Archive of Our Own

“All that negative energy that you put out into the world will attract more negative energy towards you. In order to manifest positive energy, you should try to put positive energy into the spaces around you. 

Smile at people around you. Go out of your way to make someone’s day better. Spend time in the moment rather than wishing for things to get better. You never know what good might come from being a little more positive about a negative situation.” 

Calum presses post on his submission and closes out of the tab. Sitting back in his chair, he stretches his legs out and spins around, cracking his knuckles to work out the pain from typing for an extended amount of time. 

When he signed up for the Special Topics in Writing course in the spring of his junior year, Calum thought he would be writing papers or articles. On the first day of class, the professor handed them the syllabus and pointed out their semester-long project; a blog. Or, not just any blog, but a blog that they each had to create and maintain for the semester, each focusing on a different topic drawn from a hat. Calum prayed to every God that he knew of for an easy topic.

Person after person pulled their topics, from food to travel to sports and everything in between until Calum was able to pull his own crumpled piece of paper from the bin. 

Advice Blog.

It wasn’t the worst possible option out there. Calum was often the one that his friends went to for advice, always offering a suggestion or some kind of helpful personal story. His sister always jokes that it’s his Aquarius sun driving him to be honest and tell the truth, while bringing only the purest intentions into the world. 

So he wrote his first post on pure intentions and driven thoughts. 

And it blew up. 

What had started as an assignment for his class turned into submissions from people across campus asking for Calum’s expertise on anything from love to family to personal struggles. At first it was daunting, trying to answer questions about situations that he had never lived through before. How was he supposed to offer support to someone in a long distance relationship when he himself had never been in one? 

The answer came faster than anticipated in the form of calling on his experiences with family far away. Somehow, the post drew more attention and Calum started receiving messages from people at other schools, some even states away. By the time it was finals week, Calum’s blog had grown from a post a week to a daily occurrence. When he showed his professor, he can still remember exactly what she had said to him. 

“ Don’t let this die, you have something special here. ”

So he didn’t. 

The previously unnamed advice morphed into some sort of advice-slash-lifestyle blog, which Calum so cleverly named Calum in Color. He kept the blog running over the summer, answering submissions about dealing with problematic family members and missing college life until it was time to return back to campus for the beginning of his senior year. He never planned on keeping the blog alive for more than a semester, but what was originally nothing more than a class assignment is now an eagerly anticipated part of Calum’s day. 

His roommates have been nothing but supportive of his journey too, even though he’s asked them not to read the blog themselves. Ashton used to offer his own tidbits of advice when Calum had nothing to work with when they lived together last year, something that Calum is eternally grateful for. He still gives suggestions when Calum is particularly stuck, but those moments are few and far between now. Michael teases him relentlessly, mocking the blog and the posts Calum makes. It’s all for show though, because the second that Calum and Michael are alone, he’s quietly supportive of Calum’s endeavors. Michael shows his love through poking fun and Calum doesn’t call him on it, even when sometimes his jabs are a little meaner than necessary. 

And Luke. Well, Calum really isn’t too sure what Luke thinks about In Color. They’ve never spoken about it in much detail, with Luke never asking about it and Calum never sharing much. If it wasn’t for Ashton and Michael talking about it in their shared apartment, he’d be sure that Luke had no idea about the blog. 

It’s probably for the better considering how often Calum talks about Luke on the internet. 

Not directly, and never using his name, but Calum weaves bits and pieces of his own life into the advice that he offers, and Luke is a large part of his life. One fourth of their shared on-campus apartment, eats one third of the food in the fridge, and takes up no less than one half of the hot water supply for their entire building. 

It might not help that Calum has had a crush on Luke for their entire time in college. 

A crush might not be the right word, but Calum is infatuated by everything that Luke Hemmings is and does. Freshman year Luke had swoopy hair that fell down into his eyes when he was tired and a lip ring, quiet but not shy, lanky and awkward in his body. They shared a few classes and became quick friends in their first semester. 

Sophomore year had him sporting a tousled mess of hair and the tightest of black skinny jeans, holding himself with significantly more confidence and a cocky attitude to match. Calum wasn’t a huge fan of that version of Luke, but he liked the calmer, comfy Luke that he got when they were one on one. They lived in the same dorm building and spent most nights together when possible. 

Junior year had bouncing springs of curls on Luke’s head and an entirely new wardrobe. They didn’t see each other at all over the summer, so when Luke walked into Calum and Ashton’s apartment to say hello, he barely recognized the man standing in front of him. He was shimmering, both in his smile and the literal gold glitter packed onto his eyelids. He was content with himself for what seemed like the first time in his college career, evident in the sweeter, more honest way that he was living his life. That was the year when Calum accepted that he may have more than just platonic feelings for his best friend, though that would never be something he admitted out loud. He kept those feelings stuffed so far back into his sock drawer disguised as one half of a pair, the other one lost in the washing machine. 

Even then, when Luke walked into the apartment on day one of senior year with a wave of bleached curls across his forehead and a ribbed muscle tank top tucked into grey trousers, Calum just about lost his entire mind. The bleach was new, a spontaneous decision right before he returned to campus and Calum was so thankful that the thought crossed his mind. 

Though Luke’s looks always turned heads, that wasn’t all that drew Calum to him. 

At first it was the quiet jokes Luke would make under his breath in their shared math 101 course freshman year, ones that always got Calum in trouble for choking back his laughter but made Luke smile that tiny suppressed smile, one that pulled his right dimple just the smallest amount. 

Then it was the way that Luke would go out of his way to make sure that others were happy and comfortable. On nights where Calum was too drunk to make his way across campus to his own bed, Luke would offer his as a place to crash and would make a spot for himself on the floor. Calum felt immense guilt on those occasions, but Luke would insist that it made him feel better knowing that Calum was right there in the room instead of left to his own devices. 

Luke turned into a safe person for Calum, as much as he was reluctant to admit that. They studied together, got meals together when their schedules allowed, went to parties together. Often these events involved Michael and Ashton too, but as far as Calum is concerned, his memories are of Luke. 

With three years of friendship under their belts, that’s countless moments stowed away for Calum to use as fuel for his blog, especially when he gets submissions about anything to do with love. 

He’s sure he doesn’t love Luke; his adoration is nothing more than a product of all the time that they spend together, but that doesn’t stop him from wondering what things would be like if they were more than just roommates. 

Living with Luke (and Ashton and Michael) is probably going to be the death of him. 

In the late September afternoon, Calum is alone in the apartment. Ashton is at his internship across town, Michael in class, and Luke at his study group. Calum has at least a good hour or two before anyone returns, giving him the perfect opportunity to lounge on the couch doing absolutely fucking nothing until someone comes around to bother him. 

He exits his bedroom and heads for the living room, tripping over a rogue dog toy left on the ground between his and Michael’s bedroom doors. Calum grumbles at Petunia under his breath as he lightly kicks the toy out of the way on his journey. He’s grateful for Petunia’s presence at least ninety percent of the time, but there are still moments that have him wondering just how Luke managed to convince the housing office to approve his emotional support animal paperwork. 

(“It’s a forged document, Luke, you’re not going to get approval,” Calum had groaned when Luke asked the group if it would be okay for him to bring his dog to campus in the fall. 

“It is not forged! It’s from my doctor!” 

“A doctor isn’t the same as a therapist, there’s no way you’re going to get approved,” Ashton countered. 

  “Okay but if I DO get approved, is it okay if I bring Petunia?” 

“Sure, if you manage to get the paperwork approved, we’ll have a dog friendly apartment,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. 

Luke hung the stamped approval document on the fridge of his dorm for the last two months of the spring semester.)

Rounding the corner into the living room, Petunia snuffles from her spot on the couch, ignoring the sound of her toy rolling across the floor. Calum’s destination for the afternoon is ahead of him, nothing more than a few feet in between him and relaxation. Before he can even get that far, he’s assaulted by an absolutely rancid smell coming from the kitchen. 

The fucking trash. Taking out the trash is the most stupid and annoying of all the chores they have to do, so of course Michael would leave it for someone else to take care of when it’s his turn. Calum would leave it until Michael got home, but the stench permeates the air and makes it nauseating just to sit in the general vicinity. 

It’s not even like taking out the trash is hard; the trash room is literally three doors down the hall on the left. They don't even have to leave the building to throw it out and still none of them can be bothered to do it most of the time. 

Grumbling under his breath, Calum throws his phone on the couch and pulls the bag out of the can, tying it up and holding it as far away from his body as possible as he exits the apartment and heads to the trash room, leaving the door open just a crack. As he opens the trash room, he’s hit with an odor even worse than that of their own kitchen. This is the very reason he should have waited for Michael to take out the garbage. 

He tosses the bag into the barrel and closes the door, speed walking back to his front door. Wiping his hands on his pants, Calum leans his shoulder against the door to push it open, but is met with resistance. The tiny space between the door and the frame is no more, with the latch connected fully, keeping him from inside his apartment. 

“Fuck,” Calum whispers, tugging on the door handle uselessly. The door always stays open just a crack from the uneven beams, leaving enough space where there’s no reason that he shouldn’t be able to shoulder his way into the apartment again. 

It’s fine, he’ll just call campus security and have them let him back into the apartment. It shouldn’t be the end of the world. 

Calum taps his pockets, trying to figure out which one he slid his phone into before going to the trash room. With each pocket he tries, his hands get a little more urgent, a little more nervous. And when he pats his last back pocket and finds it empty, that’s the last straw. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Calum groans, hitting his head against the wooden door lightly. In his distant memory, he can see exactly where his phone is, sitting on the couch no more than eight feet from the door. Right where he should have grabbed it before he left. 

A less than ideal situation, really. Locked out without his phone, stuck in the hallway in his sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt with so many holes that it’s barely considered a shirt anymore. 

“You’re going to give yourself brain damage,” a low voice says behind him. Steeling himself to turn around and embarrass himself in front of whoever is at the edge of the stairs, Calum inhales and bangs his head once again for good measure. 

Luke is leaning against the wall, right hand gripping his backpack strap hung over his shoulder. He’s grinning, the slightly taunting smile that drags the left side of his mouth up just a bit higher than the right. He licks his lips and Calum tries his hardest not to track the movement as his tongue swipes along impossibly pink lips. 

“Seems like I already have brain damage since I managed to get myself locked out without my phone,” Calum shrugs.

“A bit dramatic, but also pretty stupid,” Luke replies, swinging his backpack to the floor in front of him. He unzips the pouch with nimble fingers and stuffs his hand into the pocket. He makes a tiny noise of confusion as he crouches down to get a better look into his bag. His faded blue jeans snap with the movement and Calum is once again forced to try his best not to let his eyes linger on Luke for more than a few seconds. 

Luke rifles around in his bag for a bit before looking up at Calum with a frustrated pout on his face. It’s something akin to an angry toddler not getting the snack they wanted, the way he looks up through his curls with his eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t think I have my key.” 

“What do you mean!” Calum groans, running a hand down his face. He leans his head back against the wall, bumping against the drywall with a dull thud. Just killing more brain cells here.  

“I knew you would be home when I got back!” Luke says, leaning back from his crouched stance until he tips into a seated position. 

“And look where that got us now,” Calum says, mimicking Luke’s movements. He watches as Luke tucks his impossibly long legs into a basket, holding onto his ankles like an oversized toddler. He folds in on himself and dumps the contents of his backpack on the floor. Pens roll down the hall and food wrappers crinkle under notebooks. Luke fans everything out on the floor and shrugs. 

“No key. But I’ll text Jenna to come let us in.” 

“Of course you have her number.” 

“She’s our RA! This is literally what she’s here for, shut up.” 

“I’m just saying, I don’t have Jenna’s number,” Calum teases through a lump in his throat. 

“You would if you went to the floor meeting at the beginning of the year.” 

“You were the only one there, it would have been a waste of time,” Calum says.  

“It clearly wasn’t since I’m going to get us let into our apartment!” Luke jabs, tilting his head back against the wall. The angle strains the thin choker on his neck, little angel charm dangling in the hollow of his throat. It bounces once against his skin before it settles, only long enough for Luke to tip his head back down and arch an eyebrow at Calum. 

“I thought you would be at your study group,” Calum says in place of answering Luke’s challenging stare. 

“Finished early, one guy had to go to practice and the girl thinks she’s prepared enough that she won’t fail. She can speak for herself because I’m fucked.” 

