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Luke Hemmings is not a stalker, okay? He's not.
He's a bit socially awkward and he's stuck working a boring office job and no matter how hard he tries or how long he's lived on his own, he's incapable of recreating his mother's famous Mac 'n Cheese.
He's all of these things, but he's not a stalker.
Except that he totally feels like one, sitting here on his couch with a lukewarm cup of coffee as he watches the street through the window, waiting.
Luke tells himself it's not stalking if he's not going out of his way to find details about the other person, which he hasn't. He tells himself it's not stalking if their schedules just happened to coincide, which is mostly true, but it's probably still a bit weird.
The first time Luke noticed him was a few weeks ago. The moving truck had caught Luke's attention, with its loud engine and squeaky brakes as it pulled into the driveway a couple houses down. He'd debated going to introduce himself, suddenly remembered he was socially inept, and he only further solidified his decision to run back inside once he saw the gorgeous guy that stepped out of the driver's seat.
Sun kissed skin, dark brown hair, a slim athletic build and a couple of tattoos blurred to Luke due to the distance...and Luke was a goner. He'd quickly dipped into his front door almost instantly afterwards.
The morning after that was the first time it happened. Luke had woken up at his usual time, around 6:30, and shuffled towards his kitchen. He brewed himself a pot of coffee, poured a cup, and ventured into the living room to flick on the morning news.
When he sat down on his couch to watch, a movement outside caught his eye. Flickering his gaze out the window to glance at the sidewalk, he found his new neighbor indulging in an early morning jog. Normally, Luke wouldn't think twice, because quite a few people went jogging in his neighborhood, but the guy was shirtless, and he looked damn good.
It became a bit of a habit after that, part of Luke's morning routine. Wake up, make coffee, turn on the news, watch the hot shirtless neighbor running by instead of the news.
So that's where Luke is now - 6:50 on a Thursday morning, mindlessly sipping coffee that's gone a bit cold for his liking and watching as he sees the neighbor approach Luke's house on his second lap of the morning.
When the guy hits Luke's driveway, he looks up, his face and neck and chest covered in sweat, which is incredibly sexy, but ultimately not the reason Luke squeaks and ducks away from the window in embarrassment.
It's because the neighbor has made eye contact, offered a little wave and wink through the window because he fucking knows Luke watches him, holy shit, how humiliating, Luke wants to die.
Luke avoids the window for a few days after that.
"It's fucking weird," Michael says, handing Luke his food over the counter of the deli where he works. Correction - where Luke forces Michael to work because Michael's really fucking lazy and Luke pretty much gets lunch here every day during the week, so he can make sure Michael's not slacking on his half of the rent on the apartment he shares with Ashton.
Luke rolls his eyes. "It's not weird," he attempts to defend himself, grabbing the bagged sandwich from his friend and handing Michael his credit card.
The fluorescent green-haired boy laughs, swiping the card through the register's scanner before giving it back to Luke. "You watch your sexy neighbor go running every morning, and now he knows you do it, and you're still going to tell me it's not the least bit weird?"
Luke shrugs, sliding his card back into his wallet and adjusting his tie. "So it's a little weird."
Michael nods victoriously, swiping the receipt out of the machine. "It's fucking weird," he repeats quietly, and Luke has to repress a laugh in spite of himself.
Ashton doesn't call Luke or the situation weird when Luke asks him about it in the empty break room a few hours after talking to Michael. His coworker is munching down a protein bar and taking sips of decaf from his travel mug, listening intently when Luke explains the fiasco from a few days ago.
"Well, it's already awkward, so you might as well do what you can to make it less so." Ashton says simply, frowning at the taste of his coffee before unscrewing the mug's lid and emptying a packet of Splenda into the beverage.
"But, like, how? He probably thinks I'm some fucking creep." Luke groans, leaning back in his seat and dragging his hand down his face. He practically feels Ashton roll his eyes at him.
"I'm sure he doesn't think that. For all you know, that's the first time he's ever noticed you, and he was just saying hi like a friendly fucking person. Ever think of that?" Ashton teases, reaching forward and flicking Luke on the temple.
