#when I heard it on the radio today my first thought was Luke

[sinning5sos]

No Shame | Luke

surprise, I'm alive bitches XOXO

Requested: YES! I took a few requests and put them into one

i was wondering if you could write about dom!luke fwb kind of situation where luke tells you about his thought process when writing no shame and admitting it’s like about the reader ? 

literally the sluttiest kinkiest shit you can write for luke

leaving hickeys all over luke, JUST IMAGINE SKSK

Word Count: ~3.1k

Luke: wyd?

You rolled your eyes at the text that just came through, and your eyes flickered up to the clock. 9:45 PM. This was the usual time he texted, but you couldn’t help the smile forming as you typed your response.

You: On my way to you?

Luke: Wow so eager for me. See you soon angel.

You loved the message and got off the couch to head to your car. Your engine started up and you turned the radio on as you started to drive to Luke's apartment. You couldn’t help but laugh as one of the band's songs started playing over the radio, a song from their second album. You had met Luke through a mutual friend at a party after they released their first album, but slowly became closer whenever they would be back in L.A. or if they flew you out. 

You made the first move, kissing him when you were slightly tipsy and the two of you realized you had a lot of chemistry. It was mainly physical, but there were a few moments where the two of you would go on dates but neither of you would call them dates. Just friends with benefits. It was too busy for either of you to date but you loved fucking him too much to let him move on, to let yourself move on.

The drive to his house was quick, that’s also part of the reason that the two of you continued hooking up with one another. You entered the code into the gate and pulled into the driveway next to his car, shifted into park and sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. You applied just a little bit more of the lipstick that he loves, and ensured your make up was fine. He loved the disheveled makeup look after he fucks you thoroughly, so you knew what you were doing. 

You climbed out of the car and walked up to the door, about to knock but he already opened the door by the time you got to the threshold. He’s just so attractive.

His curls were freshly washed, the smell of his body wash hitting you immediately - you were the one who bought it for him, one of your favorite scents. He had a basic white tee on but it fit him so well, as well as the gray sweats he had on. 

He pulled you in immediately, his lips meeting yours as you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you. There was no need for introductions, no need for any conversation. You both knew what you were there for.

“Now listen angel, there’s going to be a few things happening. I want you to go upstairs, strip down and get on your back. Next, I am going to put your ankles in the spreader bar and show you what I bought for you earlier today,” He murmured in your ear, his hands coming down to grip your ass.

“The first part of the toy goes right on your clit, and then the other part of the toy goes right inside that pretty little pussy of yours. Then, I’m going to fuck that sweet ass.” He muttered, his words echoing in your head as he slapped your ass. “Understood angel?” 

His nose nudged yours and you nodded your response, his lips moving to meet yours again.

“Go.” He whispered, and you eagerly went up to his bedroom and did exactly as he said. Your eyes landed on the toy, a bright pink vibrator that was sort of U shaped, on his bedside table beside a bottle of lube. You quickly stripped down and laid on the bed, your anticipation building as you heard Luke slowly come up the stairs. 

You shifted slightly as he opened the door, his normally bright blue eyes darker, lust evidenced on his face as you slowly opened your knees and his gaze fell directly onto your center.

“Ankles up,” He murmured, and you lifted your ankles up into the air as he slowly clasped the cuffs around each of your ankles, the bar separating your legs further and he pushed the bar up into the air.

“That cunt is so fucking beautiful. And it’s all mine to devour,” He muttered, his gaze snapping up to yours as he pulled his tee over his shoulders. He pushed down his sweats as well, his cock already hard and you smiled up at him, knowing that it was you who caused him to be like this.

“Devour?” You whispered, and he nodded as he knelt in front of you on the bed and pressed a light kiss on the inside of your thigh before pulling you down on the bed. He ducked his head underneath the bar and you rested your ankles on the top of his shoulders. He spit directly onto your center, and you knew the gentleness was gone.

You loved giving up control to Luke, loved giving him everything you could offer and loved that he took it all.

He immediately bent his head down, his tongue laying flat against your center as he licked up, your juices coating his chin. You watched him, every swipe of his tongue jolting your body a little bit, and moaned as he finally gave in and sucked your clit into his mouth. He pulled back and spit onto his fingers, pushing two of them inside you as his mouth enveloped itself around your clit again. You pushed your head back into the mattress, your eyes closed as he continued fucking you with his fingers.

He pulled back, “I want you to cum at least once with my mouth, cum once more with that toy inside of you, then cum again as I fuck your ass. Got it?”

You whimpered out a yes, your ability to form any other words gone as he grazed his teeth against the bundle of nerves, your back arching into the bed as your orgasm quickly approached. Luke had such a way of making you cum, and so quickly too. His mouth was talented, in more ways than one.

“Cum for me angel,” He pulled his mouth back, his fingers working quickly inside of you as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers, your body shaking as your high crashed over you.

“Good girl,” He muttered, moving back under the bar and leaned over to his bedside table. He grabbed the toy, your core still sensitive as he brought it up to your mouth, “Now lick.”

You did as you were told, taking the toy into your mouth and Luke chuckled as he brought it down your body. He rubbed the bigger end over your clit, then brought it down to your core and pushed it inside of you, then lined up the top part of the toy and pressed it against your clit. He pushed the button in the center, the vibrations jolting your body as the toy filled you and sent waves of pleasure throughout it.

“Oh.” You gasped out, your hands grasping his sheets as he watched you wraith beneath him, his hands not even on you. Your breathing caught, your gaze focused on him as he had his own hand wrapped around his cock. He slowly started stroking himself, stopping occasionally to grab some of your juices that were flowy freely, and used it to fuck himself.

“Such a good girl for me. Look at you, taking that toy so well. Your cunt looks so pretty being this full,” He murmured. Your breathing became ragged as your second orgasm was approaching, his cock and the idea of it being in your ass soon overtook your thoughts. 

“Don’t you cum without my permission,” He snapped, and brought his free hand down to your cunt, giving it a gentle slap. Your body jolted and you nodded, your eyes moving to his.

“Can I cum please Luke?” You nearly begged, and he chuckled at the desperation in your voice. He didn’t give you an answer, instead he just tugged the bottom lip between his teeth as he continued stroking himself. You were writhing beneath his gaze, your eyes following his hand as he pushed another button on the toy and the vibrations increased.

You cried out, wanting to close your legs but that damn spreader bar held your ankles apart still. 

“Luke, please,” You begged, nearly screaming out his name as he nodded.

“Good, cum again for me. God, what a fucking beauty you are,” He whispered, and you released your mental block and quickly came. Your thighs were shaking, your hands dropping down to your core as you held the toy against you, the overstimulation starting to become too much.

“Luke,” You whimpered, and he turned the toy off. 

“I’m going to give you a minute to relax and then I’m going to turn that toy back on.” He muttered, and you attempted to catch your breath as he grabbed the lube. He poured some onto his fingers and brought them to your ass, and slowly pressed in. The two of you had done anal plenty of times, but that wasn’t when you were full from a toy as well. He had one finger in and slowly added his middle finger. He chuckled as he started to stretch you out, having your body relax beneath his touch.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Anything for you Luke,” You breathed out, loving the way that he looked down at you.

“Since you’re being a good girl, I’m going to go ahead and set those ankles free, but I want them on my shoulders instead.” He instructed, and you nodded as you brought your hands up over your body and stretched them over you. 

With his free hand, he undid the clasp on one and your ankle moved from the bar and onto his left shoulder. He did the same on the other side, and you felt a slight relief from the stretch but then Luke lined his cock up with your hole and started pushing in. You melted into his touch, the stretch turning into pleasure quickly. He switched the toy back on and you gasped again, your body quickly returning to the overstimulated mess you were before.

“Luke,” You called out, his name becoming all you could muster as he started fucking your ass.

“What a fucking vision this is,” He grunted, holding onto your thighs to keep you secure as he pushed in fully, his cock filling you so well. 

You couldn’t form words any more, his name falling from your lips as you felt your third orgasm approaching again. Between the vibrations on your clit and inside your cunt, and Luke fucking your ass, you weren’t going to last long at all.

“Please,” You gasped out, your body clenching, “please,”, your thighs starting to shake as Lukes own orgasm started approaching, “let me cum, please.”

“You want to cum?” Luke asked, and you shook your head as your interlocked your hand with his, and he nodded, “Cum for me, angel, go ahead and let go,” 

Your legs shook as your third orgasm crashed over you, moaning his name loudly and clenched your eyes shut so tightly that stars danced across your vision. Your body continued to shake as Luke fucked you, and it looked as if he was about to cum too. His chest was moving deeply, his breathing labored as he was focused on you. 

“I’m going to cum in your tight little ass, is that okay with you angel?” He asked, and you nodded lazily as the toy still vibrates inside of you, the overstimulation draining your body as he finally came. He moaned and nearly collapsed on top of you, his hand coming between your legs to turn the toy off and you nearly cried out in relief. Your body hadn’t been used to this quickly, your orgasms draining your energy.

“God, what a good fucking girl you are for me. Look how fucking hot you are,” He murmured, and you nodded in agreement, watching as he slowly pulled out and pulled the toy out from inside you as well.

“Stay here, don’t move,” He whispered, leaning over your body to give you a gentle kiss before he went into the bathroom adjacent to his room. He took only a moment, before he returned and pressed a warm washcloth to your core and helped soothe your body. He helped clean you up, and tossed the rag into a hamper nearby before climbing into bed beside you.

You curled up in his arms, his shoulders so broad against you and he hummed quietly in your ear.

“You did so good,” He murmured, his warm breath tickling against your neck and you giggled slightly. He pulled the covers up over the two of you, and you sank deeper into him.

“I have a song that I’ve been working on. Would you want to go to the studio with me tomorrow?”

Your eyes flickered over to Luke at his question, and you bit your lip as you thought. Nothing really could come of it, so you agreed.