“I doubt it,” Calum counters. 

“I’m going to fail,” Luke says, punctuating the sentence by throwing his pen up in the air and catching it. “But it’s fine, it’s just one test.” 

Calum hums in acknowledgement. He watches Luke’s long fingers pick up the last of his mess off the ground, watches the zipper close everything back inside the bag. His phone vibrates on the floor. “She’ll be here in a few,” Luke confirms, tapping a response back to her. 

There’s absolutely no reason to be jealous, but Calum can’t help the envy growing in his veins. He’s not the jealous type, never has been and never will be, hopefully, but that doesn’t stop the want of having Luke all to himself. There isn’t a universe where that will happen, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t continue wishing for it to be possible. 

He doesn’t let himself get too caught up when Luke brings someone home from the bar. He’s never done a thing to get in between Luke and whoever he’s seeing at any given time, much more enticed by the knowledge that Luke is happy, or at least satisfied, than he is in making Luke his. All he wants is for Luke to be taken care of, in whatever ways he wants. 

Sure it would be better if he was the one able to do it, but if friendship is the only way about that, then Calum will take it. 

Jenna turns the corner and looks at the two of them sitting on the floor. “Having fun?” 

“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now,” Luke deadpans, pushing himself off the floor. 

With an eye roll, Jenna unlocks the door and backs up, gesturing to the open door. “Ta-da, you’re saved.” 

“Our hero,” Calum says, pushing into the apartment with a small wave of thanks while Luke lingers back a moment. Petunia raises her head slightly from her napping spot right next to Calum’s forgotten cell phone. 

“Did you guard my phone, Piggy?” Calum asks, scratching behind her ears as he settles back into the couch. Maybe if he tries hard enough, the couch will swallow him whole and he’ll live a comfortable life under the sofa with the dust bunnies and forgotten chips. 

Luke kicks his shoes off by the front door before beelining to his room, not even stopping to say hi to his dog on his way. “Your dad doesn’t love you P, guess you’re stuck with me forever,” Calum says conspiratorially.

“I can hear you!” Luke calls from down the hall. 

“I’m stealing your dog,” Calum yells back, leaning over to hug Petunia’s body. She grumbles beneath him. 

Luke reamerges quickly, nice shirt and jeans swapped for basketball shorts and a t-shirt, though the choker remains around his neck, out of place with the new clothes. His bare feet smack against the laminate floor with every step he takes, leaping across the last few feet to land on his stomach on the couch. Petunia notices his arrival and wiggles out from under Calum to lick Luke’s face. 

“Traitor,” Calum mumbles under his breath through an annoyingly fond smile. There’s probably nothing more pure on Earth than Luke and Petunia’s bond; Calum is really happy that Luke was actually able to bring her with him to campus. 

“Hi babe, how was your day,” Luke says, smushing Petunia’s jowls between his palms as he sits up and makes room for her to climb on his lap. 

“Well I wrote for a while and—” Calum starts jokingly until he’s interrupted by Luke’s hysterical laughter. He folds over himself before straightening up, eyes squinty with glee as he laughs open mouthed. His happiness is contagious, electricity extending itself from Luke’s being to zap Calum’s fingertips, jump starting his heart. 

“Petunia first, you second. Wait your turn,” Luke chastises, smirking as he looks up through a canopy of curls, barely concealing his smile. 

With Petunia on his lap snuggled against his chest, Luke extends his feet until they’re able to hide under Calum’s thigh, toes wiggling their way into the warmth. Calum lets it happen, going as far as to lift his leg slightly to make room for Luke’s feet. Luke’s ever present need to be touching someone else is incredibly comforting to Calum now after years of perfecting these moments. 

Others may find it weird, but it works for them, and that’s really what matters. As long as Calum can have Luke in whatever way possible, he’ll take it.   

-+-

“ As cliche as it is, laughter really is the best medicine out there. Not only does laughing make you feel better, but hearing someone else’s laugh can be magical. I don’t know about you, but making someone else laugh is just about the most important thing for me. I thrive when I know that someone else is entertained by my presence, and that is emphasized when I’m making someone I care about laugh.

My roommate and I laugh over the stupidest things sometimes, mostly things that wouldn’t entertain anyone but us. That’s what makes it special, though, that it’s just for us and no one else. My advice is to find someone who holds the same magical way of bringing laughter to your life, and keep them close to your heart.” 

--- 

The apartment is lively when Calum returns from class. Ashton is cooking in the kitchen, using what seems like every single pot and pan they own to make some kind of extravagant concoction. Michael talks loudly on the phone, almost competing with Ashton to be the loudest in the room. Music booms from the speaker, adding to the chaos.

“Wow, okay,” Calum says under his breath as he kicks his shoes into the pile by the door. Ashton’s sandals, Michael’s sneakers, and Luke’s worn down converse sit in a heap just out of the way. 

Waving at Ashton and nodding at Michael, Calum turns down the hallway towards his room. As he approaches the door, he takes notice of a small purple sticky note right above the door handle. He tugs it off the wood to inspect it in the low light. 

“ Come see me when you’re home -L” 

Calum squints as he walks into his room, holding the sticky note between his fingers as he drops his backpack on the ground. Luke could have easily texted him instead of leaving a note on his door, he thinks as he walks down to the end of the hall.

Luke’s door is propped open, quiet and bright on the inside compared to the dark hallway. Luke sits at his desk by the window, typing away at his laptop with headphones over his ears, bopping along to music that Calum can’t hear. Calum taps at the door, hoping Luke’s music is quiet enough where he’ll notice his presence. 

That’s not the case. Luke sings quietly under his breath as he works, bringing a smile to Calum’s face. He takes a step into the room so he’s right behind Luke and drops the sticky note over his shoulder onto the keyboard. 

“Fuck!” Luke swears, ripping off his headphones so they sit around his neck. “You scared me.” 

“Turn down your music, you’ll go deaf,” Calum teases, hopping up onto the bed to pet Petunia. She lifts her head when he makes the mattress shift, but she just drops it back on the bed after determining Calum isn’t a threat. 

“Yes mom,” Luke says, saving his document and closing his laptop. “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Calum says, leaning back on one arm. “You left me the note.” 

Luke’s face lights up, eyes glimmering in the early afternoon light. “Right!” He grins, flashing his teeth for a second before he tugs the headphones off of his neck, throwing his bleached curls into a mess quickly. 

Waiting for him to elaborate, Calum arches an eyebrow. Luke has a way of building up anticipation through the smallest things, elongating the moments between his statements unnecessarily. He takes his time to put his things away, leaving Calum hanging until the last minute. 

“Do you wanna take Petunia for a walk with me?” Luke asks finally, sitting back in his desk chair. 

“ That’s what you left me a note for?” Calum laughs. 

Luke shrugs. “Gotta spice things up sometimes. You didn’t expect a note on your door.” 

“You’re so fucking strange,” Calum mumbles under his breath, but Luke hears him anyway and smiles obnoxiously, baring his teeth like a child. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

It only takes them a few minutes to get themselves together, shoes on and Petunia’s leash in hand as they make their way out to the living room. Michael stops them quickly. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m making dinner, you better be here for it!” Ashton tacks on, stirring something at the stovetop. 

“We’re taking Petunia for a walk, we’ll be back soon,” Luke answers, opening the door before anyone has a chance to respond. He’s partially down the hallway as Michael calls out, “Have fun on your date!” If Luke hears it, he ignores it, though Calum’s heart rate increases just a little bit. 

They exit onto the street, an early afternoon breeze hitting them immediately. October brings along the vibrant colors of changing leaves, coating the ground in a crunchy canopy as they start down the road. They fall into step, footsteps lost behind the revving of car engines as they pass. 

It’s calm, kids just getting out of school and racing home to play in their backyards before it gets too cold soon enough. Their campus is nestled right in the middle of a neighborhood, hidden in plain sight behind trees and homes. Most classes are already done for the day, only a few stray people walking from building to building as they enjoy the slightly warm afternoon. 

Sunbeams paint golden streaks across Luke’s face as they pass through more shaded areas, reflecting off the tiny pendant at the base of the cord choker on his neck. The wispy curls at the nape of his neck sway in the wind, catching on the edge of his black sweater with every movement. Luke shrugs every so often, like the hairs are itching his skin. 

Calum tries not to stare, looking away to watch their feet every so often under the guise of making sure he isn’t going to trip on something. Even then, he finds himself watching the way Luke’s large hands wrap around the leash, gripping tightly even though there isn’t a chance in the world that Petunia would go running away from them. 

“It’s so nice out,” Luke says quietly, somewhere around the halfway point of their walk where they’re headed back towards their apartment. 

“Are we really that boring that we have to talk about the weather?” Calum says, smiling at the way Luke snorts. 

“No, it’s just a nice day. Can’t a guy appreciate a good day?” 

“Sure, sure,” Calum replies. “Is there a reason you wanted me to go on a walk with you?” he asks, looking up at Luke quickly before turning away. 

There’s a pause where only their footfalls fill the air, punctuated by some rustling leaves and birds chirping. When Calum looks back at Luke, he meets his eyes immediately. Luke’s stare is captivating as it searches over Calum’s face. The scrutiny feels intimidating, but Calum refuses to look away, instead struck by the way the golden light showcases the small dusting of freckles across Luke’s cheeks. Every little detail is brighter, more visible in the unfiltered sunshine. 

“Just wanted to see you, seems like we haven’t been seeing each other a lot lately.” The sincerity in his voice pulls at Calum’s heartstrings, though it couldn’t be any further from the truth. They live together, wake up everyday and have coffee together in the kitchen and most of the time, they walk to class together. They have dinner together most days too, unless Luke has a study group or Calum has to meet with his directed study professor, but then they get to see each other in the evening on the couch or in one of their rooms. 

They spend a lot of time together. 

But Luke thinking that isn’t enough time… well that’s something that Calum can get behind. Never wanting to be too clingy and show his cards, Calum knows he occasionally pulls away, just the smallest amount, to make sure he isn’t monopolizing all of Luke’s time. They’re separate people and deserve to have separate time away. 

“Oh,” Calum says quietly, at a loss for words. 

“It’s stupid, but I just missed you.” 

Motherfucker , Calum thinks, clenching his eyes closed quickly, opening them again instantly to avoid disaster. Every time he opens his mouth, Luke makes it harder and harder not to be helplessly drawn to him. 

“That’s not stupid,” Calum says, elbowing Luke’s side lightly. “I miss you too, man. I’ll never say no to spending more time with you.” 

“Even if I’m sick and snotty and gross?” Luke says, lifting the serious tone of the conversation just as quickly as he had laid it there. 

“Don’t push it,” Calum deadpans. 

Luke doesn’t have to know that he would do anything for him. Anything. 

-+-

“The most simple moments can be some of the best times of your life. You don’t need to wait on the big events to enjoy something, because really what matters is who you’re with. Something as simple as a movie night or a walk or just sitting on the couch in silence together with someone you care about can be the highlight of your entire week, just because of the person you’re with. Remember to hold onto those moments, don’t let them pass you by without acknowledging how sweet they are.” 

---

Waking up in a bad mood isn’t the end of the world. Calum has gone through hundreds of bad days in his lifetime, so what’s another one added to the tally? 

It should be impossible to have a bad day when the day begins with being woken up by Luke shaking his shoulder, but that potential for a positive outcome is squashed immediately by Luke’s slightly frantic “You’re late!” 

That should have been the first indication that Calum needs to just pull the covers over his head and take the loss for the morning, but instead he rolls —literally, rolls— out of bed, tangling himself in the blankets and hitting the floor with a dull thump. 

He should have known it was bad when Luke didn’t even laugh at the fall. 

He’d taken a nighttime cold medication the night  before, fighting off the tail end of a sickness inconveniently timed during midterms. The grogginess of the medication lingers even through the adrenaline spike as he’s untangling himself from the sheets to hobble out the door.

Calum rushes around the apartment, trying his hardest to get at least somewhat ready before he ventures out into the world. Luke lingers in his peripheral vision, a fly that you can hear but can’t seem to smack down as he babbles about the things that Calum is doing, reminding him he’s late, asking if he can make Calum a cup of coffee to take to class, commenting on the slightly cold October morning. 

The “do you want me to drive you to class?” is the last straw. 

“Will you shut up,” Calum barks, clenching his eyes closed immediately. He instantly feels bad, but the stress around making it to at least the back half of his class clouds the regret. Strike one. 

