Outcasts » Luke Hemmings

➥ five: not from him

                   “HAVEN’T SEEN YOU FOR A WHILE, BUD.” Calum said, giving Luke a sheepish grin.

It was as if that was a part of his nature, that he was just that relaxed. He tried to lighten the mood, while Luke looked at him dead in the eye with repulse and frustration, like everything in this world that belonged to him was lit on fire, burned down to the ground, and never seen again. And I was probably right—I mean that is what happened to him.

Currently, Luke seemed tense, like he always did, as he emitted a protracted breath into the air. His question loitered in the midst of our circle, unanswered. “Why the fuck are you here, Calum?”

And maybe I did want to step up for Calum, because he had good intentions, and Luke was just being a jackass for what happened to him. He acted like him being downgraded had only ever occurred to him, like he was the biggest victim, and everyone else that’d been downgraded was just an item to a tragedy.

He didn’t even consider how lucky he was to get help from another caste member.  It was as if he was a scatterbrain, absentminded and distant.  Probably even one of the most ungrateful people I had ever met. I’m sure every fucking Outcast would be damn grateful for a chance that Luke had, so they didn’t have to face this world of deception alone, but here he was, begging for solitude with vexation and indignation.

For a moment, I allowed my eyes to wander towards him, “For fuck’s sake, listen up.”

So Luke’s temper then decreased to a tranquil and subtle expression, while his body slackened. And I nearly dropped to my knees to thank God for the sudden change in his attitude.

“Let’s ditch,” Calum stated assertively.

Surprising, Luke agreed, muttering a reticent, “Okay.”

We left at that—and it wasn’t like the secretaries cared, everyone did it anyways—and trudged across the field of ombré leaves, with curiosity etching Luke’s brain.

That was the thing; Luke was masked with decipherable expressions, giving snippets of his thoughts to me. With him, it was always a mist of confusion, for he never intended to give away who he truly was, but when he wasn’t concentrating enough, it’d slip from his grasp, and I’d know everything.

His incident was tragic—how he was fooled by the most deceitful girl throughout Riverdale. He believed that she would leave Aiden for him, but in the end, all she wanted was to rile the crowd and to provide entertainment for herself. Ellen was so fucked up, and I knew that more than anyone in the world, which was why it was a calamity that Luke was inevitably in love with her.

That was why it was necessary for me to help Luke Hemmings. He needed the help more than anything in the universe, but always rejected it, as if he was higher than everyone, as if he was still a Royal.

As we trotted, Calum glanced over to me, and then to Luke. “Remember when Ellen fucked you over? Remember when you saw Ashton get downcasted?”

Luke was quick to interrupt him, his irises danced with a scorching red monstrosity. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his voice wavering when he spoke, “Fucking hell Calum, what do you want?”

For the first time, Calum looked livid, he flared with igniting flames, determination glinted his eyes with anticipation. “You know what I want, Luke?” Calum inquired, his tone placing emphasis on words. Then, he spoke with a lump in his throat, as though the thought had displeasured him intensely. “I want to fucking destroy this caste system.”

That was what Calum told me, and the idea was so fucking outrageous that you couldn’t agree because the notion was absolutely impossible. But when Calum uttered those words, you couldn’t disagree. He said it with strength and belief, like it was possible if we only persevered towards the perception. 

I thought Luke understood that more than anything, given his circumstances, but I was completely, inexpressibly wrong. “No,” he said defiantly, then repeating himself, “no.”

The answer was so effortless and blunt that I didn’t believe what he was saying. When I thought I understood Luke, I’m always faced with his noncompliance.

“Luke, you’re being an idiot.” I mumbled, tugging at the sleeves of my sweater.

He ignored me, as he stared directly at Calum, confidently contending himself again. He sounded unperturbed when the syllables flowed from his lips. “No, I’m not going to help you destroy this caste system.”

Calum was quiet, like he was contemplating every single idea he came up with, hesitant about his words. Luke sounded so decisive that it knocked Calum from the high pedestal he stood upon. I sighed, a flaring breath escaping my lips.

I didn’t understand him. And god, I wanted to understand—I needed to understand. When I saw at Luke on the ground of the cafeteria, blistering with bruises and filled with a vacant isolation, I had saw a reflection of myself, desperately hoping for a guide to lead a trail of luminescent lights for me to follow.  

“Luke, he’s trying to help you.” I said.

His pupils flickered towards me, and Luke’s tongue grazed his lips. “I never asked for help,” he responded. Then, Luke gazed at Calum and tugged onto the strands of his hair. “Don’t you get that? Not from you, Reagan, and mostly not from him.”

There was a pause and without thinking, I blurted, “Okay.”  They’ve already liberated from my lips, and once syllables are out in the open, you can never ever take them back, so I continued. “If that’s what you want, then alright.”

A/N: very short chapter. I’m sorry about that, but I wrote this very quickly. I’ve been updating and writing everyday (SERIOUSLY THIS TIME)! Also, check out my updates for Dear Ashton!