Fallen [Malum+Mashton/Cake] ✔️

~10~

Chapter Ten: Closed Curtains and Dead Ends

Luke anxiously paced through the house, his bare feet barely making any noise against the deafening silence as he moved in dim lighting. The evening was rolling in with nothing but sadness, curtains closed and lights off; forcing the dying sun to strain its rays through the curtains as much as possible.

He stepped into the kitchen, shaking hands reaching up and opening the cupboard door above the bench. His grip weakened, a grabbed glass slipping through his fingers and smashing onto the floor. He swallowed thickly, briefly afraid of the abrupt motion before a sigh left chapped lips and he tried to pick the glass up. Clumsy movements cut through his skin, hisses of pain involuntary as he held the shattered glass in his hands until he was able to toss it into the kitchen bin.

He spared a glance down to his bleeding palms, cuts lining his skin without pattern as they oozed with tiny droplets of blood. With his bottom lip painfully bitten between his teeth, he washed his hands under the sink tap and dried them as best he could on the grey hand towel hanging from the oven handle.

He appreciated the silence of his house when Calum wasn't home, but it was the anticipation of whether the brunet would come home drunk, happy or sober that gave him a plethora of woeful emotions.

Calum was a struggle to deal with, but Luke stuck through it. He had no other choice, he had no one else but Calum. He could barely take care of himself without crying, let alone handle even the thought of leaving Calum; there was still love somewhere there, he knew there was.

Trying again, he reached for another cup; this time grabbing a plastic green one and smiling faintly with a hint of pride when he didn't drop it and instead managed to set it down properly on the bench. He closed the cupboard door, moving to the fridge and heaving the bottle of blackcurrant juice from its place on the shelves. He had to put it down first, unscrewing the lid and hesitating for a moment as his eyes studied over both the bottle and the cup.

He took a deep breath, picking up the bottle again and pouring himself a cup, panicking when his cup overflowed quickly and he almost dropped the bottle putting it down. He could feel another mental break down approaching, his mind desperately clinging to reality as he rapidly tried to clean the mess with a sponge. He kept telling himself all he needed to do was clean the mess and everything would be okay, a statement that only barely kept him sane as he packed the juice bottle away and gingerly picked up his cup.

Taking three gulps from it so he could hold it without constant fear of tipping it over in his hand, he let out a breath and took a moment to compose himself. He often wished normal tasks weren't as nerve-wracking as they were for him, he wished he could just live life like a normal person who wasn't freaking out over every little thing all the time, or sleeping entire days away, or crying for next to no reason. Just this morning he had sobbed miserably on the floor simply because he forgot he had switched the kettle on for his cup of tea and it had boiled out and gone cold again.

Calum called him a cry baby when he was drunk, but when he was sober he at least had the decency to leave Luke alone whenever the blond had a freak out. He'd simply ignore it or leave the house, which Luke guessed was better than attacking him for being weak and pathetic. Though he would like it a lot better if Calum soothed and helped him like he used to.

Alcohol destroyed Calum, and Luke despised it with every bone in his body.

He went and sat down on his bed, seated on the side as he silently drank the juice he had struggled to pour for himself. He was never quite sure about his feelings when it came to his bedroom. He'd grown to accept that he and Calum would probably never sleep together, let alone hug anymore, but he didn't like how dark and depressing Calum had decorated his house. Especially in his own room.
He wanted bright colours, yellow walls, white carpet, pretty bedsheets and furniture that didn't look like someone cursed it to be depressing for the rest of its life. Or, at least, he wanted something like that. He used to spend hours sitting alone in his room on black bedsheets just gazing around and envisioning all the possibilities he could change his room into if he were allowed. It was the small things in his life that gave him joy now, and as time passed by he felt like they were growing smaller and smaller.