Not even stopping to apologize, Calum slings his bag over his shoulder and all but runs out of the apartment, taking the steps down two at a time. He trips over the last one, banging his knee into the wall, but picks himself up and keeps going.  

The rest of the day passes by just as stressful as the morning. It’s like the clouds opened up and decided yes, today is the day that Calum Hood will have everything go wrong. Rain pours down all throughout the day, soaking his clothes from the second that he steps outside. Strike two. 

He drops his tray of food on the floor when he’s looking for a seat in the dining hall, spilling soda and salad all over. Strike three. 

He fails his midterm. He gets ink all down his hoodie when his pen explodes. His laptop is dead and his charger is back in the apartment, forgotten in the shuffle of getting ready. His headphones are missing completely and so is the homework that’s due today. Strike out. 

The lack of caffeine in his system has him even more irritable, so as a last ditch effort to salvage the day, he stops by Starbucks on his way to his last class. Ordering goes off without a problem, his coffee tastes right when he takes the first sip, and he manages to get out the door without lightning striking him down. 

The finish line is in sight, the classroom door only a mere twenty steps away. For the first time all day, Calum thinks something might actually go his way. 

It happens quickly. One second he’s taking a step towards his goal and the next he’s hitting the wall, hot coffee seeping into his hoodie and down his pants. “What the fuck,” Calum groans, pulling the offending material away from his body. Each tiny drop that hits the floor makes him want to cry. 

“Sorry man,” a nameless guy says, nodding in apology before heading back down the hallway. 

“At least offer to buy me a new coffee,” Calum grumbles under his breath, frowning down at his clothes. There’s absolutely no point of going to class covered in coffee, so Calum turns back up the stairs and heads home. 

The rain has started to clear as Calum walks up to the apartment. He prays to every God that no one is home so he can shower, get a snack, and take a nap until his roommates return later.

Fate has a different plan in mind, because sitting on the couch in the living room is Luke, purple throw blanket over his lap as he scrolls on his phone. He looks up when the door opens, momentarily happy until the confusion clouds roll in. “What happened?” he asks cautiously, obviously bracing for another outburst. The hesitation in his voice makes Calum sick to his stomach.

“Bad day,” Calum answers, dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes. Without another word, he heads down the hallway and into the bathroom. He’s sure he slams the door behind him, walls shaking with the force of his frustration. It’s just a bad day, everyone has bad days. But when all the negatives compile and threaten to break his back with their heaviness, it’s hard to move on from the frustration. 

The hot water is a bit of reprieve though, washing away the stickiness of the coffee and the bitterness of his pessimism. The chill of earlier rain is replaced by the warmth of each individual water droplet, cleansing him of the bullshit. 

Even if he does nothing other than stand under the hot water until it runs cold, the silence and alone time does wonders for Calum’s sour attitude. It’s the fresh start he needed, even if it only comes at five in the evening. He’ll take it. 

When he crosses the hallway to his room, he takes a moment to listen to the noises around him. Either Luke is being silent or he’s left, which Calum wouldn’t blame him for based off of the way Calum acted this morning. 

In hindsight, he’s incredibly embarrassed for snapping at Luke when all he wanted to do was help. It wouldn’t be as bad if he had asked Luke to back off nicely, but the steam in his head burst out at just the wrong time, likely burning Luke in the process. 

The last thing he wants to do is hurt Luke. He’s seen the aftermath of Luke getting let down before, normally resulting in a petty grudge that lasts a lifetime. Forever the youngest kid, Luke has mastered his pout and cold shoulder. Calum never thought he would end up being the one on the receiving side of the attitude, as well deserved as it is. 

With a clean hoodie and a slightly worried heart, Calum tiptoes down the hallway, almost hoping that Luke actually will have left. He’s wrong, because of course the universe has to add one more thing to the list of cons. Luke is right where he was before, knees pulled up by his chest as he leans against the couch, face smushed on the cotton. Luke looks up quickly, pretending like he didn’t see Calum at all. Ouch. 

Calum opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to come up with just the right way to apologize for the shitty attitude this morning. What he ends up landing on isn’t at all what he was trying to say. 

“Do you want to make pizza?” 

A startled laugh bubbles out of Luke’s throat, lips quirked up into a cautious smile only to be smashed down immediately, hidden back behind his guard. “Do I want to make pizza?” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, shifting on his feet. “Pizza. I think I saw a can of dough in the fridge last night.” 

“Do you even know how to make pizza?” Luke asks, an eyebrow quirked up judgmentally. 

“It can’t be that hard!” Calum replies, heading towards the kitchen with a wave of his hand. “Let’s do it.” 

Luke follows behind, keeping a distance but letting Calum gather their ingredients. “Get a pan,” Calum instructs. “And turn on the music.” 

They work in slightly tense but companionable silence, laced with little moments of conversation as they determine just what toppings to put on the pizza. “Ashton isn’t here, we don’t have to do vegetables,” Luke insists, pushing the peppers away from the baking sheet. 

“I like peppers,” Calum counters, pulling them back towards their station. “Half and half, like adults.” 

Luke rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he sprinkles extra cheese on his half. It’s normal, or as normal as it can be with a little devil sitting on Calum’s shoulder reminding him that he’s a menace every so often. 

They make it to putting the pizza in the oven without a problem, setting the timer for eleven minutes. Calum is washing the utensils in the sink when Luke speaks quietly from behind him. “Do you wanna talk about your bad day?” 

With his heart in his throat, Calum shuts off the water and faces Luke. He’s looking down at his phone, acting distracted though Calum knows him way better than that. He doesn’t play games, won’t avoid an important conversation when it’s critical, but he absolutely will keep himself distracted when he begins a particularly troublesome talk. 

“It was just a lot,” Calum says, drying his hands on the towel. “Too much happened today, like it already started off on the wrong foot first thing.” Calum pauses, trying to find the right words to say. As an advice blogger, it really shouldn’t be that fucking hard to apologize. 

Luke speaks up before he has the chance. “Sorry I was being annoying, that probably didn’t help.” 

Calum sighs. “Don’t say sorry,” he starts, leaning forward against the countertop. He wishes that Luke would raise his head to look him in the eye, but for now an apology to the crown of curls at the top of his head will have to do. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You were trying to be helpful and the least I could have done would have been to ask you nicely to step back. I’m sorry.” 

“Doesn’t negate the fact that I should have taken the hint and shut the fuck up,” Luke says, putting his phone down on the counter in favor of looking at Calum directly. He’s cozy, wrapped up in a hoodie with the sleeves hanging slightly over his hands. He spins a single ring around his thumb carefully. 

“Negate, nice word,” Calum teases lightly, just to catch the slightest hint of Luke’s dimpled smile. “No, but really, don’t blame yourself. Unless you turned my alarm off and caused me to be late, none of this is your fault and I’m the one that needs to be sorry for being an asshole,” Calum says, hoping he’s conveying just how serious he is. To let Luke think this was his fault would be a crime. 

Luke pulls his lip between his teeth and releases. “Okay, if you say so.” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

Satisfied with Calum’s insistence, Luke nods with a small smile. “Okay, sorry.” 

Calum groans. “Stop fucking saying sorry,” he chastises. 

“I can’t help it!” Luke says through laughter, a genuine smile gracing his lips again, right where it should be. 

The clock on the stovetop switches over a minute from 5:31 to 5:32. None of them are supposed to be here at this hour, and while Calum’s appearance is understandable, Luke’s is unexplained. “Why aren’t you at your study group?” Calum asks, putting the leftover ingredients back in the fridge. 

“Honest answer?” Luke asks, looking a tiny bit ashamed. “I was in a bad mood too after this morning and didn’t want to be around people.” 

If Calum thought he felt guilty before, he didn’t know just what was coming. Guilt threatens to choke him as he frowns into the refrigerator, hiding from Luke as he reorganizes the shelves. If he just fucking used his words and didn’t act like an asshole all day, he wouldn’t have made Luke feel shitty about something that had nothing to do with him. 

“I’m sorry,” Calum says, closing the fridge and forcing himself to look at Luke again. 

“No saying sorry for things you didn’t do,” Luke teases, though the sincerity shines in his eyes. “Let’s just make the night better than the day and enjoy this pizza, yeah?” 

-+-

“ People can’t read your mind. Sometimes that’s for the best, because it really would suck if people could hear every one of our thoughts. Other times, you need to communicate to avoid small disasters. Even when you’re having a bad day, you can’t take that negativity out on someone else. I did that just the other day; I woke up in a horrible mood and took it out on someone I care about, which led them to have a bad day. It could have been easily avoided if I had just worked through my own issues and communicated that I needed some space that morning, but instead I messed things up for both of us. Take my advice, tell others how you’re feeling, it’ll make you feel better too and avoid hurting the people you love.” 

---

Calum loves when they throw parties at their apartment. They don’t do it often, but Halloween seemed like the perfect time to get everyone together for what could be the best party of the year. The atmosphere is electric, with bodies pressed against each other and loud, bass filled music thumping in the speakers. Everyone took the costume party request to heart and dressed up to the best of their ability. 

From strangers to friends, everyone mingles and talks into each other's ears over the music, slipping away into the corners of the room when it gets truly too loud to hear. A butterfly talks to a pirate who holds hands with a cat with purple sparkly ears. Britney Spears talks to a train conductor who is eyeing a prisoner in the kitchen. Everyone can be whoever they want to be. 

Ashton laughs loudly, catching Calum’s attention as he sips his white claw on the perimeter of the room. Ashton is dressed as Peter Pan, complete with green tights and a fake sword tucked into his belt, occasionally pulling it out to swing it around recklessly, threatening the lives of those around him. He tugs off his hat to swipe at his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. 

Scanning further around the crowd, Calum finds Michael sitting on the armchair dressed as some kind of anime character. His girlfriend is perched on the arm, legs thrown across his lap, dressed up as something that likely goes along with Michael’s costume. Calum is sure that Michael tried to explain it to him at one point, but any information refused to stick to his brain. 

Neither of them are who Calum is actually looking for. A cactus chats with a painter who accidentally almost makes a passing princess spill her drink on the floor. Calum cringes at the mess they’ll have to clean up in the morning, but just takes a sip of his drink instead of moving to remedy the issue. 

Luke is nowhere to be found. Calum peeks his head down each hallway and finds both bathroom doors open, so it’s not like he’s hiding out there either. Giving up on his quest to find Luke, Calum heads to the kitchen to get a new drink. He claps Ashton on the shoulder as he passes and is met with an enthusiastic hello in return. 

Circling back to the living room, someone reaches out and grabs Calum’s arm to stop him. It’s not Luke, but some girl from his creative writing class, someone whose name completely escapes him. He looks down at his can like it might somehow hold the answer before he has to awkwardly go the whole conversation without saying her name. Rachel? Amy? Kate? 

She babbles on about something that Calum can hardly hear over the noise, but he nods along in what he hopes are the right places. They really need to turn the music down a smidge so it’s easier to hear. Though that would defeat the purpose of the music, he thinks as he looks slightly to the right to find people dancing —or at least, trying to dance— in the middle of the living room. 

He tries to stay invested in the conversation, but somewhere along the course of a story about horses, maybe, Calum can feel his eyes glaze over in boredom. Attempting to find an escape route, Calum looks over his shoulder once more and catches sight of Luke, off in the corner where Calum had been waiting earlier. His blond curls are pulled back into two little buns at the top of his head as his glasses are perched on the tip of his nose. Across the room, Calum can’t quite tell who he’s supposed to be, a mouse, maybe? Is this some kind of Mean Girls moment? 

Like he can feel Calum’s eyes on him, Luke turns and meets his stare, lips quirking up into a lopsided grin as he raises his red solo cup in greeting. “Sorry Kate, I need to go,” Calum says to the girl, already heading towards Luke. “I’m Carly,” she says to his parting back and Calum grimaces through his fuck up. 

He elbows his way through people, greeting those he knows with a nod or a smile, but keeps his eyes trained on Luke. The last time Calum saw Luke was a good hour before the party started, before either of them were dressed. He’s not letting him get away again without getting the chance to talk to him. 

“What are you supposed to be, a rodent?” Calum says as a greeting, hiding his smile behind a sip as he finally stands in front of Luke. It’s disgusting how easily Luke can bring a smile to his face. 

