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“So that’s me?”
“Yup.”
“Like I’m in that ?”
“Yeah, pretty much.“
“Why? Why would they turn me into dust?” Luke asked, nervously licking his lips and staring straight ahead. He had once again found himself at his parents’ house but this time with company.
“Luke.” Alex sighed, arms wrapped around himself and staring just as hard at the vase that’s rested on top of the fireplace. “It’s called cremation.”
Reggie stood next to them, seeming to not feel the same tense weight the others did or at the very least doing his best at ignoring it, and fidgeted to keep his impulsive self from saying something dumb. He wanted to know what they were doing at the Patterson household but asking outright might upset Luke; still he’s curious if they were going to do anything outside of staring at the urn that held Luke’s ashes.
The singer hadn’t really told them why he wanted them to join him, but they weren’t going to deny him either. The lack of reasoning started to make Reggie a little anxious though.
Luke stops asking questions, Alex the only one to really have any answers, and bites his thumb nail while his gaze focuses hard at the urn. Maybe he thought his eyes would bore into the ceramic and reveal the answers to questions he was too scared to ask, or confirm that he was really what was in there.
It’s a little heady to think his body has been burned up at nearly unthinkable high temperatures just so he can be placed on a shelf, something for his parents to walk by everyday and glance at; feeling nothing but guilt and sorrow. At least in a grave Luke knows his body is still there, even if it’s just bones, something physical in the shape of who he was but he’d still be terrifyingly unrecognizable to his living self. Death does that to bodies, he thinks dumbly, wickedly snuffs the light out of candles but with more worms and dirt involved. It’s not as idyllic as songs and books and movies made it out to be. Just tragic and sort of horrific.
At least being dust is less gross than decaying to nothing but mushy bug food, six feet under and easily forgotten when not staring at his headstone. The thought of his dead body pushes his brain back to that night. Luke never thought he’d see a dead body in person, didn’t think he’d see someone die in front of him; let alone both happening twice in one night with his best friends.
People say when someone dies they look peaceful, almost ageless and sleeping. They don’t. Luke decided that quickly when he saw Alex and then Reggie’s bodies go slack and limp. They just looked dead . Point blank and there wasn’t even anything poetic to say about it and if he thinks about it a second longer he might start sobbing as violently as he did before he died himself moments after.
Luke is trying not to spiral so hard.
He’s dead and his body is dust in a vase on a shelf in his parents’ home. And the right name might not even be on the damn thing.
He shouted that his name was Luke to his parents enough times for them to get the message, wrote a whole song about it and made sure they listened to every last lyric.
Still, it’s a lot to take in. He’s glad he isn’t alone. But thinking about how unsettlingly this all is isn’t actually why he’s there, the real reason makes his stomach churn and he can’t bring himself to move, eyes dim and dilated as he fixated on the urn like it held the secrets to everything.
Maybe it did. Luke knows it holds the answer to one question that’s been making his skin itch and overtook his brain in a burning haze since the moment he realized that he was what was in there. He grounds himself back to reality remembering why he bought them all here for, he searches for his voice before he even thinks to stop biting his nails like the nervous wreck he was. That was meant to be Alex’s job.
It’s quiet for a few more beats, not really moving to do anything, and Reggie lets out a strangled noise, not able to wait for something to happen any longer. Maybe he had started to think too hard about it all and wanted it to stop thinking. Luke wishes he could stop thinking, he did it too often now.
“That’s it,” Reggie goes to grab the urn. A pretty navy blue with gold lining and detailing of music notes all along the sides. The notes aren’t in any particular order, not from any song they could recognize and definitely not from anything Luke had written. Purely there for show.
At least it’s music themed , Alex thinks a little bitter there hadn’t been more thought put into it.
“Whoa, hey wait!” Luke immediately grabs at Reggie to keep him from picking anything up. Eyes wide and if Luke’s heart wasn’t turned to dust it would be pounding in his chest. “What if you knock it over? That’s me in there, man.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not like anything is going to happen to your soul or something.” Reggie jokes with a playful eye roll, but it falls a little flat and he retreats into himself; softening into something remorseful when he sees how nervous Luke is. “Alright. I won’t touch it.” He promised and Luke visibly relaxed.
