5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


36. habits (diff POV)

Truth be told, Y/N didn’t notice anything different with Luke when he’d finally come home. Apart from how he’d have a bit more facial hair than he usually kept – “I lost my fucking razor and I was too lazy to get a new one and people are saying I look twenty-eight.” “You look hella hot, though.” “So you’re into older guys, then?” “Literally fuck off." – Luke was the same Luke that she’d left at the airport how many months ago.    


Luke was the same Luke that she Skype-d with, sent stupid text messages to, took idiotic and unflattering selfies for. Still the same. She didn’t notice anything different.    


He came home, and things were great again. It was like, whilst he was gone, there was no sunshine. All Y/N could do was carry on with her days never feeling truly happy when she went to bed at night because all she wants is to be physically near Luke, cuddle up in his arms, or maybe even spoon the giant because sometimes he needs to feel security, too. Then the blond came finally home and everything’s light again. Her days are as they were – because they were never dull, it was only occasionally that she’d have her sad days where she missed him so much – and her nights were… easy, light. They weren’t depressing and sad and (metaphorically) dark anymore.    


Then came the dark days and the day that Y/N stopped being so damn oblivious. Maybe she should’ve noticed it earlier, how he’d go out for the night whenever Y/N had plans with her mates – whether it be alone or with the boys or with his old school mates. And Luke going out wasn’t a problem at all, of course not. The problem was that she noticed he started to have this constant smell of alcohol following him, and that smell was mixed with something else. Something else that she’d later manage to identify as weed because she’s not that daft and oblivious.    


And, like, she thought it was just a one off thing. He’s a teenager and he’s in a world famous band, and under so much pressure. He’s allowed to want to have some form of release, yeah? The release isn’t all that good of one but whatever. It’s probably just for that one night that he decided to give it a try and smoke a blunt.    


(She didn’t know that it was most definitely not his first, neither was it his last. She didn’t know and she wishes that she’d known because then she would’ve been able to make him stop. Make him cut back on the weed slowly before quitting it completely. He was addicted – addicted to the feeling of being high, and feeling the way he felt whilst high.)   


Y/N still helped though. Or, tried to. It’d always been the same. He’s so goddamn stubborn, insisting that he didn’t have a problem when he was starting to reach that stage in which he was almost perpetually half drunk and if he wasn’t, he was stoned – as high as a goddamn kite. He promised, promised, that he’d stop. That he’d try his goddamn hardest to stop. But he never really did show it – that he was trying, because really, he wasn’t. Luke would still come home at night, either stoned or pissed drunk, and the next day, he’d pretend like everything’s a-ok. And she let him believe that she believed him whilst trying to subtly help him, till that one day.   


It’s when he comes home with a rolled blunt in between his lips, a bottle of Jack in his hand, whilst Y/N’s got family over – that’s when she gives up. That’s the one day. She had to hide him as best as she could, swiping the blunt from out of his mouth and then hitting him in the stomach when he’d opened his mouth to, presumably, yell at her for taking the blunt from him. He’d doubled over (an over exaggeration, honestly, she hadn’t even hit him that hard, it was just a tap), and Y/N had to come up with some shit excuse about him being sick and her having to take care of him. Her family understood, and left, telling them that they hoped Luke would get well soon.    


(Y/N mumbled, ”I hope he gets clean soon, for his own fucking good,“ when they’d said that, but no one heard her.)   


"What is your goddamn problem, Luke?!” Y/N finally yells in frustration, after Luke’s out of the shower with damp hair and a dopey look still on his face. 


“Nothing. Why? What’s your problem?” He mumbles blearily, smiling at her. He’s drunk and high and she fucking hates it.   


“You said you’d stop, Luke! You promised!” She tugs at her hair. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Why?”   


Luke seems to sober up in that moment. Like, not really, but kind of. He frowns then, eyeing her. His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, then he shakes his head, “You don’t understand.”   


“Then help me to. God, Luke. Please. Help me understand. Let me help you,” Y/N almost begs, taking a step forward.    


He shakes his head again, “You won’t get it. You won't – you wouldn’t,” he shakes his head again, waving a hand at her in a dismissing manner. “You just won’t get it. It’s better this way.”   


“What?” She laughs mirthlessly, “You being high and/or drunk every other moment you’re awake?” She asks rhetorically and Luke nods. He nods in agreement. Y/N frowns, “Are you fucking kidding me? How is that better in any way?”    


“It just is, okay! You won’t fucking get it. You just don't – you don’t get it. You won’t get it.”   


“Then explain it to me, Luke!” Y/N huffs. “I love you, okay? I’m here for you and I want to help, all you’ve got to do is let me.”   


“I can’t!” He huffs back, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He brings his hands to rub at his eyes, groaning loudly. “I don't want your help, Y/N! Don’t you get it?! I love you, yeah, but I love this, too!” He exclaims, and Y/N just looks at him with furrowed brows and she knows that she just looks so tired. “I love being high, being drunk. There’s so much weight, so much responsibility and I can’t fucking take it anymore.”   


Luke’s still probably a bit high, probably still drunk, but he sure as hell seems sober right now. He’s also fairly certain a tear slips down his cheek. He lifts a hand, pointing out the door, “I’ve been to so many places and no matter where I go, there are still fucking assholes around. Assholes that I can’t please no matter how hard I try and I’m so sick of it because it’s like this… this intense, this burning and intense need inside me to be liked by everyone. I know not everyone will like me but I just need everyone to like me and I hate feeling like that. When I’m drunk, when I’m high… I don’t feel like that anymore. I can do my own shit and not give a fuck about what anyone else thinks! It’s better like this! It’s better for everyone, Y/N, don’t you get it?”   


Y/N doesn’t say anything. She just looks at him. She wants to tell him that he’s perfect and that people who don’t like him are probably just jealous. She wants to tell him that he doesn’t need alcohol and weed for him to feel okay. She wants to tell him that she’ll help him try to quit; won’t make him quit all at once, but slowly. She wants to tell him all of these things but she doesn’t get to, because Luke’s talking again.   


“– You don’t understand. I just, I feel so – so free. So light. love it. I need this. I need this feeling so much, every day for the rest of my life. I'm in love with that feeling,” he says, hands moving around animatedly as he talks. It hurts because right then, he is picking getting drunk and stoned over letting her help him. He is, ultimately, picking drugs and alcohol over her. The dopey look’s back on his face. She’s lost him again.   


(And he didn’t know it, but in that moment, he’s lost her. And until he cleans up his act and proves to her that he doesn’t ’need’ the booze or weed to survive, he’s lost her forever.)  

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