#and i have a 2500 word presentation script & slides to submit on monday

[calumcest]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter three

[ao3]

yes its me back AGAIN with another chapter imagine i took 5 years off writing fic altogether and now im churning out like 7k a day procrastination truly is the biggest motivator on the planet now i can cheat myself into feeling productive when really my dissertation is still...how u say...unwritten 

The boiler is fixed a week later, and Luke returns home. 

Despite the fact he’s always lived in this apartment alone, it feels oddly quiet without Calum shouting at him from the kitchen every five minutes and a dog pawing at his ankles for food every two hours. Luke, in all his twenty-six-year-old wisdom, decides that the obvious solution to this temporary loneliness, rather than waiting it out, is to get a dog himself. 

“Look,” Calum coos, because Luke (in all his twenty-six-year-old wisdom), has decided to ask the biggest dog-lover on the planet to accompany him to the shelter to pick out one (one) dog. “This one’s so cute.”

“You’ve said that about the last seven,” Luke says. The shelter employee accompanying them laughs.

“That’s because they’re all cute,” Calum says, smiling big and soft at the little puppy sniffing at his finger excitedly. “You should get them all.” Luke rolls his eyes. 

“That’s a great idea,” he deadpans, knowing Calum’s barely listening to him anyway. “My four-room apartment is ideal for seven dogs.” 

“Exactly,” Calum says absent-mindedly, moving on to the next dog and grinning widely at it. “Hey, little man. This one’s adorable, Luke.” 

“Do you think any dogs aren’t adorable?” Luke asks, partially exasperated, partially genuinely curious. 

“There’s no such thing as a non-cute dog,” Calum says, and he crouches down to get as close to a corgi’s eye level as a six-two grown man can get. Luke’s got to admit, this one is pretty cute, wagging its little tail and gazing up at them with what almost looks like a smile. Its tail starts wagging harder when Luke crouches down next to Calum, and, unlike the previous seven dogs, it elects to walk over to Luke rather than Calum. 

“I think you’ve found your guy,” Calum says, straightening back up again. “What is he, a corgi mix?” 

“A pomeranian-corgi mix,” the employee confirms. “He’s called Clifford.” Luke looks at Calum in horror, and Calum bursts out laughing.

“I can change his name, right?” Luke says, because he doesn’t know the intricacies of dog ownership. He’s not sure whether he, like, needs to appeal to court to change his dog’s name, or something. 

“Well, technically, yes,” the employee says, “but Clifford’s pretty resistant to change. We tried changing it to Chester and he refused to respond.” Luke looks back at Clifford, who’s still wagging his tail, tongue out, looking decidedly pleased with himself. Luke’s heart kind of melts. 

“Right,” he says. “I mean. I guess I can just live with the embarrassment of having a dog named after Michael, right?” He directs the last bit at Calum, who shrugs, still grinning. 

“Your call, dude,” he says gleefully, because he’s a terrible friend. Luke sighs, casting another glance at Clifford. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, little man,” he says, and Clifford paws at the cage. 

  -------

  “He’s called what?” Michael says, half in disbelief, half in delight. 

“Fuck you,” Luke says, as Clifford sniffs at Michael’s ankles curiously. Michael bends down, scratching behind Clifford’s ears. 

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “You’re my son, d’you know that?” Clifford’s eyes close and he pushes into Michael’s touch. 

“Get your own dog,” Luke says, tugging on Clifford’s lead gently. Clifford refuses to budge. 

“I might,” Michael says. “Clifford needs a sibling.” 

“He’s not your fucking son,” Luke says, tugging again, and finally Clifford trots back to heel and settles down, resting his head on Luke’s foot. 

“Don’t swear in front of my kid,” Michael says, smiling fondly at Clifford. 

“I hate you,” Luke says, because he does. 

  -------

  Having a dog is a lot like what Luke imagines living with Michael is like, so maybe Clifford is aptly named. 

Clifford follows Luke from room to room, paws at the sofa until Luke lets him on, glares at Luke when he’s playing Xbox until he makes room in his lap for Clifford to sit, and starts making whining noises when he thinks it’s been too long since he last ate (which is, like, every half an hour). 

“I’m trying to work, little man,” Luke says one Saturday morning in late November, when Clifford sets himself down on Luke’s feet and glowers at him for having a laptop in his lap. Clifford makes a noise of disdain. “You can sit next to me, but I need to keep this roof over our heads.” He pats the sofa next to him, and Clifford gives him one final reproachful look before trotting over to the sofa and pawing at it. Luke leans over the laptop to pick him up, because he knows better than to take the laptop off his lap and give Clifford a chance to worm his way in, and Clifford curls up next to Luke, staring across the room at the door to the hallway. 

