Murder and Musicals

Chapter Eighteen: What's in the @%$king box?!

Since Drake killed Luke, he had been having weird dreams when he went to sleep. Sometimes they didn't even come when he was asleep; they would be daydreams. Most of them would be memories of the event, but some would be what Drake called 'visitations from Luke's ghost'. It sounded crazy when he heard himself say that a ghost was visiting him, but he did know that was basically what was happening,

He would see the same Luke he saw in the movie theater almost every time he slept or let his mind wander. He would see his bleeding eyes, the stab wound in his gut, and he always welcomes Drake into whatever world he is entering. He always expected Luke to somehow kill him in his dream.

Other times, however, he would just dream the entire murder all over again. It played like a movie scene:

He would be on the sidewalk again, darting straight for the track. He could see Luke standing there with his arms crossed just hanging around the bleachers. Luke had been looking down, but he looked up and saw Drake coming toward him. Drake had had the knife in his back pocket. They were both fully prepared to have an argument. 

"Well. Drake Newman. We haven't really met, have we?" He held his hand out, way more formal than Drake expected. He hesitantly shook his hand.

"No, we haven't. And I must ask why you hate me so much."

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Hate you? That's a little far, but I definitely don't like you."

"What, because I'm with Trent now?" Deep down, Drake had known that would bug him to an extreme point. He could tell Luke hated being reminded he had dated an obsessive lunatic, nonetheless a male in general. He could tell he wanted to forget that phase he went through.

Luke glared, "I could care less about who Trent dates or doesn't. I don't give a shit about him." And then he grinned a shit-eating grin, "But I do care about getting back at him."

A flash of extreme anger passed through Drake's mind, "What did he ever do to you?"

"He stalked me. He's creepy and almost a psychotic person. I don't know what you see in him, but I know he must've tricked me into liking him."

"Or you're just ashamed that you were in love with him and trying to blame it on someone else."

They glared at each other, huffing. Luke's jaw clenched, "You're wrong about that."

"I don't think I am," Drake smirked. He was going to put him in his place no matter what.

Luke was about two feet away from him with crossed arms, "You must be a fool."

"And you must be a dick."

"Better than having a psychopath as a boyfriend."

Drake still doesn't exactly know why, but as soon as he heard those words come out of Luke's mouth, he saw red. He pushed Luke forward and pulled the knife out of his back pocket, holding it waist-level. Luke's eyes had widened before Drake shoved the knife forward blindly. He dug it into Luke's abdomen; at the time, he thought his intestine. He looked up at Luke's face and it was contorted with terror and pain. 

When he pulled the knife out, Luke's grey t-shirt had a red patch of blood slowly growing. Luke's hands reached up to clasp at the bloody area and he stumbled down onto his knees. It actually looked a bit movie-like to Drake. He was surprised that he had actually stabbed him. He himself didn't think he was capable of such a thing until he actually did it. That was pretty much the moment Drake decided that Luke wouldn't live after this moment. The anger overrode any reason he tried to create in his mind.

As he looked down at Luke coughing up blood on the track, on his knees and bent over, he thought of Trent. He thought of their night together, listening to music and kissing again. He thought of how much he would do for him. He had never known why there were couples in movies that say that they would kill someone for each other. Going against the law wasn't something on Drake's bucket list; not until Luke anyway.