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Luke is thirteen, and he’s curious.
He wants to know what it’s like to kiss someone, what it feels like to have someone want to kiss you, and how it feels to hold someone’s hand. He wants to know how relationships happen, how two people happen to like each other at the same and somehow get together. He wants to know why it seems socially unacceptable to like boys, even though all his life he’s knows he’s never been attracted to girls. He’s never wanted to kiss lip-glossed laced lip, rather a mouth lined with stubble and he wants to experiment.
But, Luke’s shy and he’s awkward, and he’s small, and he decides that that just isn’t going to happen for a while. So he’ll wait, because he’s always been a patient person, for the right one.
Luke is seventeen, and he has a problem.
He’s in a band that somehow made it big and he has a teeny-tiny crush on the drummer. Okay, so maybe it’s kinda huge, like the I-think-about-cuddling-with-you-and-having-barbecues-with-your-family-and-spending-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you sort of crush, but it’s not a big deal.
Not at all.
Because Ashton, he’s this cool nineteen year old who always has girls falling at his feet and could have basically anyone he wants, and Luke’s just Luke; skinny and awkwardly tall and quiet.
So he stuffs this crush down because maybe if he ignores it, it’ll go away.
Luke is twenty, and he’s had no such luck with stuffing this stupid crush down. In fact, instead of going away like he hoped it would, it slowly grew like a tumor into this, this longing, this insatiable need that makes his palms sweaty, his breathing pick up, and his heart ache like no tomorrow. But, he’s convinced himself he’s okay.
The band’s in England around the time Luke realizes maybe this little crush wasn’t just a little crush anymore. Subconsciously, he’d known for awhile that yeah, he might be a little bit in love with Ashton. But every time the devil on his left shoulder whispered something about coming clean to his best friend, the blond shoved his feelings down like a teenage boy might shove his newest issue of Playboy behind his bed when he heard his mom coming up the stairs.
The four boys are walking to a bar on their fourth night in London when Luke has a sudden feeling in his gut that’s telling him that something weird is going to happen. He feels a bit sick to his stomach and decides yeah, I’m not really up for partying tonight when they’re crossing a street and Michael’s exclaiming, “That’s it! I see it right there!” However, when Luke tells his bandmates he thinks he’s gonna head back to the hotel, Ashton pouts adorably with his bottom lip stuck out and his hands clasped together in a begging manner, and really, Luke could never say no to that face. Or rather, never say no to Ashton.
Four shots and one throw up in the bathroom in, and Luke’s hanging all over Ashton and he’s happy. Even better, Ashton seems to be all over it, slinging an arm around his waist and nuzzling his face into Luke’s neck when the younger one orders more drinks for them.
And later that night, when the bartender wishes them a happy night with a wink that says he hopes they both get laid, it’s like a switch has been flipped and both boys are all over each other in the taxi ride home, in the hotel lobby, in the elevator ride up, and in Luke’s room. Sweet kisses turn into a series of feverish, messy lip locks, and an “I love you” falls from Ashton’s lips into the crook of Luke’s neck as he comes, which sets Luke off immediately. As they came down, the blond repeats the sentiment back and has the best sleep he’s had in forever.
And the best part? Both of them remember it in the morning.
Luke is twenty-three and he’s happy.
Seven years, five albums, four Grammys, and three stadium tours, and this was the first break his band had taken since essentially they formed when he was sixteen. They’d announced a one-year hiatus due to the fact that Michael and his girlfriend were expecting, and above all, all four members were absolutely exhausted.
For the past week, all Luke’s done is sleep. Or rather, just stayed in his bedroom. Well, it wasn’t even his bedroom, rather Ashton’s, but it was all the same. Luke had done a lot of sleeping, yes, but other activities besides the obvious reason to utilize a bed had occurred. It was bliss, a continuous cycle of sleep, sex and take-out on repeat. However, Ashton had declared at exactly 2:37 that particular Thursday afternoon that they were going to the grocery store to gather ingredients to cook an actual dinner.
“Nooo…” Luke whined, peeking his eyes above the comforter and giving Ashton his best puppy dog look.
“No,” Ashton replied with a laugh and an accusing finger shaking in Luke’s direction, “Luke, come on, babe.”
Luke widened his eyes further and scrunched his eyebrows together, creating his most innocent possible look.
Poor Ashton barely stood a chance.
“Babe…” Ashton whined, wiping his hands over his face dejectedly and brought himself to Luke’s bedside, “Come on, I wanna make you dinner.”
