#I know about the treehouse fic and I’ll keep my distance thanks

[the-siren-in-your-fridge]

Damn those pilots can sure twenty one!

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Without You

Request: “could you write something about Luke falling in love with his childhood best friend please 🥺”

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis, @reidswords , @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave ,  @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @sskhair

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: PTSD, blood mention, gsw mention, smut

A/N: Wow, I really took this request and ran with it.  I really didn’t need to write an 11k fic but here we are!!!! 

You’re 8 years old and have never felt so happy before.

You’re riding your bike through the fields with Luke right beside you, the setting sun creating a thousands shades of orange, pink and purple in the sky up above.  And you’re going faster, faster, faster until your legs burn.

As you return to your house to eat ice cream, pistachio for you and chocolate for Luke, you think to yourself that you’re so glad the boy moved here.  You can’t imagine happiness without him. 

He came to your school at the beginning of the year.  At first he didn’t say much.  He was quiet and shy and always staring down at his shoes.  You stick up for him in the classroom when the mean boys start picking on him for the color of his skin, and again in the cafeteria when the bullies make jokes about the strange lunch his mom packed him.

“Thanks,” he had told you quietly, his gaze not meeting yours.

Luke has this big smile that makes your tummy feel all funny, and a pair of big, mocha eyes, so beautiful that you think you have a new favorite color. 

You always hang out at each other’s houses after school, and you spend your weekends playing soccer, or running through the woods near your neighborhood.  

Your first summer is amazing, and your cheeks hurt for the most of it, because Luke makes you smile so much.  He’s just so endearing and funny, and he always has the best jokes.

Your dad has a week off from work at the beginning of July, and he spends it building you and Luke a treehouse just over the hill in your backyard.  Hammers and nails are off limits, he says, but you and Luke help by lugging pieces of wood from the pile near the garage up to the tree line.  

After sticking an assortment of glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, you decide that this tree house is the greatest creation to ever exist.  You spend hours hiding away in the tiny space, existing in your own little world that summer, one consisting of nothing but good things and each other. 

An owl hoots in the distance on the first night you and Luke decide to spend the night in the treehouse, making you jump.  He squeezes your hand in the darkness, scooting his sleeping bag closer to yours. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I’ll protect you.”

... 

Luke just turned 13 years old and he jumps out of his bedroom window to walk the few streets separating him from you at nightfall.

You help him through your own window, whispering words of comfort as he wipes his wet cheeks.

“Are they arguing again?” You ask softly.

Luke nods, closing his eyes, wishing he could undo all of the fighting going on at his house lately.

You hug him tightly, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you squeeze around his middle.  After a few moments, you retreat to your bed, pulling back the covers for him.

You lay facing each other, you wiping Luke’s tears each time they escape his beautiful eyes, Luke gripping onto your shirt like his life depends on it.

... 

When you turn 15, you have your first kiss.  It’s with a boy from your class named Ben and you’re too excited to wait until school the next morning to tell Luke, so you send him a text.  

It goes unanswered.  

You see Luke the next day at his locker, pulling out a chemistry textbook. 

“Did something happen to your phone?” you ask as you approach him. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. He doesn’t even look at you. 

You frown.  “Well did you get my text?”

“Yep,” he says in the same fashion. 

You obviously sense something is off, so you abandon your exciting news and instead ask, “Do you want to talk?”

Luke slams his locker, more forcibly than necessary, and finally meets your eyes.  “Why don’t you talk with Ben?” he asks, before brushing by your shoulder and disappearing down the hall. 

You stand, stunned, by his locker when the morning bell rings loudly.  A sea of students hurry out of their homeroom classes, when a group of girls pass by you, one muttering, “Slut,” so only you can hear. 

“What?” your head turns sharply in their direction. 

“She called you a slut,” another says loud and clearly, before they all giggle in unison and stock off. 

Before you’re even able to process the comment, a couple of boys approach you. 

“Hey, if I’d known you put out that easy, I would’ve hit you up a long time ago!” 

“Yeah, can I get in on the action Ben’s getting?” 

Your head is spinning wildly but you quietly mutter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Ben told us what happened with you two last night!” 

With a dry mouth you sputter, “We j- we just kissed,” but you already have a feeling that’s not what Ben told the entire school.  

You look around, noticing an unusual amount of people staring at you as they walk by, all sneering or laughing or whispering.  

“Would you open your legs for me too, Y/N?”

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot and your chest starts to tighten.  The comments and slurs get thrown your way with ease, each one tearing your heart deeper and deeper.  Your eyes burn hot with tears, now sliding down your cheeks, wet with embarrassment and humiliation. 

You take a few slow steps backwards, away from the boys taunting you, before you turn on your heels and rush to the staircase, keeping in mind that the bathroom on the second floor was always less busy than the one by the office.  You push your way up through a crowd of students, not bothering to apologize or say excuse me. If you opened your mouth, you knew you’d only sob. 

When you finally push your way through the bathroom door, you sigh a shaky breath of relief to see it’s unoccupied.  You waste no time in flinging yourself into the last stall before you shut and lock the door with your shaking hands. 

You back up until you feel the cool wall behind you.  Slowly, you let yourself slide to the floor, your knees pulled tightly into your chest, and you cry.  You stay like that, even after the warning bell for first period rings, even after the late bell rings.  You don’t care.  You’d make a home in this bathroom if you had to.  If that meant you never had to face all those people calling you names again.  

You’re not sure how much time passes, but eventually your muffled cries are interrupted by a soft knock on the outside bathroom door.  You hold your breath. 

You hear it push open, and then Luke’s voice calls your name.  

You don’t respond. 

“I know you’re in here,” he says.  “I can see your shoes.”

You’re too embarrassed to face him, so you still don’t respond. 

“C’mon,” he pleads, knocking on your stall door now.  “Open up or I’ll just crawl underneath.”

He waits a few moments before he sighs, “Okay then.” 

You see him drop to his stomach from the gap under the stall and crawl through the space, inching forward until he is inside with you. When he looks up, his eyes immediately soften upon seeing the tears streaming down your face.  

“C’mere,” he mutters.  He moves so that he’s also sitting back against the wall and stretches his arm so that it’s wrapping around your shoulders.  You willingly scoot into his embrace, laying your head on his shoulder and letting yourself cry more.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you ruin the fabric of his t-shirt as your tears soak through it.  

Eventually, you sniffle and wonder, “Why’re you here?”

“You weren’t in first period, and I got worried,” he states simply. 

“Did you hear those things they’re saying about me?”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

“They’re not true.”

“I know.”