“I’m Arthur!” Luke pouts, eyes glassy from what is probably tequila in his cup. “See, yellow sweater, jeans, red converse, ears. I’m Arthur!” He emphasizes each aspect of his costume with aggressive points to his body. It’s a strange costume for sure, but Luke unfortunately could pull off just about anything.

Snorting, Calum shakes his head in amusement. “Like the fucking ardvarrk children’s character?” 

“It’s better than being a greaser for the fourth year in a row,” Luke quips, sloshing his cup forward. His drink lands across both of their shoes but neither one looks down. “At least I’m original.” 

“It’s an easy costume!” 

“You’re easy,” Luke mutters, laughing at his own joke. His eyes crinkle at the sides, blue hidden beneath a fan of dark lashes and twinkly gold glitter.  

“And you’re a child,” Calum replies, flicking one of Luke’s fake ear buns. 

“Watch it,” he says, swatting Calum’s hand away. “You’ll mess up my ears.” 

“No but really, what the hell possessed you to dress up as Arthur?”

Luke pauses, chin quivering with the effort not to smile. It breaks across his face, his hand flying up to cover his mouth while he giggles into his palm. “It was easy”

Calum rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re the fucking worst,” he laughs, shaking his head.

After he’s sufficiently calmed down, Luke toys with a strand of hair sticking up in a strange direction from the side of one ball of curls. He unravels it with a shaky finger, lip caught between his teeth in concentration. Without a word, Calum steps forward to keep Luke from tangling his hair more. He balances his can in the crook of his arm until Luke carefully pries it out, holding both their drinks while Calum fixes his little ears. 

“Thanks,” Luke says quietly once he’s finished, eyes twinkling behind his round glasses. “Having fun?” 

“Tons,” Calum says vaguely sarcastically, taking a long sip of his drink. It’s not that he’s not having fun, but up until this point, the party really had just been him lingering alone. “Where were you, I was looking for you.” 

“Oh were you,” Luke teases, bumping his shoulder into Calum’s. “I was looking for you too. You look really good tonight.” He accents his sentence with a swipe at the single curl dancing in the front of Calum’s vision, sliding out of its gel slicken hold. 

Crossing his eyes to watch Luke’s movements, Calum raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like the greaser outfit.” 

“Didn’t say that,” Luke mumbles, looking from Calum to the party around him as a means of an escape. “Saw you talking to that girl though, she’s pretty.” There’s a thin veil of something coating Luke’s words, something that Calum would normally think is jealousy. But there’s no reason for him to be jealous; Calum didn’t even know her name the whole fucking time they were speaking. Luke must like her, his alcohol inhibited brain decides, that’s why he’s jealous. 

“Go talk to her!” Calum urges, hoping his voice sounds more enthusiastic than he feels about the situation. He’s never tried to get in the way of Luke’s potential people of interest, opting to play the game of wing man just for the chance to talk Luke up to anyone, even if it means he’s getting into bed with someone else later that night. 

Luke tilts his head in confusion, right ear bun coming slightly undone with the change of direction. “Huh?” 

Calum gestures to the crowd, “I’m sure she’s in there somewhere, go talk to her.” 

“But I don’t—” Luke starts, pouting slightly as he works through his thoughts. Calum stays quiet as the cogs click into place, a look of enlightenment sparkling across Luke’s highlighted cheekbones. “No, I want to be here. Unless you’re trying to get rid of me,” he tacks on, squishing his cup slightly between his fingers. 

“I want you here,” Calum says quickly, reeling his line back in to keep Luke close instead of sailing out to sea. “I’m not trying to get rid of you.” 

Luke nods, bleached curls unraveling further from the top of his head to spill over his forehead. One single curl lands right across his eye and he brushes it out of his way with a white nail polish painted finger. “Good.” 

“Good,” Calum echos, ignoring the churning in his stomach, whether it’s from the alcohol or having Luke this close while intoxicated. 

They talk mindlessly about the guests, commenting on their costumes and level of excitement about Halloween. Luke laughs loudly at Calum’s made up lives for the people they don’t know. The knight in shining armor is actually an accountant, living in a studio apartment on top of a bakery but he’s allergic to gluten. The fairy is a builder, surprising the big strong men that she works alongside with her strength from her delicate fingers. 

At a particularly good storyline for a couple dressed up as matching crayons, Luke tips his head over to fit into the crook of Calum’s neck, shaking with laughter. Unconsciously, Calum wraps an arm around Luke’s lower back to hold him up as he giggles, gripping onto the soft wool. Luke brings an arm around to Calum’s stomach, tapping his shirt with his cup. A bit of tequila sloshes out, chilling his skin and seeping through Calum’s white shirt. 

“Fuck,” Calum says, pulling away from Luke to tug at the wet fabric. 

“Oops, sorry,” Luke says, sounding anything but sorry as he hiccups on the end of his laughter. “I didn’t realize there was so much in my cup.” 

“Well you did just refill it,” Calum says under his breath. “It’s fine,” he says louder, untucking the shirt from his dark jeans. “I’m going to change though, don’t really feel like smelling like tequila for the rest of the night.” 

Luke nods, trailing after Calum as he turns down the hallway towards his room. He keeps a hand on the back of Calum’s leather jacket as a point of anchoring as they walk, tripping slightly on his feet. He laughs as he stumbles, a symphony catching Calum’s attention even through the booming bass. 

They slip into the room, Calum shedding his leather jacket on the floor as he searches for another shirt to put on instead. Luke lingers on the side, leaning on Calum’s desk and scanning the room like he’s never been in here before. As if he isn’t here at least every other day. He inspects a poster on the wall, eyes lingering on the intricate details every time that Calum glances back to check if he’s still upright. 

He strips off his wet shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the hamper while he unfolds a clean shirt from the drawer. Calum looks up at the feeling of eyes on him, catching Luke eyeing the tattoos across his collarbones. The scrutiny heats Calum’s skin, tugging the shirt over himself quickly. Luke licks his lips and takes a slow sip from his cup, lost in thought. 

“Wanna get back out there?” Calum asks, stepping towards the door. 

It almost sounds like Luke says no as they step over the threshold again and into the loudness of the party around them. Instantly Luke gets swept away by someone Calum doesn’t recognize, leaving him alone in the doorway. It doesn’t last long before Michael appears at his side, handing him a new drink. 

“Where were you? We were looking for you,” he says, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “Ash said one minute you were standing by the hall with Luke and the next you both were gone.” As if he only just notices Luke’s absence, Michael adds, “Where’s Luke?” to the end of his questioning before Calum has a chance to say anything. 

“Luke spilled his drink on me so I had to change. I don’t know where he went after we came back out though.” 

Michael narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You and Luke went to your room to change?” 

“Yeah?” Calum replies, unsure what Michael is implying by his tone. 

“And you didn’t kiss him or anything?” 

“What the fuck!” Calum shouts, glancing around to catch any eavesdropping ears. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Michael throws his hands up in the air. “I just figured that was the inevitable next step with how annoying you two are.” 

He hasn’t been that obvious, has he? Sure, he spends pretty much any possible free time with Luke, but it’s not like he’s the only one initiating the time spent together. They gravitate towards each other with a pull that transcends Calum’s realm of understanding. If Michael is picking up on his infatuation, he probably needs to take a step back. 

“Don’t think about it so hard,” Michael jokes, missing just how relevant his statement is. “I was just teasing.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, dazed. “Funny.”

Someone across the living room shouts Michael’s name, to which he claps Calum on the shoulder and disappears into the moving bodies. Calum makes his rounds, talking to the people he knows as the minutes tick by slowly, always keeping an eye out for Luke through his travels. 

But as the crowd thins and the music gets quieter as people head home, Calum can’t help the worry that bubbles in his chest at Luke’s persistent absence. The late hour and significant amount of alcohol Luke has consumed makes him susceptible to doing stupid things like climbing on the furniture or going on an adventure without telling anyone where he’s going. He’s reckless when he’s had a few too many and if the sloppy movements from earlier are anything to go by, he might have traveled down that road. 

Calum stops by his own room to see if Luke may have ended up there, finding nothing but emptiness behind the door. The bathroom on his and Michael’s side is empty too, as is Michael’s bedroom. Ashton’s is the next door down, also void of any bodies. The bathroom is occupied though, so he waits against the wall, hoping that Luke is on the other side of the door. 

A cheerleader exits the bathroom, hitting the light on her way out. “Oops,” she giggles when she almost runs directly into Calum. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” she says, running a manicured hand down Calum’s arm. He shakes her off with a forced smile and continues down the hall to Luke’s room. He doesn’t knock on the door, just in case that’ll set Petunia off who has been stuck in the room since the beginning of the party. 

Opening the door just enough to stick his head in, Calum looks into the darkness. Laying on the bed with Petunia under his arm is Luke, snoring peacefully on top of the blankets. He managed to get one sneaker off before he flopped down on the fabric, head resting on his dog’s chest as she snorts in her sleep.  

His buns have fallen out completely, hair laying haphazardly around him in a halo of gold. His legs are folded up towards his chest, barely fitting on the twin sized bed otherwise. His fingers dig into Petunia’s fur and his nose twitches every so often, dreaming of things that Calum will never know. 

The anxiety that had been creeping in at Luke’s absence has melted into a puddle at Calum’s feet, replaced with an overwhelming fondness. In his slightly drunken state, Calum wants nothing more than to join Luke on the bed, to cuddle up to him and bask in the warmth he brings, both physically and emotionally. 

Instead he pauses for a moment to commit this moment to memory before he softly shuts the door. 

-+-

“ Wearing a mask can be the best way to hide how you’re feeling, but why do we feel the need to hide who we are? We all dress up in costumes to survive, wearing different outfits for different parts of our lives. What would happen if we could just be ourselves all the time? If you take away the false bravado of a shield of alcohol and pretending, what do we find on the other side? We say things that we normally wouldn’t when we’re confident, letting the truth slide out more easily. Sometimes, it would be easier to live in that bubble forever.” 

---

Luke: where are you? 

Calum: Class? 

Luke: when do you get out of class? 

Calum: Like twenty minutes? 

Calum: What’s with all the questions? 

Luke: i’m picking you up after class

Calum: Why? Is everything okay? 

Calum: Luke? 

Luke: everything is fine, i’ll be in the north parking lot.  

---

As promised, Luke is parked in the north parking lot when Calum’s class lets out. He’s drumming his hands on the steering wheel, patting his fingers to a song that Calum can’t hear. He looks fine, as much as Calum can tell through the dirty passenger seat window as he scuffs his converse on the pavement with each step forward. 

Luke stares straight ahead as Calum approaches. Calum taps the window with his knuckle, smiling slightly when Luke jumps and whips his head around to the noise. A stray ringlet falls into his eye with the movement but he doesn’t fix it as he grins at Calum through the window. 

“What’s up?” he asks as Calum slides into the seat, worn leather squeaking under his jeans. 

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He can count the times Luke has picked him up from class on one hand, either fresh after a breakup or in need of some kind of distraction after particularly bad news. 

“What, I can’t pick you up from class without a reason?” Luke teases, tongue stuck between his teeth as he shifts the car into reverse, nearly running into a girl walking to her car. She smacks his trunk in frustration, yelling curses through the window. “Sorry!” Luke calls, though she’s already stomping off down the row. 

“We live like five minutes from the building,” Calum counters, clicking his seatbelt into place. “I walked here. Why are you picking me up? What happened?” 

“Nothing happened!” Luke insists, though the way his voice lifts at the end of his statement might not be all that convincing. Calum won’t pry any further, knowing that Luke will tell him what’s up when he’s good and ready. 

“Fine,” Calum huffs, a small smile on his face to show Luke he’s not mad at all.

They pull out of the parking lot, blinker flashing for a left hand turn when their apartment building is to the right. “Did you forget where we live?” Calum teases, shifting slightly in his seat. 

“No,” Luke says plainly, turning the radio knob just a bit so the soft music playing in the background fills the car. It’s something melancholy that Calum doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. It’s absolutely not Luke’s normal music that he sings in the shower and isn’t the shared playlist that they all have. “Is it okay if we just drive for a little while?” he asks softly, like he’s afraid Calum is going to say no.

As if he could ever say no to something Luke asks. 

“Of course,” Calum nods, leaning back in the seat. 

They pass through the remainder of campus, heading down the long street leading into the city. Instead of following it all the way down, Luke turns right down a random side road like he’s done a million times before. 

