Luke's POV

“Luke,” Calum says shyly, looking down at his feet. “I know it's been rough for you. And I wish I could help. Just promise you'll try to make it work, alright? I miss the old Luke. When you come back, hopefully it'll be soon, and hopefully my real best friend will be back. I'll be waiting.” He embraces me into an awkward hug, and I keep my arms down at my side before slowly wrapping them around him. I hear him sigh as he lets go, and he tries to smile.

I can tell he's upset about me leaving, probably because he's worried. He shouldn't be worried about me. I'm useless to worry about. I'm just a lost soul. I don't think the real Luke will ever be back.

My mom stands beside Calum, trying not to cry. Her bottom lip is quivering as she watches us.

“I'll miss you so much,” my mom tells me for the hundredth time as she hugs me tightly. She pulls away and keeps her hand on my shoulders. “It'll be fine, I promise. I wouldn't be sending you if I didn't think it'd help. Your dad will be at the airport once you get there. Make sure you text me when you land so I know you're safe. Oh, and don't forget to take your pills, I've already told your dad to remind you. And make sure you eat on the plane, it's a long flight!” She rambles on and on about important things to do and remember, but I'm not listening.

I don't get why everyone is so worried and upset about me leaving. It's not like I ever did anything great. I don't get why they would want me to stay. They should be happy that I'm leaving, they're finally able to get rid of me. I'm no longer their problem. All I am is a nuisance. I never do anything right, all I do is cause myself and others stress.

I glance over my mom's shoulder and see the people boarding the flight. I point to them, and my mom turns around to see what I'm referring to. “Your flight is boarding!” she says frantically. “Here's your bag. Do you have your phone? I feel like you're forgetting something!”

I raise my eyebrows and tap my foot impatiently.

“Right, right. It's time to leave or you'll miss the flight. Okay. I can't believe you're leaving! I love you.” She hugs me once more, and for a second I think she'll never let go. But she does, and I start to board the flight.

“Bye, Luke! Bring me a souvenir!” I hear Calum call. I can tell he's trying to lighten the mood, but he's not.

I walk towards the flight attendant, and I know my mom has already started crying. I turn around and I was right, there are tears on her cheeks. I give her a thumbs up and a small wave. She smiles and waves back. Calum puts his arm around her shoulders and tries to console her. I guess he can be alright sometimes.

“Ticket, please?” the flight attendant says.

I show her my ticket, and she looks at it quickly. “Luke Hemmings?” she reads.

I nod.

“Alright. Seat 107. Enjoy your flight.”

*

After a flight that felt like it lasted 50 hours, I finally landed. I slept most of the way because I had nothing else to do. I could've watched a movie, but none of them interested me. Nothing really ever interests me.

I search for my dad in the airport, but I can't see him yet. I look over the sea of people, scanning to find him.

“Luke?” I hear someone yell from behind me.

I turn around slowly and look around. My eyes land on my dad who is standing a few feet away from me.

He's less tan than I remember, and he has less hair. He's wearing a black fleece jacket and jeans. I remember him always wearing t-shirts and shorts.

He smiles widely and shoves through the crowd of people.

“You've grown so much!” he says. “Your hair has grown too!” He chuckles at his own stupid remark.

I roll my eyes and rock back on my heels, unsure of what to do. He seems a little nervous.

“So, uh, how've you been?” he asks.

I start to walk through the crowd of people to get to the baggage claim, completely ignoring my dad.

I don't want to be here. Why am I even here? This whole thing is pointless. I already want to get on another plane and head home. I'd even go to Alaska. Anywhere would be better than here.

“Well,” he mumbles as he walks behind me, “Great start.”

I don't think he realizes I can hear him, even though I'm only a few feet ahead. When you're as quiet as I am, you hear everything.

I watch the bags come out one by one and wait for my black suitcase to appear. My dad stands beside me, a little too close for comfort. My bag appears, and I quickly grab it off the claim.

“I guess this is where we're supposed to hug,” he abruptly says, “You know, if you want.” He puts his arms out for an embrace, but I don't move. I bite on the inside of my cheek and cross arms over my chest.

“Right,” he says glumly. He puts his arms done slowly and rubs behind his neck. He shuts his lips tightly together and takes in a deep breath. “Are you hungry? Tired? Anything you want?” he asks in an effort to reduce the awkwardness.

My stomach grumbles, even though I was unaware that I was hungry. I look around for a place to get food, and I notice a McDonald's. I walk towards it as I drag my suitcase with me.

My dad could at least offer to carry my suitcase. That would be a kind thing to do. I pretend that the suitcase is extremely heavy and struggle to drag it. In reality, it isn't heavy at all. It's quite light actually.

