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Title: Spice Up Your Life
Chapter 13/14: Say Yes More
Word Count: 7101
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.
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“You look happy.”
Luke turns to find Michael standing next to him in their AirBNB kitchen, drink in hand and cheeks flushed from his own light buzz. A dopey, drunken smile immediately replaces the previously blank expression on Luke’s face. He instantly perks up at the new presence.
“I am.” Luke chirps, sliding his back on the counter behind him to get closer to Michael.
“Yeah?” Michael asks, leaning one hip on the marble. “That’s good.”
Luke can feel the weight of the alcohol making its way to his eyelids as he looks at Michael, really looks at him. Michael has had a soft smile on his face since he found Luke in the sea of people. Luke admires the way his bottom lip juts out gently. Drunk Luke isn’t the sharpest tool on the shed, but he can appreciate the small details. Maybe a bit too much. He’s sober enough to stop himself from reaching out and running his finger along his friend’s closed mouth.
Michael looks back at Luke, letting his stare comfortably linger on the tipsier of the two. Neither of them say anything for a few moments, getting lost in the noise of the room, until Michael looks down at the hardwood floor beneath them and clears his throat.
“How many rounds has he lost so far?” Michael asks, awkwardly gesturing with his cup toward the lively dining room beside the similarly busy kitchen.
He’s pointing at Ashton at one end of the dining table who is playing beer pong with a few strangers, loudly groaning when he isn’t able to make the plastic ball into his opponent's cup. Luke snickers softly, contorting his upper body gently to peer back at his friend. Ashton’s got his head tilted back, chugging another beer and a wet ping pong ball in hand.
It reminds Luke a lot of their early days. The constant partying and the willingness to do just about anything with someone they had hardly even exchanged a dozen words with. He’s never been a social butterfly in these scenarios, he always left that to the other three. As they got older, Michael began to join him in his introverted nature. Hence, moments like these.
“Just one. We sucked.” Luke turns back to Michael, carefully controlling his volume.
“We?” Michael asks with an eyebrow raised, looking curiously at Luke. “I thought you were good at beer pong.”
“I won one game when we were like-” Luke shakes his head as he tries to recall. “Twenty?”
“But, you were so good!” Michael exclaims, displaying his signature smile.
Frankly, he doesn’t remember that game much. It was probably the drunkest he’s ever been and one of the only times he ever bothered to play beer pong. According to his friends, he demolished that game and won in just under a few minutes. He’s never been able to recreate that success, but he also never tried given the fact that he doesn’t typically drink as much as he did that night.
Luke opens his mouth to playfully argue back, but someone walks by the pair and bumps into Michael’s shoulder. Michael looks back instinctively before shuffling closer to the counter, the stranger shouting a pathetic apology before scurrying off into the rest of the crowded house. Luke can’t help but admire how clear Michael’s skin is. It’s pink and the apples of his cheeks are shining in the dull kitchen light.
With their conversation disrupted, Luke bites his lip as if he was trying to keep words from spilling out. Maybe he was, or maybe he was just drunk enough that his mind became too lazy to form his thoughts into words. He looked from Michael’s cheeks to his jaw, the hardly visible stubble catching Luke’s eye for another moment before Sober Luke screams at him from the back of his head.
“I’ll work on my beer pong skills just for you.” Luke promises playfully.
“Can’t wait.” Michael jests, taking a sip of his drink.
Luke watches the process as it happens before him. Michael brings the plastic cup to his mouth before wrapping the pink, pillowy muscles around the lip of it. He tilts his head back to let gravity do the work for him, the liquid flowing from the bottom of the cup to the top and then into his mouth. He only takes a sip, so he brings the cup away from his lips before swallowing, but Luke stares at him as he does. His adam’s apple bobs up and down once and only once, but it’s almost in slow motion in Luke’s intoxicated mind.
It’s addicting. Or poetic. Or disgusting. Or beautiful? Drunk Luke isn’t exactly sure, but it’s making him feel a bit more light headed than he initially did. He wishes he could watch Michael do this all night. Study his throat as he takes sips of his drink in different lighting, in different rooms, maybe with different alcohols to gauge what types of reactions he has. Not in a sexual way, just in an educational way. To get a better understanding of how Michael works. To have an excuse to stare at him for hours on end.
“Where have you been all night?” Luke blinks, eyebrows scrunching. “I lost you a few hours ago.”