The early November chill has taken over, with the trees mostly having shed all their leaves by now. Some stragglers still cling to random branches, holding on for dear life while their fate is already written for them. They still refuse to fall, knowing that the end is near for them. Maybe there’s something in that, in the fear of the known. 

The grey skies are the perfect backdrop for the gloom of the day, though the reason for the sadness is still unknown. They tear down the streets until Luke reaches the long winding road that will take them all the way to the middle of nowhere. They know this street well, it’s the scene for every deep conversation they’ve ever had. 

Calum has come to learn that Luke can’t have a meaningful conversation unless he’s driving. He has something else to focus on this way, needing to pay attention to the road rather than the traffic jam in his mind. It’s a little sickening, knowing that there’s something going on in his head that he’s working up the courage to talk about, but Calum will sit and wait quietly until he’s ready to speak. 

The first time they took a drive like this was shortly after Luke’s first college breakup, a girl from his chem class that Calum didn’t like all that much. She was snotty and terse with all of them and never wanted Luke to be anywhere but by her side. She would dig her manicured fingers into his arm when they were in public, staking her claim on him silently. 

Calum never told him how much he disliked her, but the day that they broke up— for good, because their breakups were fairly frequent through sophomore year— Luke was devastated. He didn’t say it until they had gotten all the way three towns over, far enough that the whispers of their conversation wouldn’t be heard by anyone they knew. 

That was the first time Calum ever saw Luke cry. The first time he felt truly important to Luke, since he was the one Luke chose to bring along for the emotional ride. Not Ashton, would probably would have been better equipped for the conversation. Not Michael, who honestly wouldn’t have known what to do. Luke chose him. 

It was also the first time Calum really noticed his less than platonic feelings for Luke. 

Present day Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tucks the strands behind his ear. His nails are black now, freshly painted and crisp rather than the chipped white that was there last night. It stands out in his bleached hair, tiny pops of onyx in a sea of white gold. He’s focused on the road ahead of them, the right corner of his lip stuck between his teeth. The movement pulls his dimple out from hiding, though it’s mostly hidden by a thin layer of scruff like Luke hasn’t shaved in a while. 

He’s still wearing the same clothes as last night, Calum notices. Red plaid pajama pants and a black hoodie with a tiny bleach stain on the cuff. He looks cozy, but his appearance is concerning at almost four thirty in the afternoon. 

Luke sighs again, shifting his eyes from the road to Calum quickly. “I can feel you staring at me,” he says, a tiny close lipped smile appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

“Plenty to stare at,” Calum says with a shrug, ignoring the heat that breaks across his cheeks. The shadows won’t tell his secrets as they fall over him with each streetlight they pass.  

“Fuck off,” Luke says blandly, shifting in his seat at the stop sign. 

“Yeah let me get out and walk back, I’m sure I can find my way,” Calum says, reaching for the door handle as Luke drives ahead. 

“I’ll tell the guys that we can get a new roommate, since you’ll never make it back home alive,” Luke laughs, a bit forced but leaning a bit towards genuine. 

“You’d just let me go? You wouldn’t even try to find me?” Calum gasps, false despair on his face. 

Luke’s laugh is worth the dramatics. He squeaks a little, covering his mouth with his hand as he tries to shove the noise back down his throat. “Nope, you’re shit out of luck,” he says through his giggles, dimple on full display with the force of his smile. This is the version of Luke that Calum likes to see the most, guard down and able to be himself. 

“Fuck, you think you know a guy and then he tells you he’s going to let you wander around to your death,” Calum says, shaking his head. 

“How do you think you would die?” Luke asks, picking up on the smallest detail of their conversation to avoid the actual conversation he wants to have, whatever that is. 

“Probably fall in a ditch. Or maybe freeze to death.” 

“It’s barely November,” Luke replies. 

“And? It’s fucking cold outside at night, not everyone is a damn human furnace,” Calum says, pulling his jacket tighter around himself to illustrate his point. 

“Are you cold?” Luke worries, reaching to turn up the heat. 

“No, I was just making a point,” Calum says, swatting Luke’s hand away from the dial before he has the chance to mess with it. “I’m fine, it’s nice in here.” 

“Turn it up if you get cold,” Luke insists. Calum won’t. He’d sit here quietly freezing until his hands turn purple before he would turn up the heat, knowing it would make Luke sweat. Well actually, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world because he would have to take off his hoodie. Though there’s a good possibility he’s not wearing a shirt under that hoodie. Not that Calum would be opposed to that, a shirtless Luke driving him around. 

Calum chases that train of thought away quickly, grimacing at himself for the less than appropriate thought process. Shirtless Luke isn’t a rare sight in the apartment—neither is pantless Luke, really— but there’s probably some kind of law against driving shirtless in November. If there isn’t, there probably should be. 

“Do you ever think about what would happen if you weren’t afraid to just try something?” Luke asks, quietly, as the whir of the tires on the tar fill the emptiness between tracks. 

“What do you mean?” Calum asks. 

Another heavy pause falls between them, the beginning of some slow acoustic song flowing through the speakers. Luke gnaws on his lip again and taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he works through his thoughts. The rings on his fingers glint in the low light, tiny sparks of metal against black leather. 

“Like, do you think about what could happen if you took risks?” 

Calum makes a small noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “Is there a risk you want to take that you’re afraid of?” 

Luke laughs humorlessly, more of a scoff than anything else as he takes a left turn. “I’m afraid of most big decisions, Cal.” 

“Well yeah, who isn’t? Big things are intimidating because you don’t know what’s going to happen. Or even if you have an idea about what could happen, you’re still not completely certain that would be the outcome.” 

“Yeah,” Luke says quietly, nodding to himself. “Yeah. It wouldn’t be a risk if I knew what would happen. Like, these decisions are life changing, how am I supposed to be sure what’s right?” 

“Hypothetical or real?” Calum asks, trying to work through just what Luke is talking about. He wasn’t aware of any big decisions coming up in Luke’s life and definitely didn’t know about any risks he was going to take. His heart cracks a little; even as Luke’s person of choice for long drives, he’s not privileged to all the things in his head. 

“Both, I guess, but hypothetical for now. Lay the advice on me, oh great master of helping others.” 

Calum ignores the deflection of emotions. “If you’re even debating taking the risk, there’s a part of you that wants to go for it. Whatever it is, there’s a part of you that thinks it may be the best choice for you. It’s up to you to decide if the risk is worth it. Will the potential of the reward outweigh the possibility of a loss? Is the loss something that would alter your life in such a way that you wouldn’t be able to fix any mistakes? But most importantly, are you hesitant for you or for how it impacts other people? Because you should put yourself first above anyone else, as long as you’re not being an asshole or intentionally hurting someone.” 

Luke stays quiet for a few moments, looking straight ahead as they fly down the road. Calum lets him ruminate on the questions for as long as he needs to. If he sifts through the silt, maybe he’ll be able to uncover a hidden gem. 

“The positive would be incredible, but the negative would be soul crushing,” Luke says, more to himself than to Calum. “I want to risk it, maybe, but it’s not the right time.” 

“That’s okay, you probably have plenty of time to figure out what’s best. Trust your gut, you know what’s best.” 

Luke nods, flicking his eyes to Calum for a second before reaching a hand across the center console to pat Calum’s thigh. “Thank you, Cal. I appreciate it.” 

Calum would appreciate it if the butterflies in his stomach would settle down, set off by the smallest, most simple actions. 

“Anything for you, Luke.” 

-+-

“ Sometimes the advice we give is what we need to hear. I give people advice all the time, even when I know that I’m the one who should be taking my own advice. At least I’m honest about it, right? 

I appreciate when someone is vulnerable with me. I take pride in being the person that others can come to when they need support. So sometimes, I give the advice that I need to take myself. Take everything I say with a grain of salt, I’m not a professional. I’m just a college kid with a lot on my mind, too.” 

---

Calum is a light sleeper. 

He always has been cursed with waking up at every small noise, whether it’s Ashton brewing coffee in the morning or Michael starting up the shower or Luke taking Petunia out for a walk. Every little thing wakes him up. 

So it isn’t surprising that a dull knocking stirs him from sleep easily. With sleep heavy eyes, Calum glances over to his alarm clock on the dresser. The red numbers blink 2:14 back at him. The light knocking stops for a second and Calum waits, listening for the noise to pick up again as he fights with his urge to go back to sleep and ignore whatever is happening outside. 

The gentle tapping starts up again, spurring Calum to finally get out of bed to find the source. It’s a sloppy rhythm, almost like someone is trying to play a song on the wood. Calum grumbles a little under his breath as he trips over his discarded hoodie on the ground, tugging at the door. 

If he wasn’t so painfully sure that he is awake, Calum would believe this is nothing but a dream. 

Luke is leaning against the wall parallel to the door, dressed in a leather jacket with a tight tank top underneath, tucked into a pair of striped trousers. He’s spinning a ring around his finger, bopping his head back and forth to a song that only he can hear, shaking his curls around in the process. His cheeks are flushed a light stain of red, amplified by the shitty moonlight through Calum’s shades. 

“Luke?” Calum says, coughing through his sleep rough voice. 

At the sound of his name, Luke’s head pops up. A lopsided grin spreads across his face as he blinks blearily at Calum. “Hey!” he shouts, pushing off the wall and tipping forwards a bit. 

“Shh, it’s 2 am,” Calum replies, frowning as he peers down the hall towards the others’ doors. “What are you doing here?” 

The sloppy smile slides off Luke’s face instantly. “Fuck, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just—” he trails off, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. 

The smell of tequila and sweat hits Calum then. “You’re drunk,” he says, biting back a small smile. As annoying as it is to be woken up at 2 am, it’s not hard to lose that anger when Luke is the culprit. Calum would have closed the door on anyone else.  

Luke’s laugh echoes in the hallway, amplified by the silence around them. “I may have had a few drinks,” he hiccups, covering his mouth with his hand to hush himself. 

“Did you get lost on your way to your room?” Calum teases, rubbing his eye with a closed fist. 

“I’m not that drunk,” Luke says, tongue tumbling over his words a bit at the end. His lips quirk up deviously, like he knows he blatantly lied and thinks he’s getting away with it. 

“Did you get locked out?” Calum tries again, still trying to process through how he’s come to have a drunken Luke standing in his doorway. 

Luke shakes his head, dislodging his bleached curls from behind his ears. “No, I have my key.” He swings his keychain around on his finger to illustrate his possession of said key. 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“Wanted to see you,” Luke shrugs. The nonchalance of his words make Calum’s heart flip. They’re slurred a bit, worn down from the hours spent to get to this point, but the thought is still there. 

“You wanted to see me enough that you woke me up at 2 am?” Calum teases. 

Luke’s face drops, wiping clean of any positive emotions. “I’m sorry, go back to sleep,” Luke says, turning —stumbling, really— to walk to his own room. His boots squeak on the laminate floor. 

“No, wait,” Calum says, reaching out to grab Luke’s wrist. His skin is warm from the alcohol flowing through him, pulse strong beneath Calum’s fingers. “Do you want to come in? I’m already awake now.” 

A smile splits across Luke’s face, bringing out the uneven dimples that Calum loves a bit too much. “Are you sure?” he asks, though he’s already letting himself be led into Calum’s room. 

“I’m not sure you should be alone right now,” Calum says, glossing over what he could be saying instead with the help of the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. As Luke pulls off his shoes and jacket, Calum hits the lamp on his bedside and grabs his water bottle sitting next to it, handing it to Luke to flush out some of the alcohol in his system and maybe stave off the inevitable hangover. Luke holds it between his hands like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, twisting off the cap —and spilling some on himself in the process— to take tiny swigs from the bottle. 

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Luke complains, pouting as he drops himself onto Calum’s bed, struggling to shimmy back until he’s pressed against the wall. 

“I’m sure you are,” Calum nods, settling with his back against the headboard, feet tucked close as he faces Luke. 

There’s a moment of silence between them, stretching a bit longer than normal. Whether it’s the early morning hour or the unfamiliar feeling of having intoxicated Luke around when Calum himself is not drunk too, they’re both at a loss for words. It doesn’t last long though before Luke launches into a story. 

“I was out at this bar, right? The one down the street, I don’t even know what it’s name is, Ashton likes it there. But I was there, and they were playing the absolute worst music, like I guess that’s why I don’t normally frequent places like that? But I was listening to the music and drinking tequila.” Luke comes to an abnormal stop, narrowing his eyes at the water bottle like it personally has offended him somehow. He looks up at Calum, confusion coating his face. “Why is my hand wet?” 