Luke manages to work for another hour and a half, ignoring Clifford’s dramatic sighs (seriously, who fucking knew dogs could be drama queens?), before he can’t concentrate on anything other than his growling stomach anymore and sets his laptop aside. Clifford, who’s been dozing for at least twenty minutes, immediately jolts upright and pads into Luke’s lap, curling up and resting his head on Luke’s thigh. 

“Not now, little man,” Luke says, picking Clifford up gently and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I need to make us lunch.” He sets Clifford down on the floor and stands up, stretching as he walks into the kitchen, Clifford hot on his heels. 

Calum had told him to make sure he makes his own food first before feeding Clifford, because apparently the alpha eats first, or something, so Luke flips the kettle on, chucks a few handfuls of pasta into a pot and puts the ready-made bolognese sauce he’d bought into a separate pot to heat up. Clifford knows the routine by now, so he just settles down near his food bowl, closing his eyes. 

Luke’s a pretty quick eater, so Clifford gets his food about twenty minutes later while Luke’s washing up his pots. When Clifford’s finished, lapping at the water in his bowl noisily, Luke heads back into the living room and picks his laptop back up again. Clifford follows a few moments later, and this time doesn’t complain about Luke working when Luke picks him up and sets him down at his side, petting him absent-mindedly as he reads a report. 

By four, Luke’s concentration has gone again, so he closes his laptop and stretches. Clifford stretches next to him and then jumps off the sofa, wagging his tail expectantly. 

“Alright,” Luke says. “Get your lead.” Clifford spins excitedly in a circle for a moment before running off to the hallway, tearing back in the door a moment later with his lead trailing along the floor behind him. Luke bends down, and Clifford sits still as he waits for Luke to clip the lead to his collar. He lets Luke tug on his shoes and then starts pulling on the lead a little impatiently while Luke searches for his keys. 

“You’ll be the one complaining if we get locked out, Cliff,” Luke says, a tad irritably, when Clifford pulls a little harder after two minutes of Luke trying to find his keys. He eventually finds them in his jacket pocket, and sets off, locking the door behind him. 

It’s nice outside, and Luke tilts his face into the sun as they make their way to the park. It’s only a short distance away, and Clifford patiently waits at the kerbs of the two roads they have to cross which makes the journey a lot easier for Luke. Once they’re in the park, Clifford beelines for the dog park, making Luke quicken his pace a little to keep up. He hops excitedly in front of the gate as Luke fumbles with the latch on it, and as soon as there’s a sliver of a gap he forces his way through, causing the lead to get caught on the railings as he twists his way through. 

“Cliff, you fucking idiot,” Luke says, unhooking the lead where it’s got caught and slipping into the dog park himself, shutting the gate behind him. “Sit, I’ll let you off.” Clifford sits, vibrating with excitement, and the minute the lead is unclipped from his collar he’s tearing off to join the other dogs running around the middle of the park. 

Luke ambles over to one of the wooden benches, away from other people - making small talk with dog owners gets a little painful after a while, he’s found - and settles down, keeping an eye on Clifford and making sure he’s not getting involved in anything too rough with any of the bigger dogs. He’s so caught up in watching Clifford that he doesn’t notice someone sitting down next to him until they clear their throat, making Luke throw them a glance. 

And his stomach drops, because fucking hell. It’s Ashton.

“Hi,” Ashton says, offering Luke a small, almost nervous smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Luke asks stupidly, because in his mind, Ashton’s not supposed to be anywhere Luke is.

“Walking my dog,” Ashton says. “What are you doing here?” 

“Walking mine.” Ashton frowns, looking out at the pack of dogs running around, like he’s trying to pick Luke’s out from the group. Luke looks over too, because Ashton being here means Spot’s here somewhere, and he always liked Spot. 

“You have a dog?” Ashton says, and he sounds kind of uneasy about it. Luke kind of relishes it; it’s solid proof that Ashton doesn’t know Luke anymore, and it doesn’t sit well with him. 

“Obviously.” Ashton says nothing to that for a while, and they sit in incredibly tense, awkward silence. 

“How have you been?” Ashton says eventually, and Luke snorts. 

“We’re not doing small talk, Ashton,” he says. The name rolls off Luke’s tongue a little easier than it had the first time, a month ago, and something about that sets his teeth on edge. 

“Jesus, alright,” Ashton mutters. “I’m just trying to be polite.” 