Luke continued with his hell-raising, doe-eyed gaze.
“I’ll make your favorite,” Ashton tried to negotiate and Luke cocked his head as if to say, Okay, what else?
“Well, we both have to shower since we smell like sex and sweat…” Ashton raised his eyebrows teasingly, but Luke didn’t catch the suggestion. The older boy rolled his eyes and demanded playfully, “Shower sex. Now,” and Ashton swore he’d never seen Luke move faster.
A little while later, both boys were dressed in their simple attire of black skinny jeans and band tee shirts (both Ashton’s) and were pushing a cart around the grocery store, collecting components to make mashed potatoes and meatloaf. As Ashton rambled off about the difference between the fat percent in the different types of ground beef, Luke marveled at his boyfriend.
It wasn’t everyday they were allowed to do this: just be a normal couple. Sure, they got to travel the world together and play music to sold out crowds on the same stage, but it was rare they got to share domestic moments like this; Ashton checking Luke’s hip when the blond teased him about being too health conscious, bickering over what type of cheese to buy (Ashton was a fan of sharp cheddar, Luke; provolone. As always, Ashton gave into Luke), talking briefly of plans to visit Luke’s family over the weekend for their annual barbeque, and debating what color of apple to buy. Of course, they both loved their job but it was a rare occasion they got to spend time, just the two of them.
“Okay…” Ashton declared as he crossed the last thing off their list, “That’s it.”
They made their way to the checkout lines as Luke and Ashton deliberate which movie to watch that night: Luke wanted to watch the new romantic comedy with Kate Hudson, whereas Ashton tried to persuade his boyfriend his boyfriend to consider the new Marvel movie. As they teasingly argued while loading the check out belt, Luke’s attention was drawn to the baby in front of them in line. Its mother was busy paying, so the blond took the opportunity to make exaggerated faces at the baby. Giggles soon followed Luke’s actions and both the youngster’s mother and Ashton’s heart swelled.
“Seems like she likes you,” the mother commented as she beamed at Luke, “Usually she doesn’t take well to strangers.”
“Oh,” Luke replied with a blush, “She’s a cutie-pie.”
The blond and the mother continued small talk about the baby as the cashier started ringing up the boyfriend's food, Ashton keeping an eye on the totaling bill and his lover. He couldn’t stop a grin from forming as he watched Luke wave excitedly at the baby as the mother walked away, heart feeling like it was about the burst when the baby waved back with just as much enthusiasm.
On the way back to their car, Luke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he gushed about how cute the baby was, asking Ashton if he saw the onesie it was wearing and if he saw the way the baby babbled excitedly at him.
“Yeah babe, she was adorable,” Ashton replied for the fourth time since they’d started driving, his right hand on the wheel and his other locked with Luke’s on the divider. As Ashton listened Luke ramble about the baby, he couldn’t help but feel like this was a sign. Luke was practically a god sent with kids. Hopefully, they’d both be as good with their own kids as Luke was with the baby.
Later, as the boys sat in front of the TV, cuddled under a blanket too small for the both of them with their delicious dinner settling in their stomachs and movie long forgotten, they chatted about the future.
“I think I wanna live close to our parents,” Luke mused, fingers tracing Ashton’s palm absentmindedly, “That way when we have kids, they can help us.” After a second, his head shot up, “I mean, if you want kids, I mean—we don’t have to if you don’t want, I just thought—“
“Babe,” Ashton interrupted with a giggle, “Of course I want kids with you.” He smiled genuinely at the boy in his arms and kissed his forehead, “I wouldn’t want to raise a family with anyone else.”
And if that wasn’t the best thing that Luke had ever heard, he wasn’t sure what was.
“However, I think we should get married first, before we think about having kids.”
No, scratch that, that was the best thing that had ever entered Luke’s ears.
“Yeah,” Luke smiled up at his lover, “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Ashton replied, smiling at the movie screen, though his eyes weren’t watching the movie, “I think you should move in first though.”
Luke’s eyes widened and he whipped his head up at his boyfriend, “Like… now?”
Ashton chuckled and nodded, “I mean, you practically already live here. Might as well make it official.”
Luke changed his mind. That was the best thing he’d ever heard: a promise of a future with the love of his life.
He couldn’t ask for anything more.
Luke is twenty-five and he feels like he’s falling apart.
