Title: Spice Up Your Life
Chapter 14/14: Set Off Some Fireworks
Summary: Luke Hemmings decides to spice up his life with a list of New Year’s Resolutions and his best friend, Michael Clifford, decides to lend him a hand.
Warning: this chapter contains smut! you have been warned!! :3
A/N: Thank you all for reading along!! i hope you enjoy this final chapter :,) inbox is open for suggestions for any future fics <3
“Oh, God.” Luke mumbles, bringing a hand up to his mouth.
“Luke.” Michael tries through the phone.
“Oh- my god.” Luke stutters.
He stares at his screen like it’s about to come to life and swallow him whole. Rereading the name in bright, bold letters over and over again as if it would change anything only made Luke sick to his stomach. His head is spinning partially because of the alcohol, but also because he realized what he did. He just told Michael he’s in love with him. The words left his mouth so casually when he thought he was speaking to Calum, but now they seem so twisted.
It was never supposed to go like this. Luke half-hoped that Michael would never find out about this, that Luke would get over him long before it came out. He imagined that when he eventually told Michael about his feelings, that it would be years from now when they’re both married to other people and it would come out as sort of a joke. But, it didn’t. It just came out of his mouth while he’s actively head over heels for Michael and the only person who heard it was him, Michael, and the fucking universe that keeps playing with Luke’s life.
He feels his mouth coat with saliva and his face get hot. He puts a hand over his mouth as he feels his stomach twist while his lungs shrivel to the size of a penny. What the hell did he just do? In a split second, everything he knows feels unfamiliar. Even the pleading voice on the other end of the line sounds strange. The cold atmosphere of the winter month is hot, the street sign beside him feels wrong- distorted almost, and the sound of fireworks going off above him sounds less like celebration and more like destruction. Maybe that’s because “destruction” is the only thing running through Luke’s head right now. He’s destroyed this; everything he has.
He doesn’t think when he drops his phone onto the concrete, a dull crash from the screen colliding with the cement fills his ears briefly before his own noises do. He can’t stop himself, so he throws up right there on the sidewalk. The grass is damp and plush beneath him as he falls to his knees, but the concrete is harsh on his hands. He’s holding onto it for dear life as he vomits, the stinging feeling on his palms keeping him centered. His hands burn even though they’re flush with the cold sidewalk beneath him, but it’s less noticeable when his throat feels like it’s on fire. Once it’s all out, he coughs so hard that he feels he could dislodge his throat from his neck. He’s sure it’s not a pretty sight- the drool hanging from his chin and the tears falling off his cheeks are evidence enough.
It’s ironic; how Luke is physically spilling his guts after he just verbally spilled them, but both ways made him feel awful. Everything about this is so ironic that Luke would laugh if he wasn’t busy reliving every meal he had that day. He made this stupid list of shit to spice up his life, but maybe his tolerance for heat isn’t as high as he thought. It’s a spice he can’t handle and nothing would calm the flames on his tongue.
He breathes heavily for a few moments, almost forgetting what just happened. Spitting into the street in a pathetic attempt to remove the sick taste from his mouth doesn’t work. He coughs a bit more, but he quiets down and his body begins to relax after such an aggressive change in activity. It’s not long-lasting as his senses kick back in.
“Luke, are you okay?” Michael tries, panicked. “Luke?”
Luke looks at his phone lying face down only a few feet away from him. His expression toward the device would make any passerby think that it just tried to kill him. He sort of wishes it did because maybe he would be able to excuse this whole situation away. The gears in his head begin to turn when Michael’s pleas are the only thing heard in his vicinity. He has to leave, he can’t be here. He’s not far from the AirBNB which is where Michael’s at- he wants nothing less than to be found in a state like this, so he runs.
He just keeps moving. Everything passes by him in a blur- not a single detail registers in his head. All he can process is that he’s cold now. His arms are bare and his face is wet. Even though he’s moving, he felt like he could freeze into a pathetic, Luke-shaped icicle. It doesn’t sound too bad, maybe when the Lukecicle melts, all of this will be over and he can pretend it never happened.
His thoughts obviously don’t make much sense.
There’s flashes of streetlights in his vision, the sound of passing cars fills his eardrums, but nothing makes him forget. He’s not sure he could ever forget this feeling. It’s like everything he’s felt within the past few months- the burning lungs, the spinning head, and the goosebumps- but intensified by one hundred. Is he breathing right now? Is this what breathing feels like? Oh god, where is he right now?
Luke glances up at the glass that towers over the old diner table, finding Calum’s reflection staring back at him. Luke’s eyebrows involuntarily pinch together as he gently cranes his neck to meet his friend’s gaze. Heavy eyes meet hungover eyes in the near-empty restaurant. There’s a gentle hum of chatter surrounding them with the occasional noise from the kitchen that keeps Luke in reality. Now, Calum’s voice helps too.
He looks a bit messy- frantic almost. Luke immediately feels superficial guilt settle into his abdomen. Calum’s hair is sticking up in all directions and his skin is slightly pale meaning he probably hasn’t been awake long even though the sun has been up for a while now- Luke watched it rise from this shabby diner that he stumbled upon last night. His friend’s unoccupied hand is gripping the edge of his hoodie sleeve, the fabric intertwined with his fingers just like dread is intertwined with Luke’s state of existence.
As Luke takes in his friend’s appearance, Calum does the same. His face seems to soften a bit as his eyes rake over Luke’s face. Luke doesn’t know how he looks right now, but he’s sure it’s hard to describe with any positive adjectives. He hasn’t slept or eaten in ages, there’s grass stains on his jeans, and he’s been nauseous since the moment he read Michael’s name on his phone last night. Calum bites the inside of his lip momentarily, letting it go as he speaks into the phone once more.
“Y’know- I might be a while.” Calum says, pausing for a reply. “Okay, see ya.”
Calum only glances at his phone to hang up, dropping his hand that’s grasping the device to his side. His other hand comes up to his face to rub one of his eyes, the tiredness within it doesn’t budge though. The guilt on Luke’s chest gets hotter and deeper as Calum moves to sit across from him in the booth.
“More coffee?” The waitress passes by with a half-empty coffee pot in one hand, the other lying limp within her apron pocket.
Luke shakes his head softly, trying his best to give the waitress a warm glance. She wasn’t the reason his heart is broken, so she shouldn’t be at the receiving end of his cold wrath. Calum declines softly as well, mumbling a soft “thanks” toward her as he settles. She only sends Luke a pitiful smile before walking away to tend to her other tables.
He appreciates the sentiment- how much a stranger seems to want to comfort another stranger- but he’s a lost cause. He’s now living in a world that’s upside down and backwards, so it’s pretty impossible for him to be comfortable in any sense. Even physically, his body just feels stiff. He’s weaved himself into a position that mimics a stick in the mud; only staying upright because of what’s around him. His muscles are tight and his head hurts, he’s only sure that his blood is pumping right because he’s still breathing, even as hard as it may be to do so.
Luke studies the look on his friend's face as he sits across from him. His eyes look heavy- tired and hungover from the night before. His lips are sitting in an uneasy pout, but no color has drained from them like they have from Luke’s. Calum looks warm in his hoodie and sweatpants, his hair sticking out beneath an old beanie of his. Luke doesn’t have a jacket but he’s sure that if he did, he wouldn’t feel warm. He’s not sure that he’s capable of feeling anything but cold, hard regret right now.
“You’re alive.” Calum states with a dead tone.
Luke gazes at his friend, his eyes straining due to the gentle migraine that’s orbiting his head. He can feel the shame spreading across his chest, but it wouldn’t show on his face. He brings his attention back to the window beside him because the littered sidewalks of Nevada are easier to stomach than anything else. The red faux leather is peeling in places across the old diner booth, but Luke doesn’t mind. It gives it a homier feel- something he’s needed in the time he’s been at this diner. The edge of the table is digging into his forearms, but the pain has subsided into something more dull because he’s hardly moved since he got there. His hands are warm around the half-empty mug and his neck feels tight after staring out of the glass for hours.
“Nice of you to let us know that.” Calum continues, prying slowly at Luke’s mental barrier.
“Sorry.” Luke half-heartedly apologizes.
