InsaneJournal

One-shot: Method in his Madness

Original poster: sixtieshairdo

Author: sixtieshairdo

Characters | Pairing: Luke/Noah (who else?)

Rating | Word Count: R, 422 words

Spoilers | Warnings: Takes place after that thing that happened between Luke and Brian

Summary: Angsty thoughts by a very misunderstood boy

Disclaimer: I do not own Luke and Noah. How sad, huh? Oh, and I quoted a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet.


He didn’t know how to feel about everything.

He heard his heartbeats mercilessly thump through his eardrums and his sweaty clammy hands grabbed hold of his damp hair as his palms pressed hard against his burning ears.

He gritted his teeth, angry but so frightened all at once.

Instinctively, he reached out to speed dial a number but quickly cancelled when he realized just how alone he really was. The walls around him seemed so…unfriendly. The air felt like heavy blocks of stale vomit trying to simultaneously force down his throat and force out of his system.

He studied his toes in the dark. They wiggled restlessly like the rest of his frame, rocking side to side in hysterical anguish.

I miss you I miss you I miss you ran through his mind like a relentless toy train, going round and round and round the plastic track, huffing and puffing smoke through his already-foggy brain. How could someone he loved so much do something so painful, so ridiculously unfair, to him?

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and helplessly looked away. The ghost of his reflection was visibly irked by the mere accidental glance of himself. He knew people hated him, he knew what people thought of him, why people thought of him that way, and he didn’t know how else to defend himself. His excuses appeared just like excuses would; selfish, vague, laughable.

The one person he wanted to be with is the one he had hurt the most.

I need you I need you I need you.

He wrapped his arms around himself and clenched his fists, letting his half-chewed nails bite the inside of his cold hands. He half-wished he was as self-destructive as he used to be. He remembered the things he used to do, the ironically methodological ways he would partake, to annihilate his hateful self.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Sure he’s mad, he’s madly in love with this boy, who was not helping much right now, and he did not know what to do to gain his trust all over again.

Switching his phone off so that he would not in his slumber-heavy moments speed dial that one number, Noah gathered the remnants of his broken self and lulled himself to sleep with forbidden memories of Luke’s breathy laughter.

In the same town, barely miles away from Noah, was a similarly shattered being sobbing in shock, similarly alone, rubbing his lips raw against the blue towel around his shoulders.