“Yeah I guess. What time?” You whispered, pressing your lips to his chest and deciding to tease him further. You sucked the skin there and he sharply drew in a breath, and looked down at you.

“11:00 am is when we start recording. There’s a few things I want to work on first and then you can come in. Maybe 1:00? And you can bring lunch?” He asked, a hopeful smile on his face and you pulled away to laugh at his eagerness.

“Sure, I can do that. But you’re paying. Go ahead and send me some money now, Mr. Internationally Famous Lead Singer.”

“Good. I have some ideas, I’m going to write real quick.” He murmured, pulling away from you and you sighed at the loss of warmth, but he returned after a minute with an old notebook and a pen. He climbed back beside you and began to scribble on the paper. You attempted to peek, but he quickly shifted so you couldn’t see.

You leaned over h8im, pressing your lips to the base of his neck and decided to give him another hickey and he chuckled quietly.

“Angel, you’re not marking me to embarrass me tomorrow, are you?”

“Embarrass? Please, you should be so lucky to broadcast that you were laid.” You whispered against his skin, before moving slightly up his neck and he leaned into your touch, your lips grazing the soft part of his neck that was so tender for him.

“You’re right, I’m insanely lucky to have such a good girl like you for me,”

* * *

It was 1:15p now, a little after when he said to come and you were listening to his bandmates mess around with you while he finished up the song.

“You know he’s never brought a girl here,” Calum mused, and you felt a slight blush creep through your cheeks but shook your head.

“We’re just friends,”  You insisted, but Calum chuckled.

“What sort of friends? My friends never leave hickeys on my neck.” Ashton shot back, and the blush darkened throughout your skin, 

“Or scream my name out in the hotel room when you thought the others were gone,” Calum quipped.

“Or used as a writing inspiration before. That’s why you’re here, he’s got a new song he’s been working on and he won’t let us listen to it yet.”

“Mind your business,” Luke rolled his eyes as he walked in, leaning down to kiss your cheek and you nearly pulled away but he grinned. “Just saying thanks for lunch,” 

He plopped himself down right beside you, a little too close for someone that was just a friend, and started to eat. You felt Ashton and Calum’s gaze on you, but avoided eye contact.

The two of you had established many times that you were just friends, but friends who fucked and went on dates because neither of you had wanted to deal with the pressures of a relationship. At least, so you thought.

“Alright angel, ready to go listen?” He asked, slurping down his drink and you nodded as the other two started giving him the same treatment they had just given you. Luke waved them off, his middle finger in the air as he led you into the studio space. You always loved seeing what they did, whether it was seeing their process or seeing them perform. 

Luke pressed play as you settled into a chair, your leg crossing over the other as the first few chords of the new song came on.

“Remember, it’s not finished yet but I wanted to hear your thoughts before I kept going.” 

“Angel, with the gun in your hand - pointing my direction, giving me affection. Love is fatal, won't you give it a chance? Center of attention, don't you ask me any questions.” He paused the song, and your mind began to spin but you smiled at him.

“Keep going,” You reached over him and pressed play and he leaned into you as it continued on.

“Go on and light me like a cigarette, even if it might be something you regret. You got me now, now, now…swallow me down, down, down, down.”

You nearly snorted as the song progressed, and Luke paused it to see what caught your attention, “You liked that line, didn’t you?”

“Swallow me down?” You glanced up at him and he chuckled.

“Down, down, down. Just wait angel, there’s more.” He winked at you, and proceeded to press play. The song continued, your mind absorbing every lyric, feeling the beat and you clenched your legs together as the next line poured through the speaker, “I only light up when cameras are flashing, never enough and no satisfaction. Got no shame, I love the way you're screaming my name.”

The song ended shortly, a few other lyrics sticking through your head but Luke just kept grinning at you. 

“Thoughts?”

“I think we ought to fuck like that more often if this good of a song comes from it,” You teased and he chuckled as his right hand planted itself on your thigh, but you nodded, “I like it, especially if the lyrics are as accurate as you say.”

“Of course. You’re a one of a kind girl for me angel,”

[quackquackfeathermuckers]

A theme song for all the cool L'Oranges.

[heartcal]

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual), 

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, ���—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

[5sosxqueen]

Luke's Stomach Bug

This is the first among my rewritten series! I hope you enjoy it.

Word count: 13,243

Also available on Wattpad and AO3!!!

Luke's POV:

     I came to as I felt myself being shaken awake by a member of my band. On a typical morning, waking up for me was more refreshing. Today, however, I noticed I was more sluggish and groggy... I groaned as my body adapted to the change between being in a deep sleep to feeling like a zombie. I turned to see Ashton's alluring hazel eyes staring into mine. I smiled up at the man when I cast my gaze upon his dorky grin. Leave it to him to have a gleaming smile on his face this early in the morning (maybe it wasn't "early", but that is what my brain implied).

     "Good morning, Luke," He beamed. "We have the radio interview to do in a couple hours," He said, glancing at his phone. "Michael, Calum, and I were considering checking out the city after the interview. You know, it would be nice for your peaky self to get some sun anyhow," He joked, pinching my side. I chuckled, staring up at the wood-grained ceiling of the bus.

     "Yeah, that's fine," I said, my voice riddled with sleep.

     "Come to think of it, you are more pale than usual. You okay?" I assessed how I felt. Thinking about it now, I was not feeling the greatest. I shrugged, and he took that as a cue to check for a fever. He straightened up with a hum.

     "Well, you don't feel warm," he concluded. I nodded.

     "Maybe I didn't get enough sleep. I will be fine," I assured him, pushing myself into a sitting position.

     "Well, it's about to be eight. I suggest you get up and start getting ready for the day," I agreed, and he stood up with a stretch.  I shuffled, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, shivering as my feet came in contact with the icy floor. As I rose from my bed, I noted the ache resonating within my stiff muscles. I stretched for a while, trying to ease the pain, before deciding a shower might do me good.

     I walked over to my unpacked suitcase and dug through it. When I found a decent outfit, I trekked my way to the small bathroom. I undressed and turned the water on to my preferred temperature and got into the one man shower stall.

     A pang of dizziness came and went, leaving me to question whether it was only in my head. I thought nothing of it and resumed washing myself. Just as I had gotten the soap out of my eyes when a light rapping on the bathroom door echoed off of the teal tiled walls. I hadn't gotten the chance to answer before they cracked the door open. I turned off the water. "Hey, sorry to bother you," Michael said from the other side of the door. "I wanted to let you know that we are heading out to breakfast soon. We are going to Denny's. We are not rushing you, but I'm sure it would be best to hit the road sooner rather than later."

     "Got it!" I called out. I heard the door close shut again and turned the water back on. I finished washing up and stepped out of the shower. I grabbed the towel off the wrack and dried myself off before getting dressed. Gathering my dirty clothes, I tossed them into our dirty laundry pile and went out into the front of the bus to meet the other lads.

     "Hey Luke," Calum exclaimed with a very wide, toothy smile as I walked out.

     "Hey Cal," I said, returning the gesture.

     "You all freshened up and ready to go?" Ashton asked me. I nodded. He informed the bus driver to take us there. Denny's wasn't too far away, only about five minutes, tops. Arriving at the diner, I noticed that my body felt heavier and fatigued. I was walking slower, leading me to believe the shower had not helped like I thought it had. The dull ache throughout my body ebbed. There was that, at least.

     The staff welcomed us with smiling faces and ushered to our table rather quickly. The server, a cute brunette, took our orders. I rested my head on my hands while the other engaged in small talk in our wait. I dozed off slightly, tired enough that I couldn't even keep my eyes open. Calum nudged my side when the food got brought to the table.

     "Dude, I cannot believe you got a salad this early in the fucking morning!" Michael mused. The server set the plate in front of Calum with a chuckle.

     "What? I was craving salad," Calum defended, throwing a bewildered look towards the man across from him. Ashton shook his head with a light laugh, amused at the scene. Michael got pancakes with strawberries and a side of hash browns and sausage with an orange juice. His eyes widened when the server set his food in front of him. Ashton ordered biscuits and gravy with bacon, while I got a sizzling skillet. As they handed me my food, I smiled at the girl with a quiet nod of thanks. She smiled, told us to enjoy our meal, before walking to help new customers that had walked in.

     We all dug in, but after I had eaten a quarter of the skillet, I found it rather unappealing. It tasted great, but it was too greasy for me. I huffed and pushed the food around with my fork, zoning out. "Luke, you alright?" Ashton asked, breaking my trance. I looked up, noticing that all the lads were now looking at me with frowns on their faces.

     "Yeah, I guess I'm just not as hungry as I thought," I set my fork down and leaned back with a small sigh. "Any of you guys want it?" I questioned, lifting the pan in the air slightly. I got a couple head shakes from them and set my plate back down. 

     "We'll just get a to go box then," Calum suggested, and I agreed. He flagged down a server that was passing by and asked her for one. As unorthodox and disrespectful as it was, I laid my head on the table using my arms as a pillow. I was trying to ignore the tinge of queasiness that was forming in my gut.

     Stepping outside, I squinted. The restaurant had been significantly more dim. The harsh light made my eyes throb. Great, I must be starting to get sick, I thought as I stepped back onto the bus. We had at least another two hours of travel.

     When I turned to walk into the kitchenette, I nearly toppled over. I turned too fast, causing the dizziness I felt earlier to come back with a vengeance. I stopped dead in my tracks to lean against the wall and felt a hand on my back.

Michael's POV:

     I saw Luke stumble as we walked into the bus and quickly put my hand on his back. I couldn't believe how tired he was. He must have been exhausted to be stumbling the way he was.

     "Let's get you laying back down, yeah?" He put a hand against his forehead with a slight nod and a hum.

     "I got dizzy for a second there." I frowned, leading him over to his bunk.