His voice is dry and dull. The word leaves his mouth not without a crack within it, the type of tone that would have someone clearing their throat afterward out of embarrassment. Luke doesn’t bother- he doesn’t want to talk. He knows that if he tried, he wouldn’t make any sense. Besides, no type of embarrassment could ever compare to how embarrassed he felt last night. He could run down the street naked while yelling Taylor Swift lyrics and it still would be less embarrassing than accidentally telling someone you love them.
Not to mention the whole throwing-up-on-the-street thing.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” Calum tries, his tone softening.
Luke still doesn’t speak, instead his eyes study the outside corner of the glass where a spiderweb sits. He tilts his head as he watches the spider move near the web- a black widow. He catches a glimpse of its underbelly and he lets out a frustrated breath as he looks back at Calum. The spider's body is partially red and he can’t even look because it reminds him of what he did last night. A color is sending his brain waves into a panic and damn near causing a tsunami of self-deprecating thoughts. He forces a snarl off, directed at himself, off his lips.
“How long have you been here?” Calum questions, leaning back in the booth.
“I’m not sure.” Luke admits quietly.
He doesn’t know how he ended up here, everything is sort of a blur to him. He remembers throwing up on the street, the sour taste mixed with coffee still lingers on his tongue. There’s surface scrapes on his palms from when he fell to the ground to prove it. He doesn’t remember hanging up or even putting his phone in his pocket, but it sits there now like he’s carrying the entire world in his jeans. The occasional buzz of a notification paired with copious amounts of caffeine keeps him awake. He conveniently remembers how the January air felt on the fresh tears that fell with such force as he walked. He doesn’t know how long he was walking until he stopped here. He doesn’t know how or when he asked for a booth or for coffee. He doesn’t even know what time it is right now. Frankly, he’s surprised he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere.
He’s thought a few times to pull out his phone and text his friends that he’s safe, but he couldn’t move. He ruined everything he has with a simple misclick of a button and he’d been attempting to process it all without breaking down and submitting to all of the “what if’s” so naturally, his phone wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He’s been here since the sun began to rise and he hasn’t moved from his position other than to politely shoo away the waitress, Ariana, who seems to be cutting him some slack. The sun is out and some of the fog on nearby cars has begun to clear up- it’s probably midday now.
Luke barely catches a frustrated huff leaving Calum’s mouth. He knows Calum isn’t mad, that’s not what his tone is saying. He’s speaking from a place of confusion and Luke feels sick all over again. Calum wouldn’t be confused if Luke had pressed the right contact on his phone. He thought he told Calum everything last night, but he didn’t. His mind let him believe that Calum knew it all, but that thought was ripped away from him like a bandaid on a fresh wound.
“Luke.” Calum emphasizes.
Calum’s eyebrows are raised softly, concerningly. His friend is worried about him because he disappeared for God knows how long and all Luke can do is feel sorry for himself. He should be apologizing on his knees, doing everything in his power to make sure his friends aren’t upset with him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s being told to do just that. The front of his mind just isn’t concerned with how Calum feels about him going ghost, it’s concerned about how he feels about Luke being in love with their best friend.
Despite the conversation the two had a few nights back, Luke couldn’t convince himself that this would end well. He’s known the other guys for more than half of his life and he knows that they’d all try their best to figure this out so that everyone stays happy, but he also thought he knew he’d never fall in love with his best friend. What does he really know anymore?
“I’m way too hungover to play a guessing game with you right now.” Calum sighs. “What happened?”
Somehow, that’s a loaded question. On the outside, some dude fell in love with his best friend, accidentally told him, and now he’s worried about what everyone will think. It’s simple, expected, and understood. That all happened on the inside, too, but it’s more complicated than that. It’s every single possibility of how this could turn out flying through his mind like a fighter jet. It crashes every single time because there’s no logical way for Luke to determine how it all goes.
It’s also a forced confrontation with his feelings. He knows he loves Michael- he’s known for a bit now. He doesn’t face it, though. He never has because he’s never had to. Everything he’s come to terms with is surface level. He’s let the idea of how Michael feels about him bounce around his head a few times, but he never thought about it too long because it started to make his chest hurt. That’s how his chest feels now, achy and dull because he’s been hit in the face with the reality that he cannot live without Michael, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever not be in love with him.
“Listen.” Calum starts. “I know you’re going through something, but you’re kind of being a huge dickhead lately.”
Luke bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, the flesh breaking away between his teeth gives him something to focus on instead of Calum’s expression.
“I tried to call you last night.” Luke chokes out.
“You did?” Calum furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t remember seeing a missed call from you.”
“You won’t have one.” Luke sighs. “Someone hit on me last night.”
Calum sits up a bit at Luke’s sudden willingness to talk. He crosses his arms over his chest, his hands between his armpits to warm them up. His eyes flick down to the table before him, trying to decipher Luke’s statement.
“Alright. That’s not so bad.” Calum shrugs.
“It wasn’t, but I freaked out anyway.” Luke explains. “She touched my back and I, like… couldn’t move. I couldn’t think of anything but him.”
Luke’s voice is gentle, like if he spoke too loud he’d scare away the bugs. Metaphorical bugs, ones that are infecting him with honesty. He doesn’t want to talk, but it’s happening anyway. The words fall out of his mouth involuntarily, probably because he feels so terrible for inconveniencing Calum. Maybe because deep down, he really does want to talk. He wants to get this all over with, but his conscious mind won’t allow him to take action to do it.
“I called you to just freak out about it for a minute. I was so mad that I couldn’t even entertain a beautiful girl because I wanted- want him so badly.” Luke sighs. “I just kept talking and talking. I told you everything.”
Luke cringes at the memory. He’s so frustrated with himself at how much he said. Fake Calum told him to stop several times and Luke ignored him. He could’ve saved himself from being in this whole mess if he had just listened. Clearly, he didn’t do so well with his task of being a better listener.
“Said I loved him.” Luke mumbles. “I told you literally everything, start to finish. But it wasn’t you.”
“Oh, fuck.” Calum replies. “You called Michael?”
Luke raises his eyebrows as a wordless confirmation, bringing his coffee mug to his lips. The lukewarm and bitter liquid makes him cringe slightly. Even coffee is gently haunting him, there’s a sick sense of Déjà Vu from their February coffee adventures while he sips the beverage. He hopes Miss Natalie can forgive him for drinking another woman’s cold brew.
“So, he knows?” Calum speaks carefully.
Luke’s silence is a good enough answer for Calum, his eyebrows shooting to the roof in surprise.
“Yeah, shit.” Luke breathes out.
“He hasn’t come out of his room today.” Calum divulges, seemingly connecting the dots in his head. “Ashton said he was awake when he went to bed and when he got up.”
“He stayed up all night?” Luke questions, guilt flushing his chest as he glares at the table.
Luke was up all night, too. He deserved it- the sleepless night- for being so dumb and drunk that he couldn’t tell Michael and Calum’s names apart. He caused Michael so much discomfort that he physically couldn’t sleep- Luke feels nauseous all over again. The last thing he wanted was for any of this to affect Michael even though it inevitably would.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell him.” Luke cradles his head in his hands. “Fuck, I just ruined so much for him.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Calum assures. “I told you that nothing can get between you two.”
“This is a pretty big “nothing,” Calum.” Luke wipes his hands down his face, ending with his hands on his jaw.
“Jesus Christ, Luke.” Calum grumbles. “Have some fuckin’ faith, would you?”
Luke’s eyes snap to Calum’s. He’s looking at Luke like he’s the dumbest man in the world and Luke can only cower further into himself.
“You haven’t even talked to him yet and you’re acting like he spit in your face.” Calum points out. “Why are you so hesitant to talk to him?”
“Rejection hurts more than space does.” Luke shrugs.
That morning Luke tried to focus on only the next step like he did after he realized he’s in love with Michael, but he came up empty handed. By empty handed, he means that he knows the next step is to just talk to Michael and apologize, but the idea of facing him right now makes Luke wonder if those rumors about the Black Market are true; maybe he could hire someone to take over his life so he could leave.
Okay, maybe Luke is dramatic.
Eventually, he shortened his sight more. He figured the next step is truly to just get out of this diner and make his way back to the AirBNB, but love is sticky and it’s practically fused him to his seat.
