Bruises (Luke Hemmings fanfic)

not much to me...

"What do you do for fun?" Hemmings speaks slowly and carefully to avoid his stutter.

I bite my lip, trying to ignore Lucas Hemmings' sparatic driving." Fun? Nothing much..."

"Define 'nothing much', love."

"I write and sing... I study."

"Is that it?" He asks. "That's not much."

"I know..."

"Well... what do you listen to?"

"Pretty much everything. Punk rock, country, hardcore rock, eighties rock. I listen to pop, sometimes, disney music on occasion. Opera and classical every so often."

Lucas Hemmings chuckles. "You have a w-wide musical taste."

"I do."

He smiles at me. "Well. Look at that b-beautiful smile. She's smiling and it's r-radient."

I blush. " Stop that. Turn here."

He obeys. "Stop what? T-telling the truth?"

"It's not the truth."

"But it is."

"No it's not."

"It is. Tell me ab-bout yourself, Diana."

"There's really not much to me."

"Sure there is. "

"There's not ."

"Diana, that's not even po-ossible."

"Second house on the right."

He parks his car. "Come on, you do-don't see your b- beauty?"

"Can't see what's not there." I open the door and step out. Hemmings does the same and walks around to me.

We walk to the door together, and he shakes my hand. "Good-night, Mi-iss Diana Moonstone."

"Good-night, Mr. Hemmings."

"Luke, please." He smiles. "I hope to see you s-soon."

"You won't..."

"Why's that?"

"You just won't."

His grip on my hand tightens slightly. "M-miss Moo-Moon-nstone, I-"

I jerk my hand back. "Just. Go away."

"No." He grabs my arm gently and pushes up my sleeve. I instantly try to push him away, but his eyes are locked on my torn skin, scars crossing over one another, bleached white and angery red on my pale skin. "Diana..."

"Let me go!"

"No! Diana t-this isn't fair!"

"You aren't involved so go away!"

"I am involved now!"

"No you aren't! No! Go away!"

He frowns at me. "Diana, I can't just leave you like this. I can't unless I know you're gon-onna be okay."

"Make me start screaming! I swear I'll wake the whole neighborhood."

He makes a sound deep in his chest that resembles a growl. "No. I won't. Who lives here with you?"

"My parents."

"Are they home?"

"No they're in flor-" I cut myself off.

"Come with me."

"No!"

"I'm not letting you kill yourself!"

"Go away!"

"No!" He tugs me back to the car and shuts me in.

I begin to scream, the tall boy getting back in and driving away.

"It's not kidnapping, I'm saving you from you." He isn't stuttering. I think his emotions got the better of his nerves.

I try to get out, only failing and earning Lucas Hemmings reaction of grabbing my arm sternly but gently.

"Nothing much my ass," he grumbles. "You're suicidal and self-harming."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To our hotel. Ashton and I will try to talk some sense into you before you die."

I pale.