“My first kiss sucked,” you pout. You wish you’d waited for someone better.  For someone you loved and trusted. What would it be like? You wondered just then, to kiss Luke.  Your cheeks feel hot at the thought. 

He rubs your shoulder soothingly, stirring you out of your own head.  Eventually he says, “Ben’s way bigger than me, but I can try to fight him or something- if you want me to.”

You let out a small chuckle.  

“Yeah, I mean I’ll definitely get flattened, but I would do it-”

That gets you laughing even harder. 

“Thanks, Luke,” you mumble into his chest. 

…

You’re 17 and drunk the very first time Luke kisses you.

You’re at a playground, sitting on the swings, half a bottle of wine sitting precariously between you both. It’s the early hours of the new year, and you can taste fireworks on your tongue. You know it’s cold outside, can hear the wind whistling over the buzzing in your ears, can see Luke’s breath dance across his lips. You can’t feel it though. Between the alcohol and Luke - mainly Luke - you feel warm, like your belly is a heater, warming you from the inside out, skin prickling with electricity. 

You’ve thought about this before. Maybe it was the early sun trickling in, highlighting Luke’s dark complexion just right, but you looked at his wild hair and eyelashes curved against his cheeks, and you knew you had never, and would never, see anyone more beautiful. 

That was the morning you realized that you were in love with your best friend. You didn’t cope well, and if you were being honest, you still don’t. You’ve become good at compartmentalizing though - and lying, and pretending, and telling yourself it can not, and will not ever be.

Except you never factored in this- never factored in too much alcohol, and Luke’s mouth, and Luke’s hands, neck, and tongue. The first few minutes of New Year’s you think, feel, taste and breathe Luke, and you allow it.

You didn’t even want to leave the party. But, Luke had pleaded, flashed you a stolen wine bottle tucked under his coat, and you couldn’t say no. You can never say no to Luke, and that’s the problem. You’re supposed to be strong, but Luke is your kryptonite. Sometimes that scares you so much that you want to run away, so far away, but you can never get far. That’s the other problem. The last thing you ever wanted to do was rely on someone to breathe, and without meaning to that’s exactly what you’ve done with Luke.

Luke’s lips are suddenly against yours.  His fingers are burning embers against your cheek. You would never admit that all you want to do is bring him home, hide under the warm blankets, and kiss Luke until your mouths are raw, until you swear that your breaths are one.

“Y/N,” Luke murmurs into your mouth, and you kiss the words away.

You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, whether it’s been minutes or an hour, but you’re breathing heavier than you ever had 

For a moment you feel like you might be dreaming, reality hitting as harsh as the wind outside.

“Hey,” Luke says, softly pulling away. 

You blink, once, twice, eyes dark. “Hi.”

Luke leans forward, and brushes a kiss above your eyebrow, allowing it to linger no more than a second. “Happy New Year.”

Luke and you hold hands all the way back to the party, his body is warm and solid against your side.

You wake up the next day with a funny feeling in your stomach, but when you get a text from Luke asking how you are, you lie and say everything’s fine.

Promise we won’t be awkward about this?  Luke asks.

About what?

Don’t.

Nonsense, it made us better friends.

PROMISE you won’t be awkward about this?

You get up, go to the bathroom, then make a cup of coffee before replying back with a simple, ‘promise’. You’re definitely going to be awkward.

The next day, while eating a bowl of cereal and watching television with your parents, you receive another text from Luke asking if you want to get food. You say you have a late family dinner. It’s clearly a lie, just like Luke knows it’s a lie because he doesn’t text back at all. By the third day, when you reject Luke’s invitation to come over with an excuse of having to babysit, you’re filled with guilt.

This time, Luke replies, Y/N, you promised.

It’s not awkward.

Luke doesn't answer, and on the fourth day he doesn't try at all. 

New Year’s is not brought up again.

…

When you turn 18, you decide to go to a college that’s two hours away.

Luke is already enrolled in a local university, he’d started classes the week prior. But today was the day that you were officially moving.

You say your goodbyes in your room, because you’re going to leave in a few minutes now, and you really don’t know when you’ll see each other again.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

Luke hates this, he hates that you’re going to be so far away, he hates that it’s making you so sad, he hates seeing you cry.

You share an embrace for the tenth time that day, and neither of you want to let go. 

“I could always just drop out and come live under your bed,” he suggests with a smirk, “I’m sure your roommate wouldn’t mind.”

You think that he’s probably kidding, he has to be, but all you can think to do is laugh, nervously, and say, “Oh, god.”

“You know I’d follow you anywhere,” Luke drawls, gushingly. Then, suddenly, he wraps his arms around you again, this time tackling you onto your mattress playfully.  You both land on your sides, and when you open your eyes, you realize Luke’s close enough so that you can feel his eyelashes fluttering.  

You laugh, and attempt not to focus on Luke’s breath against your chin, warm and sweet. “As lovely of a trophy wife you’d be, you know you have to go to school.”

Luke sneaks his hand under your shirt, and grabs a hold of your bare waist, tickling. “Trophy wife, huh?” he teases. 

You squeal, flailing as you try to knock Luke’s hand away. 

Once you’ve finally calmed down enough to stop flailing, you sink back onto your side, eyes flicking over Luke’s complexion. You realize your faces are inches away again, and Luke is very blatantly staring at your mouth.

You’ve been wanting to kiss Luke again. You’ve never said it - you haven’t even talked about New Year’s, but you thought about it. You can feel yourself become weaker and weaker though, and you know it’s only a matter of time before Luke breaks you completely.  You can’t have that.

You think that as horrible as it will be to leave, maybe a break is exactly what you and Luke need right now; before you do something stupid, something irreversible, something you won’t be able to ignore quite so easily.

You don’t want to ruin what you two have. You cannot lose Luke.

You blow a puff of air into Luke’s face, as if that itself will blow away the tension building up between you. You sit up, feeling Luke’s eyes on you, you’re not sure how much longer you can do this when you hear your mom’s voice calling up the stairs, saying you’re going to be late.

...

When Luke’s 21, he gets a new girlfriend named Kate and stops visiting you at university so often.  

When Luke introduces you two during winter break, you’re able to identify that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach as jealousy. 

Even though you smile and shake her hand, you can tell through a gaze that doesn’t quite meet yours, that she already doesn’t like you.  But boy does she really like Luke. 

The two are inseparable the entire month that you’re home, and she’s always hanging off his arm or touching him around you.  At first, the three of you spend time together, never just you and Luke.  Anytime you invite him anywhere, he brings her along.  

You find it particularly irritating when he brings her to the late showing of a movie you’d both been looking forward to all semester, and instead of paying attention, the two of them spend half the film attached at the lips or whispering in each other’s ears. 