Luke is slouching, so Michael is towering over him by a few inches. Michael looks down at him, then down to his cup before giving it a few soft swirls.
“I was talking to a friend. Haven’t seen him in a while.” Michael explains, shoving his other hand into his pocket.
“Who?” Luke interrogates childishly.
“Carter.” Michael states easily and immediately. “You met him a few times I think.”
Luke remembers Carter. He didn’t leave much of an impression on Luke, but he remembers him. They met once at Michael’s birthday party a few years back. They awkwardly chatted for a few minutes until one of Carter’s friends came to relieve him from the encounter. The only other time Luke had heard of the man was from Michael’s recount. Carter was getting married and invited Michael to the celebration dinner where Carter ordered a two hundred dollar steak.
“Two hundred dollar steak guy!” Luke says proudly like the idea of him remembering who Michael’s friends are is far fetched.
Luke isn’t sure he could forget anything about Michael even if he tried.
“That’s him.” Michael laughs, obviously way less drunk than Luke is.
“How is he?” Luke smiles.
He’s asking because he has manners, not because he actually cares. Maybe it’s a little less about manners and a little more about letting Michael talk more.
“He’s good, actually.” Michael nods with a relaxed smile. “He just had a son.”
“A baby?” Luke perks up, standing at his normal height once more. “How old?”
“Seven months.” Michael explains.
“Oh my god.” Luke says adoringly, unconsciously tightening his grip on his own cup.
“He’s fuckin’ adorable. I’ll show you a picture.” Michael promises, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
Luke watches Michael retrieve his phone. His head is feeling fuzzy as Michael taps the screen half a dozen times. Michael slides his body next to Luke, overlapping their arms as he scrolls through Carter’s Instagram page and clicks on a few pictures of his baby.
The close proximity doesn’t even affect Luke that much in this specific moment. He’s gently being pressed against the counter tops, one side of Michael’s body leaning back against his own, and he’s hardly even thinking about it. He’s incredibly focused on seeing a cute baby. Drunk Luke is so blissfully unaware, it’s almost as cute as the baby.
“Oh my god!” Luke repeats quietly.
Luke unconsciously weaves his arm from behind Michael to wrap it around his arm that’s holding his phone. He uses his pointer and index finger to zoom in on a picture of Carter, his wife, and their son.
“They’re so cute.” Luke says, dropping his hand back down.
His hand doesn’t fall back to its original place at his side, though. The confusing puzzle of limbs cause his hand to rest on Michael’s forearm, fingers dangling across his wrist. Luke tenderly thumbs the bracelet that sits permanently on Michael’s arm without thinking about it. He was too busy with mild baby fever to even notice Michael’s hesitant glance toward him.
“How’s your listening going?” Michael clears his throat.
“My- what?” Luke blinks.
“Being a better listener.” Michael clarifies.
He shuts off his phone, Luke’s eyes watching as the pictures disappear, before bringing it down between folded fingers. Michael scoots back a few inches to allow himself to look directly at Luke, but their legs are still touching. It’s hardly noticeable, but it still sobers Luke up a bit. It’s a physical reminder that he’s real and everything he’s been through the last few weeks is, too. Realizing he’s in love with the man in front of him, his best friend. Spending weeks panicking over it only to forget it almost instantly when he saw Michael again in person.
Then one fucking word set him back three steps, telling Calum bringing him forward one. The alcohol helps him enough, but that fucking burn on the back of his neck is starting to piss Luke off. He welcomes it, he misses the feeling when he’s not near Michael, but it’s another physical- and emotional- reminder that this is his forever. With that being said, Luke still purposely presses his knee into Michael’s, their jeans rubbing awkwardly against each other.
Déjà vu.
“I think I’m done with that one.” Luke shrugs.
“Yeah?” Michael asks. “What’s next then?”
“Uhm-“ Luke ponders for a moment, his drunken stare making it harder for him to recall the old list. “Saying yes more.”
“Easy enough.” Michael smiles. “Where were you besides beer pong?”
“Me and Ash were people watching for a while.” Luke swallows. “Some girl was grinding on her friend's girlfriend. Very messy watch.”
“Who needs a T.V. when there's drunk people at a crowded party?” Michael asks rhetorically.