Luke winces, scooting away and scowling at Ashton's fingers. But Ashton could have a point, Luke realizes. Maybe he was just overreacting.
"How do I make it less awkward?" Luke questions, biting his lip and fiddling with his thumbs.
Ashton leans back in his chair, crossing his legs and shrugging as he screws the cap back on his sufficiently sweetened coffee. "Dunno. Play nice. Introduce yourself. Be a fucking neighbor to the guy, and stop dwelling." He smirks at Luke, who just rolls his eyes.
Despite his annoyance with his friends, Luke decides to take their advice. Well, Ashton's advice, since Michael isn't too helpful when it comes to anything that isn't making fun of awkward Luke in awkward scenarios.
It's been a week since Luke's hot shirtless neighbor waved to him through the window, and Luke is finally chipping off the stone-walling embarrassment the event left him with.
It's about 6:45 on a Friday morning, and Luke has decided this is the only time he knows both he and the neighbor aren't busy. So when he's pretty sure the guy will be out for his run, Luke ventures outside onto his front porch. He's wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a baggy Rolling Stones sweater, since it's gotten a bit chillier in the past week. He vaguely wonders if the neighbor will still be shirtless due to the temperature drop, but he shakes away the thought when his stomach flutters.
Luke looks up and down the street, no sign of the tanned god. He's half relieved, and he starts making his way down towards the mailbox. He needed to check the mail anyway, so Luke's just hoping maybe he can kill two birds with one stone and the neighbor will run by while he's doing so.
Unfortunately, it doesn't look like the plan will be working today.
Luke shrugs, striding more confidently towards the end of his driveway, stopping in front of his mailbox and opening it to reveal stacks of bills and magazines he literally never subscribed to, how do they know where he lives?
And he practically screams like a little girl when someone touches his shoulder.
Luke spins rapidly, coming face to face with his neighbor, who's clearly out for a run, because he's glistening with sweat and most definitely still going shirtless. Luke has to repress a moan.
Suddenly, Luke's acutely aware of the fact that he must look like hell, having just woken up after sleeping on damp hair from his shower last night, and gross, did he even brush his teeth? It's totally unfair that his neighbor is out running, all sweaty and flushed, yet still fiercely attractive.
"Hey," the guy says cheerfully, though a bit out of breath. "Sorry to scare you, mate, I guess I run a bit more quietly than I thought I did." He smiles widely, pearly teeth shining between his parted lips and Luke sort of wants to feel those teeth nipping at his skin, which is pasty in comparison to his neighbor's caramel, sun kissed tone.
"I...no, it's okay," Luke sputters out nervously, and an envelope drops from the stack precariously balanced in his arms. Before he can maim himself for being so awkward, Luke's surprised to see his neighbor swooping down to catch the paper before it even hits the ground.
"I'm Calum," he says, handing the letter back to Luke. And yeah, that name totally fits him, now that Luke thinks about it.
"Calum," Luke mumbles, and he almost hits himself when Calum leans in, raising an eyebrow and asking what he said. "Oh, I..nothing. I'm Luke. I live...here." Luke struggles through a coherent sentence, pointing behind himself to his house, which Calum glances at briefly before smirking.
"Right." Calum doesn't say anything else, just smiles and lets his eyes flicker from Luke's eyes to his feet and back up again. "Anyway, I've gotta get going, or else I'll tighten up. Nice to meet you, though, Luke." His smirk never falters, not even when he pushes his headphones back in his ears and jogs off.
Luke sort of stares after him, in disbelief, because there's no way his hot neighbor - Calum - just checked him out.
But Luke's pretty sure he totally just did.
Luke doesn't see Calum for another week, because he's still slightly humiliated after their first formal meeting. It's not for lack of trying, though.
He's recently taken to sitting in his usual spot, but with the curtains drawn save for this small sliver that he can see quite a stretch of the sidewalk out of, but he's 99% sure you couldn't see anything if you stood on the sidewalk looking in.
Despite this, Luke doesn't see Calum for the entire week, and he expresses his concern to his best friends when they come over for breakfast on a Sunday morning.
"He hates me, that has to be it," Luke groans, resting his face flat on the table.