“Well, don’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees Ashton roll his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

After another five painfully slow minutes have passed, Luke’s had enough. He gets up, fumbling with the lead in his hand, and shouts: “Clifford!” 

“You named your dog after Michael?” Ashton asks from behind him. Luke scowls as Clifford comes bounding over, but his stomach flips uncomfortably. It’s yet another reminder that Ashton knows more about him than he’d like, that he still knows little things like his best friend’s surname. 

“No,” he says, bending down and clipping Clifford’s lead onto his collar. “He was called Clifford when I got him.” 

“Oh,” Ashton says. “Like the big red dog? Kind of a shitty name for a tiny corgi.” Luke’s scowl deepens. 

“He’s a pomeranian-corgi mix,” he says, a little venomously, “and yours is called fucking Spot .” He gives in to Clifford’s puppy eyes, petting him briefly before straightening up. 

“She’s got spots,” Ashton says defensively. 

“She’s a dalmatian.” 

“Exactly.” Luke rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not taking any fucking criticism from someone who names a dalmatian Spot,” he says. 

“It’s a good fucking name for a dalmatian,” Ashton says, getting up from the bench too. “Spot!” 

Spot comes zooming out of the group of dogs, a blur of black and white, but doesn’t head for Ashton. Instead, she beelines for Luke with her tail wagging harder than he thinks he’s ever seen it go. She jumps up at him before she even reaches him, trying to lick every inch of his body, and Luke can’t help but laugh as he tells her down, Spot, down and tries to pet her. 

“She’s missed you,” Ashton remarks. Luke doesn’t take the bait, just pats Spot on the head one last time before turning to Clifford, who’s trotted up to Spot, intrigued. 

“C’mon, little man,” he says, but Spot’s just noticed Clifford at her feet and is also taking a great interest in him. The two of them sniff each other for a moment, and then their tails start wagging, and Clifford’s face breaks into what Luke always swears is a grin, and Michael always tells him is probably a doggy cry for help. “C’mon, Cliff.” 

“Heel, Spot,” Ashton says, like he’s trying to prove Spot’s better-trained than Clifford, or something. Spot, though, doesn’t budge.

“Heel,” Luke tells Clifford sternly, because fuck Ashton, and Clifford trots to Luke’s feet, albeit a little reluctantly. Luke can’t help but feel a little smug as Ashton gives up, leaning over to clip Spot’s lead to her as she gazes up at Luke, panting happily. Luke gives her one absolutely final pat on the head, because he has kind of missed her too. 

“Alright,” Luke says, a little uncomfortable, because he has no idea how to say goodbye to someone he never wanted to see again. 

“See you,” Ashton says, and it’s written all over his face that he knows what Luke’s thinking. Luke snorts. 

“Hopefully not,” he says, but it’s not mean. It’s just honest. 

Ashton smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, see you not, then,” he says. 

“See you not,” Luke agrees, and sets off out of the park. 

It only occurs to him when he’s waiting to cross the road that he’s just had a semi-civil conversation with Ashton, and it sends a bewildering flash of confusion, anger and embarrassment coursing through his veins. 

Whatever, he thinks, as Clifford trots off when the light turns green. It's not like he's going to see Ashton again, so it doesn't matter. 

  -------

  “What are your plans on Thursday?” Calum asks him on Tuesday afternoon. Luke shrugs, trying to adjust the settings on his fan. It’s too fucking hot in here. 

“Dinner, TV, wanking,” Luke says, fiddling with the controls. “Why?” 

“Come to dinner,” Calum says, and there’s an edge of something a little nervous to his tone. Luke looks up at him with a frown. 

“Why?” he asks, suspicious. Calum hesitates for a moment, like he’s not sure whether he should tell Luke, but then he sighs. 

“Mike and I want to talk to you,” he says. Luke looks away again, staring steadfastly at the fan. 

He’s known this talk was going to come for a long time. Every time he makes a comment about their soulmate status and then clams up when they try and broach the topic, he sees them exchange a Look, a Soulmate Look (or maybe just a Michael And Calum Look). They’re careful to avoid talking about it when Luke’s around, to keep the touches and looks to a minimum, but the minimum is still enough for it to be painfully obvious what they are and that Luke’s not a part of it. 

“Fine,” Luke says eventually, reluctant, because it’s been nearly three months since they found out and they still haven’t spoken about it, and even Luke has to admit that at some point, it’s going to start impacting their friendship unless they all lay their cards on the table. Calum makes a noise of relief, like he hadn’t expected Luke to be so easy to convince. 

“Seven?” he says. Luke nods tightly, twisting the bottom of the fan in annoyance at both it and Calum, and it finally starts fucking whirring. 

