figure my heart out // muke

10

I woke in a cold sweat, the events from last night replaying in my head. I didn't really know why I got so mad in the moment and yelled at Luke. I completely freaked out. A part of me wanted to make it up to him how he pleased. Was make-up sex even an acceptable apology? Or was it pitiful?

I looked over to see Luke's messy bed empty and suitcase was gone. This confused me, I grabbed my phone which was charging on the nightstand and opened it to a bunch of texts from Calum.

Calum

Michael

Michael

Michaaeelll

Mikkeeyyyy

Wake uppppp

Do I have to slap you with a pillow again so you wake up

Michael, pls

Wake the fuck up dude

We are waiting

You know what? Cya after breakfast

wait luke just told me something

what happened?

Michael...

I swear to fucking god...

DON'T TELL ME YOU ACTUALLY

YOU DUMBASS

READ 8:59AM

My groggy mind was foggy and found it hard to process the letters within those text bubbles. No one had told me a time that we had to get ready, only that check out was at 10am. No one had even bothered to wake me up for breakfast and my stomach was tingling with hunger. And now I had to also deal with Luke's bullshit on top of that. Wow, this was so great. Read sarcasm.

I stumbled out of bed, not bothering to text Calum back about anything that occurred last night. If anything, I wanted to avoid Luke ruining my reputation today.

I grabbed some loose, black shorts and a black Metallica branded band tee. I headed towards the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door since I was alone. I placed the pile of clothes on the bathroom banister and gripped my hands around it, staring solely at my evil eyes in the mirror.

They looked me up and down, judging every single part of me and ripping me to shreds. My brain wanted to punish me for letting my guard down and losing control of the situation last night. Nothing but the rage of hate overtook my thoughts. I hated my eyes, I hated my face, I hated my hair, I hated my body, I hated my skin. I felt overly gross. I wanted to scrub my skin to the point that it was bare and barren. I wanted to scrub my skin clean of Luke Hemmings.

I turned on the tap to the sink in front of me, cupping my hands and felt the cool water touch. I bent over, closer to the sink, and splashed the water in my face, vigorously scrubbing it. He didn't touch my face, only my waist, but I still made the mistake of staring into his piercing blue eyes that made me weaker.

I kept on doing the same cupping, splashing and scrubbing action until my face was red. I straightened my posture and looked at myself in the mirror again. I still didn't feel clean enough.