Bruises • Luke Hemmings a.u

Two.

Two.

It's roughly 6:30pm by the time Calum drops me off home, and I can safely say I have been thoroughly fucked. This thing with Calum works.

He's a distraction. A coping mechanism. Helping me forget the sadness within me, the sadness that has consumed me since I lost my mum. A distraction from the mourning, and the closeness her death caused me and Luke to become. To depend on each other. To merely function properly.

Calum distracts me from my secrets and my hidden desires. He distracts me from something I can never tell anyone about. He distracts me from someone I can never have. A distraction from someone so forbidden. A distraction from the intense desire my body has over the man that is my stepdad.

While Calum may look rough around the edges,  sporting an impressive amount of tattoos for someone who has only recently turned eighteen, he is an alright guy once you get to know him.

He understands me. He doesn't want a relationship and says that he will never get feelings for me, keeping it strictly physical, which is all I need. At least all I need for now until my lusting for my own stepfather disappears. Or at the very least, for my own sake, fades just a little.

"Helen, that you?" Luke shouts from the living room, and I can here noises coming from the TV.

"Yeah," I say, walking in to find Luke sat on the expensive brown leather sofa, playing some shooting game on the PlayStation.

I drop my bag loudly to the floor before dropping onto the sofa besides Luke.

Our living room is luxurious, with its high ceilings, large bay window, huge TV and expensive furniture. But it is also cozy, with its dark coloured walls, small lamps eliminating the room just enough, and the character fireplace that is still in its original form since it was fitted in the 1920's, providing too much character for Luke to have the heart to rip it out and replace it with something more modern. While he enjoys modern luxuries, he still finds beauty in the old things.

"How was your day?" Luke asks me, never taking his eyes from the screen, and I love that he asks me this everyday after school. Always finding the time to check in on me.

I rummage through my bag, trying to find my graded History paper, and when I do I place it on his knee.

He glances down at it and pauses his game.
"You got it marked already?" he asks, looking at the bottom of the page where the teachers notes are.

"Yeah," I say. "I literally begged Mr. Smith to grade it in his lunch hour."

A huge grin takes over his face, and if it was anyone else, it would look goofy, but because it's him, it's beautiful. I always find comfort in his smiles.

"An A!" he exclaims, throwing his strong arms around me. "I'm so proud of you," he says into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his broad back, pulling him closer to me, making my chest press against his and my whole body flushes from being so close.

I hate that I love being this close to him. I can smell his cologne and a scent that can only be described as him, and it's addictive, a smell that makes me feel at peace.

His chest rises and falls from his breaths, each inhale pushing him further into me, and I enjoy the feel of being this close to him too much.

He clears his throat slightly, and pulls away giving me a small smile. "I knew you could do it," he grins, "Looks like I'm treating you huh?" he smiles, picking up my paper and giving it another look.

"Sure are," I grin. "But what about you?" I ask him. "How did the case go?"

He puts down my paper again and grins. "I won it."