It’s probably a coping mechanism, but he also found his mind wandering to emptiness. There were a few times where his brain flickered on again and realized he was just… numb for the last few minutes. No thoughts going in or out, just nothing. Even if he directed his thoughts back to what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, he’d eventually drift off back to nothing. It’s easy to just not think anything for a while, so eventually that’s what he let overtake the logical part of his mind.
“I mean- what am I even supposed to say to him, Calum?” Luke asks. “Hey, I’m in love with you. How do you feel about that?”
“Yes. Like, exactly that.” Calum groans. “You’re overthinking it.
“How am I not supposed to overthink this?” Luke bemoans.
“You two have been friends for so long that you’ve seen sides of each other that I haven’t even seen. Do you genuinely believe he would give you up because of something you can’t control?” Calum challenges.
Michael’s a good person, a great one if you ask Luke. It’s one of the things Luke really admires about him; he has a logical, but caring moral compass. All of the things that Luke is imagining in his mind would never happen if Michael has anything to say about it, but it’s hard to rationalize stuff like this. He thinks he knows Michael, but Luke doesn’t know Michael who now knows that his best friend fell for him. Even if he can’t control it, what if Michael decides that Luke is an asshole for ruining them?
“No. I don’t.” Luke admits. “We’re going to change, though.”
“Is that really a bad thing?” Calum wonders.
For the first few hours of the night, Luke traced the smudges on the windows with his eyes to keep his mind occupied. He created stories behind the smudges- why the person left their mark on the glass and why it was never wiped away. Eventually, he had to stop. The diner was slow for most of the morning with a small surge in customers near nine, but due to the inactivity, the windows were cleaned. Another waitress went outside with an old rag and a spray bottle, wiping away all of the fingerprints left by drunk passersbys from the night before. Luke watched as the window went from dirty to clean and he felt like crying.
There’s no certainty that Luke wouldn’t be wiped away next.
The waitress missed some spots, though. Luke noticed that later on, but they weren’t the same shape as they were originally. The cloth moved the film around into a new shape, one that Luke struggled to familiarize himself with before Calum came.
“It’s a difficult thing.” Luke falters. “You know how it feels when something changes, but you’re not ready for it.”
“I do.” Calum agrees with a shrug of his shoulders, hands still tucked safely beneath himself. “But, can you ever be ready for change?”
“If it’s good.” Luke counters.
“And you think this will be a bad change.” Calum assumes with a strict glare in Luke’s direction.
“I don’t think this would bring us closer.” Luke shrugs.
“This is Michael we’re talking about, Luke. Just talk to him.” Calum reminds Luke.
Luke is glued to this awful diner seat because he’s slightly worried that if he moves more than a few inches, that everything will begin to crumble. The booth is like a toothpick holding up a boulder, the boulder being the heartwrenching reality that everything he knows and loves will never be the same again. His friendship with Michael, or Calum, or Ashton. The band. The way he navigates everyday life. It will be different from now- that is, if he even has it anymore.
The longer he puts off this conversation with Michael, the longer he can hold on to the last bit of normalcy they’ve salvaged in their relationship. Even if that “normalcy” feels like his head is constantly spinning.
Frankly, the only thing keeping him grounded are the soft background noises that remind him of real life. The sound of a spatula scraping the stove-top in the kitchen, the sound of the people flipping through the menu and the metal on the corners bashing into one another, and the sound of the bell chiming any time someone came or went.
“I will. I have to, I’m just not ready.” Luke sighs. “There’s so much I want to say, I need a bit to get my shit straight.”
Calum sighs deeply. Luke can tell he understands where he’s coming from, but he’s still frustrated nonetheless. Luke gets it, it’s a situation that no one wants to watch from the sidelines. Except, Luke would kill to be a bystander right now. There’s sympathy and pity seeping from Calum’s existence and attempting to make its way into Luke’s own, but he’ll be damned if he lets it in.
“How about we start with you getting some sleep?” Calum suggests.
“He’s at the house.” Luke points out.
Calum scoffs at him softly. It’s not malicious- it’s just the nature of their relationship. Calum makes fun of Luke and Luke lets him because he’s not wrong to. Luke’s jumbled mind is a pretty stupid place sometimes, it’s only natural. The scoff makes the guilt that’s taken a constant presence on Luke’s chest loosen a bit. Normal, this feels normal. Calum feels normal. That’s a good sign.
“I’m not ready to see him yet, Cal.” Luke explains sheepishly.
Calum seems to consider it for a moment. He understands Luke’s point of view, but he wants to argue with him. There’s a gentle purse of his lips that make it evident he’s holding back. It’s sweet of him, but Luke wants to ask what he’s not saying because he could really use some guidance. He doesn’t get the chance to.
“Can I ask you something?” Calum hesitates after a few seconds of consideration.
Luke hums softly as an agreement, taking another sip of his coffee. The bitter taste still surprises him even though it’s been his only companion for the last twelve or so hours.
“What did you tell me?” Calum asks. “Michael-me. Not me-me.”
“I told you how it all started.” Luke recalls, voice weak.
It takes Luke a moment before he realizes that Calum wants the whole story. Luke opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it back shut as he considers. He summarized all of this only a few hours ago, but it was a disgusting, tangled mess of word vomit- and some real vomit. Deciding his next words carefully isn’t easy for him to do with Calum’s expectant stare on his face. It’s not easy to do in general, how do you sum up a year of unexplainable feelings into just a few sentences?
“I- uhm… I have a list?” Luke decides without really thinking about it.. “Of a bunch of shit I wanna do to spice up my life. He helped me get through a lot of it.”
“Did he help you come up with the list or something?” Calum questions.
“Not really. He… was just there for me in the way that a best friend normally is.” Luke admits. “Somewhere along the way it stopped feeling so platonic, I guess.”
“When did you realize it turned romantic?” Calum inquires.
“It didn’t turn romantic, my feelings did.” Luke clarifies.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Calum deadpans.
“I guess I always had my suspicions.” Luke shrugs. “I, like- officially realized when I was in Aus after…”
“God, I feel like I’m pulling teeth here.” Calum groans. “Can you just tell me?”
“After New Orleans.” Luke finishes. “When we lost you guys we… had a moment… in that alley. Made me really start to think so I ran off to Aus.”
“I thought you didn’t run away.” Calum echoes Luke’s words from their phone call a few weeks back. “Wait- a moment?”
“Yeah. A moment.” Luke says. “A sexual one.”
“Aw, ew.” Calum grimaces.
“You asked.” Luke shrugs.
“Did you finish the list yet?” Calum inquires, adjusting his seated position.
“Almost.” Luke shrugs, watching his finger as he runs it along the lip of the mug in his hands.
“What do you have left?” Calum perks up, tired eyes becoming more awake. “Maybe that’s how you can talk to him.”
“The last thing on my list was to set off some fireworks.” Luke laughs at his own childishness. “A little late for that now.”
“Never too late for fireworks.” Calum shrugs.
Calum’s right. Not about the firework thing because honestly, Luke hates when his neighbors set off fireworks outside of major holidays. He’s right about Luke needing some sleep. He’s tired. He’s so exhausted from the past few months and sleep has been the number one victim of his mental state. There’s no guarantee that sleep would make him feel any better, but his eyes are finally feeling heavy and all he can do is listen to them.
Even on the ride back, Luke listened to them. The sun felt almost sinful on the fronts of his eyelids as Calum drove through Nevada, but he didn’t let himself drift off yet. For the next twenty minutes, he just sat with his forehead on the window and let his body finally begin to relax after hours of being in flight mode. He really doesn’t know how he walked that far while drunk, freezing, and sobbing. Adrenaline has always scared him, the stuff it can make someone do is a tad outrageous.
He’s ashamed to admit that when the car finally pulled into the driveway of their AirBNB, Luke hesitated before getting out. Michael isn’t there; Calum had Ashton take him out to get cleaning supplies so that Luke could get to his bedroom without being noticed. His brain knows he isn’t there, but his body doesn’t seem so convinced. He hesitated at the steps and when he passed Michael and Ashton’s shared room. He even hesitated when he unzipped his bag to change out of his day-old clothes like the smallest noise could somehow summon the man.
