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It’s Luke’s own dumb fault.
Look, Bobby gets insomnia, okay? He hasn’t slept a full eight hours in… years… Maybe ever. He doesn’t think he’s slept more than four in one night since he joined Sunset Curve, because Luke is crazy and likes to book them gigs until 2am or call Bobby to play him a new song idea in the middle of the night, like he forgets that they all have to be at school in the morning.
Bobby didn’t sleep last night, because a nightmare woke him up just after midnight and he decided to practice Luke’s latest song instead of fighting to fall back asleep. But then he chugged a cup and a half of coffee before school, so he’s having no problem staying awake in Biology class.
Luke, on the other hand, doesn’t drink coffee. This is the correct choice for him, don’t get Bobby wrong—Luke on Coca Cola is overly energetic enough, jumping and vibrating and bouncing off the walls. Bobby doesn’t even want to imagine him on straight caffeine.
But Luke didn’t even have a soda this morning, and after staying up all night doing God knows what (writing Grammy acceptance speeches, Bobby thinks he said, because Luke’s incapable of living in the present), he’s falling asleep in his chair.
“Luke,” Bobby hisses, kicking Luke’s ankle under their desks.
Luke startles, his head snapping up. He blinks at Bobby a few times, then at the textbook he’d just been using as a pillow. “Oh,” he mumbles, like he’s just remembered where he is. “Right. Class.”
Bobby’s heart tugs in sympathy for him. “Did you get any sleep last night?” he whispers.
Luke hums, like he really has to think about it, then decides, “No, not really.” He turns his head to peer blearily over at Bobby and whines, “M’ tired.”
Bobby huffs out a breath, immediately blushing because Luke is adorable when he’s all sleepy and innocent. “Y-yeah, man, I’ll bet you are. You kinda did that to yourself, though, don’t you think?”
Luke nods, pouting, his eyelids already drooping again. Bobby doesn’t understand how someone can just fall asleep sitting up like that, but to be fair, there are quite a lot of things Bobby doesn’t understand about Luke Patterson.
He glances around—at their teacher, droning on at the front of the class without even noticing whether her students are paying her any attention or not, and then at their classmates, all doing stupider stuff than taking a nap in the middle of a lecture—and sighs.
“All right, come here.” He scoots his chair closer, balancing his notebook on the edge of Luke’s desk so that he can at least pretend to be focusing. He wraps an arm around Luke and tugs him over, guiding his head onto Bobby’s shoulder. “Close your eyes. I’ll wake you up when the bell rings.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” Luke slurs, snuggling close. “You’re the best, man.”
Bobby mumbles something in response, but Luke’s already asleep.