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“This is boring, shouldn’t have invited you for this,” Ashton says over the loud music. Calum’s still on the opposite end of the room near the beverages table with his arm around a pretty girl’s waist, eyes still stubbornly fixed on Ashton and sending signals that Ashton expertly ignores. He takes a sip of the (spiked) fruit punch from his paper cup and taps a steady rhythm to the song with his foot against the leg of the table.
“I have an idea,” Luke says in a tone that implies mischief, and Ashton turns to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Come on,” Luke says, taking his hand and leading him away from the table, completely abandoning their half-consumed drinks and a bored Year Eleven student they hadn’t even attempted to start a conversation with.
“Where are we going?” Ashton asks as they pass the entrance and out to the tiled corridors lined with lockers, deserted unlike on any normal school day. Luke doesn’t respond, doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk along, his other hand loosening up his tie and undoing the first two buttons on his clean white shirt. Their shoes squeak against the floor as they continue on in their semi-rushed pace, and Ashton feels a surge of exhilaration at the idea of bailing an event he’s supposed to be at for… well, wherever it is that they’re going now.
They go up the stairs, past empty classrooms and teacher’s offices and Ashton takes note of how deafening the quiet is, very much like the loud buzz on a Monday morning but yet, different. It’s serene and for once Ashton’s able to hear his own thoughts, much clearer than ever before, though right now the only thing affixed to his brain is the question of where Luke is taking him, and the hyperawareness of the way Luke’s fingers lace in between his and the very slight dampness of their palms against each other’s.
His qualms disappear once they arrive in front of the library doors, and Ashton laughs, “Really? The library?”
Luke shoots him a grin, and Ashton decides the word ‘shoot’ pretty much describes the action well enough because it really does feel like a huge beat to his chest when Luke does that. Ashton wonders in a hushed voice, “Are we even allowed to do this?”
Luke doesn’t reply so much as he responds back with a question, turning the doorknob, “And I thought youwere supposed to be the dare-devilish popular kid?” He turns briefly with a small smirk, and the door opens.
They make their way in, not once detaching themselves from each other, and stumble along through the semi-darkness to the aisle in between the Economics section and the Business Studies shelf. The large window overlooking the parking lot is dusty, but there’s a window seat hidden behind the velvet red curtains that Ashton never knew existed until now, like a hidden lair of, he imagines, a quiet bookworm who’d rather spend time here than the noisy lunch room.
Luke plops down onto the cushion, pushing aside the curtains to make room for Ashton. “It’s not ideal – like, it’s a tiny bit unhygienic, but it’s alright,” he says, putting his long legs up to form a cross-legged position.
“This was where I sat for the first few months after she died.” He says it nonchalantly, and Ashton sits down next to him and copies his sitting position, still wondering how anyone could talk so casually about someone’s death like that, especially someone he knows was a good friend of Luke’s.
“Anyway, I’ve always thought that there’s like, a before and after to things,” Luke says, “Before her death, I was sort of invisible to everyone else and I was fine with that, because honestly, attention makes me feel a little nervous but after, everyone just knew me and like, recognised me – as, you know, the maths teacher’s son and all – but also as that kid whose friend died. And it just stuck, you know? It’s like it’s branded on my forehead or something, like it’s become part of me that I can’t get rid of.”
Ashton can’t find the words to respond appropriately, as he always does in situations like this, but it seems that a reply isn’t necessary, because Luke doesn’t wait on him to do so.
“Everything changes in an ‘after’,” Luke continues, “With her, it’s just like, one day she’s there, talking about death like it’s a joke and the next, she’s just… gone. No more. And. ‘No more’ was hard for me to deal with.”
The impact of Luke’s words is like an explosion that leaves behind a ringing black hole of dissipated phrases and punctuations, former sentences that scatter away in fear of such a weighty subject. Ashton doesn’t know how to deal with it, being a familiar acquaintance to noise and continuous sound, but he manages to speak out after a few beats of silence.
"I’m sorry."
"It’s okay. I’m alright now."
“You’re kind of like my after.”
Luke looks at him with mild interest. “Really? How?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re helping me extensively with maths,” Ashton says, and he takes a moment to apologise for the pun, laughing. Luke’s smiling in return, but doesn’t say anything. “I have never, ever stepped into the school library before you started tutoring me. Except for, like, detention. So now I can graduate and say that I’ve actually set foot into the library, thanks to you.”
“Regularly, now,” Luke reminds him and Ashton nods.
“Ashton Irwin regularly visits school library due to Luke Hemmings,” Ashton puts on a ridiculous announcer sort-of voice, “That should be in the newspaper. Hell, it should be the headlines. It’s ground-breaking! I’m a changed man, world! Praise the Lord!”
Luke’s laughing for real now, and Ashton takes a little while to witness him in his easy splendour. He wonders how he’s never noticed Luke before all of this, wonders how he’s never caught sight of the lovely sight right before his eyes passing through the school hallways before having to share the same class as him this year. With a strange feeling in his gut, he suddenly thinks that he might actually be in love with Luke Hemmings, never mind the fact that he’s always denied it in front of Calum.
“Also,” Ashton’s getting brave now, driven by his own revelation just a few seconds ago, “I’ve never made out with a boy before you.”
The room returns to its former stillness and Luke’s just staring back at him with a look of curiosity, and soon enough they’re kissing, lips fitting perfectly with each other’s, tongues relishing the taste of their mouths and if there’s anything in Ashton’s life that he’d ever consider close to perfect, this moment is it. Ashton’s fingers trace the surface of Luke’s neck, which makes Luke let out a small laugh, mumbling, “That tickles,” before reuniting their lips again, his own hand weaving through Ashton’s hair.
Ashton’s hands instead make their way under Luke’s untucked shirt, settling onto his waist and rubbing slow circles onto the tender surface of his skin before travelling all over his bare midriff, caressing and touching and feeling with as much finesse as he can muster. Luke goes on to loosen up Ashton’s tie the way he did his own, and unbuttons his shirt all the way down, and Ashton does the same with rest of Luke’s buttons, breaking apart from the kiss but eyes still closed, feeling Luke’s hands on him with suppressed, white-hot elation that’s just waiting to crack from beneath his cool exterior.
He slips off Luke’s shirt and leaves quick kisses and occasional nips on his neck all the way down to his shoulder, eliciting the glorious sound of Luke’s low moans that send a wonderful shot of audacity overtaking his body, and he’s begging for time to pass slower so they could be trapped in this moment forever. It does go on for at least almost as long as he wants it to – the curious exploration by the two of each other’s bodies, like a divine experience they’re both going through (but also ironically unholy in every sense).
And when Ashton has his mouth close enough to Luke’s ear to whisper, “I love you,” he thinks he actually, truly means it.