“Want me to carry that?” my dad finally asks. I smirk slyly to myself, my plan worked.

Not wanting him to do anything for me, I continue to drag it along. All I wanted was for him to ask, not to do it. I don't need people catering for me. Plus, it proves that my dad is somewhat willing to help. The father I remember never would have offered to help with anything. Maybe he's changed. I highly doubt it though.

I glare at my dad who is now beside me and quickly walk to McDonald's so we're no longer on the same pace. He scratches his head in a confused manner since I'm now carrying the suitcase with ease. I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

“Are you heading to McDonald's? Yeah, you definitely are. Do you need money?” my dad says from behind, running over to catch up to me again.

I ignore him and pull out my wallet. I take out a wrinkled piece of cash and try to flatten it.

“Luke, you can't-” my dad starts to say, but is cut off.

“Next,” the lady at the cash register says. I walk up and she smiles. “Hi, what would you like?” I go to the notes on my phone and type in what I want to order. My dad taps my shoulder, but I ignore him. What's he so persistent about? Can't he wait?

I pass my phone across the counter, and she scrunches her eyebrows together. She reads what's on my phone and a wave of realization crosses her face.

“Oh, alright. Are you deaf?” she asks slowly and over exaggerating the way she moves her mouth.

This happens quite frequently. Lots of people confuse me for being deaf, which is understandable. At first it bothered me, but now it happens so often that I don't care. I shake my head, and she scrunches her eyebrows again.

“Oh. Well, that will be six dollars and eleven cents.”

I give her my money, and she tilts her head to the side.

“Sorry, this isn't American money,” she tells me, handing it back to me.

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I fumble with my wallet, even though all I have is Australian money. My dad pops up beside me with money in hand.

“Here. Sorry about that,” he tells the lady.

I glare at him and slap my hand down on the counter in frustration. He could have told me sooner before I had to embarrass myself like that. I bite my bottom lip in frustration and head over to the pick up counter. I purposely shove my dad's shoulder when I walk past him, causing him to bump into the person beside him. I hear him grunt before he follows me. He plasters a fake smile on his face to hide his annoyance, but I see right through him.

“That's a neat idea,” my dad says when he walks over to me. “Do you do that often?” he asks, pointing to my phone.

I turn away from him and pretend to be interested with something, anything really. When you don't talk, you notice more. I find myself constantly watching others, simply because there's nothing else to do with my time. At least it takes my mind of things, even if just for a little.

I watch a small child run to her who I'm assuming is her dad and hugs her tightly. A couple is fighting at the ticket counter over something. A mother nervously sends her teenager onto a flight alone.

Right, my mom. I pull my phone out of my pocket, and there's multiple texts from my mom. I text her that I made it and everything's fine. She was probably worried the whole time.

“Order 52!” someone shouts.

I look down at my receipt that says I'm order 52. I turn around to grab my food, but my dad has already picked it up.

“Where do you wanna sit? How about right there?” my dad asks, pointing over to an empty table.

I snatch the paper bag out of his hand and grip it tightly. He looks at me then down at his hand then at the bag that I'm now holding. He furrows his eyebrows and sighs before sitting down.

“How long have you had that?” my dad questions. He points to my lip ring

I ignore him and bite into my burger and shove some fries into my mouth. My dad watches me closely, probably hoping I'll answer. But I don't.

“Doesn't seem like something your mother would allow. How is she?” How many questions is he going to ask?

I shrug, not wanting to communicate with anyone right now. But then again, I never want to interact with people.

My dad bounces his leg nervously, causing the whole table to shake. He can't seem to keep his gaze on me either. His eyes keep wandering in every direction. The table continues to bounce, and it's getting on my nerves. I grip onto each side of the table and glare at him sharply.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

I continue to eat in complete silence. The only noise is from the multiple people in the airport. Once I'm done, I get up quickly and start to head out. My dad follows closely behind, running to catch up to me.

“I thought you'd be tired today and wouldn't want to do much, so we'll just head home. Is that okay with you?” my dad asks.

I don't respond and just follow my dad through the parking lot. We get into the car, and I lounge back in the leather seat, putting my feet up on the dashboard.. The car smells like it's been cleaned recently. The strong aroma of cheap vanilla is floating in the air, and it instantly overpowers my senses. I scrunch my nose and put my sleeve up to my face in hopes to get rid of the smell.

“Luke, your feet,” my dad says quietly.

I look over at him then at me feet, but refuse to move them.

He sighs. “Luke, please get your feet off the dashboard.”

I keep my feet where they are and put my hands behind my head to get more comfortable.