     "You might just need more sleep. Besides the little catnaps, I mean. We have a couple hours, try to get some rest on the way to the interview. We will wake you when we get there," I explained. He collapsed onto the bunk bed, fully clothed, with his shoes on. I chuckled and shook my head, bending down to pry his shoes off for him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. I was getting worried about him. In all my years of knowing him, I had never seen him this tired.

     I walked to the back room where I saw Calum and Ashton go where we first entered. "Hey, Mike, what's up? How's he doing?" Calum asked, glancing at me from his cellphone.

     "He's asleep. Do you guys think he's alright? He is sleeping an awful lot today," I asked, taking a seat next to Ashton.

     "I asked him how he felt this morning. He said he was fine, but he felt out of it and tired. I even checked to see if he had a fever, but he felt normal, so I don't really know," Ashton rambled as I leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, letting me cuddle into him. I nodded, pulling out my phone to look at Facebook.

     I tried to get my mind off of Luke. I knew he would be fine with a brief rest. I grew bored with Facebook within a couple minutes; everything on it was old news. I chuckled my phone to the side and stood with a stretch.

     "You guys up to playing a couple matches of PUBG?" I asked, going to fetch my tablet, and theirs if they were interested.

     "Sure! I could go for a couple rounds. What about you, Ash?" Calum turned to Ashton, who was engaged in his phone. "Ash?"

     Ashton's head snapped up at his name. "Huh? Sorry, I wasn't listening," he admitted.

     "Mike wants to play some PUBG. Are you interested?" He repeated. Ashton nodded, putting his phone away. I smiled and rushed to grab the tablets. It had been a while since we played the game together.

     We had played about five matches when the bus driver, Dave, came back and let us know that we had arrived at the radio station. I nodded. Calum stood from the couch.

     "I'll go wake Luke, you guys head in. We will be right behind you." Ashton and I nodded. We went ahead of Calum and stepped off the bus into the crisp October air.

Calum's POV:

     I let the others leave the back room first to avoid being in the way. Once they passed the bunk area, I walked over to where Luke was sleeping. I carefully opened the curtain. He looked so peaceful. I wasn't sure if I wanted to wake him.

     "Luke?" I called to see if he was awake. When there was no response, I lightly tapped on his shoulder. Still nothing. "Alright, bud, I got you," I carefully maneuvered my arms underneath his lanky body and lifted him from the bed. Damn... He must be in a deep sleep. I thought. He didn't so much as flinch.

     Carefully, I walked down the steps of the bus. Dave was kind enough to make sure I didn't fall. I thanked him as he held the building's door open for me. I walked through the halls for a while until I came across the room the boys were in. Thankfully, there was a couch. I gently placed Luke on it, and he instantly curled in on himself. I frowned and checked his forehead as Ashton had done earlier in the day. I couldn't tell if he had a fever or not. Odd.

     "I thought you were waking him up," Ashton said from behind me. I jumped, not expecting someone to be right behind me. I held a hand against my chest as I caught my breath again, whilst turning to face him.

     "He's too far gone. I tried waking him up, but he didn't. I figured I would just carry him in and let him sleep un-," Suddenly the door opened, causing me to turn towards it. As if I had predicted it, Matt walked through the doors.

     A brief history about Matt: he has been our manager since the beginning and has been a father figure to us all, even more so with Ashton, seeing as how he grew up without a father figure.

     I remember that fateful day when an interview went wrong, and the woman asked what our fathers had taught us. That was the only time I had ever seen Ashton lose it in front of the cameras... The poor lady was inconsolable for two hours after the fact. It killed me seeing that.

     Anyway, when Matt walked into the room, he instantly noticed Luke laying in a fetal position on the couch. He cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing.

     "What's up with him? Is he okay?" Matt questioned, instantly growing concerned.

     "Uh, we aren't entirely sure, if I'm being honest. Besides us going out to breakfast, he's been asleep most of the morning. We aren't sure if he's getting sick or if he's just tired," Ashton answered with a shrug. Matt nodded.

     "Well, I hate to say it, but it's almost eleven o'clock. You guys need to get him up. You have five minutes to get him up and get in there," he informed us, pointing into the other room with his thumb over his shoulder.

     "Five minutes, thanks Matt." Michael reiterated with a nod. We all thanked him. He went back to what he was doing prior, and we were left with a sleeping, uncomfortable looking Luke.

     I walked over to him and shook his shoulder. "Luke, wake up. The interview is in less than five minutes," Luke groaned, turning his head away from me. His hands went to his stomach and his lips smacked together a couple times. Finally, his head turned to me again and his eyes cracked open.

     I helped him get up and with that we walked into the room. There was a large table in the center of the room. The lads claimed their seats. Ashton and Luke were sitting on either side of the table closest to Elvis Duran, Michael was sitting next to Ashton,  and I chose the seat at the end of the table. We all put our phones on and right after we did, the interview had begun.

     "Hey guys, we are here with 5 Seconds of Summer, uh, I saw you guys doing a show outside in Hollywood the other day! They closed off the street," The interviewer said.

     "We did," Luke said, almost cheerfully. He glanced down and fiddled with the corner of the paper that was sitting in front of each of us.

     "You know, look at where you were a couple years ago, to when we first met you, to now," He mused with a smile on his face.

     "Now they let us play shows outside of Sketchers," Ashton joked. Everyone laughed.

     "Yeah, it's awesome," Michael added with a giggle.

     "Well, I mean a shoe store isn't a shoe store without a 5 Seconds of Summer concert," I glanced over at Luke. He seemed to be fine. He had a smile on his face. He was laughing and joking with us so far; the worry I had earlier was dying down a bit.

Ashton's POV:

     Five minutes into the interview, I noticed Luke looking increasingly uncomfortable. He had been laughing every time someone said something funny, but now he was dozing off every two seconds and I could tell he was feeling miserable.

     His forehead was glistening with sweat, and I kept seeing him rub his temples. He was fidgeting an awful lot, and even Elvis looked concerned. He stayed professional, though, and didn't let it hinder his show.

     Less than a minute later, Luke sighed to the man that he needed to stop. Not even giving anyone time to react, Luke was ripping off his headphones and jumping out of his seat and rushing out of the room. Oh shit, that can't be good...

     I jumped up to follow him, and I heard the interview getting cut short. I pushed the door open and went to the closest bathroom. Luke was bent over the sink, washing his face off. "Hey, Luke, are you okay, man? What's happening?" I asked, walking over to him. I pulled some paper towels out of the dispenser and handed them to him. He straightened up, patting his face dry with the towels.

     "I honestly don't know, I'm just so fucking dizzy and I'm queasy as hell. I ran in here thinking I was going to be sick, but the urgency faded. Thankfully," Luke sighed and leaned up against the tiles. "I've got a killer headache to top it off." He added.

     "Is it a migraine?" He shook his head, groaning after. "Oh, I was thinking, maybe, that was what it was. You're showing all the symptoms of one," Luke's eyebrows furrowed, and he swallowed harshly.

     "Do I, do I have a fever?" He asked, looking at me through squinted eyes. I took a step closer and reached to check.

     "You do, actually," He huffed. "Well, the interview is over. It ended as soon as you rushed out," he looked upset when I said that, but nodded. "I'll see if Matt can get us a hotel nearby. In the meantime, we should probably get you back on the bus."

     "Please, I am dead on my feet right now. If I stand any longer, I think I may faint." My eyes widened.

     "Whoa, buddy, I didn't know you felt that bad..." he nodded solemnly, reaching for me. I grabbed his hand and helped him out of the bathroom. I guided him back into the room and Michael and Calum shot up at the sight of him.

     "Holy shit! Is he okay?" Calum asked, staring wide-eyed at Luke. Luke groaned and shook his head. Luke audibly swallowed again, only this time, breathless pants followed it.

Luke's POV:

     "Ash, I think I'm gonna hurl," I warned. He sat me down in the closest chair and quickly grabbed the bin beside the door. Ashton placed it down in front of him and I hung over it, letting the nausea induced spit fall freely into the rubbish.

     Several minutes passed with nothing. Elvis needed to go back on the air in less than one minute. Calum explained that to me and I sat up, my arms going around my stomach. My face twisted into an unreadable expression. I heard Ashton ask Elvis if we could take the bin.

     "Of course! I hope he feels better," he said with a smile. "There are some waters in the fridge too, if you guys want some. Cindy will show you where it is," he gestured to the woman in the room and she led us out back into the area we were in before the interview had started. She walked over to the corner of the room and opened the fridge. Huh, I didn't see that before. I thought as she pulled four cold bottles out for each of us to have.

     "Thank you," We all said when she handed them to us. She went away, leaving us to our own. Ashton set the bin down since we were heading out and onto the bus. We walked out into the parking lot and we were about halfway when I had to stop. The whirling in my stomach escalated, causing me to dry heave out of nowhere. I shot forward, putting my hands on my knees for support. I felt all eyes on me. We all stood, waiting for me to either be sick or declare it a false alarm.

     The feeling eased again, and I felt myself getting frustrated. I stood back up and tossed my head back in annoyance. "Dammit, why can't I just be sick and get it over with already!?" I yelled, tugging at my hair.

     "Damn, I don't think we've ever seen you this sick before," I sideways glanced at Calum as he spoke.

     "You haven't... and it's embarrassing as fuck," I muttered. "I really don't want to throw up in front of you guys, but I really think I will need to be sick soon," I ghosted my hand over my churning stomach, still feeling the need to be sick, even though it wasn't as prominent as before. I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of dizziness came crashing down on me again. "Can we please just get to the bus? I really need to lie down... I'm getting dizzy again," My voice seemed to fade out as I grew light-headed.

     Calum and Michael quickly grabbed onto my upper arms as my knees buckled, my body going limp like a rag-doll.

     "Fuck! Luke, you still with us?" I whimpered to show at least a sign of life, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

     "Right, let's get him to the bus, and quickly." Ash ordered, rushing ahead to the bus doors. The other two lads began walking me in the bus's direction. I was tripping and stumbling almost every step. I felt so uncoordinated...

