Chapter Text
There's a show tonight, and for promo purposes, the band goes out to meet fans during the day. It's nice, don't get me wrong, Luke loves meeting fans. A lot of it involves small talk and taking selfies, and it's become so familiar and routinely that Luke could go through an entire day with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back (not literally but, you know).
They usually do it in pairs, so Luke's outside the venue with Calum. Luke doesn't have a problem with that, since he's actually usually assigned to do fan stuff with Calum anyway. He's already stopped to take numerous selfies with fans, and sometimes he likes to take the fans' phones and record a little video message. It's endearing how they react, and Luke appreciates how most don't burst into tears, scream in their faces, or try to grope them. Most.
A lot of fans are pretty chill about meeting them. They hold casual conversations like normal people, ask them how their days are, if they're excited for the show, etc. Fans ask the same questions, talk about the same stuff, and Luke has a preconditioned repertoire of responses in the back of his mind for any question a fan asks. As said before, it's become a routine.
Luke isn't necessarily tired of it... but he's just tired. He doesn't really know why.
After talking to several fans in the front, Luke notices another fan standing behind the throng of teenage girls. She's singled out for some reason, seemingly not wanting to be a part of the crowd. She's wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood up and a black skirt over sheer black tights. From what Luke can tell, she has very bright lilac hair and a philtrum piercing.
Honestly, she doesn't stand out that much since she looks like a typical goth fan, but she's standing apart from the crowd, watching them intently. That's why Luke notices her.
Luke is signing a tattoo outline for another fan when he shoots her a puzzled look as if to say 'why aren't you over here?', and she just smiles and shakes her head in response. Luke pouts a bit, sighing as he turns back to the signature. He assumes that she wants to speak with him alone, which is something that almost never happens, and there's nothing Luke can really do about it.
But Luke doesn't want to ignore it; he doesn't want to leave a fan hanging when he knows she probably wants to tell him something important (or something along the lines of 'I love the new album' or 'you look really good today'). He really wants to try to talk to her.
He shuffles forward a bit, trying to get her to follow him to where the crowd dissipates, and she actually does. She takes careful steps, trying to avoid being noticed by the rest of the fans, but the fans take notice of Luke's movements. Some of them try to pull him back, but he's too focused on trying to get to the fan who actually hasn't gotten any attention yet.
Eventually he reaches the end of the crowd, where there are maybe two or three fans standing. The rest of the crowd isn't too bothered, since they have Calum. The girl meets Luke at the end, smiling as she approaches him.
"Hello there," he says, mirroring the girl's smile.
"Hi," she replies timidly. She holds out a copy of their most recent album and a sharpie. Luke takes both and signs it. She watches him in silence, and when Luke looks up at her, she's watching his hands move.
When he's finished, he hands the CD and the sharpie back to her. "There you go," he says. She thanks him, but her smile starts to fade. He notices this, and it's probably because she won't get much time with him. It's a common thing among fans. It barely bothers him anymore.
"How are you?" he asks, trying to stay neutral.
She looks him straight in the eyes. Hers are very green.
Green.
Her smile is gone now. "I'm okay. What about you?"
Something about this girl is unsettling, and Luke doesn't know why. She's not threatening in any way, in appearance nor stature, so why is Luke feeling so uneasy?
"I'm good," he chuckles.
The girl blinks. Her eyes are still green, but some of it seems to have faded.
"Really, Luke?" she asks. It's not sarcastic. It's genuine. And yes, Luke has gotten questions and responses like this in the past, where fans are genuinely concerned and ask them about his well being. He tells them that he's doing really good, because he is most of the time. He's doing good now. He doesn't see why he can't respond in the same way.
"Yes, I am." Luke adds a grin, asserting the fact that yes, he is doing good.
The girl is still looking at him, but she narrows her eyes and furrows her brows. He can feel her gaze piercing into him, and he hates to do this to a fan but he really wants to go.
"Calum—" Luke starts to call, but he's cut off when she grabs at his hand.
It's not an aggressive grab. Actually, it's quite tender, and suddenly Luke feels compelled to keep talking to her, even though his body is screaming at him to get away. The fans around them seem to notice her, and some give her nasty looks, and one even shouts, "Hey!"
She removes her hand from Luke's as she murmurs an apology. Luke turns back to her, despite the fans' disapproving glances.
"Luke," she says, "if your younger self saw you right now, what would he think?"
