alumni ➢ luke hemmings [DISCONTINUED]

3.7 ➢ Lingerie.

VERY QUICK DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER:
I'm gonna go back and edit some of my most recent chapters because I feel as though I wrote Luke as being very soft in them compared to how he is in this chapter- I don't like the stark contrast and tbh I prefer how I wrote him in this one because I think it's better for his character development!
Please remember, Alumni!Luke is very angsty and broken and it'll take a bit more than falling for someone to fix that :'(
Please enjoy, though! Ily :)

➢

LUKE HEMMINGS

"So," Ashton says, resting a pool stick over his shoulders as he leans against the table he should be using it for. "When are you gonna tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

He laughs lightly, but it's humourless. I busy myself with the numbers on my notepad and the calculator to my right. I have to crunch these numbers by tomorrow morning or else I'll be forced to speak with my father- something I'd much rather avoid than endure.

"You know what I mean, Luke,"

"I'm afraid I don't." I lie.

"She's too good for you, you know that?" Ashton raises an eyebrow. I don't respond. "She's gonna find out eventually,"

"Who's going to tell her?" I murmur back, and he's quiet right away. "Not me. You?"

"Fuck no," he scoffs, "Mate, I'd rather get ran over by a bull than double cross you. I've seen it happen and it aint pretty,"

"Hm."

"Don't you feel bad?" he presses on, and I don't notice my frustration slowly growing until he flops onto the couch next to me and I find myself wishing he'd just fuck off; right off, out of my penthouse and even outside of the city if possible. "Guilty? Any guilt at all,"

"Why do you care so much?" I somewhat snap, throwing my notepad onto the coffee table and standing up. My feet take me to the mini bar, and my hands pour themselves a drink- malt whisky, no ice. It burns my throat, but it's an excuse to busy myself so I drink it anyway.

"Because I'm scared,"

"Scared?" I repeat, amused. "Of what?"

"Not of something, for something," Ashton rolls his eyes, "I'm scared for you, man."

"Don't be." I say, my tone almost demanding.

"You told me a few months back that you hated her Mum, correct?"

"Correct."

"And that you'd do anything to get revenge on her, correct?"

I pause, "Not exactly,"

"Not what you told me before the term started, Hemmings," Ashton soghs. I frown, trying to think back to a time that seems so much simpler than the present.

I'll admit, I was angry. I've been angry for most of my life, really. You take a shit childhood and add a shit father and then multiply it with an unstable mother and you don't really get much that's worth boasting about. Trauma, maybe. But none of it is forgivable; at least not to me.

My father didn't want us. Didn't want me, or my brothers. He wanted my mother for a bit- but then he met Alice Hayes again at some reunion and just didn't fucking want her anymore.

Just like money, we're replaceable to him. Always have been and always will be. I'm not his son, I'm just the future CEO of his dumb company and if he could, he would give it to any one of my brothers. But he can't because they hate him, they hate each other, and they hate me. We're a shit show of a family and a part of me blames Alice.