     Ashton rushed back over to us with Dave in his tracks. I closed my eyes, and I felt myself being lifted off the ground. It surprised me Dave was that strong. Once he got me loaded onto the bus, he laid me down on one of the bottom bunks. I could hear hushed voices, then nothing as my tired eyes drifted closed.

Calum's POV:

     It was then that I really got a look at him. My God, he looked horrible. His skin was almost translucent, the only color being the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks. He had dark circles, and he was sweating through his clothes. His hair was plastered to his forehead, sweat being the binding.

     I was worried about him. This illness was brought on so suddenly. "Calum?" Michael called out to me. I spun on my heels and saw him standing just a couple feet away from me.

     "Yes?" I responded.

     "Do you think you could grab some supplies from the store? Dave said he will swing us by Walmart really quick." I nodded, before a thought popped in my head.

     "Wait, didn't Matt say he keeps a first-aid kit on the bus somewhere?" I asked. Michael's face lit up with recognition.

     "He did! You look for that while I get stuff set up for Luke here," I agreed. I went to the bathroom and searched through the small cabinet under the sink. It wasn't there. I tore the bus apart, trying to find the damned thing, only to come up empty-handed. I plopped down at the small dining table.

     "Where the fuck could it be?" I asked the empty air around me. I scratched my head, trying to wrack my brain. I did not understand. Time to call Matt. I pulled out my phone and dialled his number.

Ma- Matt, C- Calum

Ma- "Matt speaking," Matt answered.

C- "Hey, Matt, I was wondering where we keep the first-aid kit. Luke got way sicker. We need to give him some medicine and I have torn this bus apart and don't see it anywhere." I ranted slightly.

Ma- "Oh, it's up there with Dave. It's right next to the door. I'm shocked you guys never noticed it before." He chuckled a bit. "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, but it's been right in front of you this entire time. I hope Luke feels better soon. You know we have the SiriusXM concert coming up." I sighed.

C- "Yeah, don't remind me... we are all hoping he gets better by then too." Matt hummed.

Ma- "I guess we will need to wait and see. Worst-case-scenario, we will need to either cancel or postpone to a later date." I nodded, tapping the table. "Well, I got to go, tell Luke I hope he feels better." I smiled.

C- "Will do, thanks Matt."

Ma- "Anything for my boys." I smiled widely and said goodbye before hanging up the phone.

     "Alright," I sighed as I got up, relieved that I finally knew where to look. I walked to the front of the bus and looked around. I still didn't see it. "Dave, do you know where the first-aid kit is? Matt said it was up here by the door." I asked him as he got ready to drive again.

     "Yeah, it's right above your head." I looked up. Sure enough, it was right by the door, above our heads this entire time. I grabbed it and thanked him. I sat back down at the table and rummaged through it. The first thing I found was the ear thermometer. I just had to find the medicine.

     "No, no, no, ah-ha," I said, finally stumbling across some Tylenol for his fever. I looked for some stomach relaxers and found a couple small packs of those. "Perfect!" I smiled, holding the packs of medicine up. I closed the first-aid kit and put it back.

     I brought the meds and thermometer over to Mike. "Outstanding, thank you. Hey, what took you so long though?" He asked. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling awkward by the whole situation.

     "Yeah, about that. It took me forever to find the kit. It was above our line of sight at the door of the bus." I explained. Michael made an O shape with his mouth.

     "Gotcha," he said. Walking over to the bunk. He set the packets of meds on the ground next to the water bottle he had set there. "Did you find a bucket by any chance? I didn't see one, and I'd rather we didn't use a trash can," he explained, looking disgusted with the last sentence. I thought back.

     "No, I don't remember seeing one anywhere when I looked," he sighed, deflating slightly.

     "Would you mind going with Ashton to the convenience store across the street? We need to get some soup and a bucket. I want to stay with him, especially if he gets sick. I'll be able to help him to the bathroom," I agreed and went to the back room where Ashton was.

     We left the bus, and we were gone for about five minutes. As soon as we got back, I started cooking the soup and Ashton went to put the bin down.

Ashton's POV:

     Michael was checking Luke's temperature as I walked into the bunk area. I frowned, seeing how ill he looked. He was an outright mess, tossing his head back and forth, groaning every second with his eyebrows stitched together. I wasn't even close to him, but I could just tell he was in a world of agony.

     "What's the temperature?" I asked Michael, walking further into the crowded space.

     Michael flashed the screen toward me. "As of now, high. It's 102.4 degrees," I grabbed the device from his hands to get a better look. Was it really that high? It was... he turned back toward Luke, "Poor guy... he's so sick. I'm shocked he didn't tell us sooner. We gave him plenty of chances," I nodded even if he wasn't looking, not knowing what to say.

     "Well, Calum is fixing him some soup right now. Hopefully, he can eat that. The takeout from Denny's probably wasn't the best idea," I sighed. "Well, I was originally coming back to give you this," I held up the brand new bucket in my hands and went to set it down beside Luke's bunk. Before it even touched the ground, however, Luke shot upright, a hand flying over his mouth, attempting to stop the unexpected flood of vomit that had filled his mouth. He wasn't successful though. A couple tiny streams of it were running down his arm and drops fell onto the blanket. He lunged toward the bucket, still in my hands, uncovering his mouth just in time to projectile vomit.

     I tightened my grip on the bucket, my hands shaking from the unexpected scare. Michael was cringing as he rubbed the man's tense back.

     The sounds coming from him were enough to make even my own stomach churn. He was barking out harsh, gurgling heaves and I could feel the bucket getting heavier the more sick filled it.

Luke's POV:

     All the years the lads had known me, they hadn't seen me have anything more than a cold. I was turning over and over as I tried to find a position that eased the sensation of urgency. I was mere seconds away from vomiting. I didn't want them to see me vomit. It was embarrassing and I have always been a loud puker... I wanted to hold it off as long as possible.

     I let out a quiet burp. Unbeknownst to me, a rush of whatever was in my stomach would follow it. I jumped up into a sitting position and attempted to stop the mess, only for my stomach to heave again. I could feel vomit dripping down my arm.

     I looked beside me with wide eyes, seeing Ashton holding a bucket in his hands. I lunged over it, instantly spewing violently. I hung my sick-covered hand over the bucket as I continued to puke. I had only just started; I wished I could stop.

     Mercifully, after one last heave, I caught a break. I spit several times, trying to gather the energy to speak. I lifted my head out of the bucket and noticed that Calum had come in. He was cleaning my hand. Ashton placed the bin on the floor next to me and I swallowed against the lingering nausea. I watched Calum wipe away the remanence of the mess I had made a few minutes prior.

     For a while, nobody said a word. I stared at my lap, an uncomfortable tension looming in the air. "Um," Calum started. I peaked at him. "Are you feeling any better after getting sick?" He asked. I just shrugged slightly.

     "Do you think you could handle taking some medicine?" Michael finally asked. I shrugged again. He sighed and brought a hand up to rub my knee to comfort me.

     "I still f-feel nauseous," I admitted, a slight grimace forming as I felt like vomiting again. I ghosted a hand over the gurgling organ. It rumbled loudly, causing the boys to look at me with shock. I blushed wildly.

     "That sounds terrible," Ashton said, sympathetically. My stomach let out another gurgle and my mouth began filling with saliva, hinting to what was about to happen. I grunted and leaned over my knees so I was over the bucket again.

     "This sucks," I groaned right before gagging. I gagged again, which led to a heave. I choked up a few small waves of vomit before I finally felt my stomach settle. Once again, I backed away from the bucket, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, not caring how disgusting it was.

     I jumped as Ashton's phone rang. We all looked at him. He reached for his phone and checked the caller ID. "Sorry guys, it's Matt. I've got to take this." With that, he answered the phone and walked away.

     "You should try the medicine." Michael insisted, picking up the packets of medicine at my feet. I huffed. I wasn't even sure if I could keep anything down. I reluctantly agreed, holding my hand out, figuring it was worth a shot.

Michael's POV:

     Luke took the medicine and laid back down. Calum went to clean out the bucket while I walked out to where I had seen Ashton walk to. He was off the phone and was conversing with Dave. I walked over to him. "Ah, Mike, I was just about to head back there to tell you guys. Matt told me he booked us a room at the New York Hilton Midtown. I had texted him about Luke a couple minutes ago and I told him he's just been sick. He figured we could use the rest of the day today and tomorrow off until soundcheck the day after," Ashton explained once he saw me walk up.

     "That's good. At least Luke will have time to recuperate. Let's pray he's better by then." Ashton pushed away from the bus's dash and wiped his dusty hand on his black jeans, leaving a greyish stain behind. He looked down at his pants and tried to brush it off before giving up after a few measly attempts.

     "We could all use the time off, honestly," he replied, brushing passed me and plopping down on the dining bench. I sat across from him and looked out the window. Dave started the bus, finally pulling away from the radio station. Just then, Calum emerged from the bunk room after setting the bucket next to the bunk. He walked over to the two burner stovetop with a hum.

     "What should I do with this?" He asked, turning to us with the pot of lukewarm soup.

     "We could eat it for lunch," Ashton suggested. I shrugged with a small nod. I was getting hungry anyway, seeing as how it was passed lunchtime.

     "Cool. Well, let me reheat it then it's all your guy's," Calum inferred, putting it back on the burner to reheat it. It was a chicken noodle soup. To explain the importance of the chicken soup and the occurrence at Denny's earlier that morning, our bassist had switched to a vegetarian diet a couple weeks ago. I could not do something like that even if I tried. I loved meat too much to give it up. I always picked on him for it. It's all in fun and he knew it.

     He poured us each half of what was in the pot and placed the bowls in front of Ashton and I. We thanked him and dug in. Since we didn't get much, it only took us about four to five spoonfuls to eat.