After that night, you see Luke less and less.  And eventually, he stops returning your calls altogether.  

Before you know it, you’re off for another semester at school without so much as a ‘goodbye’ text from your best friend. 

It’s your busiest semester yet, so you spend a lot of time shoved between a textbook or working tirelessly on your computer.  No matter how engaged you were in your school work, the distance between you and Luke still plagued your mind. 

You missed Luke’s company, missed the way he made you laugh.  You missed his attention, his hugs.  Everything.  And you found yourself wishing you could be the one occupying all his time.  

You find yourself shooting him a text every now and then, wishing him well or asking what he was up to.  You’re never met by more than one or two word responses, and it just doesn’t sit well with you.

Until one day, you check your phone after a lecture to find three missed calls and almost half a dozen texts from Luke. 

You hurry to open them.  

Hey, can you please answer?

Seriously, I really need to talk.

Can I drive up today?

I know it’s late notice, but please?

Screw it. I’m heading out now, see you in a few hours.

When Luke knocks on your dorm room door, you open it to see him standing before you with the deepest purple bags you’d ever seen underneath his eyes. 

His hair was a disheveled mess, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.  But he’s there.  And it’s been so long since you’ve seen him or heard his voice.  Without much thought, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his chest. 

It takes him a moment to reciprocate the hug, but once he does, it’s tight and secure and all so familiar. You stomach flutters when you realize that this is how things should be between you and Luke.  Comforting and close. 

You hear him sniffle from above you. “What’s wrong?” you immediately ask, stepping aside as a gesture for him to enter. 

He takes the hint and strides past you, letting out a breathy sigh before sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Kate and I broke up,” he states.  “She cheated on me.” 

He buries his face in his hands and shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“Oh Luke,” you say sympathetically.  You join him on your bed and put a hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”

“And can you believe that she accused me of cheating on her with you? She was constantly telling me I couldn’t see you because she was jealous- and the whole time it was her- cheating on me!”

Your face twists into one filled with surprise.

“What?” you say.  “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“I was trying to do the right thing- trying to make her happy.”

You nod, understanding his predicament.  

“That was so shitty of me,” he admits, “I’ll never do that again- put someone above you.  You’ve always been there for me.  I’m sorry. I just- God, I was so damn depressed when you left.  I know I never told you that, but like- I missed you.  A lot. And I graduate soon and I have no clue what I’m going to do afterwards. It’s scary and- I just- I needed a distraction.  Kate was a good distraction.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, telling him that you forgive him.  

“You deserve someone who’s going to treat you so much better than that,” you tell him, your gut twisting.    

“Like who?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Your mouth feels dry and for a moment, you contemplate just telling Luke what you’re thinking, someone like me.  But you don’t.  Instead you smile softly, “Someone great.”

A look (was that disappointment?) crosses his face, before he sighs.  “I think I’ll just settle for wallowing in my own sorrow for a bit.”

Wallowing in sorrow looks like binge watching docuseries and consuming an absurd amount of popcorn for Luke.  And that’s exactly what you and him do for the next two days that he spends with you in your dorm room. 

You laugh and talk about things you’ve been deprived of for the last few months.  The stress of university melts away, because Luke’s here, and that’s all that really matters. You finally have your best friend back. 

…

When Luke turns 23, he makes the world around you shatter into a million pieces. 

“Th-the army?” you ask, your eyes immediately glistening with tears. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know- I mean, you’re doing so well, you’re starting grad school in the fall, you know what you're going to do with your life.  But I don’t.  I can’t keep working these meaningless jobs, I gotta figure something out.  And my dad served.  He said it helped straighten him out.”

“You don’t need to be ‘straightened out’,” you argue.  “You just need to find what you’re passionate about- I’ll help you research ideas, we can do job shadows-”

“I already signed up,” Luke blurts out.  He’s fiddling with a hangnail on his thumb, his gaze refusing to meet yours.  “I leave for training camp on Monday.” 

You shake your head, while simultaneously backing out of his room. 

“Y/N-” he pleads, he reaches out to grab your wrist, but you yank your arm away. 

“No,” you snap.  “If you wanted my approval, y-you don’t have it.”

“C’mon,” Luke’s head falls to the side as he sighs loudly.  

“I can’t believe you’d sign up without telling me.  What if you get hurt?  What if you get killed?”

“I’m not going to get killed-”

“You don’t know that!” By now there’s a steady influx of tears streaming down your face.  “I’m not gonna sit by and just tell you I’m okay with this, cause I’m not.”

“Y/N, please-” Luke whispers.  “I can’t do this if you’re mad at me.”

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and sniffle. “Good, then don’t.”  

With that, you storm out of Luke’s room without looking back. 

You spend the rest of the day crying.  The idea of Luke being so far away was terrifying.  You didn’t know how to do this- life- without him.  

On Friday night, just two days before Luke would leave for training camp, you sat on the floor of your bedroom flipping through an old photo album your father had gotten you one Christmas.  It was stacked full of pictures from your childhood.  You weren’t surprised to see that most of them contained Luke.  The two of you had been inseparable for such a long time.  

There was one photo, in particular, that caught your attention.  You took it out of the sleeve and ran your thumb over it.  It was a picture of you and Luke, you were maybe 9 or 10.  It was the first summer he had invited you to his family’s lake house for the week, something that had later become one of your many traditions.  

The two of you were standing on the dock that outstretched into the lake.  Luke was only slightly taller than you by then- as you stood, hand in hand, facing the camera with wide, cheery grins on your faces.    

“Are you sure you won’t get annoyed with me if I’m here the whole week?” you had asked him only moments earlier. 

He looked at you, puzzled, like the idea was so preposterous he couldn’t even fathom it. “Of course not, you’re my best friend.”

“Really?” 

He nodded, his grin stretched so wide across his face that it made your eyes crinkle.  

“You’re my best friend too,” you had told him. 

That’s when his mom had come out onto the deck and called to the two of you.  “Smile!” she instructed, snapping the pic.  “Adorable! I hope you two get married one day.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear lands directly on top of the photo, and you’re forced to think about when the hell things ever got so complicated.  How did you go from the two best friends in this photo, whose biggest fears were the dark and snakes and whether or not you’d annoy each other after a week, to this? How do you tell your best friend you don’t want him to join the Army because you can’t bear the idea of being so far away from him?  How do you tell him it’s because you love him?  

You couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where things went so astray.  It was like a gradual incline up a mountain, that you didn’t even notice you were climbing until you were standing at the wide open summit, looking out into the vast unknown.  This was you and Luke’s peak, and you could either calmly descend on a trail, or tumble over the cliff entirely. You couldn’t believe that the little boy in that photo, who was missing his two front teeth and hadn’t quite grown into his nose yet, was about to join the Army.  