“I saw Ashton at the weekend,” he says after a moment, because he feels a little guilty and anything is a better topic of conversation than the uncomfortable silence they’ve lapsed into. 

“You what ?” Calum sounds aghast. 

“By accident,” Luke says hurriedly. “I was walking Cliff, and he was in the dog park.” 

“Right,” Calum says, concern still colouring his tone. “Did you talk to him?”

“He talked to me,” Luke says. 

“What did he say?” Luke shrugs. 

“Tried to make small talk,” he says. “Insulted Cliff’s name.” Calum looks torn, because he usually never misses an opportunity to insult Clifford’s name, but clearly thinks now is not the right moment. 

“How did you leave it?” he settles on eventually. Luke can see the self-restraint it’s taking him to not say Clifford is a shitty dog name, to be fair . Maybe this is a good tactic to get Calum to stop making fun of Luke; next time Calum jokes about how long Luke takes to get ready in the mornings, Luke’s going to tell him Ashton said the same thing. 

“He said see you, and I said hopefully not,” Luke says. Calum nods, satisfied. 

“Good,” he says. “Have you seen him there since?” Luke shakes his head, and hesitates, before telling Calum he’s not actually been to the dog park since Saturday. Calum frowns. 

“Why not?” he asks. Luke shrugs, a little uncomfortable, fiddling with the settings on the fan again. His face is heating up, and he’s pretty sure it’s just because it’s too fucking hot in here. 

“Don’t want to bump into him,” he says. Calum gives him a long look, and Luke tries not to lose his composure under his steely gaze. 

“You shouldn’t let him change your routine, Luke,” Calum says seriously. 

“I know,” Luke says, picking at a stray thread in his sleeve. “It’s just- it’s easier.” Calum says nothing for a moment, and then sighs. 

“He’s going to think he has an effect on you,” he says, and it’s a little patronising.  

“He does,” Luke mutters. “He pisses me the fuck off.” 

“You know what I mean.” And Luke does, and that pisses him off too. 

“Whatever,” he says, turning back to his computer and clicking on the email in his inbox that looks easiest to deal with. “My problem, not yours.” It’s mean, it’s uncalled for, and Calum doesn’t deserve it, and Luke feels a pang of guilt as soon as he says it, but he can’t swallow his pride to apologise. 

Calum doesn’t say anything, which Luke kind of thinks is worse than if he’d just taken the bait and risen to the argument Luke’s sort of spoiling for, and they sit in silence for the rest of the afternoon. 

  -------

  Thursday comes too soon. 

Luke brings Clifford, partially because he doesn’t want to leave him alone for two hours and partially as a shield or an excuse to leave, but as soon as he lets himself into Calum’s flat with the key he’d been given when Calum moved in Clifford tears off, lead trailing behind him, to find Duke. 

“Hey, son,” he hears Michael say to Clifford, and scowls. 

“Come back, little man,” Luke shouts, kicking his shoes off. Reluctantly, Clifford comes back around the corner, and Luke bends down to give him a quick scratch and unclips his lead. Clifford doesn’t hesitate, running back into the living room to find Duke, who’s probably sleeping and doesn’t want to be disturbed by an over-excited three-year-old dog. Luke hangs the lead up on top of his jacket and trails after Clifford, finding Michael on his own in the living room playing MarioKart. 

“Hi,” he says, setting himself down on the sofa heavily. There’s an uncomfortable atmosphere that he’s not used to having with Michael and Calum, not since Year Nine when they both hated his guts. 

“Hey,” Michael says nonchalantly, not looking away from the screen, but it’s too casual. Luke’s stomach flips, and he swallows. 

“Cal in the kitchen?” Michael nods. Great. Now he’s making awkward small talk with his own best friends. 

Luke watches Michael play for a few minutes, one eye on Clifford to make sure he’s not annoying Duke too much, and then Calum comes out of the kitchen and declares that dinner’s ready and they all shuffle to the table, dogs in tow with hopeful looks on their faces. 

They make idle, awkward chat while serving themselves, Calum and Luke filling Michael in on this stupid fucking client they had to deal with last week, and everybody’s uncomfortable because it’s stringing out the inevitable but none of them want to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room. 

Eventually, though, Michael sighs, and puts his fork down. 

“This is stupid,” he says, and Luke privately agrees. “Can we just talk?” Calum shoots Luke a worried glance, and Jesus, Luke wishes they would stop acting like he’s going to fucking break if they talk about it. 