A short laugh breaks through Calum’s lips. “You spilled water on yourself?” he says, biting his lip to hold back the rest of the laugh. 

“Oh, right,” Luke nods, twirling the bottle in his hand. He tilts it back and forth, watching the water move. Calum waits patiently for the story to start up again, but Luke just fiddles with his rings, the water bottle, the edge of his damp tank top. Calum’s eyes slide up his arms until they’re stuck on Luke’s impossibly broad shoulders, highlighted by the lack of clothing covering them. His skin glistens with a combination of glitter and probably sweat, forcing Calum to look away before he gets caught.  

“Was there more to your story?” Calum asks after the unnecessarily long pause. 

“What?” Luke says, leaning his head against the wall, banging it painfully. He frowns at the pain, rubbing the back of his head as a ring gets stuck in his sweat matted hair. Groaning, he tips over on the bed until his face is pressed to Calum’s thigh, head nestled into the thin t-shirt. His right eye becomes nothing more than a small sliver of blue beneath a canopy of eyelashes with a small smile. Somehow, he still looks adorable. 

“You were telling a story,” Calum reminds him, arching an eyebrow as his hands find their way into Luke’s hair, undoing some of the smaller tangles with tiny tugs that have Luke sighing in contentment. 

Luke tilts his head back a little to look up at Calum, though not far enough to dislodge Calum’s hand from his hair. His bottom lip juts out momentarily only to be pulled between his teeth as he thinks. “I don’t remember,” he says, sighing. “I don’t remember at all. That’s kinda pathetic huh, I don’t think I’m that drunk.” The stuttering giggle at the end begs to differ, but Calum doesn’t call him on it. 

They talk about nothing for a while, Calum twirling strands of unkempt hair around his fingertips until Luke’s blinking becomes so slow that his eyes barely open once they close. Calum tells his story quieter until he’s barely whispering, trailing off at the end to hear the tiny snuffles coming from Luke’s open mouth. 

Rather than wake him up, Calum lifts Luke’s head slowly, scooting out from below and placing his head on the comforter. He throws a blanket over Luke’s broad shoulders, socked feet hanging out of the bottom as he stretches out in his sleep. His skin is smoothed of all lasting wrinkles, much more like freshman year Luke than senior year Luke with the removed weight of the world off his shoulders. 

His plush lips part just a bit with every inhale, slightly chapped from a night of biting on them while he likely chatted up dozens of people at the bar. Below fair, glittery lids and dark lashes, his eyes dance back and forth in a dream far from reality. 

Something twists in Calum’s gut that he’s the one Luke sought out after a night of partying, he’s the one that Luke wanted to talk to in his drunken state. He can’t focus on that train of thought for too long or else he’ll start imaging scenes that will never exist in their universe, but with Luke in his bed, it’s hard to push those thoughts away. 

With a yawn, Calum turns off the lamp and shuffles slowly out of the room. He tugs the door shut quietly, making sure the latch clicks, though not loud enough to wake Luke. The cold floor stings his feet as he walks to the couch, laying on the lumpy cushions as he settles in for the night. It’s not quite where he expected to spend his Friday night, but he wouldn’t trade the last hour of early morning conversation for a full night of sleep. 

Sleep comes easily. 

--- 

While sleep may have come easily, that doesn’t mean that waking up in the morning is pleasant. 

Calum is ripped from a dream of trees that sprout donuts and bees that pollinate flowers with coffee grounds by the sound of Ashton stepping into the living room, completely unaware of Calum’s presence. He flicks on the light and Calum’s subsequent groan has Ashton swearing in surprise. 

“What the fuck?” Ashton breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why the hell are you on the couch?” 

“Luke,” Calum mumbles, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. 

“Luke is the reason you’re on the couch?” Ashton asks, sitting on the couch adjacent to Calum’s makeshift bed. 

“He woke me up at like, 2 am.” Calum sits up, adjusting the blanket around himself as he checks the time. 7:45 am. “He was drunk.” 

“That doesn’t explain much.” 

Calum huffs. “No shit. I don’t know, he was knocking on my door and said he wanted to see me. He’s asleep in my bed, fell asleep while we were talking.” 

Ashton makes a face like he’s bitten into something sour, though it rapidly changes to contemplation. “Interesting,” he says, standing up to move to the kitchen. 

Calum stares after him, trying to make his sleep heavy brain process the range of emotions. “Why?” 

Ashton doesn’t respond, though Calum turns around to look at him over the back of the beige sofa. He moves about the space, making coffee and ignoring Calum’s stare before leading Petunia out of the apartment for a morning walk. 

After a while, Michael emerges from his room with grunted good mornings as he downs two glasses of water quickly. Calum takes that as his sign to check on Luke, if only to make sure that he hasn’t somehow managed to fall off the bed and knock himself unconscious or something. Years of drunk Luke moments have told him that it’s not an unreasonable option. 

He knocks lightly on the door, feeling a bit stupid as it’s his room that he’s knocking on, but he enters anyway. Luke is still sleeping soundly on the bed, still on top of the duvet but under Calum’s favorite dog printed throw blanket, tucked tightly around his shoulders and drawn up to his neck. His curls have flattened against the bed through the night, tumbling over his head in oily strands. 

A smile creeps onto Calum’s face easily as he closes the door softly behind him. Luke snuffles, moaning quietly as he stretches sleep from his limbs. His eyes open slowly, hazy for a moment before he focuses on Calum. In the pale daylight, Luke’s eyes reflect oceanic scenes, just tiny slivers of paradise hidden by each blink until they’re cloaked in darkness again as Luke presses his fists to his eyes. 

“Morning sunshine,” Calum says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed facing Luke. 

Luke groans again. “What time is it?” 

“10:30 or so, Ash took Petunia out already and Mike is awake, so I wanted to check on you.” 

“Still living,” Luke mumbles, wiping his hands down his face. “Feel like shit though.” 

Calum chuckles, sliding back against the wall where Luke was sitting last night. “Might have been the tequila.” 

“Don’t let me drink ever again,” Luke whines. 

“I don’t think you would listen to me,” Calum points out. Luke mumbles something unintelligible under his breath before he turns slightly to look at Calum. The exhaustion is clear on his face, more discomfort and generally hungover. He sighs, bottom lip jutting out again much like the night before. 

“Can I get you something? Water or Advil or something?” Calum asks, resting his head against the wall. 

Luke shakes his head, wincing at the movement. The frown settles deeper onto his face, etching his scruffy chin with distaste. “Okay,” Calum says, moving to get up. “I’ll leave you alone then. You can stay here as long as you want, I know the walk to your room is endless,” he teases, though it falls flat through the genuinity of his statement. He’s happy to have Luke in his room any time, though it’s much more ideal when he also gets to be in the room too. 

“No wait,” Luke says, hooking his foot over Calum’s thigh, the least amount of movement he could do to keep Calum in place. 

When he doesn’t say anything else, Calum prompts with a tiny noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. Luke glances at him bashfully, question on the tip of his tongue but he’s too ashamed, maybe, to ask it. Calum smiles, hoping it spurs him to speak. There’s no universe that Calum would judge whatever Luke has to say. 

“Would you stay and cuddle? Like, the way you were playing with my hair last night was really nice,” he says quietly, whispering into the grey morning. 

Calum’s heart tilts on its axis, spinning at a new velocity as his brain works through Luke’s request. Luke is a touchy person, always launching himself at whoever is available for him to hold onto, but there’s never been a time where he’s blatantly asked for cuddles. He’s pouted across the couch before, or huffed when he wasn’t invited to nestle under someone’s arm, but he’s never asked to cuddle in bed before. 

Luke catches Calum’s hesitation and opens his mouth to retract his statement, but Calum is already moving to slot himself between Luke and the wall, laying on his side with his right arm braced beneath his head, slightly above where Luke is laying. Luke tenses, but Calum raises his hand and picks through the curls at the back of his head. 

Sighing, Luke settles back, leaning against Calum slightly. Every point of contact burns Calum’s skin, branding the spots with Luke’s name. Even after a night out, Luke still smells of his clean linen laundry detergent with an afterthought of tequila lingering in the background, something so Luke that it has Calum trying to catalogue the smell into his memory. Their skin brushes occasionally when the movement of Calum’s arm lines up with Luke’s breathing, each time prickling Calum’s skin with want for this to be a recurring theme for them. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night,” Luke says after a while. 

“Don’t be, it’s fine.” 

“I took your bed,” Luke counters. 

“And there’s a perfectly fine couch in the living room.” 

Luke turns onto his back, still pressed up against Calum as much as possible. “You slept on the couch?” he asks, remorse written across his face. 

“It was fine,” Calum assures him, resisting the urge to run his finger down the planes of Luke’s face, to dip his finger into the spot where he knows Luke’s right dimple lives. 

“Calum,” Luke groans, pouting again. In another universe, Calum would bend down and kiss the pout off Luke’s lips, even if he tastes of tequila and morning breath, he wouldn’t care. Get a grip. 

“No, I had fun talking to you last night and I didn’t mind sleeping on the couch. If I was annoyed, I would have woken you up to go back to your room.” 

“No you wouldn’t have,” Luke says, calling his bluff easily. 

“Okay maybe I wouldn’t have, but still. Of all the people that could have been knocking on my door at 2 am, I’m glad it was you.” 

Luke seems to accept that, or at least doesn’t fight it as he huffs quietly. Calum’s hand finds Luke’s hair again, sweeping it softly away from his face with the new angle. Every fiber of his being screams to savor this moment, capture it on a polaroid camera where the image can develop immediately so this isn’t just a figment of his imagination. 

Yet, if it only exists between the two of them, that’s okay too. 

-+-

“ Sometimes you make sacrifices for those you care about. It doesn’t have to be a major sacrifice, but it could be something as easy as losing sleep to be with them. When it comes to weighing your options between taking care of yourself and taking care of others, as long as you’re not hurting yourself to support someone else, you’re okay. Honor your own needs but live to help others when you can. Meaningful relationships matter most, especially with those that you couldn’t live without.” 

---

Not being able to go home for Thanksgiving is Calum’s least favorite part about choosing a college on the opposite side of the country. 

He’s used to it by now, staying behind while everyone he knows goes home for the holiday. It’s a little lonely but it’s mostly okay, only five days of solitude. He normally gets a lot of writing done, takes advantage of no one hogging the washing machines and dryers, and plays his music as loud as he possibly can.

Calum wakes up on the Wednesday before the holiday in the late morning, content in his ability to sleep in with no distractions. He wanders out of bed when his need for breakfast outweighs his laziness and saunters into the living room, passing Luke and Petunia on his way. “Morning,” he mumbles, nodding at them while cursing himself for not putting on socks before leaving his room. 

“Hey,” Luke says, sounding slightly dejected. 

“Everything okay?” Calum asks, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself water from the fridge. 

“No,” Luke whines, throwing his head back on the couch so he’s looking at Calum upside down. 

The whining grates Calum’s nerves just a little, so he swallows back the whole glass to buy himself some time to shake the annoyance off. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s an ice storm coming tonight,” Luke says, still blinking back at Calum. 

When he doesn’t elaborate, Calum crosses the kitchen and sits on the couch opposite Luke. “Okay, and?” 

“All flights are canceled, so I’m stuck here for Thanksgiving.” 

Calum’s heart sinks a little. Holidays and family time is so important to Luke; he’s always the most excited about going home no matter how long he’s going for. A single exam kept him here through Tuesday, otherwise he would have taken off over the weekend like Michael and Ashton had. 

“Oh, shit that sucks, I’m sorry Luke,” Calum says earnestly. “I’m happy to have your company though, if that makes it any better.” 

Luke shrugs sadly. “I’m gonna keep moping about it for the next like, four hours, but I promise I won’t be miserable the whole time. I know this sucks for you too, missing the holidays.” 

“We can try to make Thanksgiving dinner if you want,” Calum offers. 

“After what happened on pizza night? I’m not sure you and I should be left unattended in the kitchen ever again.” 

“That was one time!” Calum groans. “I’ve never burned anything before, that was a one time thing.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Luke says, a touch more jovial than he was a minute before. His smile is a bit more believable and a bit less pitiful. It’ll be Calum’s personal mission to give Luke the best possible non-traditional holiday he possibly can. 