The lighting is also pissing Luke off a bit. Somehow, the disgusting yellow hue is shining down on the man before him like it’s a painting next to the Mona Lisa. There’s absolutely nothing human about him. His hair is perfect, the slope of his nose is ideal, the curve of his lips are inviting, his shoulders sit like he’s never had to worry about a thing in the world. Luke wonders if he’s standing too close, but there’s no velvet rope keeping this painting out of Luke’s grasp.
“Big Television must hate frat houses.” Luke places his pointer finger on Michael’s arm, dragging it up and down tenderly.
“Big Television?” Michael asks, amused.
“Yeah. Like Big Pharma, but for T.V.” Luke shrugs.
Michael pauses for a second, lips gently parted in consideration before a goofy smile takes over his facial muscles and he barks out a laugh. Michael almost immediately brings his hand to his mouth, muffling the noise he can’t help but make.
“That’s bad.” Michael giggles, lowering his hand to rest on his chin.
“You laughed at it, you Subaru.” Luke argues.
“I was laughing at you. Not with you.” Michael declares before . “Wait- Subaru?”
Luke tiredly raises his eyebrows as he waits for Michael to comprehend his terrible, chronically online joke. As he does, he lets out another loud laugh. Michael does his best to prevent it from polluting the area even though the music overpowers it without a fight. He pushes away the urge to grab Michael’s hand and take it away from his lips. He knows better, but part of him wishes he didn’t.
For a split second, Luke considers that maybe Calum was right after all. Moments like these are common between Michael and Luke- one of them saying something dumb and the other struggling to keep a straight face. If Michael sticks around when Luke says weird things while he’s drunk, maybe he would stick around if Luke ended up ever telling him how he feels. It’s wishful thinking to Luke, but just for a moment it feels plausible. The grin on Michael’s lips makes his optimism grow further.
“So dumb.” Michael forces out between tipsy giggles.
“You think I’m hilarious.” Luke states cockily.
“Unfortunately.” Michael forces out a sigh to calm down laughter, but the smile never leaves his face.
Luke mirrors the smile on Michael’s face at the compliment. He shyly brings his attention down to his own finger on Michael’s skin, catching the cocktail in his hand in the corner of his eye.
“Whatcha got there?” Luke asks, dropping his hand and craning his neck to try to get a peek into the cup Michael’s holding at his side.
“Ah- bourbon and lemon.” Michael explains. “A paper plane.”
“That sounds awful.” Luke grimaces. “Let me try.”
Michael laughs softly, offering his cup to Luke who graciously takes it. He takes a small taste, the numbing feeling of the alcohol blanketing his tongue.
“Terrible.” Luke declares, taking another quick sip before returning it to Michael.
As Michael snickers at Luke’s progressively more drunk words, Luke can feel Michael’s forearm grazing him. He enjoys the soft feeling of Michael’s clothing on his bare arms. Luke lets his eyes wander to Michael’s outfit. He’s wearing a black t-shirt over a white long sleeve top paired with some gray jeans. He looks good. Sober Luke happens to agree this time, letting Drunk Luke admire the outline of Michael’s deltoids over his shoulder. Luke furrows his eyebrows as he traces his body.
“Is that my shirt?” Luke asks accusingly.
“Yeah.” Michael concedes like he did nothing wrong.
“When the hell did you steal that?” Luke asks. “I haven’t seen it in months.”
This time, Michael was the one to brush their knees together harshly. It was to emphasize his words, nothing more, but it still made the hair at the back of Luke’s neck stand tall. He couldn’t help but glance down at the connection even though he could hardly see due to the shitty lighting and his blurred vision.
When he looks back up, Michael seems almost… closer. Luke knows it’s probably the alcohol that’s making it seem like their faces are only a few inches away, but he doesn’t mind if it’s only in his head. If he got as drunk as he was when he played that original beer pong game, he might just lean in and connect their lips. Sober Luke is present enough in his hazy mind that he won’t, but he definitely could.
His attention falls to Michael’s mouth for a second just to admire the pink muscles. He wonders if they taste like the lemon cocktail that’s in his hand. Luke wouldn’t hate it so much if he tried it secondhand. Then, he makes eye contact with Michael again. He’s not looking back, he’s looking down. At Luke’s own lips. Or past Luke’s shoulder- he can’t tell. He likes the idea of Michael staring at his lips, so he licks them softly just in case.
“Took it from your closet when you weren’t home.” Michael admits, looking back into Luke’s pupils.
“You broke into my home and stole my t-shirt?” Luke questions, pinched eyebrows together dramatically.
