Bare Knuckles ♛ lrh

05- sleep

Seated in the passenger's seat of his best mate's car, Luke was staring out the raindrop-covered glass his head was resting on. He insisted on driving back, but Ashton reminded him that he drank and that his knuckles were split open. Ashton didn't need Luke to hurt himself more driving with a tight grip on the wheel and the alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Ashton was focused on getting the blonde back to his apartment and cleaning his hands. The fast they got his knuckles clean, the faster they would heal, and ultimately—the faster Luke could get back to fighting.

Luke idly watched the buildings pass by on the New York streets. His heart was pumping slower, his intoxication and adrenaline wearing off. Luke knew he screwed up, he had another fight coming up soon and messed up his fists before the match—his right more than his left.

He was annoyed and confused, which just made him more angry. It was an endless cycle sometimes. The boxer didn't like confusion and when the rare occasion came up that he was, he got extremely frustrated. Luke liked having control of his life and confusion meant he wasn't in control. And all his confusion started those few weeks ago at the ring when Michael came with two girls.

Michael. Another thought to get is blood pumping and anger flowing. Michael hated Luke and Luke hated Michael, it was pretty simple. Though, the blonde's hatred blossomed from confusion. Confusion because of the hostility the then dark-purple haired teen had expressed.

Granted Luke could understand the frustrations the guy had, though it was sudden and surprising to everyone.

Luke hadn't noticed the car parked outside his expensive apartment complex and that his friend had already left until a knock right next to his face on the glass prompted him out of his thoughts.

He scowled up at the grinning dirty blonde and opened his door to step out, and slammed his door shut.

"Hey watch it! That's my car you're harassing," Ashton yelled as he had already started towards the elevator. Luke mumbled under his breath as he got closer to the waiting elevator.

"Don't mumble asshat, I can still hear you,"

"Whatever," Luke sighed, and stepped into the opening doors of the elevator.

As soon as Luke heard the intake of air next to him, he knew he'd be stuck listening to Ashton's rant. It was a perfect place—he was trapped in the elevator for another nine floors.

"Okay, what the fuck bro," Ashton sighed as he looked over at the blonde who was glaring at the solid metal doors.

"Fuck off,"

Typical, thought Ashton as he rolled his eyes.
"Why the hell did you attack that guy? Like I get what he did was gross but did you really have to beat him up so bad?"

Luke stayed staring ahead of him, trying and failing to not think over Ashton's question. Luke had been asking himself the same thing on the way here. In response, he shrugged his shoulders.

The other lad's shoulders slumped as he tried to figure out his friend. Luke was a mystery most times but Ashton had known the blonde for many years and could tell something was up. He was usually more vocal when Ashton scolded him, but right now he opted for shoulder shrugs.

"Stop overthinking Luke, it never does you any good," Ashton patted the blonde's shoulder as he walked off the elevator at Luke's floor.

Luke knew he was right and made the conscious decision to stop letting himself be distracted by unnecessary things like short, pretty girls with curly hair and two different colored eyes.