Luke is slightly taken aback at the heavy question. Usually it's the other way around; in interviews people would ask him what he would say to his younger self, not what his younger self would say to him now. He likes the question though. Maybe he's been asked it before, but he can't remember how he responded.
"Um, he'd probably think I was really cool. And a lot better looking," Luke replies with a humorous tone.
She's not laughing. "Would your younger self be proud of who you've become?"
Luke is starting to get a little frustrated, because he feels like she's really trying to imply something, but he doesn't want to be rude. "Oh, definitely," he says. "He'd be really proud of all we've accomplished as musicians."
"And as a person?"
Luke opens his mouth to respond, but then he realizes he doesn't have a response. It's not in his collection, despite his brain furiously racking for an answer. Luckily, there's a call from their security, telling them to wrap it up. Luke smiles at the girl apologetically, but he's honestly very relieved that he has to leave. He mouths a 'sorry,' and heads into the venue, waving back at all the other fans in the crowd. They wave back.
The girl with the lilac hair and green eyes doesn't; she only watches as Luke and Calum and the rest of the crew disappear inside.
-
Luke is thinking about her question a lot more than he should.
He thinks about it during soundcheck, even though he's asked different questions by different fans. He thinks about it as they're performing. He thinks about it afterwards, when they're all coming down from the show and relaxing in the dressing room. And no matter how much he thinks about it, he can't come up with a definitive answer.
He thinks his younger self would be quite proud of who he's become as a person. He's made it through many hardships and struggles. Sure, he's partied and drunk a lot, and maybe he did experiment with things he shouldn't have, but other than that, there's a lot about himself to be proud of. He's sure his younger self would look up to him, both literally and figuratively. After all, he's definitely grown taller since then.
But even when he's satisfied with the answer he's come up with, he still thinks about it when he falls asleep that night. The question is ringing in his head; it's on a constant loop, and Luke is surprised when he starts to feel himself drifting off. He didn't think sleep would come so easily, but it's a pleasant surprise.
Though he can still hear the question in his sleep.
-
Luke can feel himself waking up. It's kind of the worst part of waking up, when you can feel your eyelids fluttering open and the light pouring in. He can feel his muscles tensing and then instantly relaxing. And then he can see a blur of a room, a very familiar room—
A very familiar room that isn't his hotel room.
Suddenly Luke is more awake than ever. There's light coming in from the window to his left, and there's a desk, his hotel room doesn't have a desk—
There are posters and painted walls and...
Luke's in his bedroom. His bedroom at home. In Sydney.
He's pretty sure he's dreaming. He has to be dreaming. He very certainly remembers falling asleep in his hotel room in a completely different continent. But it's so real, his bedsheets, his window, the light, everything. All the small details of his room are there, including the footprint on his wall from when Michael decided it would be a good idea to see if he could kick through it.
(He couldn't, but it left a nasty mark on the wall and a very pained ankle on Michael).
Luke shoves the covers away and swings his legs over the bed. It's honestly kind of small, even though he's been home plenty of times since the band started. Nevertheless, he could never get used to the feeling of his bed not fitting him anymore. He sits there on his bed, feet planted on the floor. He stares down at it, burying his hands in his hair.
He's dreaming. He needs to wake up again, for real this time.
"Wake up, wake up," he mumbles to himself. He even pinches himself, but he feels nothing but a pinch.
"Fuck!" He curses to himself as he stands up, maybe a little too quickly. The room is a lot smaller than he remembers as he starts to pace around it. He's still wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he went to bed. His hair is still the same. Everything's the same, except for the fact that he's awake in his fucking bedroom.
He can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and he doesn't have enough time to hide before the person walks in.
Luke nearly screams when he realizes he's come face to face with himself. On the other hand, younger Luke does scream.
"What the hell?! Who are you?" younger Luke exclaims.
"Wait wait, I can explain—" And Luke realizes how dumb that is because he really can't explain.
Young Luke reaches into the pocket of his blue striped hoodie and pulls out an iPhone 4 (Luke had forgotten iPhones used to look like that). "I'm calling the cops!" he screeches.
"Just, wait... stop, Luke!" Luke shouts. He never thought he'd say his own name like that. Nor did he ever think he'd ever actually talk to himself.
Young Luke is grasping his iPhone 4 for dear life, but he freezes as he's dialing the number. He looks up, his eyes clearly scared. "How do you know my name?" he squeaks.