“Yep.” Michael confirms, nodding before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a large swig of his cocktail.
“You’re a little shit.” Luke whines. “I want it back when we get home.”
“We’ll see.” Michael smirks.
“What the fuck do you mean we’ll see?” Luke asks. “I bought it!”
“Okay, then I want my black hoodie back.” Michael demands.
Luke’s expression instantly eases itself at the thought of the article of clothing. He stole it from Michael several tours ago, but he never returned it. They had a similar fight to this one about a year ago when Luke showed up to Calum’s house wearing it. Of course, he managed to smuggle it home. He wears it on a semi-regular basis, so it doesn’t bother Michael anymore. Or so he thought.
“That’s not happening.” Luke argues. “It’s the perfect fi-”
Luke cuts himself off as he feels a hand slide across his lower back. Luke was so focused on his conversation with Michael that he had sort of tuned out the world around them, not noticing any specific individual around the two of them. He cranes his neck to meet a girl who he doesn’t think he knows.
“Uhm-” Luke mumbles. “Hello?”
“Hi.” The woman greets, batting her eyelashes and her other hand wrapped around a half empty beer bottle.
“Have we met?” Luke asks, confused.
“I’m Madison.” She smiles.
Her hair is dark and long with a few pieces of silver tinsel scattered about. Her makeup matches her hair- dark, smokey, and saturated in silver glitter. Her face is sharp, determined, and inviting. Luke doesn’t feel very invited.
“Luke.” He answers skeptically.
“There.” Madison says, dragging a finger around the small of Luke’s back. “Now we’ve met.”
“Oh-kay…” Luke stutters carefully.
“I saw you earlier tonight and I made it my mission to talk to you.” She explains lowly.
Luke can’t find it in himself to want to entertain this conversation with Madison, not when he can still feel Michael’s presence beside him. He’s frozen, unsure of what he’s supposed to do in this situation.
“Mission accomplished.” Luke says in a poor attempt to relieve the tension.
“I did good, didn’t I?” Madison asks, peering at Luke through her eyelashes.
Luke lets a gentle grimace take over his expression. He’s met a lot of fans before, ones who have said weird and sexual things to him, but he’s never gotten used to it. Considering the fact that Madison doesn’t seem like a fan, it makes it even weirder that she’d approach a total stranger this way.
“Uh-” Luke grumbles. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Do you have a midnight kiss?” Madison asks shamelessly, bringing her hand to hold the inside of Luke’s elbow.
Luke furrows his eyebrows, bringing his attention to Michael as a silent plea for help. Michael’s lips are pressed together as he watches the encounter, eyes bouncing between the two until Luke makes eye contact with him. As blue meets green, unknowingly, closed also meets open.
The scene is loud even against the literal silence being exchanged between them. Luke’s eyes are begging. Begging to be saved from more than just the reign of Madison. Neither of the men know it, but Luke is screaming for Michael to save him from- well… Michael. He’s pleading to be let out of the restraints he willingly double-knotted onto his extremities so that he doesn’t have to be like this. So that he doesn’t have to feel like the world is crushing his rib cage when someone who actually wants him makes it known.
A year ago, Luke would’ve been thrilled at this opportunity. A beautiful woman who approaches him first and is practically ready to leave everything behind just for a night with him. Now, he could never do that. He didn’t even think for one second that he would go anywhere with Madison. He wants to stay here with Michael. Even if he can never have Michael, even if he’s never allowed to talk to him or touch him again, he just wants to be there with him. He wants to be a messy, drooling, loser over their knees touching for as long as he can. He never wants to leave. The only way he would let go of Michael is with claw marks on his back and broken fingers.
For as long as he can remember, Luke has always hated and loved how easily Michael can read him. It feels good to be known so well, to have someone in your life who you don’t always have to say everything out loud to. He watches as Michael stands up taller and licks his lips in anticipation of speaking. Luke isn’t religious, but right now he’s praying to God that whatever Michael is about to say will get him away from Madison’s grasp. But maybe, his impression of Michael’s ability to understand him wasn’t as substantial as he was so sure he knew.
“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Michael clears his throat.
Luke’s mouth runs dry as Michael sets his mostly empty solo-cup on the counter beside him, scratching the back of his head before locking eyes with Luke again. His eyes aren’t as lively as they were before Madison showed up. They’re quiet and awkward, the green seeming so dull. He drags a hand across his chin briefly before finally speaking again.
