Chapter Text
Luke feels sick.
His stomach is knotting and his palms are sweating uncontrollably, no matter how many times he wipes them on his dark jeans. It’s a few days before Christmas, and Luke knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He’s in the back of a taxi, navigating through the familiar streets of Sydney, making the journey from the airport back home.
Sometimes Luke desperately wishes he could be more like Calum, Ashton and Michael, who were ecstatic about the idea of being able to go home. The three of them are probably in their own taxis, somewhere on the same highway that Luke is on now, leading to the western suburbs, where they had all been born and raised. He couldn’t help the dread he felt inside of him though, and it seems that the closer they got to home, the tighter the horrible knotted feeling in his stomach became. Luke hates Christmas, and being panicky and nervy like this was always something that he experiences right before having to go home.
It’s not like he doesn’t want to see his family, he loves his parents more than anything, and it’s always reassuring to be able to go back and find that his brothers have barely changed at all. Instead, it’s that he’ll have to face his uncle, David. He’s his father’s brother and honestly, the sight of him is enough to make Luke’s insides twist in fear. Luke will never admit it though, and even though all of his band mates are always concerned about why he got all angsty around this time of year, he’s sworn to himself he’ll never tell a soul why he’s petrified of his uncle. The words will never pass his lips. Because Luke’s nineteen, he should be able to take a punch right?
He isn’t even sure how is started, all he remembers is small fragments of that first Christmas day seven years ago, the day that makes his hands clench into fists in the back of the taxi as he recalls it. The house was filled with cheerful chatter, and the faint sound of Christmas carols playing from the next room over when there was a rough hand on his arm dragging him from the living room floor, where he had been sitting alone. As a small boy, there was nothing he could do as he was shoved against the wall of the study, while his whole extended family was downstairs preparing Christmas dinner. The impact of a fist to his shoulder, a kick to his stomach. The feeling of haziness in his brain, his body wanting to just shut down from all the pain, is all he can remember properly.
Luke likes boys. That’s no secret to their family, and logically it shouldn’t matter. Apart from the fact that his uncle, David, is tough, strongly religious and quite possibly the biggest homophobic asshole that you could come across. The rest of the Hemming’s family are oblivious, they think that he’s just as supportive of Luke and his sexuality as they all are. If Luke wasn’t so on edge, then that thought might of made him crack a dry smile because they were so, so wrong. He was only twelve when David had found out, that December 25th when he had made it his mission to remove the homosexuality from Luke using the only way he knew how after his years in the military, violence. And for four years it had almost worked. Until he was sixteen, and it had taken Luke months to come to terms with the feelings he had for Michael. Even now, despite all the scars that littered his skin to remind him that what he’s doing is ‘sinning,’ he could never give up Michael for the world.
That doesn’t matter now anyway though, because Luke’s almost positive that in this moment, his boyfriend, and his other two band mates, couldn’t hate him any more. All of them, even Michael, had left the airport without so much as a goodbye to him at the airport, even though they probably wouldn’t see each other for a little while over their break. That hurt Luke, made him feel even more pathetic than he already felt. He hates Michael being upset with him, even if he was aware that it was his fault they were all mad at him. Ever since he had gotten the call from his mother a week ago while they were still overseas, which had started off as an innocent phone call to check in, and when Luke asked her how all the family was, ended with her casually sharing the news that David was staying at their house for a month while his apartment underwent renovations, so he would be there for the whole two weeks Luke was meant to be spending at home. His heart had dropped in his chest then, and he remembers having to work hard to keep his breathing normal as he said a rushed goodbye to Liz, before locking himself away, ensuring none of his band mates found him in such a worked up state.
After that call, Luke had been despondent, coming across as moody and uninterested in every promo gig they had to fulfil. He knew it; he couldn’t focus in interviews and spent so much of his energy trying to speak when spoken to without messing up that he never responded to any of the other boy’s efforts to get him to lighten up a bit throughout, whether it was on or off camera. All three of them had been sympathetic with Luke at first, knowing that for some reason, he got like this every year around Christmas. Calum lost patience with Luke first, telling him to “fucking lighten up and get over yourself,” when they had gotten out of yet another radio interview where the other three had to cover for a silent and out of it Luke. Ashton had stopped trying a day or so later, obviously getting sick of the younger boy’s surly attitude despite trying to be the mature and diplomatic one, never explicitly mentioning it.