     He collected our dishes just as we were pulling into the hotel parking lot. Dave parked and came back to let us know we had arrived. Ashton sighed. "Who's waking him?"

     "I will," I volunteered. I walked back into the bunk area and pulled back Luke's curtain. He didn't even seem to be asleep. "Luke?" I called. He instantly opened his eyes and his eyes locked on mine. "You okay, bud?" He just shrugged.

     "What's up?" He questioned, sitting up on his elbow.

     "We are at the hotel. Do you think you will be okay getting to the room?" He hesitated, but nodded and sat up completely.

     "'M feeling marginally better after taking that nap. Not sure how long it'll last, but hopefully it continues to get better. Heh, knock on wood there," he chuckled dryly and knocked on the wood supports for the bunk. I snickered and helped him up. "Is everything packed?" I groaned and facepalmed, realizing none of us thought to pack for the two days stay in a hotel. "I'm guessing it's safe to assume that is a no then?" I nodded bashfully.

     "Go ahead and sit down. I'll take care of it," I offered. He smirked at me and walked into the kitchenette of the bus. I heard mumbling as I walked to the back room, where we kept our suitcases. Thankfully, laziness played out sometimes. It didn't take long at all to get mine and Luke's packed. In fact, I had already finished by the time Ashton and Calum filed in to pack thier's.

     "Damn, Mike, did you already pack your bag?" Ashton asked, eyeing mine. I nodded and smiled.

     "I also got Luke's done. You two are just slowpokes," I teased, sticking my tongue out at them. I grabbed both bags and met with Luke.

     We waited until they finished packing before stepping off the bus and into the hotel. I wasn't sure what to make of the grand, yellow, interior. We went to the front desk, and the receptionist gave us the room key.

     "What floor is room 823 on?" Ashton asked to make sure we didn't get lost.

     "Floor eight. The elevators are just to the left. Over there," she pointed in the general direction. We nodded, picking up our bags again. We filed into the elevator. Once the door shut, the elevator jerked upward. I peaked at Luke to see how he was fairing. Not well. He had his hand over his stomach again. I observed him as the elevator rose. The elevator jolted to a stop, and the doors opened. I checked the indicator above the doors and it showed that we were only on the third floor. Luke attempted to straighten up when two elderly women stepped in.

     They got off on the next floor. Luke looked worse for wear. He was slouching a great deal and leaning against the wall. "Luke?" I touched his shoulder, beyond worried at this point. He was dripping in sweat. Instead of answering, he suddenly heaved, bringing up mostly water and froth.

     There was a collective gasp from all of us. "Shit! Luke, why didn't you say anything?" Calum screeched, jumping back from the splash zone. Luke panted out a weak apology.

     After what seemed like forever, we were on our floor. To think, there are forty-five floors in this hotel... we were lucky to get the eighth one. We rushed to get Luke into the room, laying down with a bin beside him. It had taken a few twists and turns that were nauseating even for a healthy person, plus a couple of false alarms, but we made it.

     As soon as we stepped foot into the room, Luke darted off to the bathroom, retching loudly into his palm along the way. Calum followed him, giving Ashton and I time to get one of the bunks set up for him.

     "Who's sharing the bed with him?" Ashton asked. I shrugged.

Ashton's POV:

     "You know what? I'll watch over him. You've been doing a lot since we got back." I insisted.

     "Shouldn't we include Cal in this conversation?" Michael retorted with a raised eyebrow. I felt my face heat up a bit. Whoops. I was so used to being the dad of the band and always stepping in, I had forgotten Calum.... I nodded, continuing to set up Luke's side of the bed.

     Half an hour of listening to retching, we heard the shower start. We both assumed Calum was helping Luke wash up. He had been sweating heaps as well as being sick on himself once or twice. It made sense.

     Michael checked on them to see if they needed any help. I didn't hear the answer, but he came back with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

     Calum came out practically dragging Luke out of the bathroom. He brought him to the bed, gracefully dropping him onto the cloud-like bed. Luke didn't even react.

     I looked at the time on my phone. It wasn't too late, just after six, but I was feeling beyond drained. I was having difficulty keeping my heavy eyes from closing. Logically, I probably wouldn't have been able to stay up to watch Luke, even if I tried.

     "Ashton?" Calum called. I turned my gaze over to him. "I don't know if you heard me, but I said I'll take care of him tonight. You look beat. How about you go to bed?" He suggested. It didn't take me much to agree. I stripped down to my underwear, not giving a shit if I was sharing the bed with Mike. I shimmied under the covers and was out like a light as soon as my head hit my pillow.

Luke's POV:

     I was jarred out of my sleep mid-heave. I had only just managed to get my head above the bin. Even over the sick feeling, the only thing I could focus on was the overwhelming urge to use the bathroom. Fuck... please, no... Tears ran down my cheeks.

     I clenched hard, trying not to lose it from the other end as I heaved again. I felt a warm hand running along my spine. As much as I wanted to take in the comfort, I felt way too ill.

     "I've, hm," I whined, still trying to find my voice. "I gotta go to the bathroom. M'stomach-" A massive cramp had me doubled over, renewing the nausea, making me wonder if I was truly finished vomiting.

     Arms hoisted me up. I could barely put one foot in front of the other as I was being walked to the bathroom by my friend. Another painful cramp had me nearly dropping to my knees. At that point, I was just hoping I could get to the bathroom without incident. It was bad enough they had seen me hurl up my entire stomach. I didn't want any of them to witness me shitting myself too...

     Whoever it was was trying to talk to me, to distract me, but I couldn't even focus on the things they were saying. As soon as the toilet was in sight, I was yanking my pants and underwear down. I had just barely made it. I felt my upper stomach give a violent lurch and quickly grabbed the bin next to the toilet. I wretched before I could even fully put it into my lap.

     Whoever had brought me into the bathroom had sat on the edge of the tub and gently grazed their nails against my back as I lost it from both ends. My face flushed, but I couldn't be bothered. I had no choice but to let the sickness run its course.

     It took forever. I could finally set the bin down and see who it was that was with me. It was Calum. He was staring at me with such sadness and empathy in his eyes. I felt much more embarrassed now.

     "I-I'm so sorry you had to see all of that," I expressed, my voice wavering as I tried not to choke on the tears.

     "Hey, don't worry about it. Are you feeling any better now?" He asked. I nodded truthfully. I just felt utterly empty, almost uncomfortably so. "Do you think you are safe to leave the bathroom then?" I nodded again, and he stood up, his hands going to his lower back with a stretch. "I'll leave you to clean yourself up. Holler for me when you are finished. I'll just be right outside the door," I muttered an okay, and he quietly shut the bathroom door.

     I cleaned up and rinsed my mouth out at the sink. I cupped some water in my hands and took a couple sips, being too thirsty to care about it being straight from the tap. I grabbed onto the counter as I checked my reflection in the mirror. God, was it a sight... I looked like a zombie straight out of a horror film. I splashed some water on my face in an attempt to make myself look more lively before calling out to Calum.

     He opened the door and helped me out of the bathroom. I was feeling quite dizzy seeing as how I had thrown up what felt like all the liquids in my body.

     I was shocked, stepping out of the bathroom. The room was brightening up. I had surprisingly slept for the full night until dawn, when I nearly upchucked down my entire front.

     Calum sat me back down on the bed. I smacked my lips together, trying to gather any amount of moisture for my dry mouth. The tap water had done nothing to quench this insatiable thirst. "Cal, could I please have some water?" I begged. He was just sitting back down himself, so I felt a little bad for asking him.

     "Of course," he complied, getting up and walking over to the mini fridge in the room. He pulled out a small water bottle and handed it to me. "Go slow. You don't want to make yourself sick again," I opened the bottle and gulped a couple of times before slowing down. I let out a sigh of relief. I set the half empty bottle on the nightstand and laid back down. Calum pulled the blankets over me.

     "Thank you, Calum," I smiled up at him. He returned the gesture with a small nod. "'M goin' back to sleep," I mumbled, rubbing at my tired eyes. Calum chuckled.

     "Me too. Do you need anything else though?" I shook my head, turning into my side, already feeling myself dosing. I heard the sheets ruffling from behind me, telling me that Calum had gotten back into bed.

     I sighed quietly to myself, thinking about tomorrow's concert. Was I even going to be better by then?

Calum's POV:

     "Hey, Cal, could you wake Luke up and ask him if he wants anything to eat?" Ashton asked, walking back into the room in nothing but a towel.

     "Sure," I sighed, not really wanting to wake him. We had all been up for several hours and it was approaching eleven. None of us had eaten yet. "Luke," I shook his shoulder slightly, earning a small grunt. "Are you hungry at all?" I asked him. He buried his face in his pillow, groaning into it. "An actual answer would be nice," I teased. He faced me, squinting at me.

     "I guess I could have some toast or something. I'm a little hungry," His lips twitched upwards, and I smiled.

     "That's good! Maybe it was just a twenty-four-hour thing," he shrugged slightly, burying his face back into the pillow. He mumbled something into it. I tried to ask him what he said, but all I got from him were snores. I shrugged and relayed the information to the others.

     Once Ashton got dressed, we headed down to the buffet. We scarfed a couple plates worth of food and Michael got Luke's toast before we headed back to the room.

     Luke was out of bed when we got back inside. I frowned when I noticed the bathroom door was shut. I pointed it out to the others. I walked over and knocked on the door. Upon listening, I could hear running water.

     "Yeah?" Luke barked out a response. I heard a couple squeaks as he shut it off so he could hear me.

     "Just checking up on ya. How are you feeling?" I hollered through the solid wood door of the bathroom. I stepped back as the door clicked. He opened it a crack, revealing a dripping wet Hemmings, in nothing but a towel. He sighed, leading me to fear the worse.

