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Spencer wakes up to an empty bed.
It seldom happens, despite the fact Luke always wakes up before him, his boyfriend waiting until the younger brunette stirs to press a kiss against the nape of his neck and whisper good mornings in his ear.
When it does, it leaves Spencer shivering, staring at the empty spot beside him.
And it means something is wrong.
“Luke?”
He tiptoes tentatively into the living room, scanning the space bathed in sunrise gold, the same shade Luke’s skin glows in the sun, making the shining smile Spencer grows to miss on the days he wakes up alone.
“Luke? Are you out here?”
His gaze lands on his boyfriend’s huddled form in the corner, his head hanging between his knees, fingers folded together, resting on the back of his hair, Roxy sitting by his side, whining softly.
“Luke…”
Spencer approaches him slowly, sitting on the floor a few feet away, giving him space until Luke lets him come closer.
“Hey, Luke… Are you here?”
He moves minutely, nodding to acknowledge his partner.
“Can I touch you?”
He shakes his head almost violently, taking a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing and body tightening at the idea.
“Okay, I won’t touch you, I promise. What do you need right now?”
Luke’s hands quiver as they move, fingers trembling as they form fists to start a sign they both know by heart.
‘Coffee,’ and then, ‘time.’
“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen. Take your time,” Spencer stands, pausing to see if his boyfriend responds, adding a soft “I love you” before disappearing into the other room.
Luke has uncurled himself by the time his partner returns, one hand resting in Roxy’s fur as she lays in his lap, the other at his side, fingertips tapping together rhythmically.
“Hey,” Spencer speaks softly, sitting on the floor, closer this time, before placing his boyfriend’s favorite mug by his hand. “Feeling better?”
The older agent nods, sipping his drink slowly.
“Yeah… better,” He nods again, his hold leaving Roxy’s head to grip his mug with both hands, steadying his shaky grasp. “Better.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Luke shakes his head, breaking their eye contact to take another sip of his drink, gaze glued to the floor.
“Can’t… not right now…”
“Okay. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
He nods again, returning to petting Roxy as they drink their coffees in silence.
“I’m sorry,” The older brunette whispers after a few minutes, setting his mug on the floor to make eye contact with his partner. “I know you hate when I apologize–”
“I don’t hate it, Luke; you just don’t have to. You have nothing to apologize for.” Luke nods, eyes falling to Roxy, who looks up at him with a soft whine. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted–”
“It’s her again.” Luke blurts in one fleeting second of courage, breath catching in his throat as the idea of his ex escapes his lips, filling the safe sanctuary of their apartment. “Sorry, I–”
“It’s okay. Come on, breathe with me,” Spencer takes a slow, exaggerated breath, inhaling, holding, and exhaling for four seconds, repeating the process until his boyfriend copies him, the two of them breathing steadily for a minute. “Good; you’re doing well. It’s okay.”
“Sorry, I– It’s been happening for a while, I should’ve told you–”
“It’s okay, Luke; you don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready, and I will never get mad at you.”
“Right, yeah, okay…” He nods, still struggling to catch his breath. “Okay.”
“Do you need another minute?” Luke nods. “I’ll call Emily and tell her we won’t be coming in today–”
“No, don’t. I–” The older agent swallows. “You hate missing work.”
“And I love you more, Luke, and choosing between paperwork—or even a case—or my boyfriend isn’t a choice; I will pick you every time. Do you hear me?” Luke nods again, watching his partner stand. “Okay, I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good… thanks.”
“Okay,” Spencer nods, lingering for another moment before adding, “I love you.”
The first time Luke tried to leave his ex, they were 18.
They were both drunk, sips of cheap, bitter beer turning into swigs, late night blending into the early morning, midnight blues bleeding into red-faced, screaming scarlet when he caught her cheating, starting their relationship’s spiral, shouting at each other across her house until he headed for the door.
“Wait, Luke, please. Please don’t leave. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I need you, Luke. Please don’t leave me.”
In the morning, Luke would blame it on the alcohol, the cheating, the yelling, thinking he could leave her, swallowing every second of doubt—every time he paused and wondered if this was what he wanted or if she still loved him—taking to being her ideal boyfriend in stride–
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
–but it never seemed to be enough.
Luke is on the couch when Spencer returns, refilled mugs in hand, smiling when he sees his boyfriend wrapped in their favorite blanket, Roxy’s head resting in his lap.
“Can I?”
The older brunette extends his arm, wordlessly inviting his partner into his cacoon, sighing as Spencer rests his head against his chest.
“Emily said to take as long as we need—I told her we both weren’t feeling well—and we both have plenty of paid time off, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you,” Luke whispers, pausing to kiss his partner’s head, smiling softly. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”
The second time he tried to leave was the first time she hit him because he knows better, knows he doesn’t deserve that, or that it’s his fault–
The second time he tried to leave was the first time she hit him because he knows better, knows he doesn’t deserve that, that it’s his fault– or, he knew it.
Love and guilt have a funny way of distorting memories and messages so deeply ingrained into your head that they should be impossible to forget.
“Luke, I’m sorry–”
And fear.
“I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”
Fear takes it another step further, erasing every memory of the before, twisting and warping the world until it fits into the palm of their hands—the during.
“Please don’t go—I love you—it’ll never happen again. I’m sorry.”
“I haven’t been sleeping,” Luke admits softly during a break in their Doctor Who marathon, morning melting into midday, both brunettes sipping their fourth cups of coffee. “Whenever I try, I think about her and–” He sighs, shaking his head tiredly, unwilling to return his partner’s pitying eye contact. “I know it doesn’t make sense, thinking that after all these years, it’ll just stop affecting me, but it still– God, it sucks. It sucks because I spent so long loving her and even longer coming to terms with what she did to me, but I’m still thinking about her; she’s still in my head, and sometimes it feels like I never left.”
It feels like he can’t breathe—like their relationship is still sitting on his chest, slowly suffocating him, or that he’s holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to wake up one day and find out all of this is a dream and that he’s still hers.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I get it, and it does suck, and you don’t deserve it– you didn’t deserve it, no one does,” Spencer bites his lip, watching his boyfriend’s glossy gaze. “I’m really proud of you, Luke.”
The older brunette blinks, finally meeting his partner’s adoring gaze, taken aback.
“Why?”
“Because you’re here —with me, in our apartment, alive —and we’re having this conversation, which is proof that you have grown; you’re moving on and talking about it, and I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, cariño,” He whispers, kissing Spencer’s cheek. “I love you.”