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Let’s just get this over with.” It’s a little barbed, and he feels bad when Calum’s shoulders slump a little, because he is happy for them, he is, he’s just also selfishly unhappy that the three of them are now officially Michael-and-Calum and Luke rather than just unofficially. 

“Okay,” Michael says. “So. Calum and I are soulmates.” Luke nods, putting a forkful of beans into his mouth so he won’t have to say anything. 

“We want you to know it’s not going to change anything between us,” Calum says, and Luke chokes, half on a mirthless laugh, half on his beans. With a little difficulty, he swallows, takes a sip of water, and then speaks. 

“That’s not true,” he says. “It has to change things between us. It’s already changed things between us.” 

“You know what we mean,” Michael says. Luke doesn’t like the we , the us and you implication. That’s exactly what he’s talking about. “We’ll still be best friends.” 

“We want this to be an honest conversation,” Calum says. “All cards on the table.” 

“ All cards on the table?” Luke says, flicking a glance at Michael, who knows firsthand how spiteful Luke can be. Calum’s never had an argument with Luke like The Great Bedroom Bust-Up of 2019. Michael holds his gaze, and nods. 

“Okay,” Luke says. “You first.” Calum and Michael exchange another glance, some kind of unspoken soulmate conversation that Luke can never be a part of. A pang of something a bitter and painful hits him when he realises that not only can he never be a part of it, he can never have it himself, because his soulmate is fucking Ashton . He’s never going to have this, and, not for the first time, he lets himself admit that it’s the majority of what makes it hurt so much.

“Okay,” Calum says carefully. “I’ll just speak for myself. You know I’ve been in love with Michael since- well, uh, as long as I can remember. That’s nothing new. What’s new is that I know Michael’s in love with me too. And, uh, that we’re sort of together now? That’s new.” And yeah, it is new, because Luke hadn’t even known about that. Sure, he’d guessed, with all the hushed conversations and Calum calling Michael love like it was the easiest thing in the world, but it’s somehow different hearing confirmation of it. It stings more than he’d hoped it would. “Other than that, nothing’s changed. I still love you. You’re still my best friend, Michael’s still my best friend.” Calum pauses, clearly waiting for Luke to say something, but Luke just shrugs. He hasn’t got anything to say to that. 

“We’re not going to be all couple-y around you,” Michael says. “We know this isn’t the most ideal situation. But we’re not going to keep tiptoeing around you like we have been, so you’ve got to stop being an arsehole and actually support us. This is it now. This is how it is forever.” 

Luke has to swallow back the bile rising in his throat at that, at how easy it is for Michael and Calum to throw around words like forever. He only just manages to bite back a spiteful well, how do you know that? Ashton and I didn’t work out, and we’re soulmates , but Michael can see it on his face. 

“All cards on the table,” he reminds Luke. 

“This isn’t going to work if we don’t get it all out,” Calum adds. “We’ll just build up resentment otherwise.” And yeah, Luke can kind of see his point, because his resentment’s been building for the past six months already. 

“Fine,” Luke says, and it’s a little snappy. “How do you know this is forever? I’m living proof that that’s not always the case.” The words twist in the air between them, Michael and Calum on one side of the table, Luke on the other, and Luke kind of hates himself and kind of hates them. 

“It just is,” Michael says simply, like Luke hasn’t just taken a nasty swipe at his relationship. 

“I’m not taking sides if it doesn’t work out,” Luke says, partially to drive the point home, partially because it’s something he’s worried about since they first became friends. Some of the most stressful times of his life have been when Michael and Calum have argued and both come running to him, each expecting him to take their side. 

“We wouldn’t expect you to,” Michael says smoothly. “But you have to support us in this. I don’t want to have to take sides either.” The I’d choose Calum goes unspoken, but Luke hears it. 

“Say it,” he says, because apparently he’s some kind of masochist, and all cards on the table, right? Michael folds his arms. Calum looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I’d choose Calum,” Michael says, calm and even. The words cut straight through Luke’s heart, even though he’d known, he’s always known, that he’s second-best to both of them. If it had ever come to it, even before all this tattoo bullshit, neither of them would have chosen Luke. 

(He supposes that’s part of the soulmate business, but it doesn’t make it any less shitty.) 

“And you?” Luke says, rounding on Calum. He needs to hear it, somehow, needs to hear the brutal honesty, needs to hear their old friendship crumble all the way down before he can rebuild it with a new dynamic.

“Don’t,” Calum says, pleading. 

“Say it.” Luke’s tone is hard, but his voice wavers. “I need you to say it, Calum.” Calum swallows, hard, and Luke watches his mouth open and close a few times. 