“Happy New Year, Luke.”
Michael sends Luke a gentle, side smile before turning away from him. With the turn, he took away all of the hope Luke had left. He feels trapped as he watches Michael squeeze past sweaty bodies. Luke’s shirt that sits on the red-haired man’s body disappears and it feels like the last life-jacket was taken on a sinking boat. He feels sick like he might just throw up on Madison and he would if he could open his mouth.
“Luke.” Madison drags out, bringing his attention back to her.
He glances back down to her before looking back at where Michael was standing only seconds ago as if he would reappear. The only thing that remains is the ghost of Michael’s body, his presence still lingering in the air as if to taunt Luke and remind him that he’s on his own in this. He always will be.
“No… I don’t.” Luke hesitantly replies, eyes trained on the solo-cup on the counter.
“That’s good. Neither do I.” Madison responds with her voice low.
“Yeah.” Luke mutters.
He’s hardly paying attention to the conversation at hand, the alcohol that he consumed that night not being nearly enough to keep him away from the things he fears most.
“Good thing I found you with ten minutes to spare, right?” Madison squeezes Luke’s arm gently to bring his gaze back to her.
It works. Luke flickers his eyes over to the dark-hair that’s clinging onto him. She’s looking up at him so innocently, but it’s laced with her deeper intention of ruining Luke. It’s practically plastered across her face that she wants him for the night, but before Michael had left, the same expression laid on Luke’s own.
“Uhm-” Luke swallows, but he’s cut off.
“Do you workout?” Madison asks unapologetically, one of her hands traveling up his tricep.
“Sometimes.” Luke explains. “Madison, listen-”
“Sometimes?” She interrogates. “So, you’re just naturally really strong?”
“I’m not really that strong.” Luke mumbles in disagreement.
“Feels like it.” Madison shrugs, dragging her hand back down to his elbow.
For a moment, Luke considers attempting to entertain this. He needs it if he ever wants to feel normal again- like himself again. If he can’t bring himself to have a meaningless one night stand with a stranger who he will never see again, how would he even begin to move on from his best friend? If he ever tells Michael how he feels, how will it make Michael feel watching Luke shut himself out of the dating world because he can’t bear to let go of the loose thread of hope hanging from Michael’s jacket. He wants to feel okay again, but every part of Luke is yelling at him to get out of there and lock himself away even if that means welcoming the new year by himself amidst a minor anxiety attack in the bathroom of his AirBNB room.
“Thanks.” Luke chokes out, beginning to feel a rock in his throat.
“Are you staying around here?” Madison asks, pursing her lips. “Or should I invite you to my place?”
Luke imagines it. He imagines inviting Madison up to his room, letting her undress him and then him returning the favor. He imagines kissing down her seemingly smooth skin and then giving her his all. He imagines finishing and then tiredly laying on the bed next to her with nothing to say. He imagines waking up the next morning to a body in his bed and a raging headache, neither of which would be welcomed. He imagines walking her out awkwardly and asking her to text him when she gets home safe even though they never exchanged numbers and neither of them had any plan to keep in touch later. He imagines the empty feeling that would fill him for the morning while he attempts to become a functioning person again, choking down some eggs before his friends wake up.
They’d ask him where he disappeared off to last night and he’d explain that he found a midnight kiss. He imagines that his exterior would be cocky and arrogant, proud of adding another body to his roster, but inside he would be ashamed. He would feel guilty for going through with it even though there’s no reason he should other than the fact that he involved himself with someone, even if just for pleasure, when he knows he could never give his all while Michael is in the picture.
“I’m also not above finding a bathroom.” Madison admits carelessly.
“Madison.” Luke squeezes his eyes shut. “I am not kissing you.”
“What?” Madison barks out. “Why not?”
Luke opens his eyes like a scared little kid peeking out from behind his hands once the scary scene in a movie has passed. Madison’s whole demeanor has changed, her bubbly and flirty personality forcefully blown out like a candle flame.
“I-” Luke tries, wishing he was a lot more drunk than this.
He doesn’t even get the chance to finish his thought before Madison interrupts.
“Do you not like girls?” Madison asks, taking a step back from Luke.
He likes Michael.
“No, I do. It’s just-” Luke attempts, but he is cut off again.
Her hands are still on his arm, the pressure much more gentle at his admission.
