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They were lying side by side under the stars. The grass beneath them was poky and uneven, still slightly damp from the afternoon drizzle, the smell of it fresh in the air. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed by, it’s headlights briefly painting the horizon before disappearing once more. The world felt large, but quiet, and then impossibly far away.
Luke was talking rapidly about something, as he always did. Something about a melody he couldn’t quite get right, or maybe a lyric that had been bothering him all day. Michael wasn’t fully listening. Not because he didn’t care, but because he just wanted to bask in the moonlight and the cadence of his best friend’s voice.
Michael turned his head slightly, just enough to look at him without being too obvious about it. The dim light from the sky traced the shape of Luke’s face, from his nose, to the gentle curve of his lips, and to the faint scatter of freckles across his cheeks like the stars in the sky above. He looked..pretty like this. Thats the only way Michael knew to describe it, granted that was how he always described most things that he found visually appealing. But Luke looked..prettier than the normal pretty. Like a person who held a piece of sunshine inside of him. Sunshine. That’s what it was. Luke was like the sunlight. His sunlight.
He’d never wanted to touch anyone before. Not sexually, or even romantically. Even just the idea of regular physical contact, much less physical intimacy, had always made him feel sickened. Like he needed to pull his hair out and wash and scrub everything, and peel his skin off, just so he could breathe again. People always talked about it like it was natural, like it was inevitable, like it was something you were supposed to crave or want but Michael never had. Until Luke.
And even then, he didn’t want it in the way people described it. He didn’t want it to be urgent or overwhelming or consuming, he just wanted it to simply be..to be able to exist in the feeling. He wanted to reach over and take Luke’s hand in his own. Not because he needed to. Not because he thought it would mean anything more than it did. But because he wondered what it would feel like to have Luke’s warm and solid and very real palm against his. He wondered if it would make the constant longing ache in his chest settle, or if it would just make it worse, and possibly drive him over the edge.
He imagined it sometimes, without even meaning to. The way Luke’s fingers would thread through his own, applying a slight grounding pressure. It would be something simple. Something small. Something he could never ask for. Not just because people wouldn’t understand it, but also because he, himself, couldn’t understand it either.
Luke’s warm bubble of a laugh sounded suddenly, cutting through Michael’s thoughts. It was soft and, unguarded sound, the kind of laugh that made Michael’s chest tighten and everything slow down so it felt like nothing was moving. He liked watching Luke laugh, liked watching as the man threw his head back, blonde curls glistening under the moonlight. He liked watching as his friend’s lips sprang apart, and his brilliantly white teeth came into view. He liked watching Luke, just watching him and studying his movements and capturing the moment in his subconscious.
“What is it?” Luke asks, turning his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Michael blinks rapidly, realizing too late that he hadn’t looked away in time.
“Like what?” he responds, maybe a little too quickly.
Luke smiled crookedly, almost in a knowing way, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, man. Like..like you were just about to say something and then you decided not to.”
Michael huffed a quiet almost forced chuckle, turning his head to look up at the sky again. “You just talk too much.”
“Yeahhh, but you like it.” Luke snorts, elbowing him.
Michael swallows but doesn’t answer, keeping his eyes fixed above. Luke was right, Michael did enjoy listening to Luke, mostly just because he loved the sound of it. He could live in the sound of his friend’s voice, just hearing it was better than any melody he has ever made.
Silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it just stretched between them, easy and familiar, like something they had built together without realizing it.
Michael swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He wanted to touch him. He really really wanted to touch him. Not in a way that would change anything. Not in a way that would make this moment heavier than it already was. He just wanted… to exist a little closer. To close the distance that felt so much bigger than the few inches of space between them.