He hasn’t well slept in four days, his skin is breaking out like he’s a hormonal teenager again, he still hasn’t called his mom back (despite the fact that she’s been ringing him consistently for the past two days, each voicemail leaving a more and more worried message) and their fridge (Correction: his fridge) was lacking anything with sufficient nutritional value. He hasn’t talked much to anyone the past week; he’s been avoiding twitter, ignored any texts his friends have sent him, and successfully binge-watched four seasons of Biggest Loser.
Luke was fine though. He had money (more than anyone would ever need, to be honest), he had time (too much), and his face was plastered on People’s annual issue of “Sexiest Men Alive” just a month ago, stating “the lead singer of Five Seconds of Summer is happily taken by none other than bandmates Ashton Irwin.”
Was.
Past tense.
Was happily taken.
He’s doing great though. Luke decided (between seasons two and three, while waiting for the pizza man to show up) that he was gonna turn this house into the coolest bachelor pad anyone one’s ever seen and host the best parties of the centuries here. He’s decided he’s handing the reins over to Sheila, an interior designer who worked with him and… who worked with him two years ago to make
Luke just needed a new start. He didn’t like the rug in the living room, or the paint color in the second floor bathroom, or that stupid poster of some art shit thing he didn’t understand in the foyer. It had nothing to do with his desperate need to get rid of the fingerprints Ashton had left all over the house (the green vase that looked like a giraffe on the dining room table they never used that was a white elephant gag gift, the framed finger painting Ashton’s little cousin had given him last Christmas in the basement, the ) and erasing his ex from his life.
Absolutely nothing.
Luke was happy to give Sheila the control; to let her clean out and tear apart his house previously decorated for two (well, there was a room set aside for a nursery so that maybe, one day, two could become three, but that horse was basically shot in the face). She could take Ashton’s night stand and dump the drawers full of hair-ties and chapstick and condoms and lube into the garbage, bring Ashton’s pair of Vans that he forgot to get the night he left to the dump, and sell all his stupid artsy paintings to the the thrift store a few blocks away for all Luke cared (he cared a lot). There was no reason to box the random things up and send them to a-fuck-knows-where address because obviously, Luke bitterly reasoned, whatever Ashton left behind was meaningless. Whatever he left behind meant absolutely nothing to him (including the broken shell of the boy he used to love).
Yeah.
Luke was fine.
Luke is twenty-six and he’s sad.
This is the first time he’s been in the same room with Ashton since that dreadful night over a year ago, and he’d never felt more alone.
It’s a press release party for their record label, the release of Hail Harbour’s sophomore album. After Five Seconds of Summer had announced their breakup just a few days shy of Luke’s twenty-fifth birthday, each member had taken on a band of their own. So far, Calum’s band that he was supporting had been the most successful. Hail Harbour’s first album went platinum, and their second album was predicted to have even more success. He’d begged both Ashton and Luke to come to the party, since the four of them hadn’t been all together since their last and final concert, the one right before they announced the band’s breakup. All four boys knew it would most likely be awkward to say the least, but figured that with the guest list having over three hundred names, they weren’t bound to have to interact that much.
So there Luke sat with his hands folded uncomfortably in his lap as he sat at the open bar, willing himself not to look for a familiar head of curly hair.
“Refill?” the bartender with a full beard and wise eyes asked with a sympathetic, soft smile.
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” Luke replied, noting his expression must’ve looked as dreadful as he felt.
“Tough night?” the man asked after coming back with the bottle of vodka Luke had been drinking from.
“Yeah, something like that,” the blond replied while staring at the clear liquid in the shot glass. “A tough night” was an understatement. Luke wondered whether Ashton was having as rough of a time as he was, or if he was just being pathetic. He fought against every cell in his body to seek out his ex, or even just catch a glance of him to see if the bags under his eyes were as prevalent as Luke’s or if he was a little thinner than normal due to the stress a broken relationship had put on his body. Lost in his thoughts, Luke didn’t even notice another presence come up beside him.
“A shot of gin and tonic, please.”
Luke’s head whipped up at the familiar second. Of course.
“Uh…” Luke let out dumbly, causing Ashton to turn towards him. Both boys stared at each other with their mouths nearly gaping open, absolutely no idea what to say to each other, and it’s in the moment Luke feels the worst ache in his heart that he’s felt since the night Ashton closed the trunk to his car and climbed into the driver’s seat without so much as a glance in Luke’s direction.