“So, what’s the problem?” Madison questions. “You think I’m ugly?”
The background noise gets louder as Luke pathetically stutters out his words.
“No, you’re beautiful. I just-”
The people that filled the kitchen seem more present than before, taking up space that he didn’t even consider when Michael was next to him.
“Got a weird tongue or something?” Madison asks, a slightly disgusted snarl on her top lip.
Luke squeezes his eyes shut, eliminating one of his senses in hopes that the scene around him would be less overwhelming.
“Well, what’s the issue?” Madison presses.
It doesn’t work.
“I’m in love with Michael.”
It’s not like it is in the movies. The world doesn’t go silent for a second, the voices around him don’t die down, the lights don’t feel brighter, his face doesn’t light up, and he doesn’t have a sense of contentment now that he’s said it out loud. He still wants to throw up and he still wants to be anywhere but here. He still wishes he never fell in love with Michael in the first place.
Nothing has changed- mentally or physically. He thought he would be proud of himself when he eventually managed to say it out loud, but he’s not. He can’t bring himself to be proud when the only reason he said it was because he doesn’t want to have a one night stand with this woman.
“Who the fuck is Michael?” Madison questions, dropping her hand from Luke’s body. “Whatever, nevermind.”
Luke only manages to get a tiny bit more air into his lungs when he eventually pries his eyes open to find Madison gone. He tries to focus on his breathing for a while, processing the encounter and processing the fact that he just yelled at a stranger because she thought he was handsome. The alcohol makes it harder for him to focus on anything but I’m in love with Michael. Luke shakily sets his half-empty beer on the counter next to Michael’s abandoned cocktail.
He needs air. He wants real air- not the smoke and sweat filled air. Real goddamn air that helps oxygenate his blood and make his body function properly because lately, it doesn’t seem to be. It breaks down like a Cadillac from the eighties at the slightest wrong move. He’s tired of being fragile like he’s a little kid who never really grew up. He’s tired of living in a cage that he himself put the lock on and slipped the key into Michael’s pocket.
He doesn’t even look up from the floor before his feet think for him and carry him out of the room. He pushes through the couples who seem to have lost their spatial awareness and he’s not even sure if he’s saying “excuse me” or not. He’s in a weird hazy state where everything just feels… more. The chatter, cheering, and generic pop music slides into his ears unwelcomingly, but the lyrics go in one side and out the other. The only thing he’s focused on is getting outside.
There’s a group of people huddled around the door to the kitchen that Luke pushes past. He thinks he hears a snarky “Watch where you’re going!” but he can’t be bothered to go back and apologize. He squeezes through the space, strangers limbs brushing against his own. The skin to skin contact makes him feel nauseous again, he only wants to be touching one person and he can’t have them. His mouth coats itself with saliva as he finally makes it to the front of the home.
The feeling of Madison’s hand on his back haunts him while he grabs the golden door handle. He swings it open, the cold December air hitting him in the face like a punch that he thinks might be more bearable than whatever is happening to him right now. There’s a few people on the porch that he can see out of the corner of his blurry vision, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He just stumbles down the wooden stairs before making it to the concrete, the sound his shoes make changing as the floor does. He feels like he’s running- he’s not- but he feels like it. His legs are moving on their own and he doesn’t really know where he’s going.
The yellow streetlight at the end of the walkway is humbling in a way. It’s stationary- no flickering or buzzing. It’s been like that the whole trip so far, Luke’s noticed it from his window a few times. Luke used to be like that streetlight. He used to be so good at staying still. He had the same favorite foods, same house, same car, same humor, same hair color for years. All it took was a stupid list of New Year’s Resolutions to ruin that?
It was never just that. He knows it. The love he has for Michael was always there, simmering in his lower abdomen. He’s just frustrated that he had to figure this all out now as an adult. No one actually has everything all figured out but once you get to a certain age, it gets easier to feel like you have an understanding of life. It’s almost easier to figure out complicated love when you’re younger, when you have no clue how the world works and how it’s going to treat you. You’re too busy learning how to survive on your own to dwell on the details of it all.
He knows this feeling isn’t normal; panicking over being in love. He’s been in love before, he’s felt it. He knows why it’s bothering him so much more than all the other times. When he fell in love the last time- with his boyfriend, Isaiah- there was nothing that complicated it. It was straightforward. Luke loved Isaiah and Isaiah loved Luke. Luke and Isaiah weren’t friends before they started dating. Luke and Isaiah weren’t working together. Luke and Isaiah didn’t have to worry about their break up ruining their entire lives. Luke and Isaiah started talking with romantic intentions. It was never complicated.
