Chapter Text
Callum would throw himself into crowded bars and dimly lit casinos, chasing whatever temporary rush the night could give him. He'd drink until his thoughts blurred at the edges, place bet after bet without caring how much he'd lose, and keep going long after he should've stopped.
He wasn't looking for anything in particular. Not a relationship, not friends, not even necessarily a win. He was just looking for something to fill the emptiness, whether it came from the fullness of alcohol, the clatter of chips against a table, or the brief adrenaline of watching his money disappear. But no matter how much he drank or how recklessly he gambled, nothing ever seemed to fill the hole.
Sometimes, after a particularly bad night, Callum would end up walking past his own house. He'd usually be drunk, exhausted, and completely broke from gambling away whatever money he'd had left.
The walk home was long, but he didn't mind it. It gave him something to do besides think. Whenever he reached his street, though, he'd slow down without meaning to, eyes drifting toward the familiar house.
For a moment, he'd just stand there, hands buried deep in his pockets, wondering if he should go inside. He'd imagine turning the doorknob, collapsing onto the couch, and pretending none of it had happened. But eventually, he'd let out a quiet sigh and keep walking.
There was nothing waiting for him inside except the consequences of his actions.
..
..
It was honestly just supposed to be the same routine.
Relapse and miss Luke.
But what the fuck is he doing today?
He knocked once again at his door. Hearing Zachary yell out to his roommate to answer the doorbell, with Luke responding to him by walking to the door.
He'd kill to be in Zach's place right now. How desperate.
He started to walk away like always, lingering just far enough from the house that he could pretend he hadn't come here for any particular reason.
A part of him hated to admit that he only ever came here because some stupid, hopeful part of him wanted to hear Luke say that it was okay. That he wasn't angry anymore. That Callum could come inside, sit down, and pretend none of it had happened.
Maybe, if he waited long enough, Luke would forgive him. Maybe he'd finally get tired of being angry. Callum knew better than to hope for that, but being drunk had always made it easier to believe in things that weren't true.
"Callum?" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. God, he loved hearing Luke say his name again. It had been so long that even hearing it now felt unfamiliar, like something he'd forgotten he was allowed to hear.
Callum stopped in his tracks. His drunken mind was already contemplating turning around and leaving, pretending this had never happened. He could blame it on the alcohol if they ever saw each other in public again, pretend he hadn't shown up at Luke's house in the middle of the night just because he missed him. Maybe Luke would forget about it by morning. Maybe Callum could, too.
"h..hey.. Luke."
Callum hesitated saying before finally turning around to face him. Luke's expression was unreadable at first, but the slight furrow in his brows made it obvious enough that he wasn't exactly happy to see him.
"Why are you—.." Luke stopped himself.
His eyes dropped, taking in the way Callum was struggling to stand properly, his weight shifting unevenly from one foot to the other.
Then there was his voice—slurred around the edges, words blending together in a way Luke knew all too well.
And the smell.
Alcohol.
Oh how familiar that scent and this scenario was..
"Oh. You're drunk."
Luke's voice was quiet, but the disappointment in it was unmistakable. For a brief second, Callum wished he could take it back.
The alcohol, the gambling, the stupid walk to Luke's house, all of it.
Luke had probably hoped he'd actually come here sober, that maybe he'd finally show up because he wanted to apologize and make things right. Not because he was drunk and looking for somewhere familiar to fall apart. Callum suddenly felt the weight of everything he'd done settle heavily on his shoulders.
"mm.. I'm sorry.."
Callum swallowed, his words stumbling over another hiccup.
"ccan.. I come in?"
The question hung between them.
For just a second, Callum almost expected Luke to sigh and step aside like he used to.
He remembered all those nights when Luke would quietly take care of him after he'd had too much to drink. Water on the nightstand, painkillers for the morning, a blanket thrown over him when he inevitably passed out on the couch. Callum used to joke that Luke knew how to take care of him better than he knew how to take care of himself.
But Luke didn't move.
His hand remained on the doorknob, fingers tightening around it.
