Even though that kind of defeats the purpose of keeping watch. Not that it even mattered anymore.

After a few rounds of long battles, I realized that it was taking him longer than expected. I began looking around to see if he was anywhere nearby. I paced back and forth, skipping around the bike like an idiot, because that's all I could do.

I texted him, asking where he was, but there wasn't any reply. I was starting to grow impatient. And in need of the bathroom. I left the bike alone. Worst comes to worst, Luka can just learn to take the bus. Not that I actually want that to happen.

The moment I exited the bathroom, I found him, a fully loaded bucket in hand. What luck! Then I glanced at his face, and my eyes widened.

"What the hell, Luka! What happened to you?" I screamed.

He chuckled. Goddamnit, is this really the right time to be doing so? "Don't worry. I'm alright."

I took a closer inspection at his face. He struggled to get out of my grasps, but I managed to keep his cheeks in my palms. Bandages ran throughout his forehead like a bandana. Blood even managed to soak through the it. Tears were starting to build up in his eyes, though he tried his best to deny it.

"Luka," I said, looking straight into his eyes. Though I had to bring his head lower to do that because of our height difference. "It's okay to say that you're sick of it. That you're not alright with them hurting you."

"I..." He bit his lip, seeming to be holding back his words. "I'm used to it. And they have reason to anyway."

I insisted on telling him how wrong he was. Nothing could be his fault. How could anyone even possibly blame him for anything? But for some reason, he got brainwashed into thinking that he deserved all the pain. I was really ready to beat the shit out of the person who made him think this way. Even though that's a dumb move.

Before I could start my search for them, Luka pulled me away to the bike and we ended up cleaning it together. More or less. Mainly the parts that we would touch, as the rest of it could just be hosed when he gets home.

"Luka, I'm asking you again. Why did they hurt you?"

He shook his head, preferring not to say, thinking that I'd hate him if he does. It was only when I started threatening to leave him alone that he decided to admit it. Finally, I won.

He recalled, "Growing up, I'd get in trouble for beating up those kids. Her brother even got harmed real badly that he had to be hospitalized."

I frowned, still doubtful about Luka being a violent kid. "Tell me the truth. Did you do it?"

He sighed. "Like I used to tell everyone, no. But nobody believes me anyway."

I told him that I did, and he said that I didn't know what I was talking. What the heck? Here I am trying to support my boyfriend and all he's doing is refusing help. His explanation was good enough for me. If anything, Joanne and the other kids deserved it for starting the fight. Although it did get too far, in my opinion.

We drove back to his house. It was easier to hang out at his place than mine, knowing that his mom was much cooler with me than my dad was to him. He connected the hose to a faucet and began scrubbing the bike thoroughly, while complaining that his mom's going to kill him for the water bills.

"So where are the pictures of your brother?" I asked, looking curiously around the house.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, saying, "I'll let you find it yourself."

If that was his way of telling me to fuck off and stop prying, I wasn't appreciative of that. But was he being jealous of how interested I was in finding out more about his brother? How amusing. It'd be better if I even knew his name. But he wouldn't tell me. Well, in that case, detective Violetta mode: on.

I entered a room that was clearly neither Luka's nor his Mom's. The door was closed, though unlocked, and the inside was full of dust. Nobody must have bothered cleaning it for years. Probably ever since his brother was taken away.

I looked in the drawers. Didn't find any photographs, but rather drawings. Seemingly made by a kid. Though something about it tells me that whoever drew it was more than a little messed up in the head.

A sneeze was let out when Luka entered the room. He must be unused to being in an unclean environment. Who could blame him, though? This room was a sea of dust.

"Fuck, these drawings are messed up," I commented.

"I played no part in drawing them," he answered. Who's asking?

Many of them featured decapitated animals and monsters, drawn in a cartoonish way. Is it normal for young boys to draw stuff like this? I wouldn't know, since I thought that they're obsessed with strange creatures and stuff. For all I know, it could also be a result of watching too many horror films. Or both.

Luka left to wash the dust off his hands and return to his room. Maybe it's best for me to follow him. After all, he had air conditioning.

When I entered, I found him to have disappeared. I called out to him, but there was no answer. I looked under the table and bed, thinking that he was trying to scare me—which he was. Just from the back of the door, instead of the other obvious places.

He charged straight at me and lifted me onto his bed. "What the heck?" I cried, as he chortled at my shock. "What are you laughing at?" I pouted.

"You. I mean, you did say you wanted to see the real me, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm starting to regret it." Things were so much better when he was just shy, sweet and romantic. Now that he's showing his ignorant and playful side a lot more, all of a sudden, he's starting to get on my nerves. "Don't you think you should change those?" I pointed to his bandages, which made him seem like some kind of crazed psycho.

He nodded, trying to remember where his first aid kit was. If anything, it should probably be in the bathroom. After getting it, I helped him dress his wound, a little squeamish when I first saw it. But it's for his sake, so I had to put up with the sight. He noticed it as well.

"Seriously, how are you still so cheerful with a cut like this?"

"Meh. Like I said, I've had it worse." And his grin finally started to fade.

This guy... He seriously has issues in choosing his emotions. Sometimes I even have trouble telling what's real and what's fake with him.

=====

Have you ever pulled a prank like above? Or has anybody done it to you?

I once as a kid had somebody (strangers) throw eggs into my house, which almost hit me. I just stared in confusion because they were older kids and I had no idea who they were

Also, if you pulled a prank like that on others, shame on you, you bully QvQ