“Can we ask why we’re here?” Alex speaks up after finally pulling his eyes away from the vase. He already had a few guesses but he didn’t want to assume anything. Reggie nods rapidly, overtly curious.
Luke turns back to staring at the urn, it’s at least pretty to look at if not a little unnerving, and chews his bottom lip; clenching and unclenching his hands on either side of him.
“I just-“ He looks for the right words but it’s hard to get anything out of his throat, the words weighed down like lead and dropping into his stomach. “I have to check what name is on it. I need to know but I didn’t want to do it alone.”
Reggie and Alex exchange glances, they knew where Luke was getting at as vague as he was being, and let out duel sighs.
“Of course,” Alex tries to smile but it comes out a little too sad to be reassuring. It seems to still be enough though. “We’re here for you, buddy.”
“Yeah, and if it’s the wrong name we can just knock it over so they get a new one! And we’ll keep smashing it until they have the idea to put the right name on it.” Reggie offered, sounding too excited at the idea of breaking something that held so much significance. “They might have to vacuum you up though.”
Luke makes a strained noise in the back of his throat, eyes going a little wide. Usually he could throw a witty comeback and make fun of Reggie’s poorly thought out idea (not that he thought things through that often), but he was too on edge right now.
Alex eblowed Reggie’s stomach. “Not helping, Reg.” He mumbled as Luke’s shoulders tense again at the thought. His mother would cry so much if anything happened to it, he knows it like a basic undeniable fact because it was. The drummer places a strong hand on Luke’s shoulder and it’s comforting despite how rigid they both are. “I know it’ll hurt if it doesn’t have the right name on it, but remember you’ll always be Luke to us and to yourself. That’s all that matters, right?” He adds in a soft voice that holds so much warmth Luke could wrap himself up in it like a blanket.
Without looking at either of them, Luke slowly nods and starts to pick up the urn being extra careful not to lose focus and drop it. Reggie holds his breath in fear something awful might happen if he breathed too hard, even though he didn’t need to breathe anymore. They all did it just out of habit.
“Right.” Luke keeps the small gold plaque that had the engravings of a few words pointed away from his gaze, a little wary to actually check still. He took in a deep breath and smiled at his boys. “Well, guess we’ll never know unless I actually read it. Ready?”
Alex nodded, nervously hugging himself and leaning closer to Reggie to cling onto whatever solace he could offer just from being nearby. “Always ready when you are, bossman.” Reggie tried for a smile, falling a little flat when his eyes lower back to the urn.
Luke does his best to keep his hands from shaking and his gaze runs along the few engraved lines. There’s a small silence that creates a pit of dread in his friends’ stomachs as they freeze in anticipation, waiting for the worse and praying for the best.
Then Luke licks his lips and half smiles, misty eyed already before his voice comes out a little shaky and unbelieving. “Luke Patterson. 1978-1995. Beloved child finally returned home.” He laughs, on the verge of tears and his friends grin widely at him, their own eyes glossing over. “It’s the right name. They put the right name. I-I- Can’t believe it. For all the times they said I murdered their little girl and then I went and died, for real , and they actually- And I- They said- I would be-” Luke inhales sharply and clenches the urn to his chest in a death grip. “Said I’d always be her to them but this- Maybe-” He rambles so much that his throat hurts from forcing the words out.
Something just breaks in Luke, so many emotions running through his entire body in such an intense rush- all of it hitting him at once that it comes out in a flood of sobs. They didn’t call him their son but they put the right name and he forced himself to think that it was enough, despite knowing it was the bare minimum.
He can’t put a name to everything he’s feeling, unsure if he would even want to unpack all of it knowing it would just ruin him more. Luke begins to bawl so loud and violently that Reggie jumps back at first, fidgeting and eyes darting around quickly, meanwhile Luke double overs himself and wails like he just watched his dog get shot. He never had a dog.