“I’d choose Michael,” he mumbles eventually, and swipes at the corner of his eye. Luke immediately feels like shit. He doesn’t want Calum to cry. 

“I’m sorry, Cal,” he says quietly, and he means I’m sorry for all of this, and I’m sorry for making you cry . Calum nods, sniffing a little. 

“So you know where we stand,” Michael says, and he’s still calm, collected, put-together. Luke’s a little surprised - he’d expected Michael to be the one to fall to pieces, Calum to be the one to keep the conversation together. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, handing his unused napkin over to Calum for him to wipe his eyes. Calum gives him a watery smile. “Guess I know where I stand, too.” Michael looks at him, hard. 

“We’ve tiptoed around you for six months, Luke,” he says bluntly. “We’ve put all of this aside for you.” Luke swallows down the guilt that rises at that, because it’s true. They’ve put Luke first the whole time, ever since he found out it was Ashton, until the dinner a few weeks ago. They’ve been careful, they’ve been considerate, and Luke’s been a selfish dickhead, not letting them be who - and what - they are around him. 

“I know,” Luke says. “I- I really appreciate that.” 

“And?” Michael prompts. Luke sighs. 

“It fucking sucks,” he says. “I’ve always been second best to you two. It’s always been you two, and then me. And now that’s just- that’s never going to change. I see the way you look at each other, the way you touch each other, and.” He shrugs. “I’m always going to be an afterthought.” He’s almost willing Michael and Calum to contradict him, but they don’t. It doesn’t sting, though, this time, just a dull throb of hurt that Luke thinks might just actually be disguising his crippling sadness. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words. 

“And I- I think my biggest problem is that it hurts. It hurts because I’m never going to have this. I know that’s my problem, not yours, but.” He shrugs again. “You guys really drive it home.” And because all cards on the fucking table , he adds: “It hurts more to be around you guys sometimes than it does to be around Ashton.” 

The words ring in the silence of the room. Luke thinks he’s never said anything more hurtful in his life, and also thinks he’s never said anything more honest. 

“Okay,” Michael says, and he sounds like he’s upset but trying his best to hide it. “Is that all?” Luke nods. He actually feels a bit better already, underneath all the hurt and confusion and aching sadness, because now they know how he feels and he knows how they feel and they can start to rebuild, start to move forward. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he is. “But you said all cards on the table.” 

“I did,” Michael says. 

“I’m glad you can be that honest with us, Luke,” Calum says, still sounding a little thick, and Luke presses his lips together. 

“I’m glad you can be honest with me too,” he admits. “I think- I think it shows. That we’re best friends.” It sounds stupid when he says it, like a ten-year-old on the playground, but both Calum and Michael nod sincerely, like that’s exactly what they were thinking. Luke has to blink back the tears that well up in his eyes at that, because fuck, he doesn’t deserve them. 

“I love you,” he says, and it comes out helpless. Both Michael and Calum smile at him, and Michael’s eyes suddenly look misty too. “I do. And I really am happy for you two, underneath all of this, I swear. It was the first thought I had when I realised you two were soulmates. I know I’m a selfish cunt. I just- I kind of needed to hear you say our friendship was going to change to accept it, to move on. I’m glad you didn’t lie to me.” 

“It’s okay,” Calum says. “Imagine how badly Michael would have coped with it if he’d been third-wheeling you and your soulmate.” All three of them laugh, but it’s choked and teary. 

“Fuck you,” Michael says, wiping his eyes. 

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” Luke says, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I mean, I think it’ll still take me some getting used to, but that’s my problem. I’m happy for you, and I love you. And I don’t want to be an obstacle anymore.” He’s given up trying to control the tears now, because it’s Michael and Calum, and they’ve seen him in far worse states than this. 

(They saw him after Ashton.) 

“You were never an obstacle,” Michael says reassuringly, a little choked. 

“We made the choice to put you first, Luke,” Calum says, reaching over the table for Luke’s hand. “We might be soulmates, but we’re still nothing without you.” Tears are streaming freely down all of their faces now, and Luke squeezes Calum’s hand like it’s the only thing tying him to the planet. He reaches for Michael with his other hand, laces their fingers together, and sits there for a moment, crying silently with his two best friends. 

“I love you,” Calum says. “Both of you.”

“I love you too,” Michael says. “Mostly Luke, but yeah, you’re alright too, Cal.” Luke and Calum huff out shaky laughs at that. 

“We look like we’re doing a séance,” Luke says after a moment, when he sees Calum and Michael’s hands intertwined under the table, and Calum and Michael giggle weakly. He puts on a husky voice, and says: “Oh, spirits of third-wheeling, are you out there?” Calum and Michael laugh again, stronger this time, and Luke’s heart warms. They’re okay. They’re going to be okay. Everything is changing, but nothing has changed. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael says, grinning.

