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Growing up, it was always about finding the lucky girl. He was supposed to memorize the way she took her coffee and run his fingers through her long, long hair and say things like, “Do you have a map? Because I got lost looking into your eyes.”
(They were just boys, Luke and Nick. They were young and carefree and a pair of little shits, so they looked at each other with waggling eyebrows and snickered at the notion of girls and instead said things like, “Hey, wanna climb to the roof? We can jump into the pool!”
At the top, Luke doesn’t remember which one of them got scared – probably Nick, of course – but suddenly their hands are clasped, and they become invincible, and they’re falling together.
They got into so much trouble, Nick’s mom spitting and wagging her finger at them while they stood, cowed and dripping wet. But when she turned away and Luke glanced at Nick, Nick just grinned and his blue, blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and he knew they were going to do that again.)
Years passed, and then the idea of girls wasn’t so funny anymore.
Luke played his part. He knew his role, he got his degree, and he got the girls, although none of them quite permanent, none of them quite enough. But it was still okay. He was young. He had things to explore, things left to do on Earth.
But then, so did the dead.
(His eyes are glued to Nick’s back. They’re running, weaving around abandoned cars, wailing cars, bloodied cars. It’s noise and chaos and fear, and Nick’s mom is still screaming, but she’s not angry, she’s not angry anymore.
This time, Luke is definitely scared. He’s so fucking scared that his legs tremble and he prays and prays that they don’t give out, and his eyes dart to Nick’s hand.
Nick looks back just long enough to check, to see Luke behind him. To lock eyes and not say any of the words locked in their chests.
With his heart in his throat, it hits Luke how mortal they are. With the undead surrounding them, it hits him how mortal they aren’t.)
Luke plays his part. He is supposed to memorize his way around his weapon, so that even in the cold of the night, he can load, aim, and fire without hesitation because precious seconds mean precious lives. He runs and runs for a long, long way because there are devils at his heels and every pounding step and every labored breath means he gets to see another day. He asks things like, “Do you have a map? It’s not safe here anymore. We have to go. We have to go now.”
There are no pools and there are no lucky girls. Sometimes, there is no food. There are only survivors.
Among them are blue eyes. There have always been blue eyes. He doesn’t need a map for them because he doesn’t get lost. Luke doesn’t look at the back of his hand often, and he’s forgotten the address to his childhood home, but he knows these eyes.
Because they looked at him then and said, “We’re young, we’re wild, let’s do it, just jump.” Because they look at him now, and all he sees is the reflection of everything he wants, but can’t have.
(“But, Luke, eyes aren’t mirrors. They’re windows.”)
“They sure do look like a match.” It’s a comment from an outsider, but it still makes him look because he’s shameless. Luke will take any excuse to rake in the sight of short, short hair and the type of weariness that comes from no caffeine.
Nick is looking at him, too. Luke is not surprised. He’s wearing that face that says, “Hey, wanna go to the roof?” But what they’ll do there remains ambiguous, unspoken. Luke snorts softly and pushes the food around his plate. They’re both still boys, and there are no lucky girls to be found.
Luke jumped and fell with Nick then, has fallen for Nick now, and it’s honestly the end of the goddamn world.
(Bonus: angst.)
The surface beneath Luke is literally splitting open, and it’s so stupid. He’s angry. He’s upset. He’s cold and alone and so goddamn afraid. He waves his hands to stop Clementine from coming any closer, and they feel so empty.
People are shouting, and he thinks of hot summers and blue pools and blue eyes.
This time when Luke falls into the water, he falls alone.
He doesn’t come back out.