Michael, being the gentle and caring boyfriend that he was, had tried to stick it out and not show that he was beginning to get slightly agitated with the change of behaviour. It was hard to not let it affect him after all; they were basically all living in each other’s pockets. To Luke, it seemed that Michael had finally given up about six hours earlier, on the plane back to Australia. He had slid into the seat next to his boyfriend, asking him if he was all right in the same soft tone that he always uses when he knows that Luke’s upset. “Fuck off Michael,” Luke remembered muttering, wishing that he was anywhere except for stuck 30,000 feet in the air with three boys who hated him, on the way back to Australia to be stuck with someone else who if possible, hated him even more. His uncle.
None of the boys had any idea that there was a reason behind it, or the hell Luke knew he was sure to endure. They would probably still hate me all the same, was the only coherent thought he was able to form in his racing mind. Minutes later, he’s shaken by the slight screech of brakes as the taxi driver pulls up abruptly outside the same house he’s lived in since he was tiny. “Thanks” Luke nods tensely, pulling cash out of his pocket and checking it was Australian dollars and not pounds, since they had just come from London, before handing it over. He drags all his cases from the back of the taxi, clenching his hands tightly around the handles to try and release some of the tension filling his body.
Telling himself to calm down, and to just think about how good it would be to see his parents, he forces himself up the steps to the porch of the house and knocks on the door. A smile finds it’s way onto his face without him noticing as Liz throws open the door, wrapping her arms around her youngest son. “It’s so good to have you home, oh how are you? You’re looking kind of skinny, you’ve been eating okay haven’t you?” Liz babbles, her eyes scanning up and down her son but Luke just brushes her off with a wave of his hand, which is shaking slightly, and a small grin. “It’s good to see you too” is all he has time to get out as she ushers him inside, calling out for his father to come and help with his suitcases.
The grin drops straight off Luke’s face as David steps into the hallway, and the fact that he looks so normal is enough to scare him to death. Luke shoves his hands into his pockets to try and subside the trembling, and he holds back a wince as David claps him on the back just that little bit too hard, just enough to cause pain on impact. “Luke! It’s been a long time buddy” David is smiling for once, instead of the usual sinister smirk that has been ingrained into Luke’s mind and it makes him horribly uncomfortable but he does his best to rearrange his face into a mask that vaguely resembles someone happy. He doesn’t say a word to acknowledge David’s greeting, merely nodding before he grabs one of his suitcases and drags it towards the staircase in order to avoid any further social interaction with his uncle. Knowing that he has to deal with this for two more weeks is a thought Luke tries his best to push right to the back of his mind.
Luke thanks his lucky stars as he steps into the kitchen half an hour later. Both his mother and father are standing around the kitchen bench, but David is just heading out the sliding door leading onto the porch, lighter and cigarette in hand. “You took your time” Liz muses, pulling cutlery out of the drawer for dinner and Luke nods, slightly curtly.
“Had to freshen up, long flight” is all he says, when really he had to use that time to rein in his wild emotions and try to keep them in order. Liz seems pleased with this response, informing him that they’re having pasta for dinner as Luke begins to help place plates on the table. It’s domestic times like this that feel normal to him, like his childhood. He knows his parents always try to not make a fuss of him whenever he arrives home, knowing that he would rather just prefer everything was normal and forget his hectic lifestyle for a few weeks. Even so, Liz questions him about the tour so far, but Luke knows for a fact that she would have been keeping up with them and their shows online as a way to feel close to her son, even when he was halfway across the world. His father just chuckles at all of his wife’s questions, straining the pasta and all the anxiety Luke was feeling almost drains from him. Only almost though, because he can still see David just out on the patio, smoke drifting from the end of his cigarette and evaporating into the humid evening air.