That proves to be much harder than he initially anticipated, Calum quickly comes to learn. Making a full turkey dinner is next to impossible between their incredibly small kitchen, Calum’s disinterest in anything meat related, and the fact that neither of them have a single fucking clue how to cook actual food. Mac and cheese and basic tacos are one thing, but a complete meal is downright hard. 

“I told you to just buy the packaged meals,” Luke says, swinging his feet from his spot on the kitchen counter. 

“And I told you to stop sitting on the counter while we’re cooking,” Calum pokes, whipping a towel in Luke’s direction. It catches him on the calf and he shrieks as he jumps off to avoid further damage. 

“You’re the one who insisted on making an actual dinner! I was fine with cereal or whatever you were going to be eating by yourself,” Luke counters, snagging a baby carrot from the bag he’s supposed to be cutting up. 

“You deserve a real dinner,” Calum says. The sincerity bleeds through a little too much, a bit too honest for what was a teasing conversation. Luke does deserve this, though. He really deserves to be at home with his family, but Calum will be damned if he’s not going to make this day something to remember. 

Luke doesn’t say anything in reply, so Calum continues looking up just how to put a turkey in the oven properly. The ice storm rages on outside, having started in the early evening yesterday and continued on through the dark hours of the night and into the holiday morning. The news calls it the holiday ruiner, with most people stuck at home rather than completing their intended plans. 

That comforted Luke a little, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t able to get home for the holidays. Sure, his family is all enjoying time together while he’s stuck here, but the sadness of missed connections is dampened a little knowing that others are sharing in his pain. 

Calum is minutes away from pulling everything together when a sickening crack rumbles through the apartment, walls shaking a little bit with the force of whatever it was that just happened. Luke opens his mouth to say something with wide eyes when the lights flicker off, cloaking them in darkness. The only light comes from the streetlights outside, sleet glimmering in the yellow light through the window above the sink. 

“What the fuck,” Calum groans, grabbing his phone to turn on the flashlight. “You good?” he asks Luke. 

“Fine, what was that?” Luke replies, already heading towards the door to the hallway. Calum follows suit, grabbing his key before entering the hallway. 

They tiptoe through the darkness, everything eerily quiet with them being the only two left in their building. Luke wanders to the large window at the end of the hall near the stairs and scoffs in disgust when he peers outside. “Well, that would be the problem,” he says, pointing out the glass as he looks over his shoulder at Calum. 

Out front of the building, the large tree that used to stand tall and proud next to the entrance is now toppled over on its side, coated in ice and slush. Beneath it are the threads of cables that should be attached to their building, now nothing but a pile of spaghetti on the ground. 

“Shit,” Calum says, placing a hand on the cold glass. “That’s not good.” 

“I’m going to call campus safety so they know we’re stuck,” Luke says, turning on his heel to head back to the apartment. Calum stays staring outside for a moment longer. 

This absolutely wasn’t the plan for their makeshift Thanksgiving. Hell, he was supposed to be on the couch watching mind numbing Netflix right now, not trying and failing to impress Luke with his subpar cooking skills. Everything he touches seems to be going up in flames, thankfully not literally, burning down in front of him. 

He follows after Luke a bit later, catching the tail end of his conversation. 

“No I’m not alone here, it’s me and my roommate, so we’re okay.” Luke pauses, listening. “Okay, yeah, that sounds fair.” Another pause. “Thank you, we’ll call if anything changes.” Luke locks his phone and sighs, glancing at Calum in frustration. “They’re calling the power company but there’s lines down everywhere. It might be a while before we get power back.” 

“Fucking typical,” Calum groans, locking the door behind them. The apartment is bathed in shades of grey, more obvious now after having been in the hallway. They have minimal light sources in their apartment, only the small window by the kitchen and one behind the TV. Everything is much more muted here, monochromatic and bland. 

“They said we can move to another building temporarily until the power is back or we can just hang out here. I said we were fine for now, but we would call back if it got too cold or whatever.” 

Calum nods, already feeling the chill from the lack of heat in the living room. Using the light of his phone’s flashlight as a guide, Calum goes back to his bedroom to find some extra layers and maybe the lantern that his grandmother insisted he needed, just in case. As much as he thought the whole thing was stupid, he’s grateful for her foresight. 

Wrapped up in his warmest hoodie and one, maybe two, pairs of socks, Calum emerges with the tiny lantern and his duvet. Luke seems to have taken Calum’s lead and has collected things for himself too and deposited them all on the living room floor. His collection is more extensive than Calum’s puny pile, with multiple blankets and pillows creating a mini mountain. 

“What’s all that?” Calum asks, going into the kitchen to clean up their food mess. They can’t make anything now and it’ll probably all go bad before the power is back, but he’d rather have the mess contained to the refrigerator and sink than spanning the counter. 

“We’re making a fort,” Luke says matter of factly, tugging the barstools from the countertop over to the middle of the floor. “Go grab more blankets and your pillows.” 

“Do I not get a say in this?” Calum teases, though he’s already heading back down the hallway to do as he’s told. He can’t help the smile that erupts across his face at Luke’s plan, warmth spreading from his chest to his stomach and through his limbs as he excitedly gets his things. It’s not what they planned, but Luke has a way of making the worst situations at least a little bit better, if only by being there. 

Calum drags his blankets out into the living room to find Luke already tying his top sheet to the rungs on the barstools, pinning them in place. Calum makes quick work of joining the building, pushing all the couches closer together to use as a framework for their temporary housing. Their thick duvets act as flooring on top of the rug, pillows lined up one by one across the edges for better walls. 

At one point, Luke runs down the hallway towards his and Ashton’s rooms, slipping slightly on the tile as he goes. He returns a bit later with a stack of blankets from Ashton’s room, giddy smile baring his teeth as he shuffles back. “He never has to know,” Luke laughs, lopsided grin eating away at his face. He brushes his curls back away from his face as he works, perfecting the inside of their power outage oasis. 

Finishing touches include the lapdesk that Michael uses for gaming in the living room as a table, Petunia’s dog bed in the northeast corner, and a small bucket filled with snacks and some drinks for easy access. Calum perches the lantern on the ledge behind them, lighting up their small space perfectly. He sits cross legged on the pillows, admiring their hard work as Luke returns for the final time with a portable phone charger, glasses now sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

“Cute,” Calum says without really thinking, only committing to the moment when Luke grins bashfully, ducking his head as he takes his place. “Your glasses suit you, you know.” 

“You’re only saying that because you can barely see me in the dark,” Luke deflects, though he smiles wider and sits a little straighter with the compliment. 

“That’s bullshit, you’re adorable like this. You look cozy,” Calum says, pulling a blanket up over himself. The chill has settled over the apartment much faster than he expected with the lack of any heat source. 

“So do you,” Luke says, leaning back against the couch. 

There’s a moment of silence only punctuated by Petunia biting on a bone and the tiny taps of the sleet on the windowsill. “So,” Calum says, “What the hell are we supposed to do until the power comes back?” 

Luke shrugs. “Not a clue.” He pauses, eyes lighting up with an idea. “Tell me about what your family does for Thanksgiving.” 

“Luke,” Calum says, not wanting to venture down that route and make him sad. 

“No, I want to hear about it, please?” 

Calum sighs, closing his eyes to think about the years past, all the way back in high school when he was last able to be home. “Everyone comes to my parents’ house, like everyone. Extended aunts and uncles and family that we never see. We have to do it buffet style or else no one would be able to get anything. People have to sit everywhere, we put folding tables in the basement for the kids while the adults sit upstairs.” 

Luke hums. “Sounds nice.” He has a small content smile on his face, like he’s thinking of his own memories. 

“It was always nice. I hear that Mali is bringing her boyfriend this year, so I’m a little sad that I’m missing out on that one. I think my cousins will do enough of a job terrorizing him though.” 

“Have you ever brought someone home for the holidays?” Luke asks, head leaning onto the edge of the couch. His cheek smushes against the fabric and his curls topple down across his forehead. 

“No, I miss every Thanksgiving and I’ve never had someone worth bringing home for Christmas. The guy I was dating in high school had family out of state so he wasn’t around for the holidays, and the girl I was seeing freshman year couldn’t afford to fly out. It’s always just been me.”

“Makes sense,” Luke says, something that looks like smugness flashing across his eyes before it’s gone. 

“What about you, tell me about the holidays.” 

Luke launches into a full story of what he’s missing out on at home. Football with his brothers in the backyard while his little cousin who’s six and adores him would be following him around like a lost puppy. His mom makes incredible stuffing from scratch and his grandma makes more pies than strictly necessary. 

He talks about his family with such adoration lacing every word that Calum is hooked. He listens intently, asking questions at all the right moments based on the way that Luke hurries to tell the next story, stuttering over his words in his excitement. 

He’s fucking precious, Calum thinks, with his dark framed glasses covering part of his face, Luke having to push them up every so often when the slide down to the tip of his perfectly sloped nose. He talks with his hands, wrists twirling as he gestures wildly, almost pulling down the southern fort wall when he’s not being careful enough. He wheezes through laughter on stories that aren’t funny to Calum, but he laughs too, if only because of the way Luke beams in response. 

Luke eventually stops talking, taking a long swig from his water bottle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble like that,” Luke says, clearing his throat. 

“Shut up, I loved hearing it. I’m really sorry you’re missing all that though.” A chill runs through Calum’s spine as wind makes its way through the drafty windows. He curls further into the blanket, but it’s not really doing all that much to warm him up. 

The blankets shuffle around as Luke moves, sitting up in the corner between the two sofas with a pillow propped up against his back. “Come here,” he says, lifting the blanket off his lap and opening his arms. 

Shooting him a confused look, Calum wiggles his way towards Luke slowly. Once he’s close enough, Luke grabs onto his shoulders and hauls him forwards, head hitting Luke’s chest with a dull thud. 

“Oh,” Calum breathes out on impact, pushing up on his hands to hover slightly to Luke’s left side, with one hand braced at Luke’s right hip and the other pressed against the couch to create some distance. 

“Cuddle, I think I remember you calling me a human furnace,” Luke smirks, wrapping an arm around Calum’s torso to pull him down again. 

“Let me get fucking comfortable,” Calum laughs, pushing Luke’s arm off of him to alleviate some of the instant fire that’s spread across Calum’s skin. He’s cuddled with Luke more times than he can count, but it’s never been like this, so intimate? Personal? Bordering on domestic? 

Calum shifts so he’s pressed up against Luke as much as possible, taking full advantage of the chance for their bodies to touch in as many spots as possible. He slings an arm around Luke’s soft lower stomach, nuzzling his face into the fabric of his hoodie as subtly as he can. Luke encases him with the blanket and a strong arm around his shoulders, anchoring him into place. 

Luke’s fingers start dancing across Calum’s arm, slowly tracing lines of nothingness on the hoodie fabric in dazed patterns. If he notices the way Calum’s breath hitches as the first lines he draws, he doesn’t say anything. Every ounce of Calum screams that this probably isn’t the best way to get over his crush on Luke, but the warmth of familiar contentment seeps through Luke’s chest and warms Calum to the bone. 

He’ll never be able to come up with the words to explain his appreciation for Luke; for the way he thinks of the best ways possible to help someone else, for the way he is selfless and kind, for the genuinity that drives his moral compass. If he hadn’t been forced to sit next to the flannel wearing kid in class all those years ago, he might have never gotten to know the force of nature that is Luke Hemmings. 

It’s something that he sends little shreds of thanks to the heavens for, that he was able to come across someone as good as Luke is. Whoever Luke ends up with in the future is the luckiest person in the world, to be loved by someone like him. 

“Cal?” Luke says, quietly bursting the bubble that he had been wrapped in. 

“Hmm?” Calum hums. 

“Thank you for making this a really good Thanksgiving.” 

Calum’s heart skips a beat. He tips his head back, catching Luke’s double chin from the horrible viewpoint, able to see right up his nose too. He shouldn’t be charming from this angle, but Calum still finds himself memorizing every detail he can. “This is probably the worst Thanksgiving you’ve ever had.” 

Luke shakes his head adamantly. “No, no I—” He stops, licking his lips before he smiles sweetly down at Calum. “No, I think this actually might be the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.” 

The sincerity in his voice nearly brings tears to Calum’s eyes, slightly blurred and stinging. Just as he doesn’t think it could get any worse, Luke squeezes his shoulder and softly says, “I’m really thankful for you.” 