He wanted to run his hands through Luke’s glossy blonde curls, just once, just to see if it felt as soft as it looked. He wanted to trace the line of his jaw, the slope of his cheek, the tiny details that made up a face he knew too well and yet not at all. He wanted to count every freckle, from the top of Luke’s forehead down to his chin, so he could memorize every single beautiful birthmark. He wanted to memorize every single inch of Luke’s face, so he could draw it. He would draw it everywhere on any surface he could find, so everywhere he and everyone else looked, they would see the beauty of his very own sunlight before them.
He wanted to kiss him. The thought came suddenly and quietly, almost gently, and it startled him more than it should have. Not romantically. Not in the way people meant when they talked about it. There would be no rush of heat, no overwhelming need, no sense of something building toward more. He just wanted to press a soft, brief kiss to Luke’s lips. Just once. Just to know what it felt like. And then maybe he would press one on the tip of his nose, because Luke would scrunch it up in that cute little way he did when he was caught off guard. And then maybe Michael would put one on each eyelid, light and fleetingly. It wouldn’t feel like desire, it was like..affection.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying as best as he could to force the thoughts away. This was the part he didn’t understand. He knew who he was...he knew what he was. He knew what he wasn’t. He’d spent too long trying to figure that out. To figure out why he felt so indifferent and disgusted when people talked about what they considered something normal. He wasn’t missing something. He wasn’t broken. He just…didn’t feel things the way other people did. Even for Luke, he did not “love” him the way other people “loved” each other. Love felt like too big of a term to describe whatever he saw whenever he looked at Luke. He didn’t know what described it. Perhaps he never would.
“Hey,” Luke said softly, and Michael opens his eyes again, forcing himself to unclench his fists. Luke was looking at him, brows pinched together slightly, worriedly. “You okay?”
Michael nods automatically. “Yeah, I’m good.” Luke turns his head over fully to face Michael, not looking convinced.
“You’ve been really quiet,” he said. “Even for you.”
Michael let outs a small breath, almost a laugh, keeping his eyes locked above. “I’m always quiet.”
“Yeah, I know. But not as long as this.”
There was another pause. Michael could feel it building again, that claustrophobic tightness in his chest, like something was trying to claw it’s way out but didn’t know how. He could tell Luke, he thought dangerously. He could say it. Not all of it, not the parts that didn’t make sense even to him, but something. Something just enough to ease at least part of the weight of it all. But then what would happen? What would Luke do with that? Would he like Michael anymore? Would he still want to be friends?
Michael turns his head finally, to face Luke. His friend’s expression was open, and patient, like he was waiting. It would be so easy to ruin this. So easy to pour every twisted thought from his scrambled egg of a brain
“I’m fine, really.” Michael says quietly instead. Luke holds his gaze for a second longer, like he’s deciding whether to push or let it go. But eventually he just lets out a soft familiar sigh and looks back up at the sky.
“Okay.”
And just like that, the moment is over, Michael could feel it slip through his fingers before he could even attempt to stop it. They lay there in silence once more, the stars stretching endlessly above them. The air had gotten colder and the sky even darker, but neither of them moved.
Michael shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the grass between them. Luke was so close, yet so far away. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was going to be enough. If this, lying beside him, listening to his voice, existing in the same quiet space was all Michael was ever going to have. If it was all he was allowed to want. He wanted to reach over, and take Luke’s hand in his own. But he couldn’t. He never could.
Beside him, Luke exhaled slowly, like he was releasing some great weight. Michael turned his head one last time, watching him in the dim light. He memorized the moment in the creepy way he always did, trying to drink in all the details before him like it was something that wouldn’t last. Maybe that was the worst part. Not that he couldn’t have more, but that he didn’t even know what “more” was supposed to be.
All he knew was this persistent, aching feeling. This constant pull toward someone he could never quite touch the way he wanted to.
Luke shifted slightly, his arm brushing against Michael’s arm, accidentally. It had to be an accident. Rationally Michael knew it was, it happened all the time, and yet it did nothing to stop how he stilled and his breath caught in his throat. The contact was brief, and accidental, and barely there but still..he didn’t try to move away.