Michael’s complicated.
He’s beyond complicated. It’s always going to be complicated. Whether he tells Michael about his feelings or not is irrelevant. It will always be complicated. Complicated means hurt. Luke is tired of being hurt.
“What the fuck?” Luke whispers to himself, running a hand through his hair shakily.
Luke can’t stop walking. He’s already passed the streetlight’s evil glare and he’s at the neighbors house. He keeps going and going and going until he registers the sound of fireworks going off. It must be midnight already. Luke stops as he gazes up at the colorfully freckled sky. He doesn’t recognize anything around him, he’s probably gone several blocks away from the AirBNB at this point. The green, red, blue, and white explosions echo onto the stop sign in front of him.
As the scene unfolds in front of him, he realizes why people explain that first kiss with the love of your life as fireworks. It’s because fireworks are fucking beautiful. They’re also dangerous and harmful if not used right. Love is all too similar- fucking beautiful but dangerous if you don’t handle it correctly. Luke thinks he might hate fireworks now.
He’s also crying.
The hot tears roll down his face as he attempts to fish his phone out of his back pocket to call Calum. He needs to talk to him now, even if Calum is as wasted as Luke wanted to be. He doesn’t know where he is, he’s freezing, he’s nauseous, and he’s scared. His vision was blurry to begin with, but he can hardly even see the screen of his phone through his tears. He presses buttons until he presses Calum’s number, bringing the device up to his ear and returning his eyes to the vibrant explosions in the sky. The dial tone is just as loud as the distant cheering in nearby houses, but it ceases when Calum finally picks up.
“Hi.” Luke squeaks. “I don’t know where I am, but I’m sort of freaking out.”
“Luke? What’s wrong?” His friend questions through the phone.
Luke can hear the echo of overlapping voices and repeating radio hits in the background, figuring Calum is somewhere downstairs that he missed in his panic.
“I’m so tired.” Luke sobs. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“Fuck- Hold on.”
The background noises get quieter. Luke imagines Calum probably stepped outside. He didn’t sound as drunk as Luke thought he would be by now, he appreciates that. Luke doesn’t actually wait, though. He can’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth anymore, not like he has for the last year.
“I never told you why me and Michael were spending so much time together this year.” Luke swallows.
It sounds like a door shutting on the other end of the line. Maybe Calum went to his room instead of outside. It’s much quieter once the click blinks once on Calum’s end.
“Why you-“ He cuts himself off. “What?”
“I have a list of new year’s resolutions from last year that I’ve been working through. Michael’s been a huge help in it.” Luke starts. “I’ve enjoyed- I enjoy spending time with him. Everything we’ve done this year has changed my life and I couldn’t have done it without him. He- He’s been perfect, but I kind of fucked up.”
“You didn’t fuck up anything, Luke.” He assures.
Luke ignores him again. He hopes Calum forgives him for this- for calling him to have a conversation but only rambling the whole time. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying. The whole night is becoming a blur.
“We spent so much time together, being close, being friends. I think something in my brain came- uh, loose and made it impossible for me to stop myself.” Luke breathes, his voice wet.
“Luke-” His friend tries to cut him off.
“It started slowly, y’know? Just started recognizing how beautiful he is or how wise he can be.” Luke pauses as more tears spill down his cheeks. “Then I… let it get worse and I started missing him whenever he wasn’t physically touching me. I started hoping that he’d figure out how to read my mind and then never let me go.”
“Luke, seriously-“
“When I went on all those dates- in uhm… September- I thought about Michael. Every single person sat across from me was, well- him.” Luke sheepishly illustrates. “Or… not actually him, but like- I thought of them as him. It was kinda like he was haunting me. His face was just fuckin’ everywhere. Saw him in everything.”
“You have to st-“ His friend tries again.
“Then, there was this thing in New Orleans and it really just solidified what I think I always knew.” Luke admits. “He called me pretty yesterday. Pretty. And it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to genuinely exploding into a million little pieces.”
Calum doesn’t say anything, but Luke’s not really looking for a response. The fireworks reflecting on his glassy eyes have begun to dwindle down, the people who forced themselves to stay up till midnight deciding that ten minutes after was enough time to bring in the new year. He thinks back to the word falling off of Michael’s lips. Pretty. He’s pretty to Michael.