Alex is quick to wrap his arms around him to keep him from collapsing, his legs suddenly wobbly and not strong enough to keep him upright, and Luke cries into his shoulder. Right after Reggie gets the courage to join the hug and squish them together. Luke thinks he might fall apart completely if they weren’t holding him together.
They stay like that for a while, Luke tightly gripping the urn that holds his ashes and Reggie and Alex surrounding him in love and comfort and support. Like always. Even in death his friends remain by his side and Luke is more than grateful.
At some point Luke is able to regain his sense of self and lets out a wet chuckle, resting his cheek against one of their shoulders. He isn’t sure who, it doesn’t matter. He’s safe there either way.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” he says after not speaking for a few too many minutes, voice muffled somewhere between Alex’s hoodie and Reggie’s jacket. “Knowing that it took me running away and dying for them to use the right name as some near hollow attempt to make amends or having them still ignore it instead.”
They don’t say anything in return. He knows the answer but it still hurts, leaving a sting in his chest. Putting ‘child’ instead of ‘son’ felt like salt in a closing wound but he would take what he could get. That’s more than a little sad to think about. Maybe not knowing would’ve been better.
Reggie had said he rather not know and hadn’t planned to visit his grave, he bets that even if they did put the name Reginald on it his parents wouldn’t have bothered to make sure it was spelled right. Probably got his birthday wrong or something. He doesn’t resent them for it but he’s scared of that last gut punch that they were too busy hating each other to stop and remember to love him. Despite that Reggie misses his parents and Luke wants to say he understands to some degree.
Alex doesn’t want to find out if his parents had accepted his body or not, scared at what he might find or what he won’t. In that sense Luke was lucky in a lot of ways. He was also unlucky in other aspects. Unlike the Mercers’ love was unconditional in the Patterson home, although support wasn’t a guarantee in either household. The Peters might have plain forgotten to offer enough of either towards their son. None of them had it easy.
And at the end of the day, pain was never a competition between them. It was shared so it would hurt a little less compared to suffering in silence, not letting anyone get the blunt end of it alone. They replaced each other’s aching wounds with hearts full of love for one another. They’d offer each other everything their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t and then some. Expressing it in their own way, on their terms. Through music and physical touch and quality time.
It’s always been like that, life or death they’d have their friendship no matter what. Even Celeb couldn’t take that away. Right now was no different. Luke sobs a little more and Alex and Reggie hold him a little tighter, silently crying as their fearless leader breaks apart for a moment. They were going to be brave for him like he is for them. It was their turn to protect him.
“It’s not fair,” Luke said in a near whimper.
“It isn’t,” Reggie whispers into Luke’s hair and sniffs softly. Catching the smell of AXE body spray and something fruity. “It never is but we’re here. We love you.”
“It still hurts.” He added and softened against Alex’s chest.
“I know.” It’s Alex’s turn to speak, nose pressed into Reggie’s skull. “It’s going too. It’ll get easier. Still hurt but sting less. You move forward but you won’t be alone.”
“We’re never alone.” Luke grins despite the tears that still steadily roll down his cheeks in a nonstop flood of pure overwhelming heartache. “Because we always have each other.”
They laugh, wet with tears and bittersweet because they know they shouldn't have learned how to find the type of love their parents didn’t give them. Despite everything they put them through, all three boys loved their parents to some degree, and hated them to a different degree. Or at the very least were bitter and hurt and rightfully angry towards them.
They weren’t always dealt the best cards in life, but in death they accepted that’s just how things were. They didn’t need to forgive any of their parents and they can thrive off the love they shared. The band was their family and it was growing with Julie and Willie and Flynn and Carlos and Ray joining in. A proper bond of their own creation, safe and supportive and loving.
Luke surrounded himself with people who saw him for who he really was, never mistook him for anything different than Luke because that’s who he’s always been and that’s who they always loved. He never had to argue with them about that simple fact of his personhood, they accepted him with unquestioning open arms. His parents questioned and ripped apart every aspect of his sense of self but here, in his friends gasp, that didn’t matter as much. Didn’t hurt as badly.
We’ll always turn out alright in the end,
Luke thinks still wrapped in his friend’s arms and leaning into the comfort,
as along we’re together.