"..Callum." he said quietly. "you're not coming in."
Callum's stomach dropped.
"oh."
He nodded slowly, staring at the floor as if that somehow made the words hurt less. For once, Luke wasn't opening the door wider for him.
And Callum realized he had no idea what to do with that.
"Why here?" Luke asked, his voice quieter now.
"Why my house, Callum? You could've gone anywhere else."
Callum stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his thoughts moving too slowly to find a better answer.
"...Pretty boy."
Luke's expression barely changed.
"I.. wanted... to see you."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The porch light cast a dull glow across Callum's face, making him look even more exhausted than he felt.
"I told you not to come here.."
"..anymore."
Callum's heart sank, as he kept trying to find the words to respond to Luke.
"you did.."
Luke looked away, jaw tightening as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something he'd regret.
"I'm sorry," Callum mumbled. "I'm so fucking sorry."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"I miss you.. I miss you so bad Luke."
Luke's attempt at looking unfazed failed, as it was quite obvious this was hurting him as much as it was for Callum.
But he waited.
He waited for the softness he'd known so well. For Luke to sigh and tell him it was okay. For him to step forward and pull him inside.
For him to call him an idiot, a dumbass even. Anything to replicate that feeling of warmth he felt that was unreachable now.
Yet nothing came.
Fuck, this was a bad idea.
When Luke opened his eyes again, whatever tenderness had been there was buried beneath something much heavier.
"Go home."
And somehow, those two words hurt more than if he'd screamed.
"Hey..- Luke, please. I love you.."
Luke blinked, his expression faltering for just a second. He looked down, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself.
There was a part of him that wanted to open the door. To let Callum inside, sit him down, give him some water, and pretend that for one night, none of it mattered.
But he couldn't do that anymore. Callum was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying, and Luke couldn't let himself mistake drunken words for something real.
"You don't," Luke said quietly. "Go home."
Callum stared at him.
Somehow, after everything he'd imagined on the walk here, that was the one answer he hadn't prepared himself for. He'd expected anger. Maybe shouting. Maybe Luke slamming the door in his face.
Not this.
It hurt realizing that the man who had once loved him so easily now had to convince himself not to.
".Nothing feels the same," Callum mumbled, his words slurring between hiccups. ".please.."
He'd spent so many nights trying to find something that could make him feel the way he used to.
More drinks, bigger bets, different places, different people. None of it worked. Every time he thought he'd finally found something that could distract him, the feeling disappeared as soon as the night ended.
".All those nights..." Luke's voice softened.
"Did you ever think about what you'd leave me to deal with when you came home like that? I started dreading the nights you'd go out. I'd be sitting there trying to do my own thing, but I'd keep checking my phone because I couldn't stop wondering where you were or how bad it had gotten this time."
Luke's voice cracked.
"I told myself not to worry, that you'd be fine, and then I'd get a call from you, barely able to speak, asking me to come get you. I hated how scared I'd get every time. I hated that I couldn't just trust that you'd be okay. And after a while, I realized I was spending more time worrying about what might happen to you than actually living my own life."
Callum went silent.
Luke shook his head, stepping back slightly.
"Go home, Callum."
The words left Callum with nothing to say. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Luke he'd changed, that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant for any of this to happen. He wanted to tell him how much he still loved him.
But standing there drunk on Luke's doorstep, begging for another chance he'd already wasted, Callum knew none of it would make a difference.
So he turned around and started walking.
Callum gave Luke one last glance before finally turning away. Luke was still standing in the doorway, covering his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. Callum's chest tightened. God, he was such a fucking idiot.
The walk home felt longer than usual. With the alcohol wearing off, there was nothing left to distract him from what he'd done. Maybe he and Luke never would've gotten back together, but Callum could've lived with that.
They could've at least been okay with each other.
Instead of that bitter look whenever they crossed paths, maybe Luke could've smiled and asked,
"Hey, how've you been?"
Callum would've been happy with that. And somehow, he'd still managed to fuck even that up.