What he doesn’t hesitate to do is go the hell to bed. The sight of the mattress makes Luke’s shoulders fall. It’s the most inviting and comforting thing he’s come across in the past twenty-four hours. He could probably cry as he climbs into the sheets, that is if he could get himself to feel normal again. To feel real again because none of this feels genuine. He’s been in a sort of haze since Michael approached him in the kitchen and it makes the world feel a bit off. Off in the way that Luke wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he fell asleep in this world, only to wake up in the real one where none of this happened this way.
His physical body is sluggish, probably from all of the running he doesn’t remember doing, so he falls asleep nearly as soon as he hits the mattress. After he checked that the door was locked, of course. He feels like a kid hiding from a monster he saw in his closet, but the “monster” is just his true feelings. God, he wishes it was a monster. Maybe it would be easier to stomach that some unidentifiable creature is after his soul than the idea that his best friend in the entire world might feel very different about him now. Everything about this is hard to digest, but he doesn’t get to wiggle his way into each thought before he’s fully asleep.
Though sunken into the bedding like sleep is a new concept to him, he tosses and turns. His brain is quiet by force, but his body is seemingly just as active as if he was awake. He flips from one side of the bed to the other unconsciously, his body making movements involuntarily even though all he wants to do is relax. That’s how this all feels- involuntary. Luke never wanted to fall in love with his best friend, but he couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he could.
It’s relatively aggravating, actually. Why him? Why Michael? Luke has dwelled on this during many of his near-sleepless nights and he’s determined that it would probably be easier if he fell in love with Calum, even Ashton. It would even be simpler if someone else fell in love with Michael instead. Not just because he wouldn’t be the one going through this infection of stress, but because there’s so much less complexity to everyone else’s relationships.
He’s known Calum for about as long as he’s known Michael, but their relationship wasn’t built on a one-sided crush. Luke hates to admit it, but he’s always felt some sort of way about Michael that was different from how he felt about his other friends. If Luke had realized he loved Ashton or Calum in this way, but only as an adult, it wouldn’t be so bad. There’s figurative brick towers representing his friendship with each man, but there’s a defective brick at the foundation of his and Michael’s tower. Ashton and Calum’s are sturdy and if he had to be rejected by them, he wouldn’t be so worried that the bricks could collapse.
It’s not that their relationship is unstable; Luke is. There’s always been this nervous feeling that crowded his body since he met Michael and it’s only surfaced since his realization. When something is constantly lingering in the back of your mind, it’s difficult to let it go. If he had only fallen in love with Michael a few months ago and that feeling under his skin was never there? He probably would’ve told Michael as soon as he put it all into words. He doesn’t get to live in that universe where everything is easy for him. He has to live in this one where he unknowingly dug his own grave for the past fifteen years by ignoring how he felt. There’s no one to blame but him.
He wakes up without the same blinding ray of sun peaking through the window that was there when he fell asleep. His phone reads 8:42, so somehow Luke slept for almost seven hours. His arms ache from their position on the spare pillow, wrapped around it like it was some sort of shield. His head feels exceptionally light when he rises from the mattress, but his eyelids remain heavy. They nearly anchor him to the bed, but the biting taste of his own bacteria lying on his tongue gets his legs to move to the edge of the bed. He wipes his eyes with the pads of his fingers, dissolving the sleep that laid over his retinas. As he stands to retrieve his toiletries bag from his backpack, he realizes just how quiet it is in the house. The only sound he can hear is his own feet against the floor and it causes a domino effect of sorts to happen within Luke.
First, he recognizes. His brain catches onto the silence within the building and he decides it’s unusual given the circumstances. He supposes he doesn’t actually know the circumstances. He’s been so wrapped up in himself that he didn’t get to gauge how hungover the other three were. Maybe they were so hungover that they went to bed early because they couldn’t tolerate being up for any longer as aspirin could only do so much. He freezes as he carefully listens for any noises in the house. T.V., microwave, talking, doors opening, even the air conditioning. He hears nothing. He hardly hears anything outside, but a plane passing overhead snaps him back.
Then, he panics. What if he’s too loud and he alerts the rest of the band to his presence? He’s not even entirely worried about just Michael- Calum and Ashton, too. He’s sure they’d bombard him with more questions given that Ashton is probably incredibly out of the loop and that Calum had plenty of time to think of his conversation with Luke earlier. He takes a deep breath as his chest constricts gently at the possibility of an attack.
Next, he considers. His feet are solid on the floor as he decides what to do next. He debates whether or not he really needs to brush his teeth, but settles on needing a shower as well. He feels like a mess and maybe taking care of himself a bit could tidy it up a bit. Wishful thinking, sure.
Next, plan. He doesn’t move aside from pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. He hasn’t really touched his phone since last night, there’s a crack in the screen now that feels unfamiliar as he drags his finger along it. He clicks on his and Calum’s text thread, rereading the name probably fifty times before actually drafting anything. He only asks him if he’s awake, he thinks that could give him a good idea of whether or not everyone else is.
Then, action. After a few minutes of standing frozen and staring at his phone, he figures it’s probably safe to go if he’s careful when the delivered message never turns to read. He slides his phone back in his pocket and lets his eyes dart around the room for a moment. It’s dim, the only light being the lamp on the bedside table. The limited light mimics the quiet environment. Luke almost feels just as small, only for a moment. The cocaine white walls are yellow under the shine of the lightbulb and the floors are dark. Luke does his best to maneuver carefully to his backpack that’s stashed away in a corner of the room.
He can’t really see what he’s doing, so he’s forced to rely on his other senses to get him through. He listens to himself, ensuring he doesn’t make too much noise and he practically shuffles around. He barely picks his feet up, but even then the floorboards creak on occasion. His socks muffle the sound of his body against the wood. Eventually, he finds what he needs in his backpack after several minutes of painfully slow movements.
But, he’s faced with the door. It’s sort of like a portal; as soon as he opens it, he’s leaving his safety net. He’s calmed down enough that he doesn’t believe anyone’s awake, but he really doesn’t know anything anymore. His judgement could lack logical thinking or common sense. He grabs the door handle anyway, twisting the metal in his palm at a pace that even a snail could yawn at.
The hallway is dark and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust. The light from his room leaks out just to the space before him, Calum’s door, but no further. The space is just as dead as it was when it was only behind the door. His eyes flick to Michael and Ashton’s room as a precaution before he starts moving again. Their door is closed too and it’s so quiet that Luke could be convinced they’re not in there.
At the realization of that possibility, Luke’s lungs feel small. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth to try and stay sane, but the only thing that does is remind him of how badly he needs to brush his teeth. So, he walks down the hallway with fingers brushing the wall to make sure he’s not going to run into something. The bathroom isn’t far from his room but in this silence, everything feels different- more. The light switch even seems farther away than it has been, but he finds it with minimal struggle.
He doesn’t turn on the light until the bathroom door is closed, keeping two fingers on the switch while the other hand does its best to mute the hinges. The bathroom light is much brighter than the one in his room and he has to close his eyes for a moment, the sting making his eyelashes wet.
When he dares to brave the world again, he regrets it immediately. He finds his own reflection staring back at him and it’s not someone he recognizes. It looks like him, but it doesn’t feel like him. His hair is a mess, curls tangled and flattened during the hours. It’s frizzy, too. Small hairs stick up from all directions like he got electrocuted. It feels like he did, actually. The bags under his eyes scream anything but electricity. The harsh contract from purple tiredness to his pale skin doesn’t go unnoticed, but it’s ignored.
Luke quietly sets his bag on the counter, digging through until he finds a plastic bag with his toothbrush and paste in it. This is, unfortunately, the most excited he’s been all night. Shaking hands apply a glob of minty paste to his orange toothbrush. The flavor attacks his flesh as he shoves the tool on his mouth and begins to brush away the remnants of his mistakes. Small circles on each tooth wipe away the alcohol, the words, and the vomit. He works the front of his bottom teeth first until he holds the bristles between his back molars so he can turn the shower on. A groan weaves it way out of his mouth when water hits his arm, Luke not being quick enough to remove himself.