Luke tries to keep his cool as his cool as David steps inside, his clothes reeking of cigarette smoke, the lines etched in his face looking deeper than they had done when he stepped outside twenty minutes ago. Trying with all his effort to avoid looking David in the eyes at all costs, Luke manages to keep his nerves relatively as bay until Liz brings up the one topic that he had been crossing his fingers and praying she wouldn’t bring up. “How’s Mikey?” she asks with a smile on her face, reaching for the jug of the water on the table. His mother has always been fond of his colourful haired boyfriend, but in his head Luke curses her for having to mention him when David is sitting directly opposite from him. Luke pretends that he didn’t see him grip his knife tighter at the mention of his boyfriend’s name, but he has to place a hand on his thigh to try and control the shaking brought on by nerves.
“Good, he’s good” Luke forces out, thinking fast to try and change the topic. “How are Jack and Celeste?” he says quickly, internally relieved when his mother starts babbling on about the small French bulldog they’ve recently adopted together.
The rest of the evening passes without incident, which Luke is immensely grateful for, but when his Dad asks if he wants to watch football with him and David, he quickly excuses himself to bed, using jetlag as his excuse to disappear to his room and put as much distance between him and his uncle as possible. Luke did just that, traipsing up the stairs to lock himself in his childhood bedroom, and as he does he can feel David’s eyes on his back, watching him. It sends slight shivers down Luke’s back, which he desperately tries to ignore.
Despite trying to reassure himself when he slips into his bed, pulling back the covers revealing a slightly musty smell due to not being used for at least six months, Luke knows he can’t avoid David forever like he did tonight. Even so, he’s determined to try because the bruises on his skin from last time he was home had only fully faded a mere month or so ago and he didn’t want to go through that again. Making excuses to the rest of the band about why he never took his shirt off around them for months at a time was excruciating. Having to forgo sex with his handsome boyfriend was equally as painful, but the fear that coursed through Luke whenever Mikey went to tug his shirt off would always ruin the mood anyway.
Luke was right; of course he couldn’t avoid David forever. Though he had hoped that he might be able to stay away from him for longer than twenty-four hours, but as Luke has discovered, life can be cruel. His parents went out the next day, last minute Christmas Eve shopping, but Luke had politely declined, opting to stay in bed figuring that David would probably be accompanying them. So when Luke finally wandered from his bedroom, shirtless and sleepy, he was startled to see David slumped on the couch, bottle of beer in hand despite it only being one in the afternoon. His eyes narrow as they land on Luke, and to him, it feels as if his whole body shrink’s under David’s gaze, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and venerable.
“Lukey” he says in a sarcastic tone, a sick grin toying with the corners of his lips. Luke draws in a shaky breath.
“Just piss off” he murmurs, his nerves not allowing him to speak up any louder and suddenly David's standing up, striding towards him.
“Fags like you don’t tell me what to do,” he hisses, and Luke finds his back colliding with the hard wall behind him, as he takes stumbled steps to try and get away.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Luke breathes out, but David only shakes his head.
“How’s Mikey?” he asked, repeating the same question Liz had asked last night, but there was more venom in his voice, more hatred. Luke swallows. He can’t bring himself to say anything. “Just like I thought. You know you’re sinning don’t you Luke? You know whenever your pathetic boyfriend is fucking your pathetic ass that it’s wrong, but yet you continue to be a disappointment. Why is that?”
Luke stays silent, and he absolutely detests the sneer in his voice as David rips apart the one thing he holds so dear to his heart, his relationship with Michael. When David realises Luke isn’t going to say anything, his fists clench at his sides, as if he’s itching to connect them with any inch of Luke’s skin he can reach. His face began to redden and all of a sudden pure, undiluted fear coursed through Luke’s veins as his uncles fist can crashing into his shoulder, leaving him groaning in pain on impact. Another punch knocks Luke off balance, and a swift kick to his shins leaves him on the ground, sprawled on the same carpet he learned to walk on when he was only a toddler.
“Please” is the only word that escapes Luke’s mouth, only met with a scoff and another kick from David. It goes on like this for what seems like hours; Luke losing all track of time, unable to focus on anything apart from the burning pain across his back and abdomen. He’s close to passing out when David finally aims one last well-placed kick at his shoulder blade, only narrowly missing his chin.
“Get up, you worthless faggot” David spits, turning his back on Luke and stalking from the room, rubbing at his knuckles as if to rid any homosexuality from them. Pulling himself up from the ground with the last ounces of strength he can muster from his worn body, Luke tries to avoid looking at himself in the mirror on the wall as he limps from the room, every muscle aching, begging him to stop moving.