But the real shock came when your eyes trailed to the little girl beside him.  She’s wearing her pineapple two piece bathing suit and her hand is squeezing his so tightly, like her life depended on his touch… which it probably did.  You thought about how angry she would be at you if you didn’t say a proper goodbye to her best friend.  

You slip the photo back into its protective sleeve and rush to grab your keys. 

Luke’s dad smiles wide when he sees it’s you ringing the doorbell at dinner time.  

“Hi, Mr. Alvez,” you say.  

“Hello!” he greets, not even hesitating before wrapping you in his big arms.  The Alvez family loved to hug. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m sorry to interrupt.  Is Luke home?”

“Yes, yes, one moment.” He turns around to call his son.  

You hear Luke’s heavy tread come closer.  When he reaches the door, you offer him a pathetic smile- a peace offering.  Luke gives you a half smile back. 

“Thanks dad,” he says.  His father offers you a wave before he heads back into the house.  Rather than inviting you in, Luke steps outside and shuts the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you say weakly, when you finally have privacy. 

“Hi,” he replies. 

On the way over, you had prepared an entire speech to win Luke over.  You had enough time to rehearse it twice in the time it took to travel between your apartment and his house.  But now, standing in front of him, your mind went blank.  All you could think about was how much you loved the boy standing in front of you, and how painful it was that you had to bury that feeling, and say goodbye instead. 

Finally, amidst the awkward silence, you whisper, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Luke crosses his arms and huffs, his biceps flexing as he shrugs. “Yeah, I know. You made that clear.”

“But I’m really proud of you,” you finish. 

Luke’s folded arms fall to his sides.  “You are?”

You sigh.  “Of course I am, Luke.  I mean- I wish you were staying.  And I’m going to be worried about you, probably non-stop until I see you again.  But I’m proud of you.”

Luke’s face softens. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. “I was really scared I was going to leave with you still mad at me.”

You smile sadly back at him, then.  “I was never mad at you.  Just selfishly wished you would find your life’s purpose here at home.”

After a moment of silence, you ask, “Can we just spend some time together before you leave? Like we used to?”

Luke flashes his white teeth in his signature grin that reaches his eyes, “I’d love that.”

It’s eight thirty at night, and Luke is already drunk.  

You’d stopped at a nearby gas station and Luke spent $17 on cheap wine and a couple of bags of candy.  

“Who knows when I’ll get this again?” he says while throwing a Swedish fish into his mouth in the passenger seat of your car. 

When you pass by the highway (which would lead you back to your apartment) Luke turns, throwing you a confused look.  “Where are we going?” he asks. 

You grip the steering wheel and shrug.  “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh my god!” Luke exclaims when you pull into the driveway of your childhood home.  “Y/N, I’m trashed- I can’t- I can’t see your parents like this!”

You shake your head and turn off the ignition.  “They’re not home.  Plus, we’re not going in the house.”

Luke follows you clumsily as you both make your way into the backyard and towards the fire pit, but you don’t stop.  Instead, you make your way up to the tree-line, to the familiar oak that held so many of your childhood memories. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to climb the ladder, Drunky?” you asked him teasingly.  

Luke snickered.  “Are you kidding? I could climb this thing in my sleep.”

He’s speaking, of course, to the familiarity of the treehouse.  You two had spent so much of your childhood in it, hidden away from all your worries of the world.  You hid from school bullies and math tests and fights between your parents. It was your sanctuary, your own personal solace. 

When you peak your head into the old wooden room, you’re surprised to see how much smaller it looks. Luke actually has to duck his head to fit inside, but once you’re sitting, it’s cozy.  The two of you pass the bottle of Chardonnay back and forth as you sit on an assortment of duvets and comforters that softened the wood paneling. 

“Do you still remember that…um, that guy- that blonde guy,” Luke clicks his tongue as he tries to remember,  “What was his name? Charlie?” Luke slurs, he’s now very drunk. 

You answer with a hum and glazed gaze and Luke quirks a smile before draping an arm around your shoulder.  

“I heard...” Luke drawls, giggling a bit as he squeezes your arm, “He got…married. Like, a year ago.” He laughs again. “God, didn’t you have like…the biggest crush on him once upon a time?”

“I was ten, Luke. Let it go,” you say.

Luke hiccups and nuzzles your neck. “I remember you tellin’ me he smelled like sunshine.” He giggles and snorts and giggles some more. “Sunshine. Like god- what does that even smell like? You were a creepy ten-year-old.”

“And you’re drunk as shit,” you answer.

Luke chuckles and lifts his hand off from your shoulder.  You’re surprised by how cold you feel without it there.  He slides onto the floor then, so that he’s laying flat on his back.  

“I was always so jealous of Charlie.” he whispers.

Something twists inside your stomach.  It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself. You lay so that you’re next to Luke and lean your head against his shoulder, gazing at his soft features. 

Luke instinctively reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together. 

“The stars-” he notes, staring up.  “The stars are still here.”

You turn to look up at the ceiling and see that he’s right.  The glow in the dark stars you’d stuck on the ceiling remained.   

Two minutes later, Luke’s snoring. You sigh, more fond than anything.

“Sunshine…hm…” Luke mumbles in his sleep a few minutes later. His grip on your hand tightens. “You smell…like sunshine, Y/N.”

You smile.

Charlie did smell like sunshine. His sunny composition and presence always seemed to be able to light up the room whenever he was around. It’s one of the main reasons ten-year-old you had a crush on him in the first place. But the crush lasted no longer than a month. 

You cozy up against Luke’s chest, listening to the soft ticking of his heartbeat underneath his t-shirt.  

He smells like cheap wine and tangerine shampoo.

But above all, Luke smells like sunshine.

…

You’re 24 and waiting anxiously at the airport with Luke’s mom and dad.  You feel silly holding up the flimsy cardboard sign with bubble letters spelling ‘Alvez’, but you know it’ll make Luke smile- so that was all that mattered.

You hadn’t seen Luke in 4 months, which felt like an entire lifetime.  Your stomach had felt butterflies during the past week and a half, as you anxiously awaited his return.  But now, there was a full on swarm in your abdomen.  

You’re bouncing on your tippy toes when the plane lands, trying to see above the crowd of people that are coming off the plane. 

There’s a man in the distance wearing an army uniform, that you can only assume is Luke, except it doesn’t really look like Luke at all.  This man is taller and his shoulders are broad and muscular.  But as he looks around the airport and spots the neon sign, beckoning him, his eyes finally lock with yours.  There’s no mistaking those mocha orbs.  You barely can feel your own legs as you drop the sign and rush over towards him.  Luke barely has time to set his bags down before you’re launching yourself into his arms, your legs leaving the ground to wind around his waist.  