“We should probably feed the dogs,” Calum says, because Clifford and Duke have been huffing every few minutes for about twenty minutes now. Luke nods, and lets go of both Michael and Calum a little reluctantly, despite the fact that Michael had been about two seconds away from crushing his hand. 

They all get up, Calum and Luke to feed their respective dogs, Michael to start clearing the table. They’re in sync, they’re working in tandem, and they’re okay.

They’re okay. 

  -------

  Luke hasn’t been back to the dog park since that Saturday. 

He’s walked near it, walked past it, almost walked to it, but chickened out at the last minute. Calum’s words echo in his mind every time - you shouldn’t let him change your routine - and he knows, he knows Calum’s right, but Luke’s a bit of a coward and a big fan of taking the easy way out. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sit uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, though, every time he turns left instead of right into the park, but Clifford doesn’t seem to mind. 

Clifford, Luke has discovered, fucking loves the beach. 

It’s not too far from the park to the beach, so Luke’s taken to walking Clifford along the water instead, letting him splash around to his heart’s content in the waves lapping at the shore. Clifford doesn’t even tug in the direction of the park when they set off anymore, just bounces happily along the road to the sand. 

Luke tells Calum, one day, who off-hand remarks that he’s never actually taken Duke to the beach, and Luke, once he’s got over his initial shock, says they absolutely have to go. Calum rolls his eyes, and Luke calls Michael to convince him to go and pressure Calum into going - which, in hindsight, not the best idea, because as Michael sensibly points out, he’ll probably get sunstroke before they even make it to the beach. Nevertheless, Michael agrees, and so Calum agrees, and that’s how, a week later, they’re all ambling down the warm pavement to the beach. 

“Jesus, I’m fucking boiling,” Michael grumbles, plucking at his shirt. 

“It’s December, Mike, what d’you expect?” Luke says, jogging a little to keep up with Clifford. “You’ve lived through twenty-seven of them.” 

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Michael groans. “I’m so fucking old.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, with a grin. Duke’s padding along calmly, stopping to sniff at flowers every few minutes, much to Clifford’s chagrin. “I’m your toyboy, now.” Michael scowls. 

“Fuck you,” he says, fanning himself wildly. “Fuck. I’m getting in the water as soon as we get there.” Luke rolls his eyes. 

“You’re so fucking melodramatic,” he says. “It’s six p.m. It’s not even hot.” 

“Alright, just because you got all the Australian genes,” Michael snipes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke says. 

“Blonde, blue-eyed, ability to surf,” Michael says, waving his hand dismissively, like it’s some kind of an explanation. 

“What? I can’t surf,” Luke says. 

“Well, you can stand up on a board, can’t you? Same thing.” 

“That’s not surfing,” Calum says, shaking his head. 

“I’m not taking criticism from you ,” Michael says, because Calum can barely stand up straight on solid ground, as they round the corner and arrive at the beach. The sun is slowly setting, glittering on the water and making them all squint. 

“I’m getting in,” Michael declares, tugging his shirt off and flinging it at Calum. 

“Me too,” Luke says, before Calum has the chance to say anything. Clifford’s whining, begging to get to the water, and Luke hands Michael his lead for a moment while he wrestles his shirt off his sticky back. He turns his back to Calum, reaching out for Clifford’s lead, but is interrupted by Calum saying:

“You didn’t tell me it’s grown.” 

“Huh?” Luke says, turning back to Calum. Calum points at his back. 

“The tattoo.” Luke frowns. 

“What?”

“It’s grown.” Luke twists, trying to see. Fucking tattoo. Of course he got his on his shoulderblade. 

“I can’t- I’m sure it hasn’t,” Luke says. “You’ve only seen it once. You probably just don’t remember.” Michael’s walked over next to Calum, and he’s frowning now, too. 

“It’s got a dog on it now,” he says, and Luke scowls. 

“Come on, guys,” he says. “This isn’t funny.” 

“I’m not joking,” Calum says, and he sounds a little confused and a little worried. 

“Do they do that?” Michael says, addressing Calum, like Luke’s not even there. “Do they grow?” 

“Mine hasn’t,” Calum says, tilting his head up so the sunlight catches the black ink on his neck. 

“Nor mine,” Michael says, turning back to Luke, who’s still trying to see his own shoulderblade in vain. “Here, wait, I’ll take a photo.” Luke stills, slightly grumpy, ready for a ha, ha, guys, I didn’t even believe you, what kind of a joke is that when Michael and Calum inevitably burst out laughing, but it never comes. 