This goes on for days, David taking any chance he can to corner him and drag him to the edge of consciousness, setting his nerve endings alight with pain. It’s five days since Luke arrived home, and he’s stumbling from his fathers study, nursing his arm, which he had landed on after being thrown to the floor. Although he’s become too used to hiding his pain from his family with sweatshirts and smiles, he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it up.
Christmas day was hell, the cheap plastic ornaments and overly joyful carols contrasting starkly with Luke’s desolate mood, David watching his every move with a knowing glint in his eye, fully aware of the power he had over the boy. Even now that Christmas Day was over, David's still around and every bruise forming on Luke’s skin was pushing him closer and closer to tipping point. He's waking up at night, his childhood bedroom tainted by hideous nightmares and the times when he has to slump in the corner and focus all his energy on not passing out from ongoing panic attacks.
Every night this happens, Luke stares at his phone, wishing he could be strong enough to pick up the phone and call Michael. He wants to be able to tell him everything, beginning from the Christmas Day he experienced as a small, scared and confused twelve-year-old and ending in the present moment as he sits alone in the dark, trying to fend off impending feelings of panic and the voices of his uncle in his head. He misses his boyfriend desperately, misses his stupid jokes and the way he can always tell if Luke’s upset, when he needs a cuddle or when he needs to be left alone. Luke would give anything to be in Michael’s arms, even simply in his presence.
Luke knows that its his own fault that he hasn’t heard from Michael, his own fault that he’s irritated at the younger boy. That doesn’t stop Luke from wanting to tell Michael everything, but he can’t, because he’s sworn to himself that he’ll never tell a soul. This isn’t because he’s scared that David will beat him to a bloody pulp if he finds out that Luke has let one of his darkest secrets slip off his tongue. Well, maybe he’s a little bit scared of that. Mainly it’s because he’s ashamed. He’s nearly twenty years old, fully grown, but still finds himself shrinking and cowering in the shadow of his uncle.
What sort of nineteen year old can’t stand up for himself?
What would his band mates think if they found out that Luke was too pathetic, too tangled in the fear rooted deep inside of him to ever try and fight back?
Luke knows he needs to leave. Realistically there’s no way that he can spend another full week here, another seven days, another hundred and sixty-eight hours, without losing his sanity completely. He’s already a mess, David having just cornered him in the study for what must be the fourth or fifth time this week. He lowers himself down onto the very edge of his bed, afraid to let himself get too comfortable as he lets out a shuddery sigh, his whole body aching from holding it too tense, his arm still throbbing from the impact that it had hit the floor a mere twenty minutes ago.
Luke’s head is a chaotic mess as panic rises up through his body, constricting his throat and suddenly he can’t breathe. He needs to get out. He can’t do this. He’s convinced that he must be pathetic for being unable to deal with a little pain, guilty for not spending as much time with his parents as he should, too busy locking himself away in his room to try and avoid David. He knows his mother would be heartbroken if he told her he was cutting his visit short by a week, and Luke was sure he was selfish for thinking of himself over her. Even so, after a long period of hovering his finger over his managers contact in his phone, Luke pressed call and stammered out a rubbish excuse, something about meeting up with friends in LA early, as the rest of his band members weren’t flying out for another week.
It was done. Luke was leaving, but that didn’t stop the ache in his bones and the tightness in his chest.
Twenty-four hours pass, and Luke has booked a plane ticket, packed his bags and was preparing to say his goodbyes. Saying goodbye to his family is always an emotional task, especially where Liz is involved, but Luke knew it was just because as a mother, she misses her son terribly when he’s away for months at a time. David had got him alone for five minutes that morning, hissing insults and how pathetic Luke was for leaving so soon, how weak he was for not being able to put up with life lessons like the ones he was being ‘taught.’
Despite this, Luke stumbles through a series of hugs, claps on the back and kisses on cheeks when it’s time to leave, desperately trying not to flinch as David shook his hand, seemingly good-naturedly. It’s only Luke that can see the disgust in his uncle’s eyes as he stares Luke down. Then Luke’s walking out the door and down the drive, letting out a breath it feels like he’s been holding in for six days.
He’s survived the storm, but he knows too well that all that happens now is that he’s left to pick up the broken pieces of himself, all alone.