“Hi,” you say, feeling stupid that you were about to cry. You swallowed hard, trying to tame the urge, but Luke wrapped his arms tightly around your torso and inhaled the smell of your hair, and you felt tears well up behind your eyelids. 

When Luke pulls away, you keep your eyes closed, already embarrassed and trying to keep any tears from falling. 

Luke’s thumb rubs across your cheek. “I missed you.” 

All you could do was nod in return.  But what you were really thinking was, I missed you too. So much. Please don’t leave me again. I love you. 

Luke sighed, then, and kissed your forehead, lips lingering on his skin for a beat longer than normal. You closed your eyes to the touch. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

The ride home from the airport felt short.  You sat in the backseat with Luke while his dad drove, and his mother turned from the front seat to talk with Luke the entire way home.

But you couldn’t help but notice that Luke didn’t have much to say.  

“You look good,” she told him, her red lips smiling wide. “You look strong.”

Luke offers her the slightest nod in affirmation. 

“Wait ‘til you see the driveway, your father’s just got it repaved.  There’s no more bump at the end, so your car won’t bottom out.”

“Oh and the neighbors finally cut down that god-awful maple tree in the front lawn, so we actually get some sun in our yard.”

“And oh my goodness, O’Riley’s closed down! Can you believe it?”

It continues like this.  Luke’s mom fills him in on things that happened in the months he’d been away, and Luke just barely nods to acknowledge it.  You could tell there was something bigger on his mind.  You want to ask him what it is, but you’re too afraid to. 

It comes up anyway. 

You’re sitting around the long, rectangular table that’s been in Luke’s kitchen for as long as you can remember.  There’s a plate of chicken and rice in front of you and you’re about to dig in when Luke clears his throat. 

“I have to tell you guys something,” he says.  

He glances at you first, it’s quick, but you can see the worry in his gaze.  Your stomach knots up and suddenly, you’re not hungry.  

“What is it, mi hijo?” his mom smiles warmly as she plants another large scoop of rice on Luke’s plate. 

“Th-they’re uh- they’re sending me to Iraq.”

His mother lets out a high pitched whimper and his father drops the fork in his hands.  But you- you stay absolutely still. 

“What?” his father gasps. 

“You said no combat!” his mother is already on the verge of hysteria.  

“That was this round, Mama.  I was doing basic training.  But now- now I’ve got to actually serve.” 

She’s shaking her head.  “No, no- Luke, it’s too dangerous!”

“I- I don’t have a choice,” his words are weak and laced with fear.  It was something you’d never heard in his voice before. 

Luke looks to you for comfort, but all you can do is stare down at the colorful plate in front of you, too stunned to speak. 

Your brain was on a loop, the same phrase spinning in your mind like a merry-go-round.  Luke was going to war. Luke was going to war. Luke was going to war. 

…

You’re 26 when you graduate school and land your dream job. 

You relocate to Washington D.C..  Your eyes are in awe as you drive through the city, the monuments and tall structures visible in the distance. 

Your dad cries when he hugs you goodbye, his arms wrapping around you tightly after helping to unload all your furniture from the U-Haul truck.  

It’s all very exciting- moving to a big city and starting your career.  

But you can’t help but notice that something, someone, was missing. 

... 

Luke is 28 when he gets shot.  

He’s lying, face up in the middle of the desert with a bullet lodged in his chest, and the first thing that enters his mind is you. 

He was going to die and all he could think about was that he’ll never hug you again, never see your warm eyes.  He never got a chance to tell you that he loved you.  

Your face was the last thing he saw before he passed out. 

The next thing Luke knew, he was lying in a hospital bed with sterile, white walls surrounding him.  He blinked up at the ceiling and made an attempt to sit up, but felt a shooting pain down his shoulder and back, so instead he fell against the bed, groaning.  

A nurse appeared above him and started speaking.  

“Can you hear me?”

Luke nods in response. 

She began inspecting him, lifting the neckline of his gown to inspect his shoulder.  Luke grits his teeth.  

“Do you know where you are?” she asks, writing something down on a scrap of paper before looking at him. 

Luke shakes his head.  

“You’re at a military hospital in Germany, everything’s alright, you’re okay,” she clips a heart rate monitor on his index finger before continuing.  “You were shot, the bullet just missed your heart, went clean through your shoulder instead.  You’re very lucky.”

Luke listened as she spoke about his vitals and apparent surgery and the extent of his injury.  After a minute or so, he just kind of tunes her out, her words blending together until one sentence in particular captures his attention. 

“-so once you’re a little more stable, you’ll be able to fly home.”

“Home?” Luke speaks his first words since waking up, his voice is cracked and his lips are dry. 

“That’s right,” she nods.  She explains to him that he would be honorably discharged, the Army feeling like his injury would prevent him from continuing to serve.  He would be sent home. 

Luke was quiet as she went on.  She talks about it like it’s a good thing, like he’s going on vacation, but Luke’s chest sinks.  He was getting sidelined- no, removed from the game altogether.  He felt like a failure and a coward- and what if people back home thought of him like that, too?  

A tiny bullet hole, no more than 10 millimeters wide, was taking the only job he’d ever been good at away from him.  

What would he do?  The army had become his life- his passion.  Where would he work?  Behind a desk?  Watching the clock tick until 5pm everyday?  Luke feels sick at the thought.  

The nurse used the word “lucky” two more times before leaving the room.  But Luke bit his lip, secretly wishing he would’ve just died out there in the desert.  

The plane ride home takes an eternity.  Luke can’t sleep, not even a little bit.  His arm is slung uncomfortably in a sling, and even though his shoulder is better, it still hasn’t fully healed. 

His parents met him at the airport.  It was odd that they were alone.  Every other time he’d visited home, you’d been right there beside them.  

Of course he was excited to see them.  But going home also meant going back to the aimless drifting he’d struggled with before enlisting. The feeling of having no purpose or reason.  

All Luke was ever sure of growing up, was that he loved you.  He watched as you left for college to pursue your passion, and never looked back.  He was happy for you, but it made him feel all the more stuck.  He never had any career goals or plans, and when he pictured his future, the only thing he was ever able to see was you.  

But when he quickly learned that his love would never be requited, that your friendship mattered more, Luke tried finding meaning elsewhere.  

The Army felt good, it felt right.  And Luke did well- he thrived, he moved his way up the ranks quickly.  He finally felt at home, for the first time since you’d left for school.  

Luke decided it was a good thing you weren’t with his parents.  He wasn’t ready to face you.  He wasn’t ready to admit he’d failed, at the one thing he cared about, the one thing he tried at.  