(But then young Luke really gets a look at the stranger in his bedroom. He's much taller than him, but he looks so familiar. The blue eyes, the blond hair, the facial structure. It's almost as if he's staring in the mirror at an older version of himself).
"Look," Luke says, "I know this is gonna sound really crazy, and trust me, I'm freaking out just as much as you are. But... I think you're me. From like, 2013."
Young Luke releases the grip on his phone, but manages to scuffle with it, saving it from an untimely demise. He's looking back up at old Luke, mouth hung open in utter shock. As both Lukes stare at each other in disbelief, the air seems to get thicker for the both of them, and they're finding it hard to breathe.
"I-If you're really me, tell me the name of the band I'm in! A-And tell me the names of some of our songs!" young Luke exclaims.
"Easy, 5 Seconds of Summer," Luke says, "and what year is it?"
Young Luke furrows his brows. "It's 2012."
"And the date?"
"November thirtieth... what does that have to do with—"
"So far, you have 'Gotta Get Out' and 'Out of My Limit' out I think... and since it's the end of November, I'm guessing you're probably busy packing for that songwriting trip to London."
Young Luke gapes in complete disbelief. "And, in 2013 you'll go on a world tour with One Direction, sign with Capitol Records, and in 2014 you'll have a worldwide hit called 'She Looks So Perfect' and—" Luke has to stop himself there because he could go on forever, but he really doesn't want his younger self to pass out from actual shock.
"You... how do you know all that? How do you know I'm leaving for London in a few days?" young Luke asks, his voice small.
"Because, like I said, I am you. Just six years older," Luke says. "And I said things that you don't even know about, because they haven't happened yet. I, on the other hand, have lived through them. I've lived through it all."
Luke is suddenly exhausted, he's lightheaded, and the room is spinning. He's not dizzy per se, but he's definitely feeling really off. It feels like a weird head rush, maybe a headache. He doesn't know how to describe it. Maybe he's the one going into shock. He's panicking, because fuck, what if he's stuck in 2012 forever? What if the band wakes up and suddenly he's not there anymore?
Young Luke puts his phone back in his pocket cautiously. "You... you really are me?" Young Luke doesn't know how to phrase it, as a statement or a question, because he really does believe the man standing in front of him, but he's having a really hard time accepting this is probably reality.
"Yeah," old Luke breathes. "And before you ask me what's going on, no, I don't know what's going on either."
The two are stuck between staring at each other and frantically glancing around the room because neither of them know what to do. To Luke's surprise, his younger self is the first one to speak after seconds of glass-shattering silence.
"So... what happens to us?"
Luke can't help but look at his sixteen-year-old self and smile. He's looking up at him with an innocence far too great to ignore, an innocence that Luke still wishes he had. He doesn't know what the hell is going on, and he's still panicking on the inside, but he figures there's no harm in chatting with his younger self about his band's ambitious endeavors.
"You might wanna have a seat," he tells his young self.
-
"Are you serious? You guys beat out Jay-Z and Beyoncé?"
Luke chuckles. "Yeah, we did. Trust me, I was surprised when I found out too."
Luke and mini-Luke are sat on his bedroom floor at the side of the bed. Luke went through everything, the albums, the fans, the tours. He talked about the band's successes and triumphs, the best and worst performances, the award shows and the documentary. He left out the names of their songs and lyrics in case he really did go back in time; he really doesn't want to mess up too much. Young Luke sat there and listened, not interrupting once.
When Luke thinks he's gone through everything, he simply says, "So, yeah. The band is definitely worth leaving school for."
Young Luke laughs, and Luke can't help but look at his hair; god, why did he ever think that fringe was a good idea? It was probably Michael's fault. Yeah, definitely Michael's.
"Are you and Michael and Calum and Ashton still best friends?" youngster Luke asks.
"Yeah," Luke replies.
Then he's hit with a tsunami of flashes in his mind, memories of things Luke always wanted to forget, things that Luke wished had never happened. It's so quick, not even a few seconds long, but it seems to slap him all at once, and suddenly he's out of breath. "Yeah," he repeats, breathless.
"Are you okay?" Young Luke is looking at him with concern in his eyes, but Luke can't see it because his eyes are focused on the floor, where the memories are pooling, and before Luke knows it, it's happening again.
There's shouting. There's arms flailing, glass shattering. Maybe there's a punch here and there. He can't remember what happened there. There's kissing. There's touching. There's flirting and sex and pleasure.