There’s some gentle commotion in the room across the hall. The toothbrush halts in Luke’s mouth as he listens, his face running cold as soon as the sounds meet his ears. There’s feet hitting the floor in a hurry, but time seems slower. Michael’s voice, even muffled by the walls, makes the hair on the back of Luke’s neck stand tall. The shower; it’s loud and Luke is beyond angry that he didn’t think about it. In a dead quiet house, the sound of water being pushed through the pipes and then hitting the echoey, tiled floor is like a sonic boom.
For a split second when he heard Michael’s voice through the wall, he perked up a bit. His body had forgotten everything that happened and treated the sound like normal, like how a child behaves when they hear an ice cream truck down the road. It didn’t last long. His body may have forgotten, but his mind couldn’t. Even if he woke up one day and lost all of his memories, the buzz on top of his chest would find a way to remind him.
“You said he wasn’t here.” Michael bites. “Dude, let go.”
His voice is sharp, Luke can tell he’s tired. The pang in his chest gets harsher because Luke knows that he’s the cause of his exhaustion. It’s his fault and he can’t blame Michael for being upset with him- who doesn’t double check who they’re calling?
“Mike, leave him alone.” Ashton tries, voice weak like he had just woken up.
“Let the man shower, mate.” Calum’s voice appears in the mix.
“He doesn’t get to just-“ Michael seems to struggle for a moment. “Say that to me and then walk away.”
Luke moves the toothbrush in his mouth. The guilt that rises under his skin from Michael’s words puts his body on autopilot. The top row is his teeth get special attention, he brushes them like he’s being graded on it. Moving from one tooth to the next and spending several seconds on each one, he tunes out the conversation that’s happening a few feet from him. He pretends it’s not happening like he’s all by himself in this house. That is until the voices get louder, harder to ignore.
“Mike!” Calum’s voice fills the near empty hallway.
Before he can truly prepare himself, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. Luke couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but that moment felt so fucked. The second the knocking registered in his pretty little head, he simultaneously feels overheated and about to freeze. His head is warm, simulating a bomb that’s about to explode, but his fingers are cold as they pause on his toothbrush once more. He feels big, but small. The bathroom seems to shrink, but the world feels as big as ever- like there’s too much space for him.
Minty suds have slowly bubbled up around the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t move to wipe it away. He stays put by the shower, as far away from the door as he can get without soaking his clothes.
“Luke, please.” Michael pleads, another rap on the door. “We need to talk about this.”
Luke doesn’t respond, instead his eyes flicker to the lock on the door. The lock is twisted vertically and somehow, it's more intimidating than anything he’s come across before. It’s almost staring at him like a tangible threat- screaming at Luke that the small mechanism is the only thing keeping his world from truly crumbling into dust.
“Can we talk, please?” Michael asks, quietly.
He’s pressed against the other side of the door, Luke can tell from where his voice travels from. He’s practically begging Luke to talk to him right now, but Luke can’t do anything besides awkwardly maneuver to the sink. He’s sort of half hovering over the toilet to spit into the basin, but somehow it’s not the most ridiculous thing he’s done this evening.
He’s a grown man who is hiding from a reality that he created only with the help of himself in a bathroom and he blew his cover within a minute of being in there because he forgot showers are loud. Luke briefly wonders if he’s always been that dense. He decides the answer is probably yes.
“I’m sorry.” Michael harasses the momentary silence. “I…I should’ve hung up when I figured out that you meant to call Calum. I don’t know why I didn’t. Y’know, I know better than that.”
Luke uses his softest touch to turn the faucet onto a gentle stream, letting the water pool in his hand to wash away any evidence he was there. The water is clear in his palm, creating a hot spring in his hand as the level rises. It’s normally the type of detail that makes Luke feel human, but it actually just infuriates him. He doesn’t feel like he deserves something so normal while his best friend is beating himself up for something that he did. Luke can’t even separate his lips to tell Michael to stop, Luke is a coward. He knows it.
“I thought you were going to leave with that girl, so I left.” Michael recalls weakly. “But, you called me a few minutes later and you just- started talking.”
“Mike-“ Ashton tries, but Michael cuts him off.
“I could’ve just hung up on you- forced you to stop because I knew none of that was for me to hear.” Michael continued. “But I just wanted to listen to your voice, even if I wasn’t meant to.”
His words have a chokehold on Luke. They’ve come to life and wrapped their hands around Luke’s trachea. He opens his mouth to take a deep breath in and feels the cold air against his minty, fresh teeth. He exhales the same, lips parted as if they were two magnets pushing against each other.
“You- uh… described me like I was some sort of angel-making God.” Michael articulates poorly. “I probably would’ve fallen to my knees after hearing that if it weren’t for a wall behind me.”
Eyebrows pinched, Luke turns the water off. The shower is still shouting behind him, but finally it’s not loud enough to invade Luke’s consciousness.
“Then, you said you love me.” Michael rattles on. “I thought I made it up at first. It didn’t occur to me that you could feel that way about me. It just seemed so… impossible? Like a prank. Or I was misunderstanding you.”
He never was, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach. No one expects their best friend to fall for them, he knows it was probably a shock to hear. Luke had the comfort of getting used to the idea over a span of months, Michael didn’t have that. He got it thrown in his face on New Year’s Eve, interrupting his good time. Just when Luke thinks it’s physically impossible to feel like more of a fool, Michael keeps speaking.
“You’re so…” Michael goes silent for a moment before sighing. “Naturally significant. Like- everything you do ends up being big whether you mean for it to be or not. I’m not like that.”
Luke is taken aback by Michael’s words. No one has ever described him in such a way, Luke was the one who spoke like that. Luke was always the one who spoke so poetically of anyone he loved because that’s just who he is, but it was never returned to him. He’s always been fine with that, he never thought there was much to describe.
“Then, you said it again. I swear I had to force myself to not ask you to say it over and over.” Michael breathes. “You disappeared, so I never got the chance to say it back.”
There’s a beat of silence. Ashton and Calum don’t try to stop Michael this time, it’s the same roaring silence that Luke woke up to not even fifteen minutes ago. His ears are ringing at the waterfall coming from Michael’s lips. To say it back. To say “I love you” back to Luke. Luke dissects the sentence carefully, breaking down each word and the inflection that came from Michael’s voice. The gentle breath he let out after he finished speaking. The silence after.
“I won’t leave until we talk about this.” Michael promises. “You gave a dog a bone, Luke. I’m not gonna bury this one.”
He’s so deep in thought that he’s unsure of how he ended up with a hand on the doorknob and his feet opposite the door. The room is sticky now, the humidity from the hot water banging on the tile creating a gentle sheet of dampness on Luke’s face. It’s nice, his skin feels dry but so does his mouth. Before he knows it, he swings the door open. The rush of cold air on his skin retracts whatever sleep is leftover on his eyes. The first thing his brain zeros in on is the green color before him, the color that haunts him every time his best friend's name is mentioned.
Michael’s face is contorted in surprise like he was expecting Luke to never open the door. Luke had the same expectations, honestly, but Michael wanted to say it back. Luke is the type to pretend something never happened until he’s forced to face it. The door separating Luke from the rest of them was his ticket to pretending, but he just ripped it to shreds. It’s unlike him, but the words coming out of Michael’s mouth changed every chemical in Luke’s brain. He spots the silhouettes of Ashton and Calum in his peripheral vision. They were there to supervise Michael, make sure he didn’t do anything he couldn’t take back. They aren’t very good at their jobs because Luke will be damned if he lets Michael take that back. Michael stands taller at Luke’s presence,
“If this is some elaborate prank, it’s not funny.” Luke exhales, his voice breaks between every few syllables.
“I’m not laughing.” Michael disputes.
Luke searches his face for any signs of mischief, but he comes back with nothing. There’s no sneaky quirk of the lip, no coldness in his eyes, no confidence that only a terrible person could have. It’s just… Michael. It’s the same Michael he’s known since he was just a kid. It’s the same Michael he started a band with, the same Michael he fell in love with.
“Can you guys, uh-“ Luke breathes. “Give us a minute?”
He looks at Ashton and Calum over Michael’s shoulder, who only look back at him worryingly. Calum looks especially concerned- Luke doesn’t even know if Ashton is aware of anything that happened, actually. Luke had whined to Calum about this exact moment just this morning and now, he’s living it. His wordless gaze back gives them the push they need to hesitantly head back to their respective rooms, not without a few looks back to ensure Luke wouldn’t need moral support during this conversation. Luke doesn’t look back at Michael until both of their doors are shut and there’s a few moments of silence.