His mother hugged him tight, her arms embracing him just as lovingly as always.  She held him extra long. 

Pulling into his driveway for the first time in over a year and a half felt strange.  

“You painted the house,” he observed.  The classic, signature white color replaced by a dark, navy blue. 

“Yes,” his dad nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt.  “We did that last year.”

Luke nods.  It looked nice, the coat of paint fresh.  But it didn’t look like his home. 

He felt even stranger when he stepped inside to see all the furniture rearranged and everything just looking so different. 

“You knocked down the wall-” Luke noted.  

This time it’s his mother who answered. “Oh yes.  You know all those home improvement shows… always talking about open concept houses,” she mused.  “We decided to try it.  Doesn’t it make everything look bigger?”

Luke hums in response, but all he can think of is that the wall that was knocked down was the one you and him used to mark your height through the years.  He walks over to where it once stood and pauses, thinking back. 

“No, no, do me first!” you were eight years old and had jumped up and down excitedly, before stilling with your back pressed against the wall.  “I know I grew!”

Luke’s dad chuckled softly and made a tiny mark at the edge of the wall right above your head. “Look at that!” he exclaimed.  “You did!”

“Take that Luke!” 

Everything was a competition between the two of you.  

If only you had known back then that he would grow to be almost almost ten inches taller than you.  

Luke blinks the memory away before realizing his mother had asked him something, that he completely missed in his daze. 

“I asked if you were hungry, hijo.”

Luke shakes his head.  

After sleeping on cots, or even the ground for the past year, Luke found it hard to get comfortable in his soft, childhood bed.  He tossed and turned before realizing he was only going to keep getting more and more frustrated if he continued to lay here and try.  It didn’t matter if he didn’t get any sleep, it’s not like he had a job to do the next day. 

He decides to wander downstairs and into the living room, cursing under his breath as he stubs his toe on the edge of the couch.  Damnit, that used to be against the wall, he thought. 

Luke sits on the couch like that for a while, the silence was so loud.  He barely hears the light flick on in the hallway, or his dad approaching.  

“What’re you doing up?”

His father’s voice makes him jump. 

“Oh-” he says, startled.  I feel empty?  I feel alone and scared and lost?  I have no clue what the hell I’m supposed to do now? That was the truth.  But instead, Luke settled for, “My shoulder hurt.”

That seems to satisfy his dad.  

“I’m glad you’re home, son.” He says, joining him on the couch. 

Luke nods and lies through his teeth.  “Me too.” 

A couple of weeks after Luke arrived home, he saw his doctor to get the sling off his arm. After being told he’ll need physical and occupational therapy to fully recover, he signs some papers and heads home. 

When he pulls into the driveway, there’s an unfamiliar car parked in front of the garage with D.C. plates.  He doesn’t have to wonder long, who the mysterious guest is.  As soon as he opens the front door, it’s revealed.  

You’re standing with your back to the door, talking to his mom in the kitchen.  And god, Luke hadn’t been sure if he was ready to see you, but as soon as you turned around, he exhaled a shaky breath that he felt like he’d been holding in since he got home. 

He wants to rush over and pull you into his embrace, wants to hug you and never let go. 

“You’ve been home two weeks?” you ask slowly.  “Two weeks and you never called me?”  There’s hurt in your voice, but you still speak gently. 

Luke fiddles with the keys in his hand and shrugs.  You always took his breath away.  This time, that didn’t work to his advantage.  

You sigh. “Forget it, it doesn't matter.  I’m glad you’re home.”

With that you cross the room, closing the distance between you two.  When he opens his arms, and you still fit perfectly in his embrace, your head resting just above his heart, he finally, after two weeks, feels at home.  

Despite his protests, his mother throws him a welcome home party that evening.  Friends and family file into their two story house, and it’s all a lot to handle, but it’s okay- because you’re there. 

“How’re you doing?” you ask Luke, nudging his shoulder softly.  You’ve got a beer in your hand, which Luke notes as odd.  Last time he saw you, you didn’t drink beer. 

Luke smiles, “I’m good.”

He was getting way too good at lying. 

“So D.C., huh?” Luke asks, taking a sip of his own drink. 

You nod.  “Yeah, yeah I got hired at the firm I did my internship at.  It’s been great, I really like it.”

“Kinda far away,” Luke muses, he hates how petty his own voice sounds. 

You scoff. “So’s Iraq.”

That’s when Luke realizes he never told you why he was home, and that you probably assumed it was just a visit.  He clears his throat and is just about to speak when his cousin comes over, loud and seemingly already drunk. 

“Luke!” he calls.  “Luke! Welcome home, man!”

He pulls Luke in for a hug, making him wince as he pats a little too close to his bullet wound. 

“Your mom told me you were shot!” he boasts, like it’s something Luke should be proud of.  “You gotta tell me that story man!”

Luke notices your head snapping in his direction at the news of his injury- the news that until just now you had been totally oblivious to. 

Luke takes a large sip of his drink.  “Yeah, uh I don’t really remember much.” Another lie. Luke remembers every excruciating detail of that day- and he experiences it all over again every night. “Just went out for a mission then woke up in the hospital.”

There’s an awkward silence. Luke shrugs.  “Probably not the great war story you were expecting.”

You clear your throat before standing up, casually walking away from Luke and his cousin.  He sighs sadly as he watches you go, knowing he had disappointed you yet again. 

When his cousin finally started mingling with other guests, Luke was able to head off in search of you.  If he knew you at all, you’d escaped somewhere quiet, where you could process.  

But then again, you’d both changed. 

Luke finds you on the second floor patio, you’re leaning against the railing and staring straight ahead.  Only when he slides open the glass door do you turn.  

“Hey,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you reply quietly.  Your voice isn’t nearly as angry as he thought it would be. 

“I- I should have told you I was shot.” 

“Yeah you should have.” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears.  “You could have died.”

He nods slowly.  

You bit your lip. “You also should have told me you were home.”

He nods again. 

But then you sigh, feeling defeated. “And I should have told you I moved to D.C.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. 

But you disagree. “We used to tell each other this stuff, Luke.  You used to be the first person I told anything to.” Your voice lowers as you whisper, “What happened to us?”

Luke’s at a loss for words, because he wished he had an answer for you.  He wished he had all the answers for you.  But instead he fumbled with his hands and shrugged. 

You study him up close for a moment.  It was unsettling how his face almost seemed unfamiliar after so much time spent apart.  

“We should get back to the party,” you say. 

Saying goodbye to you that night felt odd for Luke. 

“Think I’m gonna head home,” you told him. “Just wanted to say bye before I left.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, nodding slowly.  