“For the love of God, Luke, get your feet off of the dashboard,” he says harshly, slamming his hands onto the steering wheel.

I roll my eyes and obediently take my feet off the dash because I know he won't start driving until I do.

“Thank you,” he says more softer. He takes some deep breaths and starts to drive.

We drive home in silence, not even the radio is on. I decide to look out the window the whole time and look at the new scenery. We pass lots of tall buildings and go over multiple bridges, some of which seem newer than others. Most of the ride is just highways, but once we get into town, there's a more comforting feel to everything. We pass a small ice cream shop with some kids outside, and a few restaurants with outdoor patios. Lots of people are walking outside, even though it's cold. Well, cold for me anyways. I guess they're used to it now. I never knew it could be so cold in October.

We turn down a street that leads to a bunch of houses, and I'm guessing it's my dad's neighborhood. He seemed like someone who would live in an apartment, considering it's only him, but he lives in a house. We pull into the driveway of an average blue house with a small garden in the front, and my dad smiles.

“This is your new home,” he tells me with a forced smile. I stare back at him with no emotion on my face. Home. This will never be my home.

I get out of the car and grab my bags from the trunk. I only have two suitcases, and the rest of my stuff is being shipped here.

I wait for my dad by the door since it's locked. He finally walks up the stairs and unlocks the door, letting me in first. I take a few steps inside and stand awkwardly because I don't know where to go.

There's a few stairs heading up to the kitchen and a long hallway beside it. I can see a television and

small black couch on the opposite side of the stairs, which I'm guessing is the living room.

My dad shuts the door loudly, which startles me. I almost forgot I was observing his house.

“Want me to show you your room?” he asks.

I continue to stare at the house, not giving him an answer.

“Okay, I'll take that as a yes,” he mumbles. He heads up the stairs and down the hall, pointing out different rooms. “That's the bathroom. My room is right here. This is just a closet. And here is your room.”

I open up the door and look inside the room. It's not too big, but not too small, and it's pretty much empty. There's a bed with a blue comforter and matching pillows near the windows. A small desk is in the far left corner with a digital clock on it.

“We can go get some more things, I just didn't know what you would like,” my dad tells me. “If you want. I mean, we don't have to, it's just a thought since it's kind of empty and-”

I walk inside my room and shut the door in his face, cutting him off.

“Well, uh, I guess I'll leave so you can set up. If you need anything, just call for me. Wait, um, just come and get me since you don't, you know... Okay. I'll go now,” he says from outside my room.

I roll my eyes and plop onto the bed, causing the springs in the mattress to creak. I'm too long for the bed, it seems like it was made for a 10 year old. Definitely not for someone who is six feet tall. I try to lie comfortably, but nothing works. I sigh and let my feet dangle off the edge.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out to see some texts from Calum asking how everything is so far. I don't reply and put my phone back into my pocket. Sighing, I decide that I should unpack my things. If I don't do it now, it'll never get done.

I place all my pills onto the desk, arranging them into a weekly container. I read the containers for the hundredth time. Anxiety, depression, and mood swings. I sigh as I shut the lids. The white pills seem to haunt me everyday. It's like they follow me everywhere. Without them, I can't be me, and with them I'm not me. It's like they've taken over my life.

Once I'm done with that, I put my clothes in the closet which is way too large. It's almost as big as the room, and I don't see why it's necessary for a closet to be that large. I hang up all my shirts that have become quite wrinkly from being in my suitcases and fold up the remaining clothes to put them into drawers.

I reach up onto a tall shelf and place all my cameras on top of it. I have multiple different cameras, they're the only things I actually like. Once they're aligned, all of my things are set up.

I sit down in the middle of my huge closet and lean back while I look up at everything. The carpet is plush beneath my fingers and it feels nice. I reach up and run my finger over the hems of my shirts, causing some of them to slip off the hangers. I leave them sitting on the ground in a pile because I'm too lazy to pick them up.

I sigh as I realize that this will be my home for the next few months, maybe even a year. I'm not prepared to start all over again. Just thinking about it makes me nervous. I'm perfectly content with what I'm doing now. And what I'm doing now is absolutely nothing. But I feel like that will soon change. I'm not sure I'm ready for change, I don't think I ever will be.

I lay down on the carpet, folding my arms beneath my head for a pillow. Jet lag has made me extremely tired, more tired than usual. The floor feels strangely comfortable, and I start to doze off. My eyelids become heavy, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

wow Luke hates everything. but I hope you like this lol the next few chapters get more exciting and more characters will come in

let me know what you think so far

if you like this, spread it like peanut butter haha

twitter: fiannelash