There are tears. There's love.
"Luke?"
Luke is surprised to hear his own name come from his own self. It's enough to snap him out of his memory nightmare, and he's really grateful for his younger self for getting him out of it. He's panting, and younger Luke has a hand on his shoulder.
"What happened?" Young Luke's voice is so feeble yet concerned. "What happens?"
Luke blinks, his eyes still focused on the floor. The memories have stopped, but he's still feeling them in his body. They're racing through his veins, trying to reach his brain again. He shuts them out, like he's always done, but they're burning his skin, frying his bones, and he wants it to stop.
"Luke," Luke says, "are you and Michael still best friends?" He knows it's a stupid question. It's 2012, of course he knows that sixteen-year-old him and seventeen-year-old Michael are still best friends.
But Luke also knows that they're so much more than that.
Young Luke is confused by this as well. "Well yeah, of course. I thought you would know that."
"I do," Luke whispers. "But because I'm you, I know a lot more than you think."
Young Luke's eyes widen and he can feel himself blushing. "You mean, you know about the... you know—"
"I know that you and Michael kissed on his birthday, and that you're totally falling head-over-heels in love with him."
And that's it, Luke can feel his heart literally bursting in his chest. It's so painful; it's like every rib is broken, his lungs are completely devoid of air, and his bones are screaming. The memories haven't gone to his brain; they've gone to his heart. Some weird organ that's associated with love and pain, despite the brain being the actual source of such feelings. But it starts with his heart and ventures out.
His body is broken.
"Luke, what happens? What happens to me and Michael?" young Luke asks frantically.
Luke doesn't want to speak. He doesn't want to tell this Luke, the one who's only just beginning to fall in love, in real love, that he ends up on his own, with his one love as just a bandmate, all because everything else would fall apart if they're together.
But young Luke is with him, with a hand on his shoulder. And Luke remembers, it's him, it's himself who's comforting him, and it's all becoming one huge mess of confusion and frustration. He doesn't know if this is some weird epiphany or if he really did time travel, but his younger self is scared, terrified, of what's to come.
He knows, because he remembers it.
"You two... you and Michael really love each other," Luke finally answers. "You guys are really loyal to each other. You like to kiss and cuddle, though the band itself really likes to cuddle." He chuckles. Some of the pain is starting to lift. "There's no other love like it. Michael dyes his hair a lot, and sometimes he lets you help. He's quite possessive and gets jealous a lot if other people try to touch you, even Ashton and Calum. You get jealous too, but it's more of a 'pay attention to meee' kind of jealous. And there are some nights where you two just bask in each others' company, where you just lay in a pool of love, and..."
Luke trails off. There's a pain in his chest again, but it's different this time. It's not bone-shattering. It's aching.
Young Luke is staring up at him, his blue eyes glossed over. "There are really hard days. There are days where the two of you want to give up."
Luke can't bring himself to say what happens.
"Do we... do we give up?" young Luke asks.
Luke swallows, though his throat is so dry. "In a way, yes."
There's silence. It's deafening. Young Luke looks away, down at the floor where old Luke is looking. "How?"
"How what?"
"How do you and Michael give up?" Young Luke looks back at himself.
The ache in his chest grows in magnitude, but his bones aren't shattering. It's just his heart. "You two decide that... because of the band, you can't be together. There are people and publicity involved, and you're both forced to love someone else."
His heart is about to burst again. He's surprised he's gone this long without crying. By now, he'd be a mess of tears on the floor, with sobs as strong as lightning strikes. God knows he's been like that several times.
"Do we stop loving each other?"
It bursts. There's a flood again, but it's not as painful as before. It still is, but it's a refreshing river rather than a wildfire.
"No, I don't think so. At least, I never did."
Luke finally glances up from the floor. He's realized it. It's always been that way. No matter how many times he's tried to tell himself, no matter how many times he's used other people's bodies to try to conceal it, no matter how many times he's screamed at himself in the mirror that he doesn't love him, that he never did...
...he does. And he thinks he always will.
Young Luke and old Luke are staring at the wall, knees taut to their chests with their arms resting on them. "What about Mikey?"
Luke has to think. He really wants to believe that Michael still loves him. There's a part of him that does believe it, but maybe it's the same part that tells himself that he doesn't love Michael anymore, that Michael doesn't love him anymore.