     "I'm actually feeling better. I just felt gross. I woke up some time after you guys left in a pool of sweat," he shuddered as he pictured it. "Do you think I could go with you guys to look around the city?" My eyebrows raised in suspicion.

     "You are really feeling better?" I quizzed. He nodded. I crossed my arms in thought. "Well, let's talk to Ash and see what he thinks. If he feels you are fit to go out, then I don't see why not," a grin spread across his face and he briskly nodded his head. I chuckled, shaking my head as he hurriedly closed the door. I left to talk to the others.

     "How's he doing?" Michael asked when he saw me approaching.

     "He's doing a lot better. He wants to go out still. I believe he thought we would go with him as ill as he was and leave him by himself," I frowned and so did the other two. " I guess, to be fair, we did leave him alone while we went to eat..." I sighed.

     Ashton sighed and messed with the sleeve on his shirt. "Well, I'm sure the smell of food wouldn't have done his stomach any favours. Anyway, if Luke doesn't have a fever anymore and if he can keep the toast down for another hour, I suppose we could still walk around the city," he explained.

     "I personally still think Luke should stay in, but I don't particularly want to make Luke upset," Michael spoke up. Truthfully, I could see where he was coming from.

     "I'm worried he is going to get bad again while we are out," I said with a light huff.

     "Do you guys think we should stay in then? We could always just have a movie day," Ashton suggested.

     "Please let me go..." all of our heads turned at the sudden frail sounding voice coming from behind us. "I even made sure to dress warm, see?" Luke raised his hands up in front of his face slightly, showing off his sweater, which was a size or two too big; he was swimming in it.

     At that point none of us could really say no. He cracked a watery smile, and we explained our terms to him, to which he quickly obliged. An hour and a half later, after he managed to keep the toast down, we all found ourselves strutting down the streets of New York.

     We were in awe at the beauty of it all. We never got over traveling the world. It was mesmerizing to see all of its wonders.

     We were laughing and having fun for a couple hours. That was until he started feeling like shit again. He slowed down significantly, unable to keep up with us. Our worry grew. We came to a stop to let him rest and recover. We were all caught off guard by the sudden sob that escaped his lips as he cradled his head, using the storefront wall to slide down to the ground. He muttered that he felt dizzy. At that point, Michael was already hailing a taxi back to the hotel.

     When we got there, Luke immediately ran into the bathroom. I was right behind him, only to have the door slammed in my face. The lock didn't turn, much to my surprise.

     Luke, you okay in there?" I asked. I got no answer, causing me to frown. My frown deepened upon hearing harsh, echoed coughs. I opened the door with no hesitation. Luke was back in the position he was in this morning, on the toilet with the bin in his hands. I sighed. I sat on the edge of the tub again. "I thought you were feeling better..." he let out a painful sounding dry heave. I shuddered, hearing liquid hitting liquid followed by sputtering gas. Gross... I stayed silent, not wanting to make the situation more uncomfortable for him than it already was.

     Luke groaned and tossed his head back, taking several cautious breaths. He had tears running down his cheeks. I reached over and whipped them away with my thumb. He just shut his eyes and nuzzled into my touch. It was adorable, honestly.

     He felt really warm. His skin was blazing under my touch. I cursed under my breath and went over to the sink to wet one of the spare rags the hotel provided. I draped it around Luke's neck. He instantly seemed to melt.

     "Oh, that feels nice," he moaned, relishing in the feeling. I would have laughed if I wasn't so concerned.

     "I'm sure it does, you are burning up, Luke," his eyes seemed to glaze over, then slowly shut. "You okay?" I asked. His head dropped suddenly, and he went limp. I made a quick grab for the bin and pushed him back against the back of the toilet. "Guys! I need some help in here!" I screamed.

     Michael and Ashton came running in. "Oh, shit, did he pass out?" I nodded, and they quickly helped me clean him up and get him back to the bed. "Fuck, he's on fire!" Ashton exclaimed, touching his hot cheeks. He went from his cheeks to forehead, back to his cheeks again. "Michael, go get a towel and run it under cold water. We need to get his fever down. See if you can also find the thermometer. It should be in my suitcase somewhere," Michael rushed off to do so while I waited for instructions. "Cal, help me strip him down to his underwear," I nodded.

     Michael came back just as we were finishing up. He laid the wet towel over Luke's unconscious body before going to tear through Ashton's suitcase. Ashton grabbed a folder that was on the nightstand and began fanning him.

     Luke came to after a while and we all sighed in relief. He was in a daze as he took in his surroundings. He gagged and bile dribbled down his chin. Ashton wiped it off with the corner of the towel. He gagged again, bringing up a small mouthful. He furrowed his eyebrows, still too out of it to realize what was happening.

     Michaell found the instrument after throwing practically everything on the floor. He handed it to me and I handed it over to Ashton since he was the closest. Ashton put the folder back on the nightstand and slipped the thermometer under Luke's armpit. We waited anxiously for the beeping. He was quick to pull it out as soon as it started. He cursed and threw it down onto the table. I grabbed it and felt myself pale as I read the numbers.

     "104.7," I read aloud.

     "Fucking hell!" Michael swore in disbelief, yanking the thermometer from my hands to check himself.

     "I think we should call the medic. Do you guys know who's on call?" Michael asked. Ashton and I both shook our heads. We always have had two medics on our team (maybe more, but as far as we have seen, it's two), Cash and Fenton.

     "Just call Matt. Explain what happened," Ashton ordered. Michael nodded, dialling his number before stepping out of the room. I took a seat at the foot up the bed and watched Ashton attempt to clean Luke up again.

     "Man, he got really sick... I have never seen him this bad before." I said, whipping at my eye, trying to prevent a tear from escaping.

     "None of us have, Cal. The only time I could think of him being sick like this, he wouldn't let any of us over, and that was back in, like, 2012," Ashton looked at me over his shoulder as he reminded me. Now that he mentioned it, I did vaguely remember that.

     My eyes narrowed when I saw Luke's eyes flutter shut. "Did he just fall asleep?" I asked. Ashton's forehead creased, and he lightly shook the boy's shoulder.

     "Luke," he called. Shaking yielded nothing. Calling out his name had the same result. "And he's out again. Fuck!" Ashton yelled, worry flying through the roof.

     "Guys, Fenton is on his way," Michael explained from behind me. I jumped. He appeared out of nowhere. "Uh, sorry..." he chuckled, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

     "I wish it was Cash, dammit. He's always way kinder than Fenton." I briskly nodded, totally agreeing with Ashton on that one.

Matt's POV:

     I immediately gathered my things mid-meeting to get to the boys. I rushed out of the room, giving a brief description of the situation while I rushed out the door. The rest of management couldn't argue with me leaving.

     I met with Fenton outside of the hotel. He had a lot of questions that I couldn't even answer, seeing as how I haven't been with the lads.

     When we got upstairs, I was shocked. Michael had told me what had happened, but I had no idea what I was walking into. The room was in shambles. There were clothes all over the floor, a couple towels tossed carelessly about, and the room was filled with a pungent acidic order. I stepped further into the room and laid eyes on the source. Luke was covered in vomit. Ashton was trying his best to clean up, but there was too much. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

     "What the fuck happened in here? Did a twister blow through?" Fenton asked rhetorically, sarcasm laced in his voice. All the conscious bodies in the room glared at him, including me. He just rolled his eyes. "God, you guys can't even take a joke," he snapped, walking over to the bed Luke was on. I followed him, taking note on his obnoxious behavior.

     "How about you just focus on the situation at hand instead of cracking shitty ass jokes while our friend fights to wake back up?" Ashton retorted angrily. Fenton rolled his eyes again, grumbling something under his breath, and I shook my head. Why was he even on our team?

Ashton's POV:

     I watched as he started to feel Luke's forehead for a fever and gently patting his cheeks a few times. I rolled my eyes at his awful attempt. "You aren't even doing anything!" I snapped at some point. "Act like a fucking medic and wake him."

     Fenton glared over at me and rolled his eyes yet again. "It takes a while for someone to wake up, there is nothing that I can do."

     I was fuming by then. I was about to yell louder than he had ever heard me, but I saw Luke stir around in the corner of my eyes and all my attention went back to him. "Luke?" I asked quietly, going more towards him and gently shaking his shoulder.

     Luke whimpered and slowly opened his eyes. "Mmm, what happened?" he whined. Then he winced and squeezed his eyes shut. "Head hurts. Ash, I'm gonna be sick" he mumbled quickly.

     I gasped and quickly stood up from the bed, looking for a bucket. Thankfully, there was a little trash bin in the corner of the room, so Calum saw it and handed it to me just in time. I put the bin under Luke's chin and he threw up almost instantly.

     "Yup, this seems very bad, just what I expected," Fenton said, tapping on his chin.

     I wanted to punch him, and I was never violent. I looked over at Luke who was still being sick, dry heaving most of the time. I looked over at Matt worriedly, knowing that Fenton wasn't any help at all. "I think he needs to be taken to the ER."

     "No!" Luke screamed. "N-No hospitals. Can't you just take care of me, Fenton? Please," he begged, his bottom lip quivering. Fenton huffed and stood up.

     "Fine. I'll have to get you on an IV and get you started on some fluids," Luke whimpered but agreed nonetheless. Fenton went to go talk to Matt.

Luke's POV:

     Hushed whispers filled the hotel room, too quiet for me to make out what Matt and Fenton were saying. He left the room and Matt came over to the bed.

     "Hey, mate, he had to go down to his car to get the equipment. He will be back as soon as he's got it," I gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

     "I'm scared... I hate needles," I whined. Ashton combed his fingers through my hair and shushed me.

     "We are all right here, Luke. You will be alright, okay?" I wanted to believe him, I really did, but my mind was in a frenzy.

     Fenton walked in shortly after with a bag of saline tucked under his arm. I let out a quiet cry as my fear was amped up a notch. Ashton shushed me again and wiped the tear that was traveling down the side of my cheek.