You hugged him tightly, giving his hand one last squeeze before pulling away.  Luke felt unsettled the second that you walked out the door. 

Luke has a nightmare that night, which isn’t unusual.  He’s lying in the desert, with a hole in his chest, bleeding, and no one comes to save him.  And he cries out for help, but instead, more and more sand blows over his body, burying him deeper and deeper within its depths.  He keeps calling out, but his lungs are filling with the stuff.  Suddenly he can’t speak- he’s going to die here-

Luke shoots out of bed, his forehead slick with sweat while he pants.  He rubs his eyes viciously.  It was a dream, he thinks to himself.  Except it wasn’t. 

You’ve been in bed for a few hours when your phone rings on your nightstand, waking you up.  Groggily, you unplug it and check the screen, your eyes narrowing when you see it’s Luke calling you. 

“Luke,” you mumble into the line.  “It’s 2am-”

In response, all you hear is Luke’s unsteady breathing.  It immediately makes you sit up straighter in bed. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, worry clouding your voice.

He inhales sharply, like he’s- crying?  Luke never cried. 

“Luke-” you plead.

You only wait another moment before you launch yourself out of bed.  “I’m coming over.”

“No,” his voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking. “Please- I can’t… I can’t be in this room anymore.”

You sigh, his sad voice making your insides squirm. “Okay,” you whisper.  “Do you want to come here?”

“Can I?” he sounds so small through the line, like he’s just a little kid again.  Suddenly you’re picturing Luke the first day you ever met him, it makes your chest ache.  

“Yeah, of course. Just- be quiet, my parents are sleeping.”

Luke climbs through your childhood window, like he used to when you were kids.   After he stands up straight and you get a good look at him, you sigh softly.  He looks like he quite literally rolled out of bed and walked here, which you suppose is exactly what happened.  He’s in an old t-shirt you recognize from his college days and a pair of sweats that hang low on his hips.  His tight curls are slightly disheveled, like he’d been rolling around on his pillow.  

He stands in your bedroom for the first time in years and even though he’s taller and more muscular, he still looks small.   

Luke looks around your bedroom and smiles weakly.  “It looks exactly the same,” he notes.  

You nod,  “Yeah-”

He doesn’t respond.  Instead he finds his way to your bed, where he sits.  Immediately, he brings his thumb to his lips and starts chewing on the nail, a habit he’s had since childhood.  

You narrow your eyebrows at him. “Luke, what’s going on?” you ask. 

He doesn’t answer right away, and you watch as his leg starts jiggling wildly. 

Finally, he takes a deep breath.  “I don’t know, being home- you’d think I’d be happy? But everything feels so strange and unfamiliar.”

You quietly join him on the edge of your bed, never looking away from him as you sit down. 

“My parents repainted the house.  And I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but everything just... looks different.  And they rearranged like, everything.  The cabinets and the furniture, and my dad got a new car.  I don’t know, maybe it’s me.  Maybe I’m different.” 

His pain is so raw and visible that it makes your chest ache, because what Luke feels, you feel too.  You put a shaky hand on his broad shoulder.  

He swallows the lump in his throat.  “I actually miss Iraq.  It was dangerous and far away from home, but I felt like I had a purpose, you know?” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.  “I keep having this nightmare- where I’m laying in the sand after being shot.” He touches the spot on his chest the bullet burst through.  “And I’m laying there and I can feel it- like I feel the pain and I can feel the warmth of the blood running down my chest-  And I feel like I’m going to die.  Like it’s right there, you know? And then suddenly, all I can think about is you.”

You’re taken aback by Luke’s statement.  

“Me?” you whisper. 

“Since I’ve been home, I’ve just been- god, I’ve been so scared and lost.  But with you, first at the party today, and now- it’s the only time I’ve felt like myself.”

You’re at a loss for words.  Partly because it was two in the morning, but mostly because Luke, to this day, knew exactly what to say to make you flustered. 

He turns in his spot on the bed to look at you, his sad eyes meeting yours. “God, I’ve always just needed you so fucking bad,” he admits.  “I mean, ever since we were kids I’ve needed you.  And I think I always will.” 

You can hear your own pulse in your head, it’s pounding rapidly at Luke’s sudden declaration.  Paralyzed, you just stare at him, trying to process what he was saying to you.

“I thought I was going to die,” he breathes.  Then, he chuckles darkly, turning away.  “Sometimes I wish I had.”

His honesty makes you want to vomit- because the idea of living in a world without Luke was just so, so wrong. 

You bit your lip.  “Show me. Let me see it.”

Luke hesitated briefly before reaching for the hem of his shirt.  He peeled off the fabric revealing the skin that puckered around where the bullet had shot through his body. 

Luke barely felt it when you traced your fingertips over the mark, but he could see, when he turned his head, the tears glistening in your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” you said quietly, staring at the scar tissue.  “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn’t come home. I think that would have broken me, so even if you’re not glad you’re alive right now,  I’ll be glad for the both of us.”

Those are the words that make Luke slowly start to lean in closer to you, watching you carefully, as if he expected you to pull away – you realized that’s exactly what Luke was giving you the opportunity to do. You didn’t, of course.  And slowly, Luke’s lips connected with yours.  You kissed gently for a moment– his lips moving in sync with yours.  When he pulls away, he’s breathless. “God, I never thought I’d get to touch you again.”  His hands slide towards your hips, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt so that he’s touching your bare skin.  

Luke deepened the kiss suddenly, his lips growing needier by the second.  He gripped your hips and tugged you towards him swiftly, guiding you all the way to his lap, where you moved to straddle him. 

Luke kept his hands firmly planted on your waistband while yours found their way to his hair.  You tugged on the strands on his neck while trying not to focus on the fact that you could feel him hardening through his sweatpants beneath you.  

Luke broke away, but only so that he could start kissing you down your neck.  You sighed, tilting your head so that Luke could access your throat better. Your arms wrapped around Luke’s strong shoulders, and you kept them there, squeezing his biceps.

Luke’s kisses trailed down towards your collar bone, where he pulled the fabric back, giving him more skin to graze.  He let his fingertips dance to the hem of your shirt, where he tugged gently, a hint that he wanted it gone.  You obliged, gripping the cotton and shedding the layer quickly.  Your hips rolled and you arched your back when Luke started to suckle on the tender skin just above your breast, his tongue snaking down to graze and flick your nipples. 

Your breath was coming in fast as Luke kissed and sucked at your chest. You almost pouted when he pulled away, but before you had a chance, his arms were winding around your waist and he was flipping you onto your back.  

Luke paused for a moment to gaze down at you on the bed, his eyes dark with lust.  

