#anyway enough of me yapping about britpop

[didyoulookforme]

[calumcest]

hello i don't have time to answer your messages today bc i have to go watch umbrella academy with my dad now i'm very sorry but i heard soulmate au drabbles & i need them. i miss luke being bitchy so much it's insane (not that i'm not loving all the britpop content but soulmate lashton are my life) okay so i can't decide between 'it's freezing in here' & 'i don't want to talk about it' so please write whatever you want with either of those just please make it soulmate lashton -spoiler twin

omg i hope u enjoyed umbrella academy! also dont worry about it omg no stress get to it when u get to it theres never any pressure from me god knows itd be hypocritical anyway given how terrible i am at responding to messages but i get it no pressure x 

-

Of course, it stands to reason that the first time Clifford goes missing is while Luke’s in London with Ashton. 

He’s not even sure how it happens. One minute Clifford’s in Luke’s line of vision, barking happily as he chases a squirrel and then changes his mind and chases his own tail instead, and then Ashton’s calling Luke, making Luke turn around on instinct, only to see Ashton tapping his watch to indicate they need to get going if they’re going to make it to their next interview with the researchers, and when he turns back, Clifford’s gone. 

It doesn’t immediately register, because Clifford bounds about like a fucking madman anyway, so Luke just searches the area a little lazily, eyes flicking from tree to bush to path to tree, but when he’s covered about three-quarters of the patch of grass in front of them, he’s frowning, stepping forward as he twists left to right, panic rising in his chest as he realises shit, shit, Clifford’s not there. 

“Shit,” he mutters, and looks over to the tree Clifford had been playing near, just in case he’d somehow managed to miss him, but the only dog there is a huge Samoyed ambling lazily around its base. 

“Luke,” Ashton calls again, and Luke feels a sudden stab of anger so strong that it makes his vision blur, mixing with the panic to create a hot mixture of fury that tries to claw its way up his throat and onto his tongue. God, if Ashton hadn’t called his name just to tell him they need to leave, this wouldn’t have happened. He couldn’t’ve just fucking said Luke, we need to go like a normal person, could he? No, the fucking narcissist needed Luke to be looking at him, needed to be the centre of Luke’s attention. Fucking hell. 

Luke grits his teeth as he jogs past the tree the Samoyed’s sniffing around, not even catching its attention as he passes, and looks wildly around the open, empty space on the other side. There’s a couple walking their Labrador to his left, three children playing football on his right, a mother exasperatedly dragging her screaming child away from a puddle he clearly wants to play in, but no tiny, yappy dog bounding around, chasing birds or squirrels or other dogs. 

Shit. 

Shit.

He can’t have lost Clifford. He can’t have. Not in London, especially, thousands and thousands of miles from home and Michael and Calum with only Ashton for company. God, he’d rather be alone, he thinks, as he turns back around and looks back over at the tree a little desperately, like his memory of Clifford trotting around it will make him re-materialise there, somehow. It doesn’t, though, unless Clifford re-materialises as a huge, fluffy white dog, and Luke swears under his breath as his heart hammers in his chest, fists clenching and unclenching at his side as his gaze flits from left to right and back again, hazy around the edges with panic. 

He doesn’t even know how to look for a missing dog. Posters, sure, but where? London’s huge, and Clifford could be fucking anywhere by now, full of endless energy and curiosity and an insatiable desire to explore streets he’s never been down before. He’s far too friendly for his own good, too, always yaps at Ashton’s feet in that way that means I want to be picked up right now and by you specifically, fuck the guy who buys me food and toys and cuddles me at night, and a vision of Clifford sat at someone else’s feet at dinner, blinking up at them beseechingly while they shovel chicken into their mouth hits Luke so hard it almost gives him whiplash, makes him swallow back bile. 

What’s he going to say to Ashton? I lost my dog in the three seconds I looked away from him? Ashton’s had Spot for years, had Ralph and Evie before her, too, and he’s never lost any of his dogs. Luke’s going to look completely incompetent, fucking hell. It doesn’t matter, though, really, he tells himself - at least, not yet, won’t matter until Clifford’s back with him and safe again. 

