all my friends are bad kids

Lukas snarled, thrashing and grunting until he was thrown in the passenger seat. He gasped, fighting with the door that seemed to be stuck. Or locked. He was too far defeated when it didn't immediately open for him. The kid glanced back, undaunted by those mean eyes. He'd seen meaner eyes.

"Worry about your fucking self," Lukas growled, plucking the switch to unlock the door. Much to his annoyance, the latter only locked it before he could get the door open. A few more instances of this, and the boy slammed his weak fists on his thighs. Legs tucked under, far too frustrated to stay still. He thrashed about, throwing punches at the air and banging on the window like a monster. A wild tantrum until he tired himself out, leaning against the door and panting.

"Why," his voice cracked, like it often did when he sang through his screaming, "don't fucking act like you care. You don't fucking care... don't act like it. I know you don't." He rambled, pulling his legs up to hug against his chest.

LANCE DAVIDSON

None of that made any sense, none of that was the point. He didn't need to know anything about Lance, aside from the fun he'd had with him and that this fucking guy kept giving him things. Talking to him in a way that didn't piss him off, didn't try to beat the shit outta him. "You don't just do shit like that for someone you hate," and Lukas shouted as much. His feet stomped on the floor as he said it, bubbling with energetic rage. This city was his domain, every other block was a place he sat his ass.

Who did Lance think he was? Some rich brat wasting his time? "Why didn't you just leave?" Lukas was bent forward, head rested in his palms. His elbows on the dash, nail digging into his skin. It woulda been a lot easier if Lance had just driven off. Then he would have known all of this was just for show, just to be nice for the sake of some bratty kid. Not even his friends, his bandmates, would do all of what Lance had done in one night for him. They woulda driven off, they woulda kicked him out, they woulda fucked him up.

And they'd laugh about, so Lukas would laugh, and they'd be friends. And they'd all keep meeting up, to hurt each other again. A means to keep their sour hearts dead, because just one beat--one beat--was enough. Too much, even. A reason to care about anything, that's what Lukas didn't need. Especially not if he cared about himself, worried about what might happen if he got off right here. If Lance had left. The world was to damn dangerous to give a shit if this breath was your last.

What direction should he have given? To where? There wasn't a place in this godforsaken city he'd call home, just nooks and crannies that seemed safe enough to squat down and rest for an hour or so. His stomach ached when he told Lance the address where his house was, his arm bleeding where he idly scratched at his skin. "You can drop me off there." He fell silent after that, the quiet eye of the storm.

LANCE DAVIDSON

As Lance drove, the city would dwindle down to rows of small, ugly houses. The impoverished outskirts, where scary-faced boys stood on street corners and let their eyes follow the car. Lukas had his head rested against the window, eventually turning it down so no one would see him. As if they wouldn't recognize that haircut, the one his mom always gave him because he was a smart boy, she always said, so he should look as much. Her smart, handsome boy, with an jagged arrow pointing to his crotch.

Right, a smart boy.

Joining the acceleration of the car were aggressive barks from dogs on chains, big, ugly dogs. Dark-skinned boys sitting on porches, smoke billowing from their lips. Overgrown yards, broken fences. The house Lukas grew-up in was between the corner lot and the middle. Not old, but still worn-down. Instead of the lattice base, his house was on stilts. Eyes glowed in the shadows beneath it, a family of feral cats that only stuck around for the rotten food the brunette threw out for them.

He turned to Lance as they'd come to a stop. "Thanks," he said, though his tone indicated sarcasm. And it wasn't that the neighborhood was particularly dangerous--there were worse places he could live--it was coming home he hated. But, if Lance wanted to be such a nice guy, he'd let him take him home. He was safer there, right? Safer than being left in the city? Right? The kid narrowed his eyes, unlocking the door and slowly getting outta the car.

LANCE DAVIDSON

Where else was he supposed to go? It was either this, or wandering aimlessly. And truth be told, he was slightly worried about his mom since he'd been gone so long. Lukas just didn't wanna deal with any of it. Yet, here he was, a few steps and a leap over a fence that looked like it'd been run over by truck, and he'd be inside that old house. He clenched his fists, staring at the pavement. It was really fucking with his head, being around Lance. As much as he didn't wanna be here, he had to get away from this guy. He jerked his wrist to break that shackling grip, "It's fine. I'll just check on things and head out again." As stated, "It's no big deal."

LANCE DAVIDSON