Devil On Both Shoulders [Calum Hood]

Chapter 8

I wondered where I could've gone. I didn't have a lot of relatives that I could turn to, and if I did, Spencer would tell them everything so they can disown me too.

I don't know why I just blurted out that Calum kissed me, I had nothing else to say and I guess I wanted to spite him.

Selfish - I know.

But there was no way I was going back to Calum, I had some dignity, and I didn't want to be the idiot who runs back to a kidnapper the day he sets her free.

So I thought, I could always go to Luke's.

***

"Max? What's up?" He had asked once he saw me, dripping wet, standing on what was left of his porch like a lost puppy.

I had to find Luke's house from memory, walking all the way to the Flats, then trying to find my way from there. And in that time, it had rained - a lot.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," He replied, uncertain of himself. "I'll go get you a towel."

"Thanks," I smiled as wide as I could, bearing in mind my own brother had just abandoned me.

Luke had brought me down a ripped white towel and made a small bonfire in the fireplace, where in a normal house, the standard fire would be. But since Luke didn't have one it was a merely naked flame burning from scrunched up pieces of paper and chair debris.

We sat diagonally from each other, Luke on his armchair and me on the couch.

"Do you want to explain why you were on my porch at like 10 o'clock at night, soaking wet?" He said.

"Calum, um, he let me go," I swallowed, frowning slightly. I pulled at the fraying edges of my towel to keep my hands occupied.

"I don't really know what to say. I mean, 'congratulations on your kidnapper releasing you', that's not going to look good on a greeting card," Luke cracked a smile, and I felt myself laughing too.

But we couldn't make jokes all night, so I grew a backbone and told him about what Spencer said.

"Max, don't defend Calum, he's not worth it. I actually agree with what your brother said. Cal is a psychopath." He said.

"Luke, please don't argue with me, he's not a psycho. Psychopaths don't feel human emotions and he does."

"Alright," He mumbled. "But when you say he kissed you, he just kissed you, right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, though I couldn't blame Luke for having such worries.

"Okay," he murmured. "Do you want to stay over? I'll sleep on the couch if you like."

"Um, yes. Please," I said, "I'll sleep on the couch, I don't mind."

Luke sighed, he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere if he argued with me. "I'll get you a blanket or something, just throw that piece of shit into the fire or something." He nodded towards the damp towel I held in my arms.

He disappeared again, and I did as he instructed, the towel put the fire out, but I'm not sure if that was quite what Luke had intended for it to do.

He chucked a blanket at me moments later, a thick, knitted blanket, which in plainest truth, wasn't at all comfortable.

"If you need anything I'll be upstairs," Luke said, scratching his heavily tattooed arms.

"No, I'll be fine,"

"Goodnight,"

"Goodnight, Luke," I smiled, he returned the smile. It wasn't a very big smile, but it was a smile all the same.

When I was sure Luke had climbed up every step I kicked the blanket off me and switched on the table lamp. The blanket was rough and scratchy and there was no way I could sleep on it.

But from the dull light of the table lamp, I could make out writing on the material.

Luke Hemmings

16.7.96

It wasn't a blanket, it was a throw that someone must have knitted for him when he was born.

It was actually really cute, it was this baby blue colour and had pictures of penguins sown onto it.

So I sucked it up and let myself fall asleep.

--------------

if ur American, flats are basically apartment blocks or whatever you call them. like loads of houses on top of each other.