It's so hard to be next to someone who knew everything about you, Luke mused, and not even know what's gone on in his or her life the past year. Did Ashton still like Vegemite? Was he still a morning showerer or had he switched to bathing at night because mornings showers reminded him too much of their failed relationship, too? Did Ashton miss bickering with Luke about whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher or fold the clean load of laundry like Luke did? Luke missed his smell, his taste, his voice, his touch, waking up to him in the morning with drool dried down the side of his cheek and his hair flat completely on one side, a red indent across his body from Luke's body pressed against his.
And this is painful, so painful, because Luke used to be able to anticipate Ashton's exact next words, and now he can't even read his expression.
“Luke,” Ashton seems to gasp out, barely breathing as his hands clench into fists.
“Ashton,” Luke nods, and then curses himself because he sure as hell hopes that Ashton doesn’t think that was his way of dismissing him.
“How are you?” Ashton asks as the bartender sets his drink in front of him with a raised eyebrow, almost like he knew what was going on and felt it was his duty to protect Luke.
“I… I’ve been okay,” Luke answered, followed by a gulp. He hadn’t slept well since Ashton left, hadn’t enjoyed playing music as much as he had when Ashton was there, singing along with him, hadn’t felt like his apartment was home since his pillowcases and sheets lost the smell of Ashton and all the walls were bare with empty pictures frames: but yes, he was okay.
“Oh,” Ashton answered as he traced a finger over the top of the shot glass, “Good. That’s good.”
“Mhm,” Luke mumbled, casting his eyes downward, “How ‘bout you? How’ve you been?”
“Good, yeah. I’ve been good.” And if Luke knew Ashton as well as he used to, he would know that that was a complete lie, that the high pitch in Ashton’s voice and the twitch of his nose indicated he wasn’t being truthful. But, Luke hadn’t talked to Ashton in over a year, and he’d forgotten the exact color of his eyes (he remembers now though, staring straight into them, that they’re hazel, mostly brown with flecks of gold and green scattered throughout his irises), couldn’t remember the sound of his voice in the dead of night, thick with exhaustion, or how he likes his coffee and toast in the morning.
So, the blond believed Ashton, and his stomach sunk with a feeling of rejection, of feeling unwanted and unneeded.
“Good,” Luke replied, “I’m glad.” And with that, he threw back his shot of vodka and scrunched his face as the alcohol burned his throat.
Ashton nodded awkwardly and followed Luke’s actions, swallowing down his own shot.
And really, it was never meant to be this way: sweaty palms, itching fingers, twitching feet and awkward pauses. They were meant to get married and have kids and live happily ever after. Both boys sat at the bar in silence, even as the party roared on, each buried in their own thoughts full of regret and longing, each quite similar to the other.
It was dreadful, sitting this close to each other and not entwining their fingers, feet not nudging each other or having their elbows pressed comfortably against each other.
But it’s okay, this is okay.
Luke is twenty-eight, and he’s doing alright.
The band he’s been supporting has finally kicked off and was nominated for two awards at the VMA’s, he’s back to writing music, and Ash and him are friends again.
It’d taken awhile, awkward hangouts with the four previous members of Five Seconds of Summer filled with uncomfortable silences and tension, but eventually, they started to rebuild their burned bridge. It started with small talk, questions about each other’s families well doing and talk about their record label. Eventually, their relationship shifted from formal to familiar, joking and teasing coming naturally and unforced between them. They’d caught up in each other’s lives, relearned each other’s habits, quirks, and attributes, and Luke couldn’t be happier.
However, they walked a thin line between friendliness and flirting. Lingering touches and longer-than-socially-acceptable eye contact became normal occurrences between the pair and soon enough, both boys questioned whether their relationship was on a fast track towards romance.
And it goes like this, because this is just how they’ve always been: Ashton apologizes for packing up and leaving that one night and Luke apologizes for changing the locks the next morning and they’re both crying but they know that they’re gonna be okay when they kiss and it feels like they can finally breathe again.
Luke is thirty-one, and he’s so, so happy.
He’s watching his husband hold their baby for the first time at the adoption agency and he’s not sure he’s ever felt this amount of love in his heart before. Sure, his heart swelled when Ashton moved back in, and when he walked down the aisle and saw Ashton waiting at the end with a twinkle glistening in his eyes, but this, this is absolute heaven. Mackenzie Lauren, they’d decided, her middle name her godmother/aunt’s name, is sleeping, swaddled in a pink cloth and Luke knows, just knows, he got his happy ever after after all.