Calum just latches onto Luke’s torso as hard as he can, hoping that the overflowing love will melt into the seams of Luke’s being, flooding him with everything that Calum could never say and more. 

-+-

“The best moments in life can sometimes be the times when plans go to shit. You could plan every moment of a day and something uncontrollable comes and gets in the way of those intentions. But take a breath and a step back, the best could be on the way. 

A ruined Thanksgiving dinner could turn into a secret getaway right in your living room if you let it. Look for the good in bad situations, but still let yourself grieve the plans that you lost. Just don’t let a bad thing sour a good experience. One bad grape doesn’t ruin the whole bunch. Sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you.” 

-+-

“ How do I tell the guy I like that I want to be more than friends? -L

Well L, telling someone you like them doesn’t have to be a big affair. Honestly, I think the best moments are the ones that are just between two people. You said you’re already friends, so that is a great first step in knowing for sure if you’re compatible and get along well. The thing is, do you think he likes you too? That’s the critical moment. 

If you think that he likes you, then feel the fear of vulnerability, and do it anyway. You can live your life with what if’s, but isn’t it better to know for sure? 

If you think he doesn’t like you, then that’s the decision you have to make. Do you want to risk your friendship or maintain the way things have always been? If he’s a good enough friend, then he’ll let you down softly if need be. Who knows, he could be harboring the same feelings. 

Go with your intuition. I say go for it, but please report back. Who knows, maybe if you have a positive experience, it’ll send those waves to me and I’ll muster up the courage to do the same with the person I like.”

---

Nothing makes it seem like today is a day of significance. The sky is partly cloudy, shadows falling across the window as Calum works on a writing assignment at his desk. He had a normal coffee and bagel for breakfast, took a normal shower, and had a normal number of emails to delete from his inbox. 

It’s just a Thursday. 

There’s a knock at Calum’s open door and he peeks over his shoulder to see Luke leaning against the wooden doorframe. He’s wearing a graphic t-shirt that Calum is pretty sure belonged to him once upon a time, with joggers and damp hair. A normal appearance for Luke. 

“Hey,” Calum says, nodding as he turns back to finish up the paragraph he was writing. 

Luke doesn’t say anything, just shuffles across the room and settles onto Calum’s bed, wiggling his feet under the blanket a little bit. Out of the corner of his eye, Calum can see him wrap his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his armpits. “If you’re cold, you can grab a hoodie,” Calum offers, typing away. 

The clacking of the keys is the only sound in the room, which when Calum thinks about it a bit, is unsettling. Luke doesn’t do silence. He always has to be telling a story or singing to himself or just talking nonsense. It’s never quiet when Luke is around. 

Calum saves his document and turns to face Luke. He’s worrying his lip between his teeth, eyes glazed over slightly as he stares at the poster on the wall. His thoughts are louder than the clicking of the keys were, loud enough where he doesn’t even notice Calum looking at him until Calum presses a hand to his knee. Luke jumps, shaking his head out of the daze. “Sorry, what?” 

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, scanning over Luke’s body. He looks fine, looks completely normal. His hair is drying into slightly frizzy waves at the sides of his head, right side tucked behind his ear. He’s let his scruff grow out a little bit, the only potentially worrisome part of his appearance. He hasn’t really let his facial hair grow out all that much since sophomore year, though it has sometimes happened this year, mostly when he’s stressed. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, void of any emotion as he pats the spot next to him on the bed as an invitation. 

Calum’s heart rate increases a little bit as he slides into the open spot, thigh touching Luke’s. Another moment of silence falls between them, thick and suffocating as Calum waits for Luke to say something, anything. 

“Cal,” Luke says finally, shifting slightly so he’s facing towards Calum. “You know I read your blog, right?” 

It’s almost as if the world stops turning then, the atmosphere sucked up leaving him in the middle of space with no oxygen. “Definitely didn’t know that,” he says, licking his lips as his mouth runs dry.  

“I read it every day. I always have, since the beginning.” 

It’s Calum’s turn to overthink now, brain filtering through every post that he can remember, trying to see if he was ever too obvious about his feelings for Luke. He’s written about funny stories or random anecdotes that Luke would know for sure were about him, but there isn’t anything too obvious that says that Luke is the one taking up Calum’s mind, right? 

He’s mentioned the ever elusive love interest often, but never in detail, never in a way that Luke could easily deduce that Calum was talking about him. There have never been any identifiable details that would connect to Luke. Calum could like anyone, it doesn’t have to be his best friend. 

Though he’s absolutely mentioned that being friends with a love interest is the best first step. He’s talked about how important it is to feel safe with them, to be vulnerable and feel at your best when you’re with them. He’s described times where he’s been almost starstruck by the person who holds his attention, but there’s no way. Luke can’t have figured it out. 

“Oh,” Calum says quietly, nodding. “Do you like it?” 

Luke laughs under his breath, nothing more than a gust of air between them. He spins a ring around his thumb, fiddling with the metal until he can manage to look up at Calum. Sapphire eyes shimmer as he traces Calum’s face quickly, something like hope and anticipation on the surface. 

“I do,” Luke confirms with a nod. 

“Good,” Calum says, picking at the skin at the side of his finger. 

“There’s something I need to say,” Luke says, chest rising with a particularly large inhale. “And if it doesn’t go well, then I’m sorry, but I can’t just not say it anymore.” 

“If it’s about the blog then I’m sorry—” Calum rushes to say, cutting Luke off. Luke tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking back and forth across Calum’s. He grins, twin dimples appearing. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” Luke asks, biting back a smile. It’s slightly frustrating, like Luke is in on a joke that Calum has yet to figure out. He wants to be in on the secret too, it’s pretty damn rude of Luke to keep him in the dark like this. 

“I just— I don’t know. I didn’t know you read it. I wouldn’t have written about you if I knew that. Or at least I would have asked before sharing stories that potentially could be connected back to you.” 

Luke’s smile grows a little larger, almost comical now as a few giggles break through his teeth. “Okay, if there’s a joke I’m not aware of, can you fucking tell me because I don’t like being out of the loop,” Calum pouts through a small laugh of his own, powerless in the face of Luke laughing. 

“Take your own advice,” Luke says, all traces of teasing vacating his face immediately, replaced by a somber focus. 

“What?” Calum asks, not following the train of thought. His own advice? What advice has he given recently that he needs to also be taking that Luke would know about? 

“Your most recent post,” Luke tacks on, a tight lipped smile on his face. 

Fear freezes Calum’s veins at that very moment, thinking about his last post as a suggestion on how to tell a friend that you want to be more than friends. Realization dawns across his face and based on the hysterical laughter that bubbles out of Luke, it must be a pretty sight to see. Not prettier than Luke, though, who tips back with the force of his laugh as he grabs onto his knee and leans over onto Calum’s shoulder.

“Holy shit—” Calum starts, but before he can even finish the last word, Luke has lifted himself up and onto Calum’s lap, planting his knees on either side of Calum’s thighs. The last of the air in Calum’s lungs escapes between them, gasping for more. 

“Now’s the time to tell me I was way off base in assuming your post— or I guess, posts—have been about me. If you don’t tell me I’m wrong in three seconds, I’m going to kiss you.” 

Luke has always been bold, never afraid of saying what he means when necessary. But this is a new level. He’s blinking down at Calum expectantly, anticipating the next move. “It’s always been about you,” Calum breathes.

Calum is certain he’s seen Luke truly happy before. He’s seen him after he aced the exam he swore he was going to fail, when he was approved to bring Petunia to campus, when he got his dream internship. He’s seen Luke glow with excitement many times over the past three and a half years, but this, this is a different kind of glow. This is a starburst of pure elation with a tiny bit of disbelief, twinkling fireworks exploding in a midnight sky. This is radiant. 

There isn’t enough time to take in the sparkle of Luke at arguably the happiest that Calum has ever seen him though, because his vision is obscured by Luke getting closer, arms wrapping around Calum’s neck and settling against his shoulder blades. 

Calum’s eyes fall shut on their own accord, though he can still see the comets flying across his eyelids as Luke closes the gap and presses their lips together. His lips are softer than Calum ever imagined, plush velvet with a lingering warmth that leaves embers in its wake. Insistent but not greedy, their lips move together in a dance that Calum never learned but could see himself repeating for the foreseeable future. 

Luke is the one who pulls away, sucking in a deep breath as he looks down at Calum with hooded eyes. He bites his lip, pulling on the right side as he laughs a little. It’s a taunt and a suggestion, one that Calum takes easily as he slots their lips together again, running his tongue along the seam. Luke eagerly accepts, matching his energy instantly as he runs his hands down Calum’s shoulders. 

There’s so much of Luke that Calum has never been able to experience, at least not like this, and he wants to take his time to remember every moment, but at the same time, his brain is so incredibly void of all thoughts. There will be more time to commit these moments to memory, he’s sure, but there’s something incredibly special about this moment that has him wishing for permanence. 

When they finally part, Luke rests his head on Calum’s shoulder while Calum’s hands continue to make paths down Luke’s sides until they land on his hips. The worn t-shirt is soft beneath his hands, but Calum pushes the material out of the way to rest his hands directly on Luke’s skin. 

“A little handsy there considering you still haven’t said anything,” Luke teases, pressing a kiss to Calum’s collarbone before lifting his head. His lips are kiss bitten and even more plush than normal, matching the stain of blush on the apples of his cheeks. 

“Hands aren’t going anywhere else,” Calum assures him, pressing his thumbs into his side a little harder. “But do I really need to say anything? I think that just said everything I could have.” 

“You’re a writer and you have no words to say?” Luke says. 

“What can I say, you wipe my brain completely clear, I can’t think straight.” 

“Shut up,” Luke laughs, tipping off Calum’s lap to sit at his side. He picks up Calum’s hand immediately, fiddling with his fingers like he’s unable to stop touching him now that he’s finally gotten the chance to start. 

There’s a fizzy kind of elation in Calum’s chest, like his lungs are filled with carbonation and it’s desperately trying to escape. He can’t get a proper breath in, but the lack of oxygen is the most satisfying withdrawal he’s experienced. Luke looks at him expectantly, batting impossibly dark eyelashes with a golden retriever level of excitement under his skin. 

“Luke,” Calum starts, putting his other hand on top of Luke’s, sandwiching them together. “I’ve liked you for a really long time.” 

Rolling his eyes playfully, Luke scoffs. “Wow I had no idea.” 

“Fuck you!” Calum laughs, pulling his hands away. 

“No wait!” Luke says through his own giggles, reaching for Calum’s hands again. “I mean, same.” 

“Same?” Calum repeats, eyes widening slightly. 

“Since like sophomore year,” Luke nods. 

“Sophomore year!” Calum echos. Luke continues moving his fingers along Calum’s hands, softly stroking the tattoos on the back of his hands. “And you never said anything?” 

“You didn’t either!” Luke says. He runs his fingernails over Calum’s palm, causing Calum to shiver at the sensation. He smiles to himself like he’s holding onto that information for a later date, another item on the list of things that make Calum react. 

“I didn’t think I had a chance,” Calum says. 

“That’s so stupid considering how badly I wanted to have something with you. But I wasn’t sure that things would work out, and at the same time I thought I was being so obvious and you were trying to let me down slowly.” 

Calum shakes his head in disbelief, sighing out a laugh. “We wasted so much time.” 

“To be fair,” Luke starts, looking down at their hands before looking up at Calum bashfully. “I had an unfair advantage. I was reading your posts about love and liking a friend for so long but I refused to believe it was about me.” 

“What changed then?” Calum asks. 

“I was fully planning on keeping that secret to the grave. But then Thanksgiving happened and I was like fuck it, I can’t just keep waiting anymore until we’re old and grey or we graduate, whatever happens first. So I went to the person who would give me the best advice on what to do. Why live with what if’s? And if you didn’t like me and I was reading everything wrong, I knew you would let me down nicely. So I took a shot.” 

“You made me take a shot,” Calum corrects. 

Luke shrugs. “I jumped on your lap and kissed you.” 

Hearing the sentence sends pleasant shivers up Calum’s spine, laced with anticipation and memories.

“I wish you would do it again,” Calum says. 

“Bold of you to assume I wanted to kiss you again.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Calum complains, taking the initiative to kiss Luke before either of them can say another word. Sometimes the best moments are those with no words anyway.  

---

“ Hey Calum, your advice about telling the truth to the guy I like worked out really well. Glad it worked out for you too. -Luke :)”