But I'm Barely Breathing (A The Script FanFic) (Sequel to Millionaires)

Chapter 11- Cracked

Chapter 11- Cracked

*Sean’s POV*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” I hear my brother yell from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Luke?” I call but all I hear is another round of swearing followed by a loud cracking sound and a cry of pain. “Luke, are you ok? Open the door!” I call, rattling the handle but to little effect. “Luke?!” I call as I hear sudden cries of…terror? “Luke!” I try again, beginning to ram the door with my shoulder, trying to ignore the pain and probably instant bruising. I hear a few more cries and some clattering sounds before suddenly, everything goes quiet. If anything, this panics me more.

I give the door one more tremendous push before it suddenly gives way, falling inwards, causing me to fall with it. I groan in pain as I pick myself up from the floor, blinking quickly to try and clear my vision. I sit on the floor, looking around the wreckage of the bathroom. The shower curtain ripped from its pole, the floor by the sink covering in broken glass and toothbrushes and the mirror cracked out from the centre. “Luke?” I say quietly, getting to my feet and going over to where he sits, leaning between the wall and the toilet, gazing into space, his right hand bloody at his side. “Luke? Luke?” I call, leaning into his view line, placing my hands on his shoulders and he murmurs some form of response. “Luke, are you alright?” I ask though I know it’s rather a pointless question. “Luke, what happened?” I say softly and some recognition of the question crosses his face. His eyes slowly move to mine, and then to the bombsite behind me.

“There was a mouse.” He says in a dull, toneless voice but it brings a small smile to my face.

“Come on, let’s get that cleaned up.” I say, looking down at his cut knuckles before taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. I lead him over to the sink before taking a flannel and wetting it in cold water before beginning to dab away the blood from his hand. “Honestly, mother said to me once, ‘you keep an eye out for Luke won’t you, he’s more reckless than the lot of you put together’; I’m starting to see what she meant.” I say with a light smile. “Although, I think I have known for a long time, do you remember when you attached that sofa to the back of Matt’s car? And he drove you through the streets as you stood on it playing ‘The Final Countdown’? Mum went ballistic!” I say, grinning at the memory. Luke too smiles a little, before flinching and snapping his eyes closed as I dab at his hand again. “There we go, just hold this on it a little while longer.” I say, pressing the flannel on and letting Luke take it. For a moment we stand in silence before I can bare it no longer. “Luke, what’s going on?” I ask, seeming to snap him from a little trance.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” He says defensively. I raise my eyebrows, looking around the room again.

“You sure?” I ask and Luke sighs,

“I just got…angry.” He says, and I nod. “Dan just…it felt like he was blaming me for all this shit…you know? Like I somehow didn’t give one about everyone, like it was my fault everyone seems so bloody miserable.” He says, looking down.

“He is just very…stressed. He didn’t mean any of it, don’t take it to heart.” I say, suddenly feeling a pang of pain as I realise how like Kayla I sound, and how she may never sound, to my ears, again.

Luke sighs, sitting down on the toilet lid, resting his head in his hand. “Was last Christmas really bad?” He asks suddenly, looking back up at me. I sigh, trying to think of how best to put it.

“It…it wasn’t great…no. There was a lot of arguments…and tears.” I say and Luke sighs, closing his eyes and dragging his hand slowly through his hair.

“God, why the hell did I ever go to the fucking hell hole? It’s destroyed everything.” Luke mutters to himself, taking a gasping breath as if he is holding back tears.