Luke Glanton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crashlikethunder) wrote2014-05-20 01:51 pm
crashlikethunder) wrote2014-05-20 01:51 pm
Entry tags:
blame it upon a rush of blood to the head.
For the first time in his life, everything was going well. He should have known that it wouldn't last, but he was dumb and hopeful. Life had fucked him over from start to finish, and maybe he thought that it made sense, to finally find peace here. Maybe he thought that the universe was finally giving him his due. But he realized now that the universe didn't work that way. It didn't give without also taking, and Luke had been given everything. Which meant that he stood to lose it all.
He can't remember ever feeling so shaken. Somehow, even dying was easier. He had nothing then, and no expectation of things getting better. But against all odds, they did. Only he didn't want to admit how fragile it all was, his quiet existence here, his normal life. It's almost funny, how one man could bring it all crashing down.
Luke doesn't know what it means for him, that Cross is here in the city. He didn't stick around long enough to find out. Every second he spent in that asshole's presence was a gamble, bringing him closer to the edge of control. He forced himself to walk away before he could do any damage. And he should be proud of that; it's more than he's ever managed before. In another life, he would have killed the son-of-a-bitch, on that crowded street in broad daylight, witnesses and all. He wouldn't have thought the consequences through before pounding Cross's skull into the pavement. If only taking the high road felt half as satisfying as the crack of bone under his knuckles.
After, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He rides out past the city limits, where the road seems to stretch on forever, and he drives for hours and hours. By sundown, the bike is running on empty, and he reluctantly heads back to civilization. But instead of stopping for gas, he speeds past every station, weaving through traffic until he reaches High Gate Terrace. He hesitates at her door, hand hovering in the air, and he almost turns around. He hasn't thought this through, doesn't know what he'll say. But he knocks anyway, because the alternative is returning home to Jason, and he isn't ready for that yet.
He can't remember ever feeling so shaken. Somehow, even dying was easier. He had nothing then, and no expectation of things getting better. But against all odds, they did. Only he didn't want to admit how fragile it all was, his quiet existence here, his normal life. It's almost funny, how one man could bring it all crashing down.
Luke doesn't know what it means for him, that Cross is here in the city. He didn't stick around long enough to find out. Every second he spent in that asshole's presence was a gamble, bringing him closer to the edge of control. He forced himself to walk away before he could do any damage. And he should be proud of that; it's more than he's ever managed before. In another life, he would have killed the son-of-a-bitch, on that crowded street in broad daylight, witnesses and all. He wouldn't have thought the consequences through before pounding Cross's skull into the pavement. If only taking the high road felt half as satisfying as the crack of bone under his knuckles.
After, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He rides out past the city limits, where the road seems to stretch on forever, and he drives for hours and hours. By sundown, the bike is running on empty, and he reluctantly heads back to civilization. But instead of stopping for gas, he speeds past every station, weaving through traffic until he reaches High Gate Terrace. He hesitates at her door, hand hovering in the air, and he almost turns around. He hasn't thought this through, doesn't know what he'll say. But he knocks anyway, because the alternative is returning home to Jason, and he isn't ready for that yet.