     Fenton took the picture that was hung up next to the bed off the wall and used the nail to hang the bag from. He messed with tubes and prepped the kit he brought up.

     I squeezed my eyes shut as he tied the tourniquet tightly around my arm. I could feel my arm turning cold due to the sudden restriction of blood flow. He rubbed the inside of my elbow with an alcohol wipe and I grew sweaty, knowing what was about to happen.

     I yelped when the needle punctured my skin. I instinctively tried to shuffle away from the source of the pain, only to have Fenton grip my arm tightly. I ignored the light-headedness that was looming over me again.

     "It is not that bad. Quit being a baby," Fenton glared at me and I gulped. I listened. I knew I was putting my life in his hands and I shouldn't do anything to make him mad.

     "S-Sorry. I just have a mild phobia of need-les," I explained, my voice crackling a couple times.

     "Whatever, just quit moving," he demanded. He tapped the drip in place and fiddled with the bag again. A few seconds later he undid the tourniquet and my breathing quickened pace when I felt my arm starting to tingle from the foreign fluid.

     "My arm feels weird," I told him, hoping he could do something.

     "Yeah, it's going to," he stated, beginning to take my vitals. I sighed and closed my eyes. I heard him hum, and I looked over at him with half-lidded eyes, feeling increasingly gross. "Damn... your heart rate is through the roof," I groaned, turning my head away, and I closed my eyes. He took off the pulse oximeter, opting to measure it the old fashion way: feeling for it with his fingers and timing it with his watch.

     "Is that bad?" Calum asked. Fenton ignored his question in favour of keeping track of the time. When he was done he glanced up at him.

     "It can be. The fluids should help bring it down," he turned to me. "You aren't having any trouble breathing, are you?"

     "'M really nauseous," I rasped.

     "That's not what I asked, Luke. Answer the question," Fenton demanded.

     "Are you going to throw up again?" Matt cut in. I shrugged. "The bins right by you if you need it," Fenton growled at the man and continued.

     "Are you having any trouble breathing?" I barely shook my head, but it was just enough for him to see.

     "Okay, that's good," he sighed. "Just let the fluids do their job. You should feel better after getting a few of these bags in you," he explained. He looked up at the bag. "This needs to go faster..." he stood up again and squeezed the bag, making me whine at the feeling. I felt chilled, and it wasn't the average cold, it was a deep ache that penetrated my bones. My teeth chattered.

     Ashton went to the other side of the bed and covered me with the blanket. They already had sick on them anyway... "Th-Th-Thank you, A-Ash," Ashton briefly smiled and sat on the bed. He got under the covers with me. "No, y-you'll get d-dirt-dirty," I weakly attempted to push him away, but he just grabbed my hand and lowered it.

     "I've already got vomit all over me, Lu. It's fine. How about we both take a warm shower when you are feeling all better, yeah?" I nodded. A warm shower sounded nice.

     I cuddled with Ash for around thirty minutes, before my stomach started gurgling. I shuffled on the bed, letting out a pathetic sounding whine. It lurched hard, making me dive to the edge of the bed. A disgusting throaty gag forced its way out and I ended up dry heaving for several minutes.

     Fenton rose from his position after I was done. "I need to switch the bag and check your vitals again," I nodded, too tired to do anything else. He stuck the thermometer in my mouth. "Well, your temperature has gone down. It's almost normal, actually. How are you feeling?" I took the time to assess my body.

   "I f-feel better now. I'm mostly just nauseous and cold, well, and a little sore from throwing up s-so much," he nodded.

     "Your heart rate is down too. Looks like you're improving pretty quickly." I smiled at that.

     "Good, um, Fenton?" I hesitated, not sure how to word what I was about to say.

     "Yes?" He replied, looking over at me.

     "I have to go to the bathroom. Really bad..." he rolled his eyes with the slightest grin on his face. That was the gist time I had ever seen him show any emotion besides anger, even if it was small. He undid the PICC line, seeing as how we were in between bags, and he allowed me to get up. "Thanks," I mumbled. He briefly nodded and I, with some help from Michael, made my way to take a piss.

     After I was done in the bathroom, Michael cleaned me up and when we walked out, I realized that Fenton had moved over to the clean bed. Looked over at Mike in confusion. It must have been planned, and the smirk on his face proved it. I thanked them and got under the fresh sheets.

     I fell asleep for most of the remaining time that Fenton was there. He had woken me up to ask how I was feeling and to remove the IV. I didn't even hear him or Matt leave.

     The next time I opened my eyes, it was the next morning, and I had to piss like a fucking race horse. I sat up, instantly noticing that I had way more energy. I didn't even feel like barfing anymore. I let out a sigh of relief.

Michael's POV:

     I walked into the main room and saw that Luke was sitting up. "Morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling this morning?" I asked.

     "Like I'm about to piss my pants," He deadpanned, curling up slightly. With the amount of liquid that was given to him the night before, I was half surprised he had woken up to dry sheets.

     "Alright, do you need help getting to the bathroom?" I asked, going to lend a hand. He shook his head.

     "I think I got it," he got to his feet with a brief struggle. He even got there just fine. I knew he had to be feeling better, but I was still a little worried about the concert tonight.

     "Mike, where's Luke?" Calum asked. I spun around and saw him walking over to me.

     "He's in the bathroom. He said he's feeling a lot better."

     "That's great! Hopefully, he can eat the eggs and toast we brought him," I agreed and Ashton joined us as we sat at the table and made small talk.

     Luke stepped out of the bathroom and came to sit with us. Ashton pushed the plate in front of him and Luke seemed happy to eat, which made all of us thrilled. It was a lot better to see him eating rather than throwing up and in pain.

     "So, Luke, you are feeling better?" Ashton questioned. Luke nodded and swallowed.

     "Yep! I'm just a bit sore. I don't feel sick at all. It's almost like the passed couple of days didn't even happen," he explained with a mouthful of eggs.

     "Do you think you will be alright to do the concert tonight?" I asked as he shoveled another fork full into his mouth.

     Luke nodded to my surprise. "Think I'll be okay" he said, giving a thumbs up while chewing happily. I was glad to see him smiling again.

     The rest of the day went pretty well actually, we all mostly just realized until it was time for the concert.

     We did soundcheck, which sounded great honestly. We got into our dressing rooms and had about two hours before we were actually meant to be on stage. 

     I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter when I heard someone approaching me.

     "Mikey," Luke said sadly. I looked up and saw him with his hand over his stomach and frowned. Oh, no. "I'm starting to feel bad again," he mumbled.

     I sighed. He was getting sick again right before we were to go on stage to perform. I patted the spot on the couch next to me and he sat beside me. I slid his hair back and felt his forehead. "You're a little warm, I can't tell if it's a fever though." I explained. "You sure it's not just nerves?" I asked.

     Luke shrugged. "Don't know. I really don't want to be sick again. What if I puke on stage?" he asked, clearly starting to get worked up.

     "Hey, calm down. I'm going to ask someone for meds, just lie here and breath, alright?" I suggested. He nodded, so I got up and went out of our dressing room and went to the first person I saw from our team. "Do we have any medicines? Luke has been sick for the past few days and he's feeling unwell again," I explained.

     The woman paused to think. "Um, I would have to check. What is it for?" She asked.

     "It's his stomach. He's feeling really nauseous. He's a little worried about going out on stage," the woman gave a sympathetic nod.

     "Okay. Like I said, I would have to check with the medics and see if they have anything," she turned to walk away. I quickly grabbed hold of her sleeve and she turned to look at me again. "Sorry, I thought we were done with the conversation," I glanced away from her for a second, trying to pull my thoughts together. I had kind of forgotten why I stopped her.

     "Uh, yeah, if Cash is here, could you possibly bring him back to check him out really quick? I just want to make sure he is alright to perform," I spouted after a second of thought and her looking at me like I was crazy. She laughed and nodded. I let her leave.

     I walked back into the dressing room. The other two boys were waiting outside the bathroom for Luke. I stopped dead in my tracks with a quick sigh and my head dropped my head. "Yep, it is exactly what you think," Calum said with a wince. Just after that I heard a throat shedding heave.

     I put my palms over my eyes and tossed my head back in mild frustration. "This is just brilliant.... This is just great!" I yelled. I wasn't angry at Luke. I was mad at the fact he wasn't better.

     "What are we supposed to do? We can't go on if he is being sick like this," Calum explained.

     Before anyone else could answer, Luke came out, looking a lot worse then this morning. His eyes were teary and bloodshot and his face was pale, almost green. I felt my heart break for him.

     "Awe, come here" Calum cooed, taking Luke into his arms and hugging him tightly.

     "I don't feel good... I don't want to go on..." Luke said. His stomach audibly gurgled, and he groaned, almost gagging into Calum's chest.

     Luke pulled away from Calum's embrace, looking unsure. He glanced back over to the bathroom with a thick swallow. He groaned and closed his eyes.

     "Why don't you just lay down on the couch for now? We will bring a bin over in case," I asked, lightly gripping both his shoulders.

     "Um, I-uh, I think I need to-go-" He choked out. One of his hands shot to his mouth. He broke free from my hold and dashed back into the bathroom. He didn't even have time to close the door. We watched him crash to his knees in front of the toilet, immediately bringing up some bile. He struggled to bring anything else up.

     The door to the dressing room clicked open while Luke was in the middle of a loud, violent, and painful sounding dry heave. It was Cash. His face dropped the second he heard the state Luke was in.

Cash's POV:

     I was setting up for the show when a young brunette lady walked up to me, claiming to have a message from Michael. I frowned when she told me. Luke was sick, and he had been sick for a while. I wish I had been told before.

     I grabbed my fully stocked med bag and headed over to the boys' dressing room. I wanted to put on a smiling face as I walked in, but right when I opened the door I could hear Luke throwing up. I huffed out a sigh and shut the door. There would be no way Luke could perform.