There's a shift next to him as Michael reaches across the table for another donut, which Ashton had purchased for them on the way over. Luke hears scuffling, and when he looks up, Michael is essentially ignoring the conversation altogether while he scours the rows of donuts.
"If what you said about when you met - Jesus, Michael, quit finger fucking the box and pick one!" Ashton says, his thought cut off when he evidently just can't watch Michael struggle with his choice any longer.
Michael looks up, wide-eyed and panicked. "I don't know what the flavors are, Ash!"
Ashton makes a noise of frustration, rubbing his temples before grabbing a Boston Cream, plopping it on a paper plate and shoving it at Michael. The green-haired boy smiles excitedly, picking it up and making little licks at the cream that has oozed out. Luke can't help but smile at the scene.
"Anyway," Ashton says, tiredly, "if what you said about when you guys met at the mailbox is true, I highly doubt he hates you. Just because the guy hasn't run his route in a few days doesn't mean he hates you."
"Sounded like he thought you were bangin', Lukey. A straight ten." Michael adds, mouth full and words coming out a little slurred because of it.
Luke rolls his eyes. "I was so fucking awkward, you guys. I almost couldn't even remember my name, I was so nervous."
Michael shrugs. "So what? My mum always told me to go after the ones who were nervous around me, because if they weren't nervous, it would signify you didn't mean something to them, like they didn't want to impress you. So unless he was raised by wolves, I think he'll find it endearing, the awkwardness."
He pops the last of his donut in his mouth pointedly, and Luke and Ashton share a surprised look at the sudden wisdom from the boy who couldn't even decide on a pastry for himself.
"He's probably right, Luke." Ashton says, and Luke knows his friends both have points, but part of him finds it hard to believe.
On Monday, Luke decides to give it one more shot. He's going to sit there with his coffee and the news playing in the background while he waits for shirtless neighbor Calum to jog by.
He knows it's a stretch, since he hasn't actually seen Calum run anywhere since they met at the mailbox, but Luke concludes if he doesn't see him today, he'll stop his strange routine and go back to pretending he doesn't even have a sexy neighbor.
6:50 comes, and no Calum.
7:00 rolls by, and no Calum.
7:10 arrives, and there's still no Calum, but now Luke's pushing it in terms of being on time to work.
7:20, and Luke's pretty sure he'll be late by now, his coffee is cold, the news has changed to some documentary, and there's no Calum.
Luke sighs, peeling himself from the couch and flicking the remote to turn the TV off. He's sort of mortified at himself for what he's done, sitting there practically begging for some hot guy to run by half naked. Like, is there anything creepier than that? Luke doesn't think there is.
He's not a stalker, alright? He's not.
It's 7:35 and Luke's accepted that he's 100% going to be late for work now, taking his time getting dressed into his slacks and button down shirt and debating if he should just call in sick or something and spare the added humiliation of walking into a meeting fifteen minutes late.
At 7:45, he's in the middle of styling his quiff in the hallway mirror, tie loose around his neck and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and there's a knock on his front door.
He's confused, eyes checking his watch twice because he's not expecting company, and he's never carpooled in his life. Nonetheless, he makes his way towards the door.
Wearily, Luke opens it, and he almost faints when he sees the person on his front porch step.
It's Calum, in these Adidas joggers, a pair of sneakers, and - hold on - a shirt. Even more surprising, though, is that Calum's holding a brown paper bag and a drink carrier with two coffees in it.
Luke raises an eyebrow, smirking.
"Luke, yeah? You live...here?" Calum teases, smiling widely and Luke can't help but laugh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"I'm horribly awkward, I'm so sorry." Luke says, but Calum just shakes his head.
"It's cute. You're cute. But that's not why I'm here. Not the only reason, at least." Calum tells him, holding up the bag and shaking it softly. Luke hears something shuffle around inside it, and his stomach growls in response. Calum giggles. "Scones and muffins to share, accompanied by some lattes. But only if you join me for a run."
Luke smiles, nodding, stepping aside and letting Calum in. He tells the boy to wait there, while he goes to change into his workout gear and rapidly group text Michael and Ashton about what's just happened like he's some teenage girl and not a grown man.
And yeah, he's definitely calling in sick today.