outlines ✰ l.h.

chapter twenty-nine

I wanted to enjoy the night with my two best friends. One of which was moving away for university in a few shorts months. I wanted to create joyous memories in a place so dark. I didn't want to live in my own shadow of sadness.

But alas. Given less than half an hour, the familiar blonde hair peaked through the cracks of tight duos dancing or heads thrown back in laughter. My heart raced simply at the stunning shade of blonde. Even in the darkness he was the most beautiful scene.

I watched him, stalked him. I shifted to make sure I was in his range of vision. I wanted him to see me laughing without him, smiling without him, happy without him. But the truth is is that I wasn't. My heart ached without him.

I could see from the corner of my eye that he was heading near us. He walked with Michael, taking the lead and weaving through people with ease. As he came closer I threw my head back in laughter as Ashton said something idiotic. A simple, yet effective tactic.

I briefly locked eyes with Luke, a hand placed on Ashton's arm as he continued on with his dumb story. He stopped directly in his footsteps and came towards our group.

"Hey guys," Luke spoke. It was calming to hear his voice again. He stared directly at me with his hands in his pockets. "Long time no see, Andy." I kindly smiled. He suddenly turned to Ashton who was sipping on his drink. "And long time no see, guy who made out with my girlfriend."

"Luke," I lowly said, narrowing my eyes at him. I ignored the crowed gasping from his comment. I could tell him was drunk from the pink in his eyes. He stepped towards Ashton, narrowing in on him.

"Hey, come on," Calum added in, the tension skyrocketing. He stepped forward towards the two boys. Ashton set his cup down on the table next to him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"She was never yours." His words were the most distinct phrase I had heard from him all night. "How do you think I got her under me?"

Before I managed to spit out the growl intertwined with Ashton's name, he had already taken a blow to the face by Luke.  Profanities were thrown left and right as the boys hit the ground.

"Stop!" I yelled, trying to step in with Calum who was struggling to pull Ashton off of Luke.

Everything had happened so quickly. We were ten seconds in and I already had blood on my hands. Michael was yanking at Luke's arms and Calum and I were working on Ashton. My thighs were numb from the hits they had accidentally received and from using every muscle in them to drag them apart.

"You're both idiots, stop!" I screamed once more, in attempts for them to release each other. I stumbled backwards as more help came in to get Luke away and they were pried off of each other.

"If I was sober, you'd be fucking dead," Luke spat, both figuratively and literally. He had to clear his mouth of the copper taste somehow.

Ashton threw words back, ones that I couldn't understand. Mainly because he wasn't coherent. I heard Michael's voice yelling to get Luke out of his house. The last glance I caught of Luke was him thrashing with another unknown boy in the front door. His teeth red from the blood and hands still curled in fists.

I peered over at Ashton waving his hands around in anger as he spoke to Calum. His hair disheveled and nose cut. Blood ran from his nose as he was pushed near the back door by Calum. He deserved it. With that mindset I bolted for the door, leaving behind my friends and chasing after Luke.

"Andy!" Michael called after me. "Somebody get her!" His voice was faint as I headed out of the front door and down his steps.

I looked to my right, then to the left. Luke sat with his head between his knees in the middle of the grass in his front yard. A stranger sat next to him with a towel in her hand. I nodded her off and she passed the wet towel over to me and left us alone.

I carefully sat down in the grass next to him and he didn't budge. The only reason I assumed he wasn't dead was because he was sitting up. Ashton had a lot of power in him, but Luke also boxed in his garage in his free time. I wondered who got it worse.

"Luke," I softly spoke. He didn't respond, which I expected. I paused, then reached out and wiped the drying blood on the knuckle I could see. He surprisingly didn't pull away.

I moved to the front of him and sighed. Seeing him curled up on a damp lawn was hurting me beyond belief. But I deserved this hurt. Luke did not.

I softly tousled his sweaty hair, pushing it back as much as I could. The thin skin over his eyebrow was split. I began worrying that this would be a trip to the emergency room.

"Look at me," I whispered. He stayed still for a moment, hesitating if he should face me. A few more seconds passed and familiarity rumbled through me.

I held the rag to the slit, then under his nose. He flinched at the spots where bruises would appear tomorrow.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I knew the answer. I just wanted to hear his voice.

"No," he truthfully spoke. I grimaced at his blood stained lips.

"Do I need to take you to the ER?" I asked. He was silent. He ran his fingers over his dry bottom lip. "There's blood all in your mouth, and your eyebrow is really bad." I expressed his physical condition in the least terrifying way possible, while trying to get him to understand that it wasn't just a small bruise.

He sighed, "Just take me home."

"Okay." I nodded and stood up.

I made my way behind him and helped him on his feet. He stumbled as he walked and each step we had to take slower. I swung open my passenger door and he groaned as he climbed inside. He held the bloodied kitchen towel tightly on his forehead.

"My ears are ringing," he whined. He winced as I shut the door on him and jogged around the front of the car. Of all nights I was thankful I chose this one to stay sober.

"Okay," I huffed, starting the car. Driving still made me anxious, especially now with a bloodied boy in my front seat.

"Do you know how to get to your house from here?" I turned the air down to keep him cool.

"I want to go home." He leaned his head back onto the cushioned seat. I was sure the alcohol was still making his head spin.

"That's where I'm taking you."

He picked his head back up. "No. With you. I want to go home with you."

I stared at him in confusion. Drunk words are sober thoughts, but I assumed his sober thoughts were going to be full of anger towards me. Not this. Not him aching to be with me.

His eyes were glassed over and red. Half from the alcohol and half from being hit and the aftermath. He looked like a kicked puppy, bleeding lips and all. I couldn't leave him here, not on his own. I knew he shouldn't come with me, but for some reason my gut was assuring me it was okay.

"Okay," I whispered.
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A/N:

i love when lashton engages in wwe smackdown