Instead, Michael shoves his phone in front of Luke, and Luke grabs it and pulls it closer, because he hasn’t brought his glasses. He cups a hand over the screen, squinting to see, and he can make out the tattoo, dark and swirling on his skin. Waning moon, bird with drumstick - and, shit. Dalmatian, gazing up at the bird. 

“Shit,” he says, and he’s panicking, pawing at his back like it’s going to come off. All he can feel under his fingertips is warm skin. “Shit. Fuck. What the fuck? They don’t- they don’t just fucking grow, do they? Is this- is this, like, cancer, or something?” 

“What?” Michael says. 

“Look it up,” Calum tells Michael, who wrenches his phone back out of Luke’s hands and starts typing furiously. 

“Fuck,” Luke says, raking a hand through his hair. “Cal, what the fuck.” 

“Hey,” Calum says, soothing, reassuring. Even Clifford seems to have noticed something’s wrong, because he’s whining at Luke’s feet, no longer vibrating at the other end of the lead in Michael’s hand. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s- Cal, it’s not- it’s grown ,” Luke says, almost frantic. “It’s not supposed to do that. Yours hasn’t done that.” 

“I know,” Calum says, like he wishes he could offer Luke an explanation. Luke stares at him wildly for a moment, and then pulls his own phone out of his pocket. 

“What are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Calling Ashton,” Luke says, because deep in his gut, it feels like the only thing to do right now. 

“What- Luke, I don’t think that’s a good-” but it’s too late, Luke’s taking a few strides away from Michael and Calum, biting his lip as the dial tone rings. 

It cuts out after four rings, to a scrambling and a surprised: “Hello?” 

“Hi,” Luke says, and he can hear the panic in his own voice. 

“Luke? Are you okay?” 

“Has yours grown?” There’s a pause. 

“What?”

“Your tattoo. Has it grown?” 

“ Grown ?” 

“Just answer the fucking question. Is there any more to it?” There’s a rustling sound, then a thud, like Ashton’s getting out of bed. 

“Uh, I don’t know, it’s- I can’t really see it unless I look in a mirror, hang on.” There’s the sound of padding footsteps, and Luke stares out at the horizon, watching the sun slowly lower itself into the water, counting the seconds as they pass. “Shit. Shit .” Luke’s stomach sinks. 

“It’s grown?” 

“Yeah. It’s- what the fuck? Are they meant to do this?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I- what the fuck?”

“I don’t fucking know , Ashton.” 

“Jesus, alright, don’t bite my fucking head off.” Luke clenches his teeth. 

“Fuck you,” he says. 

“Fuck me ? Luke, you’re-” But Luke doesn’t stick around to hear what he is, hanging up and traipsing back to Michael and Calum, who are muttering quietly to each other, staring at Michael’s phone screen. 

“It’s grown,” he confirms, even though he thinks they all knew that. He didn’t have to call Ashton to confirm it, but somehow, he needed to.

“There’s something, but you’re not going to like it,” Michael says. 

“Tell me.” 

“There’s been a study,” Calum begins, and Jesus, Luke doesn’t have the time for this. He snatches Michael’s phone out of his hand and reads - study, London, tattoo growth, separate, choice. The words scramble in his mind and he reads the sentences over and over again until they make sense - a study conducted in London, into soulmates who experienced tattoo growth, discovered it occurred when the mates made the active choice to remain separate . 

Luke’s stomach lurches, and he feels the blood drain from his face so fast that he goes dizzy, catching Calum’s bicep to steady himself. 

“It’s a small study,” Calum says. “Six sets of soulmates. It’s not conclusive.” 

“Jesus,” Luke whispers, not even listening, mind racing. “Am I- Am I just going to end up covered in fucking- in tattoos about Ashton ?” Calum bites his lip unhappily. Neither he nor Michael can answer that. 

Luke falls into the sand, hard, and Clifford immediately climbs into his lap, sniffing at him, quiet and concerned. Michael and Calum settle down next to him, and Calum wordlessly hands him back his shirt, like he knows Luke wants to pretend it’s not happening. Luke pulls it back on silently, and puts his head in his hands. 

“Can I just catch a fucking break?” he mumbles, voice cracking on the last word. Two sets of arms slip around him. 

They don’t swim, and Clifford doesn’t get to play in the water, but they get to watch the sun set together, and in between his spiralling thoughts Luke finds the time to think that that’s something.

taglist: @glitterlukey @hey-its-grey 

chapter four