There were arguments. There were times where Luke couldn't keep it in. There were times where he and Michael screamed at each other because of how frustrated they were. There was really, really angry sex. But it always ended up the same way; Michael and Luke went their separate ways, to the people they're forced to love, because they can't love each other.
The rivers in his body are speaking to him.
"He does," Luke answers. "He still loves me."
There's another moment of silence. It's calm. Luke can feel it. It's not blazing anymore, it's smooth, tranquil.
He still loves me.
Young Luke looks at his older self.
He has to.
"That's all that matters then, right?"
It's always been that way. It always will be.
There are tears.
"Yes, that's all that matters," Luke cries. "That's all that matters. We fucking love each other, and I'm damn sure we always will. And Luke, promise me, promise me, that you won't let fame or anything change that."
Young Luke is crying too, though not as hard as older Luke. "I won't. I won't, Luke."
"There are going to be hard times. Really hard times. There are going to be times where you wish you were dead. There are going to be times where you want to run away and quit the band and leave everything you've ever worked for. But no matter what, never tell yourself that you don't love him. Because you do. And you always will."
Young Luke nods. "I understand. I understand, Luke."
Luke wants to collapse.
"Luke," young Luke says, "I don't know what happens specifically, and from what you've told me, I don't think I want to know. But also from what you've told me, you never stopped loving him. And I get why. I'm obviously not in love with him as much now as you are with him six years in the future. But he's so fucking amazing, you know? I mean, I don't think I love him yet, but I can feel myself falling every day. And man, I can't wait until he dyes his hair."
Luke laughs dryly. He can't even remember the first color Michael dyed his hair. Was it black? Or blue? Black and blue? Or maybe black and green? Luke can't remember. Michael stopped dyeing his hair a while ago. Maybe his brain has been trying to forget more than he thought.
"I never want to forget this feeling," young Luke mumbles. "He's so easy to love, and loving him is so easy. It's just... I'm so sorry that all that shit happens, whatever that shit is. But, like, if I'm going to promise you something, can you promise me something?"
Luke looks at his younger self. Their eyes meet.
"Promise me that you'll tell Michael that you love him. It doesn't matter when, or how. Just let him know. And don't let him forget it."
There's an ocean. Luke can feel it.
"I promise. I will, Luke," Luke tells his young self. "And..."
There's a bright flash. Something is happening.
"Never forget this feeling," Luke finishes.
There's another bright flash, and another, and another. It's blinding, and Luke squeezes his eyes shut to block them, but with his eyes closed, he can see himself, sixteen years old, staring back at him. He's getting farther and farther away. He's waving.
I won't forget. I'll never forget.
Luke can't tell whose voice it is.
-
2013
"Hey, Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you promise me something?"
"What is it?"
"It's just... we're on a really good path right now. We're making it. We're living our dream, but like—"
"Luke..."
"I don't want anything to change. I love what we have now and I love you and I'm just so scared of what's going to happen once we're, y'know, really famous."
"Luke—"
"I love you, Michael. And I just have this feeling that I always will. So just... can you promise me that you won't forget? That we loved each other?"
"Luke, why the hell would you even say that?"
"Huh?"
"Why would you even use past tense? We love each other. I'm sure as hell not going to forget, because we love each other and we're always going to love each other."
"Michael..."
2014
"I love you, and nothing's going to change that. No matter how famous we get, no matter how hard life kicks our ass, I won't ever forget, nor will I ever stop loving you. Okay Luke?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Oh, and happy new year, babe."
-
When Luke opens his eyes, he's awake. It's like he's just woken up, but he's not laying in bed. He's standing, right in the middle of his hotel room.
A familiar feeling rises in his eyes, and there's the memory of him sitting in his room with his younger self. It really did happen. He can remember it all, the conversation, the heart-shattering, the bone-breaking, the rivers flooding, but it stops there.
He's dressed in the same clothes he went to bed in. He's dressed in the same clothes he talked to his younger self in.
His entire body his heavy. He stumbles backwards onto the bed and just sits there. His phone goes off a couple times, but he's too lost in thought to check it. He doesn't know what time it is. He thinks he's back in 2018.
There's a flashing image of green eyes.
Luke sucks in a breath because holy fuck, there's no way that's possible...
He snaps himself out of his trance and throws on some decent clothes. He knows he's got another busy day ahead of him, with greeting fans and performing a show, but after that, he needs to live up to his promise.
He hasn't forgotten. He hasn't forgotten a thing.