“You’re not fucking with me?” Luke’s voice is tender and small as he speaks.
“Never.” Michael promises.
“I’ve been practically killing myself over you for the past year.” Luke frets. “It would be really messed up if you’re joking.”
It’s all in his tone, he’s not pranking Luke to be funny. He’s not playing with him for his own satisfaction. He’s not even mad. He’s in love with Luke, too.
“You’re…” Luke swallows harshly. “Serious?”
“I’m dead serious.” Michael confirms.
He’s eye-level with Luke due to their distance. His eyes haven’t left Luke since he opened the door. Even when he was telling the other two to leave, he felt the familiar burn on the side of his face. He hardly even acknowledged the feeling, maybe it’s more welcome now. Not in a masochistic way- not anymore.
“Say it.” Luke challenges.
“I love you.” Michael says without hesitation.
A little more than a year ago from this very day, Michael called Luke boring. They’ve done so much together since that moment- since Luke created his list.
They got matching tattoos- spontaneously, of course. Two puzzle pieces that only became so powerfully symbolic in this moment. A puzzle piece is only a piece until it’s united with the other pieces, then it is a puzzle. Luke is only a man until he’s united with Michael. Only then does he become Luke.
They drank coffee with the help of their sweet friend, Natalie. Soggy straws, chocolate noses, and a few texts created something Luke would never give up, not even for all the wealth in the world. He could’ve done that task on the list by himself, he didn’t need Michael’s support to drink coffee. But, he texted him an invitation anyway. Truth be told, Luke only wanted Michael there so that his greedy eyes could soak up the view of the red-haired man across from him. He can’t forget the way the February sun curved over Michael’s face like the star was created to do just that.
Luke proposed to him- as cousins- and Michael never questioned it. Even when Luke showed up at his apartment in a fancy suit and flowers to match, Michael was there. Luke hasn’t been to an Olive Garden since, but he’s not sure he’d ever want to go without Michael by his side again. They ran like two love drunk teenagers, the sound of Michael’s laughter taking permanent residence in Luke’s mind. The soundtrack of his love.
Luke has a house that he now loves thanks to Michael’s help. He never thought throwing paint on someone could feel so similar to pure ecstasy. There’s still a spot of blue paint on his couch that he never bothered to clean, but maybe that was a subconscious choice to never wash away that night. He did wash away the paint that dried on his skin with Michael a few feet away, discussing this very trip that they’re on. Then-Luke had no clue that six months later, he would be here while he watched the colors swirl down his shower drain.
He hasn’t been to many clubs since May of last year, when Luke started dressing more like himself. The baggier pants, the neater tops, the cleaner shoes, they fill his closet, now. He actually got rid of the red button up shirt that he wore when that skin burning feeling rose from dormancy for the first time. It made him feel sick when he looked at it. He can’t even remember what the handsome stranger looked like anymore, but he remembered the punch to his gut when he felt disappointed that Michael wasn’t jealous of him.
Luke did Michael’s makeup. The baby pink eyeshadow is nearly gone by now, but he hardly touched it back then because he didn’t like it much. Then, the color sat upon Michael’s skin and suddenly it was Luke’s favorite color. Because of that moment in Luke’s bathroom, he has had the courage to wear makeup pretty much any time he goes out. Luke doesn’t know, but Michael looks for it now. He glances at Luke’s eyelids every time he enters a room, hoping to find a color sitting over the blue in his eyes.
Luke tried frog, but not without Michael by his side. He was acting childish, scared of trying something he’d never done before. Michael was so patient with him the entire time, patience that Luke was only familiar with because he was so used to it- a gentle giant. That was the night Michael called Luke pretty for the first time, but certainly not the last. Michael has always known Luke a little better than he knew himself because he catches onto the small things, like the way that Luke can’t look at him for too long after he says the word.
They went skinny dipping together, just Michael with a hand outstretched in case Luke fell too deep. Luke never had to say it, but it was hard for him. Not just the whole naked thing, but being so incredibly vulnerable with someone and accepting that they could protect him if anything came along. Michael was his protector.
Luke tried his best to find a new protector, someone who didn’t have so many strings attached. Date after date, but the red color always filled his vision. He never tried to clear the hue, in fact he only color matched it. He was too focused on getting away that he only realized the leash that the universe had on him because of a near stranger. That earth shattering moment that made him realize Michael’s not platonic- he never was. Even as he pushed Michael away, Michael stayed close by in case he needed him.
They went to New Orleans together where they crossed the line between friends and lovers. In that disgusting alleyway, they held onto each other as they made that leap. Luke can almost feel the fabric of Michael’s jersey beneath his fingers again, even in a bathroom in Nevada. That line was something they had unknowingly been inching toward for years, but they crossed it together with limbs tangled together and voices hushed.
The problem about that line is that you don’t know you’ve crossed it together until a moment like this, after you’ve both said “I love you.” Luke tried his damnedest to figure out if he was on the other side of a canyon than Michael was, but he ran away to do so. He likes to run away, doesn’t he? He felt like a kid again while at his parents house, but the problem is that he was in love with Michael as a kid too. It’s always been him, but it took a painfully long flight and a conversation with his mum for him to realize it.
He never listened, not to himself at least. In all of those years when he felt more excited to sleepover at Michael’s house than he did at Calum’s or Ashton’s, he never figured it out. Even when he looked at Michael like he was the only thing that kept the gravitational pull from losing its strength, he didn’t listen to the gentle tingling on his arms. He only listened when the tingling slapped him in the face and yelled at him. It’s hard not to feel like an idiot when you spent the past decade or so completely ignoring a big, red sign. When Calum told him that Luke could talk to him, Luke listened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He didn’t focus on this task much, frankly. Saying yes more. He didn't say yes to more beer pong. He didn’t say yes to Madison when she proposed he come home with her. He didn’t say yes to more coffee at the diner. He only said yes when he was asked if he’s really in love with Michael. It’s the only thing that he can’t deny- the only thing his body wouldn’t let him lie about anymore.
So, here he is. Standing in front of Michael with “I love you” lingering in the air and only one task left on his list; set off some fireworks. He imagined that he would go outside during the party with some people who were similarly inebriated and set off the explosives. He imagined that he would burn his thumb on the lighter because his hands were too cold to ignite a flame in one try. He imagined the electric colors would reflect on his eyes like mirrors while he admired them from a distance. He never got the chance to do that, but he has the chance now.
In the movies, writers like to describe first kisses as “electric” or “powerful.” One person’s lips are the fuse and the others are the flame, together they make fireworks. Luke’s eyes bounce down to Michael’s lips, the shape he knows all too well. The cupid's bow that Cupid must’ve created himself, the warm color that nearly matches his fiery hair, and the soft pout that lays upon the muscles as he waits for Luke to do something.
So, he sets off some fireworks.
Luke flies for him, hands darting for Michael’s jaw as he pulls him close. Their lips meet in a frenzied haze, both men having waited for this moment for too long. Teeth clash together, the fabric of Luke’s shirt catches on Michael’s fingers as he steadies himself on Luke’s waist, Luke’s feet step on Michael's bare ones, but even then, Luke can feel the fireworks.
They explode in his head as the flavor of Michael hits his tongue. The taste makes Luke knot his fingers into Michael’s hair, using it to pull him impossibly closer. Chest to chest, Luke feels like he can breathe again. His lungs have been playing tricks on him for months, shrinking and growing like they’re waiting to see if he would notice. It’s been awhile since he felt like he got a real breath and the oxygen returning to his blood feels almost as good as Michael’s lips do.
Michael’s hands are now on Luke’s lower back, pushing into him so that they are pressed together in every place humanly possible. Luke feels warm now- not burned, but warm. Michael is the one who pulls away first, resting his forehead on Luke’s as he catches his lost breath. Luke does the same, exchanging air in the small space between the two men. He strains his eyes to get a look at Michael’s face.
