Aug. 18th, 2015

microwavelength: (dnw - fist over mouth)
[Continued from here.]

"Luke, you have to stop getting into fights!" Luke had Sylar on the phone, the device buried under the pillow on his bed. Mary's voice, Mary's yelling more than audible even through the insulation. "I know you don't think it's important now, but you're not going to get into college if you're a problem!"

He didn't tell her that he had no plans on going to college. AS IF! She just wanted him gone. She wanted to know that he would leave her and this house one day in the very near future. And he did plan to...but maybe not the way she wanted. "Ma, just stop, okay? I told you that they were calling you a slut. A whore. Do you think I can stand by and listen to that?"

With Sylar's help, he was getting remarkably good at even sounding upset.

Truthfully, though? He just liked getting hit. Everyone had their issues. Sylar had the whole cutting people's heads open thing. Luke liked a fist in his face. Big deal.

"Well. Next time you're staying the night in juvie, bud. Got it?"

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