Bruises • Luke Hemmings a.u

Ten.

A/N:
Holy heckers! We're over 250k reads. THATS AMAZING. I'm so happy you guys are loving my lil duo. If you guys have any notes on how I can improve my writing or anything like that, please comment here. I only wanna improve and make you fall in love with this story. (But pls don't be mean lmao, I'm sensitive). I really hope you all stick around til the end.

I would also like to clarify something that has left a few people confused. Helen lives in the  UK (more specifically, England), where pupils aged 16-18 go to college/sixth form. I believe people have been confusing this with university, where pupils are usually aged 18-21. College/sixth from here in the UK is after high school, and some require you to still wear a "school" uniform, and others don't. Helen is 17 in this story, and studying A-Levels to progress to university.  I hope that clears up any confusion about Helen's age.

That being cleared up. Happy reading my lovelies!!

Chapter Ten.

When I wake, the house is silent. It's 7am, and silence at this time in the morning in this house is usually far from the ordinary.

I usually come downstairs to Luke making me breakfast while he has one of his rock albums blasting through the house. The air usually smells like bacon or pancakes, dependant on how he's feeling that day. The atmosphere is usually playful and exciting, as the ache of my mum's absence is something we both have grown used to, and we have developed our own little routine without her.

But today is different.

There's no music, no lyrics echoing around the house. There is no smell of breakfast.

Something is off I can tell.

After pulling a hoody over my head - avoiding the bruises on my face and my sore lip - and a pair of leggings over my legs, I head downstairs.

My stomach feels uneasy. I'm nervous of having to see Luke. I don't know what our dynamic is now, and I'm worried. I don't know where we go from here, or how I'm supposed to act around him.

Last night I literally had is head between my thighs while I moaned his name, then his pleads of forgiveness when he collapsed to his knees, and today? I don't even know if he wants to see my face, hear my voice, and I know I can't take rejection from him.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, I hear his voice, one side of a conversation.

"-and I'm sure we can arrange things further when we get there, and discuss the ins and outs of it properly in person - about four hours I reckon - of course, I'll let you know as soon as I've set off -"

Peeping around the doorframe, I see him pacing the carpet of the living room. He's fully dressed in black jeans and a plain white T-shirt, his black jacket hung over the back of the sofa.

His hair is a mess, his eyes look so tired, and I wonder if he's even slept. He looks like he's had a bad case of the flu.

He reaches one end of the room, then turns around, and I must catch his gaze, because now he's looking at me, watching me attempt to hide while I eavesdrop.

Now caught, I enter the room, only slightly, feeling uneasy, uninvited. My fingers fidget with a loose thread on the sleeve of my hoody, and I'm nervous.

Something is wrong. It's thick in the air.

"- I will - she's up now so we won't be long - okay, we'll be there soon" he finishes, then hangs up the call. Sighing, he looks up from his phone to me, and gives me a faint smile.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

Releasing another sigh, he pushes his phone into his back pocket then runs his hand through his hair, and his eyes suddenly avoid mine. "Um... I'm going to be really busy over then next few months. Um...-" he frowns, his eyes fixed on the carpeted floor. "I think it would be best for you to stay with your Auntie and Uncle in Scotland for a bit..."