Lips separated to breathe, but swollen so sweetly all because of Luke. His eyes are closed, but his hands move on top of Luke’s shirt like he needs confirmation that this is actually happening. Luke does the same, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Michael’s neck. Luke has been wanting Michael for so long that the moment he gets to consume him, he leaps on the opportunity. He even tunes out his own sounds, focused on the small sound that leaves Michael’s throat when he closes his mouth to swallow. It’s almost overshadowed by the shower that is still going behind them, it makes Luke laugh softly.
“What?” Michael laughs too, gentle breaths on Luke’s lips.
“I-“ Luke chuckles. “-still need to shower.”
Michael lifts his head, separating their touch to peer behind him at the water. Michael laughs harder at the sight. It’s probably just the absurdity of the situation- kissing his best friend in a strange bathroom- but it really is funny. It’s funny that taking a shower tonight scared him so bad, all for him to end up in Michael’s grasp.
“I don’t think I can stop kissing you long enough for you to do that.” Michael jokes, meeting Luke’s eyes finally.
Luke looks at Michael. The green color of his eyes are so close now, closer than it’s been in awhile- maybe ever. But, there’s so much relief behind it that it’s brighter than the mirror lights shining beside them. Luke feels relieved, too. He was so convinced that nothing would remain, but instead he has everything as putty in his hands.
“You could join me.” Luke offers, voice small.
Michael’s hands tighten on Luke’s body, but they never stop moving. It’s all so tender, his fingers squeezing the material of Luke’s shirt every so often.
“Would that be okay?” Michael asks, sinful green eyes looking up at Luke through thick eyelashes..
“Yeah- Yes.” Luke stutters. “If you want to.”
“I want.” Michael smiles before connecting their lips again.
Luke brings his hands to Michael’s jaw again, deepening the kiss in a new way. He can feel Michael moving beneath his palms and it’s addicting, he may never need a cigarette again.
A different type of excitement lingers within their bodies. Luke pulls away briefly.
“Can you shut the door?” Luke whispers onto Michael’s lips.
The water feels nice on Luke’s side once they’re in the shower together. After many sloppy, wet kisses and hands lingering on exposed skin, they managed to undress each other like two college kids getting laid for the first time. Clothes litter the bathroom floor and Michael’s lips litter kisses on Luke’s jaw as he’s leaning on the older man against the cold tile. There’s gentle little gasps leaving Luke’s lips as Michael moves two fingers inside of him.
Luke thinks he’s the hardest he’s ever been on top of his best friend. His hands stay still on Michael’s sharp hip bones, the feeling digging into Luke’s hands, and his head on Michael’s shoulder. It’s all so similar to how they were in New Orleans, Luke loves it. The big difference between the two scenes is that Luke lets the noises fall from his lips shamelessly.
Michael’s got one hand moving to stretch Luke, the other is on his ribs to hold him close. It’s actually so nice- doing this with Michael. Not only does it feel phenomenal, but the awkward moments aren’t so awkward with him. Luke’s shirt got caught on his chin when Michael was stripping him of it, they just laughed. Luke stumbled over the lip of the glass shower door when they moved locations, more chuckles as Michael stabilized him.
It’s refreshing that something so intimate and important doesn’t have this weight to it. It doesn’t have to be perfect with him because he is perfect.
“That’s it.” Michael praises, following the rhythm inside Luke that he had set for himself.
It feels absolutely insane, Michael inside him. He doesn’t know what to do with himself at the pleasure, he turned to a useless lump the moment Michael’s fingertip touched the ring of muscles. Maybe the love intensifies the movements, but it’s unlike anything he’s felt before. The second finger fills him so well, he could live like this forever. Easy, blissful peace while lying against his favorite person.
“Another.” Luke requests, panting into Michael’s neck.
Michael listens, adding another finger on the out stroke. The delicious stretch happening to Luke’s hole right now is almost orgasm-worthy in and of itself. The grunts leaving his body are animalistic, something he’s never heard from himself before. Michael eats them up- the noises. They only encourage him to go faster inside of Luke on top of him. Their cocks are squished between their bodies, but it seems that neither of them care.
“Feel good?” Michael asks, voice low and soft at Luke’s ear.
Luke mumbles against Michael’s skin, something between “yes” and “fuck,” too overcome with pleasure to give a real answer. Michael goes back to kissing him immediately once he hears the breathlessness in Luke’s voice. He forces Luke’s chin up between his pointer finger and thumb, swallowing the noises between pink cushions now.
“Need you.” Luke whispers against his lips.
“You think you’re ready?” Michael questions, keeping the pace of his fingers.
Michael stills his fingers, giving Luke a moment before he takes them fully out. Luke misses the feeling immediately, but he knows the best is yet to come. Or cum. Who knows- Luke is very hard right now. He’s just a man who really wants another man to fuck him already.
He briefly struggles to stand up straight, his knees feeling weak from the pleasure. He hasn’t been touched in months and it’s all that much better because it’s all happening at the hands of Michael. Michael helps him, anchoring his hands on his back for support. Michael’s just as hard as he is and Luke hasn’t even touched him yet, he feels pretty proud right now.
Luke ducks to kiss Michael again- he’s serious about this addiction. He may never recover. He doesn’t really want to, he hopes it plagues him for the rest of his life. Michael kisses back easily because he won’t deprive himself of Luke anymore. Michael’s now-free hand doesn’t waste any time touching Luke again, even being coated in lube.
Luke smiles at the movements, eager to feel him just as he is to Michael. Luke has touched Michael’s skin before, but he’s never felt him. He’s never felt the smooth parts of his arms, or his legs, or his back. He soaks it all up just in case he dies in his sleep tonight and never gets to do it again.
“When did you realize?” Luke mumbles against his lips, smiling when Michael’s tongue pokes out and licks his lips.
“That I love you?” Michael questions.
The words roll off of his tongue so naturally as if he’s been saying it for years. Granted, he has. He’s never said it romantically. Unless he has been saying it this way the whole time, waiting for Luke to catch onto the underlying meaning of the phrase. That idea makes Luke’s knees weaker than they already are.
“Yeah, that.” Luke smiles.
“UK tour, twenty-fifteen.” Michael recalls. “You stopped hugging me as much and I got like… genuinely distressed over it.”
“That’s a long time ago.” Luke marvels.
“It is.” Michael agrees. “The timing was never right to do something.”
Luke imagines Michael in 2015. The much thinner, less broad version of the man before him feels the same way both now and then. You’d think it’s rocket science with the way Luke is trying to comprehend it all. Time changes everything except love, he supposes.
“Is…now okay?” Luke smiles, dragging a hand down Michael’s side.
“It’s perfect.” Michael replies. “Only cause you said it first.”
Michael looks at him through his lashes again, sickly and sinfully gorgeous. Luke squeezes Michael’s skin softly to remind himself that this is real, this is happening. Michael is happening to him. Michael’s been what’s wrong with Luke all along, but then it means it was never wrong in the first place. All right.
“Would you have said it if I didn’t say it first?” Luke asks.
“Eventually, much farther down the line.” Michael surmises, a hazy gaze on Luke’s face. “Would you? If you called Calum?”
“Probably.” Luke admits. “When I couldn’t hold it in any longer because it drove me absolutely insane.”
“Kind of want to see you go insane.” Michael prods softly.
“You drive me insane.” Luke divulges.
“Do I?” Michael’s eyebrow rises teasingly.
“You call me pretty and then pretend like it means nothing.” Luke whispers. “Like when you call me pretty.”
Luke doesn’t know what world he’s in right now because not even an hour ago, he would’ve rather died than admit how that word makes him feel. It’s meaningless if it’s not coming from Michael’s mouth, much like his own name. Now that he’s heard it from Michael’s aroused voice, he doesn’t think he wants anyone to say his name again unless it’s Michael himself while beneath Luke.
“It never meant nothing.” Michael pinches at Luke’s skin, rolling his eyes softly. “It was the closest I could get to admiring you loudly without crossing a line.”
“You want to admire me loudly?” Luke echoes.
“I do.” Michael admits. “Can’t stand the idea of you not thinking you’re perfect.”
Luke flushes softly at how easily Michael says this kind of stuff. It’s so natural coming from him. It comes out like how he would say what temperature it is today or what the date is. Just, casual. Having his hard dick against his best friend’s stomach is anything but casual, Luke thinks.