He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists again, inhales deeply and exhales heavily, trying to let the desire to throttle Ashton leave with the air in his lungs, and then marches stiffly back around the tree, rehearsing what he’s going to say to Ashton. You cunt, Clifford ran away while you were- no, too angry. Clifford’s run awa- no, too matter-of-fact, makes it sound like it’s a common occurrence. I need to find Clifford, maybe? That’s vague enough, isn’t it? Yeah, that’ll do; he can send Ashton off to the interview and let him make their excuses while he combs the park looking for Clifford. After all, it’s Ashton’s fucking fault Clifford’s got lost, isn’t it? The least the fucker can do is come up with an excuse for Luke’s absence.

Luke takes another deep breath, rounds the corner and plays the words over and over again in his head, trying to make sure they’re practiced enough to sound real, eyes searching for Ashton. He spots him waiting by the gate leading out of the park, looking aimlessly around as he stands lazily, shifting from foot to foot, arms at his side, dog between his legs- 

Dog between his legs. 

Clifford’s right there, nestled happily between Ashton’s legs, gazing aimlessly around the park with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging. He looks serene, that calm happiness that he usually only gets with Luke, and it makes Luke furious for some reason, makes him jog over to Ashton with an expression that makes Ashton frown at him as soon as he sees him coming. 

“What?” Ashton asks, puzzled, brows drawn over hazel eyes. Luke swallows, trying not to think about the way Ashton’s lashes are casting tiny shadows on the smooth skin of his cheekbones. He still wants to throttle him. 

“Nothing,” he says tightly, and yanks Clifford’s lead out of Ashton’s hand without so much as a thank you, relief flooding his veins so fast and hard that he barely even notices the way his fingers tingle as they make contact with Ashton’s skin. 

“What happened?” Ashton sounds genuinely concerned, like maybe Luke had been mugged while he’d been running wildly around the field - Jesus, Luke thinks, with a tiny grimace; he must have looked fucking insane to Ashton. 

“Nothing,” Luke snaps, and winds Clifford’s lead around his hand a few times, making sure he can’t stray further than a foot from Luke’s heels. Clifford glares up at him, like he knows what Luke’s doing and resents him for restricting his freedom, but doesn’t bark about it, which is something. 

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks, and his voice is a little softer now, tinged with the sort of gentle concern that Luke only ever hears from Calum to Michael. It makes Luke’s stomach lurch, somehow, the way he associates that tone with Calum and Michael, and he nods curtly, and looks away from Ashton.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke says, letting all the anger and frustration leak into his voice to hide the slight edge of fear, and Ashton bites his lip but nods, and steps away. 

“Alright,” he says, and that’s it. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t nudge, he doesn’t wheedle, he doesn’t force it out of Luke, he just steps back, steps away, and respects Luke’s space. A wave of guilt washes over Luke at that - it hadn’t really been Ashton’s fault, had it? - but he stares steadfastly ahead of him as he reaches for the gate and pulls it open with a little more force than strictly necessary. Ashton lets him go through first, lets him tug on Clifford’s lead and pull him through too, before walking behind him, closing the gate and falling into step a metre or two away from Luke, giving him the space he needs. 

They walk in silence for a while, Ashton ambling alongside Luke as he tries to focus on his ebbing anger, trying to dredge it back to the forefront of his heart so he won’t have to think about the guilt that’s quietly but insistently making a home in it. Loath though he is to admit it to himself, Luke has to concede that it wouldn’t have been Ashton’s fault if Clifford had run away. And it’s not Ashton’s fault that Clifford had run to him instead of Luke, that he’s happy and calm with him in the same way he is with Luke, but it doesn’t stop the tired anger spiking in Luke’s veins a little when he thinks about it, furious at the idea that Clifford could possibly like Ashton. But it’s not Ashton’s fault. 

Luke doesn’t say anything, can’t bring himself to apologise for his bad mood and his unwarranted snappiness, but by the time they arrive at the interview, still not having spoken a word, he realises that the gap between himself and Ashton has narrowed to all of a few centimetres, his hand brushing against Ashton’s every so often as they walk, and he can’t remember whether it had been him or Ashton who had closed the gap.

(It doesn’t really matter, though, he realises with a jolt, because either way, he’d allowed it to happen.)