"It's Not Love If It Hurts" //5sos

/187/

I wrote this when I was in pain and mentally shitfaced. Proceed with caution.

  First, Michael helped Luke downstairs and made him eat some food and drink some water. Luke was even getting better at walking, and by the time Michael handed him his plate he was practically able to walk on his own again.

  Still a bit more progress to go, but they were getting there.

  As he ate, Michael told him the plan. According to the text from Liz, the entire Hemmings household besides Luke would be going out for dinner, meaning it would be empty. Michael wanted to bring Luke there and get some more of his stuff, which would help Luke being back at the place it started.

  Okay, Michael had no clue what he was doing. But he thought it sounded like a good idea, so they went with it.

  Luke agreed, and when he was prompted to speak, said that he wanted to go back and see his house again. Michael's confidence was tangible, and Luke was starting to catch on.

  What could go wrong?

  They drove to the Hemmings house, and luckily there were no fans camping outside. That would make everything ten times worse. Liz's car wasn't in the driveway, so Michael was able to park his parents car a few houses away, just as a precaution, and to make Luke walk a bit more.

  Luke was slower than normal, but it was fine. When they got to the house, he got the spare key from the flower bin out front, and unlocked it.

  Seeing his family home again felt like a slap to the face. It was dark, and eerily quiet as Michael switched the lights on.

  Luke ran his hand along the wall, touching the picture frames with a feather touch. The three boys, at one aunt or another's house, celebrating someone's birthday, as evident by the cake smeared on their faces. Another picture above it, showing a middle school Luke holding a guitar. One of Jack and Andrew, at a soccer game. Ben and some random friend eating mac and cheese.

  As he got further along the wall, they aged more. The cake smeared boys turned into high schoolers, and then graduates, hats sitting perfectly on their heads. There was no picture of Luke on the wall at his graduation, probably because there was no picture of him graduating, because he didn't, not in the normal way. When you're traveling the world, you aren't able to get home for graduation.

  Their were pictures of Ben and Jack older, proudly standing with their parents in front of some building. Luke remembered when that picture was taken. He was in Canada that day. It was supposed to be a family picture.

  There was one picture on the wall of Luke from last year. He stood with his brothers. Luke remembered taking that picture. He'd thought that he was finally living up to his big brother's standards, to his mum's expectations. That was something he'd been striving for his whole life.

  "Luke," Michael called, further down the hall. Luke looked up, pulling himself away from the pictures.

  They went upstairs, and Michael helped him repack his bag, carrying it down the stairs. They walked to the back door, towards the living room, and Luke froze.

  It looked the exact same as when his parents held that stupid intervention for him. Perfectly clean, perfectly decorated, perfectly perfect. If you were anyone else, you'd look at this room and think 'wow, this family really had their act together.'

  But Luke knew that wasn't even close to true.

  Even Michael was looking around the living room in distaste. He walked around, eying the flawless disign, the too-perfect Christmas tree. Everything was too put together, to neat.