“Beautiful,” he whispered.  

His fingers danced down your hips, barely grazing the skin before reaching the band of your sleep shorts.  

“Please,” you groaned, desperate for Luke to do something- anything.  

Luke hummed, then, and reached underneath your shorts, pulling them down and around your legs in one swift motion. 

Being exposed in front of Luke should have made you feel vulnerable, maybe even a little embarrassed.  But it didn’t.  Instead, you looked up at him, feeling safer than you had in a long time. 

The touch of Luke’s hands down your thighs sent your hips up off the bed, seeking friction and Luke, the jerk – the wonderful, beautiful, perfect jerk – didn’t even warn you before dipping his head between your legs and licking a long stripe up your burning heat.

You gasped, fighting to keep your hips still. You let your fingers find their way into his hair, and Luke gently licked up and down, like he knew exactly how to move to make you squirm. After a moment, you realized that you weren’t going to last long like this, and you needed to feel Luke, all of him before you burst.

“Luke, I -” you whined, pulling at Luke’s hair desperately. Luke sucked down where he knew you were most sensitive. You groaned. Your toes were already curling hard enough to make a joint pop.  “Please, Luke-” you pulled at his hair.  “Want you-”

“I’m right here,” he mumbled against your skin.  

“No,” you shook your head, needing him to understand.  “Want you- in-inside me,” you mumbled. 

Luke looked up from between your thighs, and for a moment you thought you might die right there and then.  Death by oral.  Honestly, you wouldn’t complain.  He licks once more up your entire slit before he crawls up the bed, his arms on either side of you, trapping you underneath him. 

You were looking up at him adoringly, with tears in your eyes. But before you could say another word, Luke was leaning down and kissing you again, murmuring sweet words against your lips that you couldn’t understand, because you were too focused on the way Luke felt so hard against your thigh.  

You let your hand trace down his back, only stopping when they’ve reached his sweats.  Your fingers snake underneath the fabric and tug them down.  Luke reaches down and aids your efforts.  It takes a moment for him to shimmy out of his shorts, but then he’s there.  On top of you.  

 “This okay?” he asks as he lines himself up with you.  

You nod. 

Despite what was literally 20 years of build up, things were sloppy and quick.  There was a certain eagerness in your movements, like you’d both been craving each other for far too long.  Your hand cupped the back of his neck.  Luke presses his forehead against yours right before sliding into you, making you exhale in pleasure.  

“Fuck,” he groans, the words escaping his beautiful, flush lips. 

You hum softly in agreement, it was hard to find the words.  You desperately just wanted to savor this- him. 

Your grip tightens around his neck, your fingers digging into his skin as he hits a certain spot inside of you, your body jolting against his.  

His head dips down to your neck and he begins suckling on your soft skin. 

“Luke,” you moan again, but your voice cracks, betraying you slightly.  

“I know,” he whispers, his hips rocking against yours as he slides in and out of you. 

You bundle the sheets beneath you in a tight fist.  If your eyes weren’t closed, you would have noticed the smirk that lingers on Luke’s lips, knowing it was him that had you writhing like this.  

Your walls begin to tighten around him, the sensation making him bite his lip in pleasure.  

He reaches one of his hands down and gently lifts your leg.  You let out a gasp once he’s able to push deeper inside of you.  

Luke picks up the pace of his thrusts, his own orgasm approaching quickly with yours. 

There’s a guttural feeling building in the pit of your stomach and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

Luke reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together as he brings your arm above your head. 

“Luke- I’m-” 

He presses his forehead against yours and nods.  “Me too,” is all he can manage to say. 

Luke grunts as he feels your warm walls clench around him.  It’s like a wave washes over your entire body- your back arching into the feeling, your head tilting back in elation.  A final cry escapes your lips, but Luke keeps his hand planted firmly on your hip as you squirm beneath him.  

His thrusts grow sloppier as the same pleasure takes over his own body shortly after.  He twitches inside of you, his arms almost giving out as his orgasm takes over. 

He breathes your name as he reaches his climax, his body shaking from the rush.  

As the feeling subsides, he slowly pulls out of you, flipping his body so that he’s laying on his back, beside you.  You both stare up at the ceiling, panting and out of breath.  

Slowly, he perches himself up on his elbow, his hand tucking a stray hair behind your ear.  You look over at him, your cheeks blushing a bright shade of red.  Gently, he dips down and kisses you softly.  It doesn't last long before he’s pulling away.  

Suddenly, a wave of emotions hits you like a bus, because holding back this secret that you were in love with Luke was exhausting.  You start to cry then. Tears leave hot streaks down your cheeks, but you don’t bother to wipe them.  You barely notice Luke’s face contort into a look of intense worry. 

You wonder if Luke will regret all of this in the morning, because now, you weren’t sure you could ever stop loving him.

“What’s wrong?” Luke’s voice is soft as he sits up in bed.  “Did I hurt you?” his eyes are darting up and down your body anxiously. 

You shake your head frantically, as you sit up with him. Luke takes the throw blanket at the end of your bed and wraps it around your shoulders lovingly.  His arm hovering, like he’s too afraid to touch you.   “I-” you stammer, trying to find the words.  “I-I’m in love with you” You finally blurt out through muffled sobs. “I’m in love with you- and I’m so afraid of that.”

The tension in the air is thick and stiff and if the clock wasn't blinking, you would have guessed time was standing still. But now too many moments are passing by with neither of you saying anything and it is as if both of you can feel the spin of the earth in the silence. 

“A-afraid?” he stutters. 

You nod, biting your lip.  “Afraid because I don’t know how to do this- I don’t know how to live without you- and-”

Fingers suddenly graze across the edge of your chin and Luke’s lifting your head up.  “I have loved you for so long,” he presses his forehead against yours.  

Doubts and reality began clouding your mind.  “But- I live in D.C. now, I have a job there and an apartment- That’s like… like four hours away-”

But Luke shakes his head.  “What if I moved there?”

“What?” you whisper.  “You’d move to D.C. with me?” 

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he states simply.  Reminding you of the day you left him for college. “Who knows?  Maybe there’s something there for me, too.”

His gaze slowly meets yours as he pulls your face towards his own, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss is broken after a second, when Luke pulls back and whispers. “I don’t want to do any of this without you anymore.”

And suddenly, time begins again. 

And you’re pulling Luke back to you, kissing him deeply and without care or caution. He runs his fingers through your feathered hair as more tears of relief stream down your face. Years of restraint finally melting away as he pulls you closer, closer, closer, trying to make up for the lost time and only feeling you press into him as if to say more, more, more. 

And though you’re not quite sure what you’re feeling right now, you know that you want to live in it forever.