Luke connects their lips again briefly, reaching behind Michael’s head for the condom he dug out of his bag. Luke’s hand finds the shelf behind them, grazing the empty lube packet before finding what he was looking for. He pulls back and rips the package open with his teeth, only lifting his other hand to stretch the rubber out. Michael watches in awe at the way Luke works. He’s stunned seeing Luke so determined to mend them together until they’re one being. Michael would let him do anything.
“Why do you have green condoms?” Michael wonders aloud.
Luke spits the top of the packaging out of his mouth and rolls it onto Michael’s dick without warning. Michael’s breath hitches, but Luke doesn’t miss the sound. He bathes in it, he loves any sound that comes from Michael’s lips.
“You don’t like green?” Luke smiles cheekily, feeling the curves and ridges of Michael’s length beneath his finger as he pulls the condom on.
“Love green.” Michael grunts. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.” Luke smiles, wrapping his hand around Michael’s- now green- dick. “They were handing them out for free at some bar on St. Patty's Day.”
“Well, in the name of St. Patty-“ Michael stumbles. “How do you want me?”
Now, that’s a hard question for Luke. He’s imagined this scenario more times than he’d like to admit, but it goes so many different ways.
In his dreams, Michael has had him on the bed. Taking what he wants from him while Luke’s face is pinned to the mattress. Or, letting Luke ride him until he’s too tired that Michael has to do the rest of the job. Or marking Luke’s thighs while he’s on his back, making him arch his back to the God’s with only his mouth. Michael has had him on the living room sofa, pounding into him while his favorite show plays in the background. The kitchen, fucking Luke on the counter until the nice marble is slick and wet.
He doesn’t recall many shower scenarios, but maybe he should consider that more often.
“Behind me?” Luke thinks.
Michael nods tenderly and grabs Luke’s hips to pull him into another kiss, keeping it soft and slow. The whole situation is so intimate, it’s the most romantic thing Luke has ever experienced. There’s no tongue, no wandering hands, just them. Lips connected and moving in sync like a dance that neither of them choreographed. Their lips only disconnect when Michael pushes Luke’s hips to turn him around in front of him, before flipping them entirely.
The tile is cold on Luke’s cheek and his dick feels like a prisoner pressed against it. Luke doesn’t know how Michael does it, going from so loving and sweet to dominant and demanding in seconds. Luke loves it. Michael taps at Luke’s ankles, a silent request for him to spread them farther. One of his hands never leaves Luke’s waist, the other travels up to his shoulder for leverage. Luke’s hands uselessly grab at the tile as he waits for what he wants so bad that he’s nearly drooling.
Luke shutters at the feeling of Michael’s tip grazing his hole. It’s pure excitement, Luke is thrilled to be in this position. He might just snap at Michael and tell him to quit lollygaging if he doesn’t hurry up, but that's probably the painful erection talking. Spread open and ready for Michael, he’s- oh.
Michael pushes in slowly, but he doesn’t stop until he bottoms out. Blissful is the only way Luke could describe such a feeling. Full and complete like he’s a painting that’s sat unfinished for so many years. It feels religious, the two of them pressed against each other. Luke being stretched and Michael being squeezed, fuck if this wasn’t better than Luke ever imagined. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feels.
“Oh, God.” Michael groans. “You’re tight.”
“Fix that, will you?” Luke mumbles grumpily, sticking his ass out a bit to encourage Michael to move.
“Fuck.” Michael moans, Luke’s words getting to him. “Roger that.”
So, he moves. His hips pull away from the curve of Luke’s ass only to find their way back in a split second. Luke arches his back, his chest hitting the wall. Michael’s slow thrusts turn faster at the increase of whimpers and quiet begging from Luke’s open mouth. His hand is strong on Luke’s shoulder, using it to push himself inside.
Luke can’t see it, but he knows the sight of Michael’s cock disappearing into him must be insane. Not too fast, not too slow, but just right to make Luke’s brain turn to pathetic, Michael-induced mush. Michael’s other hand that is on Luke’s waist travels down to where his torso meets his leg. His fingers lay in the crease, pulling against the skin to bring Luke even closer to him- if that’s possible.
“Mike.” Luke whines breathlessly, breath heating up the tile more than the hot water does.
“Yeah, baby?” Michael replies, just as weak as Luke is.
Luke presses his lips together in a line as he clips the pet name. He’s absolutely saving that for later considering the fact that pre-cum dribbles down his dick once it registered in his head. He stifles a deafeningly loud moan before he’s forced to open his mouth to breathe, the pleasure in his abdomen knocking the wind out of him.
“Say it f’me.” Luke pleads.
“I love you.” Michael replies.
Michael’s hand travels up from his shoulder to his hand that is weak against the wall. He hooks his fingertips around Luke’s own, his hand blanketing Luke’s. His other hand travels around to his dick. Michael pumps the base a few times, eliciting a pathetic, pornographic moan from Luke. It only encourages him further, bringing his hand to graze Luke’s tip before stroking down the whole length.
Skin slapping against skin, groans and grunts filling the small shower, Luke wonders if he prayed for this. It seems like only the type of thing that a God could grant him, a beautiful man stroking in and out of him because he loves him. Loving sex is so much better than meaningless sex, Luke decides.
“Yeah?” Michael asks. “You gonna cum for me?”
“Yes- Yeah.” Luke whines out, cheek beginning to ache from where it’s pressed against the wall.
Then, Michael changes the angle of his hips. The tip of his cock perfectly abuses Luke’s prostate, creating a mess of Luke. He’s pliant in Michael’s grasp, turning to nothing but a drooling, whimpering pile of a man.
Luke sees white when he cums, chanting Michael’s name as his orgasm approaches. Hot, sticky ropes land between the wall, Luke’s stomach, and Michael’s hand. His cum paints the small area, but it only makes Michael more satisfied. He’s hungry, the way he’s thrusting into Luke like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.
“Fuck, Luke.” Michael groans, movements getting sloppy.
Luke’s overstimulated state doesn’t stop him from clenching down on purpose to rip a guttural moan from Michael. He smiles weakly, knowing the effect he has on the man behind him. Luke makes a note for the next time that he really should get Michael’s dick in his mouth and see what sounds he can get from that. Michael cums, too. Hot into the condom inside of Luke. They groan in unison as the feeling hits them both.
Michael rides it out until his hips are still. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor seems louder now that the two of them are finally quiet. Air hits Luke’s lungs like a drug, breathing in the humid air that contains Michael’s body.
“Hey, Michael?” Luke asks, voice exhausted and slightly muffled by the position.
“Mm?” Michael hums, resting his forehead on Luke’s shoulder.
“I love you, too.” Luke promises.
Michael chuckles softly against his skin, admiring how Luke remembered- even after a great orgasm- to say it back. It’s one of the things Michael loves most about Luke, how he loves. Quiet, but proud. He makes sure nothing goes unnoticed or overlooked just because it’s someone he cares about. He’d spend hours of his life absorbing every detail of something that he doesn’t care about or understand just because he’s Luke, that’s what he does. He remembers.
“We should probably go to bed.” Michael proposes.
“Will you stay with me?” Luke squeezes Michael’s fingers.
Luke gets to fall asleep in Michael’s arms that night. His scent invading Luke’s nostrils, his skin splayed beneath Luke’s fingers, his breath against Luke’s cheek. Luke gets to consume all of him like he’s always wanted, loving every single detail about the most beautiful piece of art he’s had the luxury of finding. Luke won’t let another day go by without Michael by his side with as many reminders that he loves him as possible. He’ll die before Michael ever feels unloved again.
They’ll talk about the future eventually, but for now they just exist within each other's worlds as the newest thing that brightens up their days. Their plus one, their other half, their puzzle piece. They don’t need anything more now that they have each other in this way. Frankly, their lives won’t change that much. They’re still best friends, that will never fade. They’ll just be able to kiss each other now and make Calum groan in disgust every time.
Luke didn’t think he would get here. Who would? If you make a silly list of New Year’s Resolutions and you really think you’ll find love, you’re deemed a fool. Maybe you have to be a fool to get the love, learning from your mistakes and all.
The moral of the story is; Spice up your life, who would want anything else?