“Everything sort of feels like it’s crushing me.” Luke describes awkwardly, his voice sounding nasally as the passages fill with his tears.
It’s the best way that Luke can describe his life now. Being crushed like an old Coca Cola can except Luke can’t be recycled for later use. There’s only one Luke and any of his imperfections or feelings for his best friend can’t be shredded and melted down into a new Luke. He wishes that was possible because it would save him from moments like these where he’s too weak to do anything but cry to his other best friend in a strange city under the influence of alcohol that isn’t helping his case at all.
“A girl just hit on me and I freaked the fuck out. She was uhm… gorgeous. Like- practically begging for me. Said she’d even be down to fuck in a bathroom. All I could do was blurt out that I’m in love with Michael.” Luke laughs dryly.
There’s no humor in his laughter, it’s more self-deprecating than anything. Laughing at how pathetic he’s become because of a silly little crush. A decade long crush that affects all of his senses and thoughts. A decade of the two of them growing closer every single day, doing things only a lucky few ever get to experience together. Molding to each other so that when they’re apart, they feel like a piece of them is missing. A missing puzzle piece.
“Why did it have to be him, Cal?” Luke brings his hand to his mouth to muffle his cries. “I can’t lose him, but I think I’m losing myself trying to hold on to him.”
Luke subconsciously reaches his free hand up to his ribs where his matching puzzle piece tattoo with Michael sits. Representation of where this all began and where he wishes it stayed. Luke ended up doing research on the angel number he considered getting back in January, before his fast-moving mind zeroed in on the puzzle piece. The numbers- 111- symbolize a new beginning. He feels gentle regret over not getting the numbers settling in his already uneasy stomach. Maybe if he had gone with his brain and not his heart, he might’ve actually had a new beginning. Maybe things would’ve worked out with Camden. Maybe his hair would still be blond. Maybe he would be in his room with Madison tonight.
“Do you really mean that?” His friend’s staticky voice interrogates. “That you’re in love?”
Calum knows that Luke means it. They discussed it last night, but Luke didn’t say it. Calum figured it out on his own and just let Luke off the hook, but he shouldn’t have. Luke doesn’t deserve it.
He’s been denying it for months- years. But, he said it out loud for the very first time tonight. Nearly fifteen years after he met Michael, he finally said it. He wants to say it feels good and that he wants to shout it from the rooftops, but he can’t otherwise he’d be lying. He still feels bile rising in his throat when the words lie on the tip of his tongue. He just can’t deny it anymore, though. Not when he remembers the way that Michael held him in that dark alleyway in New Orleans. He held Luke like hesitation was embarrassing, like he was the only thing in the world keeping his heart pumping properly.
He isn’t sure he wants to deny it anymore. Everything about this is hard. The unknowns wrack his brain constantly and it raises his blood pressure intensely. Each time he sees Michael, it just reminds him of what his brain so desperately wants but cannot have. It’s hard, but it’s harder stuffing these feelings back into a vessel that simply is not big enough to house them all. Luke’s already clawing at his own mind and body to let him free, so if they start clawing back? Luke is screwed. More than he already is.
“Yeah.” Luke breathes. “I’m in love with him.”
“Luke…” He says carefully. “Do you know who you called?”
Luke furrows his eyebrows in confusion, the tears not flowing as easily now that his flow was disrupted. Calum’s normally pretty good at gauging situations and when there’s a good time to slip in a joke. Obviously, Luke’s judgement is worse than he believes. Maybe it’s impaired because of the alcohol or maybe it’s worse because of his messy mind. Maybe it’s Calum’s fault- too drunk to think logically and thoroughly like he’s known for. There’s a lot of possibilities, but Luke lets out a small, wet laugh at his friend's poor attempt to cheer him up.
“You’re drunker than I thought.” Luke shakes his head.
There’s silence from the other end for a few moments. Luke is about to separate his lips to speak again and ask Calum what he should do even though he knows Calum won’t know either, but Calum beats him to the punch.
“No, Luke.” He repeats, voice low. “Check your phone, please.”
Luke decides to entertain Calum’s drunkenness, so he pulls his phone away from his ear and waits for the screen to light up again. His blood runs cold when it does.
Michael
12:09 PM: Outgoing Call