     "Hey boys," I greeted. They all said their greeting, minus the lead singer since he was held up at that moment. His dry heaves were harsh. I squeezed passed the boys to get to the young man. I put my hand on his back. He hiccuped, sparing a second to see who it was, before getting right back to it. His stomach really wasn't giving him any breaks. "Just take some deep breaths, Luke. It'll help you relax. Follow my breathing. In through the nose and out the mouth, okay? One, two, deep breath. Hold it, and out," he gagged at first, but eventually, his stomach calmed down enough that he could sit back. "There you go. You feeling any better?" He nodded.

     "Tha-thank you Ca-ash," he said, breathing heavily still. "I don't think I've been th-this nau-nauseous in my l-life..." I gave him a look of empathy. Been there, done that myself. Being nauseous is never fun.

     "Well, I have some medicine for the nausea in my bag," I held up and finger, signalling him to wait a minute while I rummaged through my bag. Ah, there it was. I popped out the little purple tablet and handed it to him. "Just place that under your tongue and let it melt," he was quick to listen.

     "Mm. It tastes kind of good," he smiled. I nodded with a laugh.

     "Doesn't it?" I asked rhetorically, putting the pack of anti-nausea medicine back into my bag. "Let's get you on the couch now," I helped him to his feet, and he wobbled and swayed as soon as he was upright. The color drained from his face and I was quick to grab him. Thankfully, though, he didn't faint like I thought he would. "You okay?" I asked.

     "Yeah, I think so..." he said, his voice suddenly sounding weakened. I walked him over to the couch. Calum brought the bin over and set it beside him. Luke sat there with his head in his hands. "God, Cash, I feel worse than I did yesterday... I passed out yesterday. How could I feel even worse?" He asked, looking up at me with unshed tears pooling in his eyes.

     "You passed out yesterday?" Why are you even here?" I asked, crouching down in front of him. He shrugged.

     "I felt better after Fenton-" I held my hand up to stop him. Fenton. I needed no more information. "What?" He asked, clearly confused.

     "Fenton should have told you to stay home, or back at the hotel, excuse me," I corrected. "Fenton doesn't exactly have a good bedside manner, and to be honest, he doesn't have the greatest track record since joining the team," he hummed, letting his head drop back down. "He didn't prescribe you anything?" Luke shook his head. "Alright, well, I'll have to start you on some fluids," Luke's head shot up and he whimpered.

     "I really hate needles." He shivered, drawing himself away from me with a sniffle. It dawned on me that he was scared.

     "I promise I'll be really gentle. You won't feel a thing Luke," he seemed unsure, but nodded and gave me his arm.

     "Damn. Fenton struggled with Luke yesterday," Ashton gasped, gaping at the sight.

     "I-I trust Cash more," Luke stammered. I felt my face heat up as I gave a bashful smile.

     "Awe, that's sweet," I responded, earning a laugh from everyone. I grabbed my trusty IV pole from the bottom of my bag and burst out laughing as the boys all looked at me when I set it up. It was as if I had just done a magic trick.

     "The fuck, are you Houdini or something?" Michael mused, eyeing the device. I laughed again.

     "It's a retractable folding IV pole. It's pretty cool, isn't it?" They all nodded with their mouths still hanging open. It was always amusing to see people's reactions to this thing. "It's only about a foot in length when it's fully retracted so it's very easy for me to stow it away in my med bag," the shock from it had worn off by the time I finished my little spiel about my little toy.

     "Can I lay down?" Luke asked quietly. I nodded, helping him get comfortable.

     "Do you think you guys could see if there are any blankets and pillows? He may get cold," I requested. Calum nodded and quickly left the room while Ashton checked the dressing room for some bedding. "Okay, Luke, which arm did Fenton use yesterday?" Luke held out the arm that was against the back of the couch. I nodded and lightly grabbed hold of the one closest to me. I prepped it, and Luke nearly cinched away. I reminded him to breathe and gave him a moment before trying to insert the needle.

     He cracked one of his eyes open and chanced looking over at his arm. I already had the needle in. "Whoa... I really didn't feel it," he gasped, staring at me while I got the PICC line taped down. I grinned at him and connected the saline.

     "Just relax. I'm going to go talk to Matt. Let's see if you can get another day to get better," I got up and went to search for their manager. As I walked out, I actually bumped into Matt.

     "My bad, I was on my way to see if the boys were ready," he explained, glancing at his watch.

     I let out a heavy sigh. "Actually, I was coming to ask you about that. Luke is still really sick, I gave him some things to make him feel better, but he definitely can't go on stage tonight," I explained.

     Matt pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slightly. "The concert is in less than an hour. How are we supposed to cancel now?" he asked. It looked like he was mostly asking himself those questions.

Calum's POV:

     Matt had tried talking to management, but they weren't having it. They insisted that he was fine after being on break for two days. Luke had to go on stage tonight. When Matt told Luke, he insisted he was fine. Mostly, he even seemed it. It was like he was pumped to get out there. Maybe it was because he had been hauled up in the hotel room for the last two to three days.

     The crowd roared when Ashton ran on stage. He carefully stood on the drummer's stool and pumped his fist in the air. "Let's go!" Michael yelled over the audience's cheers. We all rushed to our usual spots, with Michael standing on the speaker at the front of the stage. All our hands were in the air as Ashton began drumming the beat.

     The first song was She Looks So Perfect. We had talked to Luke right before coming on stage about the jump. He said he wanted us to act as if nothing was wrong and that he would let us know if he started feeling ill again.

     I had kept an eye on him throughout the show and small interview. Besides him seeming a little sluggish at times and his voice being shaky, he did alright. Towards the end, it had become evident that he was feeling a tad under the weather, but he pulled through brilliantly.

     If I hadn't been with Luke, I wouldn't have even thought he had been sick. Luke was on the mend and we all knew it would take time for him to fully recover. At least the concert had been a success.

____________________________________

[massivedrickhead]

[OPEN], pretty please?😢🙏🏼

My budy @justis14 also requested this, so thanks to both of you ❤️

[ OPEN ] : sender is openly emotionally vulnerable in front of the receiver, trusting them with this moment of vulnerability.

From this list of prompts

Read on AO3

Beca looked up as she heard the sound of keys in the door and hurried to wipe her eyes.

“Oh, hey!” Chloe said, brightly, as she walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect anyone to be home, aren’t you supposed to be at the station?”

“I thought you had class?”

“Cancelled,” Chloe said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “Professor is sick.”

Beca nodded, but didn’t look up.

Chloe took a second to look at Beca properly. There was something off that she couldn’t place.

There weren’t a lot of people that could read Beca Mitchell, but Chloe was proud to class herself as one of them. She knew when Beca was angry or happy or bored. She knew when she was excited about something, or when she was nervous. But she’d never seen her like this before.

Her nose was slightly red, and there were smudges of mascara under her eyes.

Had she been… crying?

Beca didn’t cry. Chloe had never seen Beca cry.

Beca looked at her, and yes, she confirmed she had definitely been crying. Was still currently crying, in fact. Her eyes were full of tears, and Chloe knew she had to tread carefully. Beca looked ready to bolt at any second. She wasn’t vulnerable with other people - she hated being vulnerable with other people.

Chloe swallowed, and took a seat beside Beca, her easy smile returning to her face. “He said he was sick, but apparently he’s just really hungover. Cooper, this guy who sits next to me, said he saw him in a strip club last night totally wasted.”

Beca let out a laugh, and wiped her eyes again. “Gross.”

“Yeah, Cooper’s kinda sleazy,” Chloe said. “But he always brings snacks to class so I befriended him.”

“What kinda snacks?” Beca asked, hating the roughness in her voice.

“Peanut butter cups.”

“Your favourite,” Beca said with another laugh.

“Yep.”

There was a small silence in which Beca wiped her eyes again.

“Come on then, who do I have to fight for making you cry?”

Beca shook her head before her face crumpled and tears fell despite her every effort to keep them at bay.

“I’m so stupid,” she said. She bit down on her lip and let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“How to do what?” Chloe asked, handing Beca a pack of tissues from her purse.

“Be… open. I don’t like people seeing me like this,” she wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. “Why do you have these?”

Chloe shrugged. “I cry a lot. I cried earlier because I saw a really good dog. So what happened?”

“I, um, I did something really stupid,” Beca said, her eyes brimming with tears again.

“Tell me about it,” Chloe said, nudging Beca with her elbow. “I’m sure it can’t be that stupid.”

“You know Luke at the radio station? I, um, I slept with him. About a month ago.”

“Oh,” Chloe said, feeling something twist in her stomach.

“It just happened once,” Beca said. “I… I was trying to get him to play some of my new stuff and he… he was being a jackass about it. He said he’d only do it if I agreed to go for a drink with him. So I did. And one drink turned into, like, a lot of drinks. It didn’t mean anything, it was just sex.”

“Okay… I mean it kinda seems like he took advantage of you but let’s just… shelve that for the moment. How come you’re upset about it now? Did something else happen?” Chloe asked.

“I’m… look, please don’t freak out. I’m pregnant,” Beca said, looking at Chloe like she wanted to bolt again. Like she was waiting to bolt again. “I’m pregnant, Chloe.”

“Holy shit,” Chloe said. “Yeah, it makes sense to cry over that. Does Luke know?”

Beca nodded and more tears fell. “I went to tell him today. I don’t want to keep it, I told him that, but he still freaked out. Kept saying it couldn’t be his and that I… I must have been-” her voice broke - “screwing other people.”

“Hey,” Chloe said, softly. “Come here.” She pulled Beca into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? I promise. And I’m gonna kick Luke’s sexy British ass the next time I see it.”

Beca laughed, and held onto Chloe tighter. It was nice. Comforting. Grounding.

“What do you need?” Chloe asked. “How can I help?”

“I, um, I went to the doctors yesterday. In order to… you know… and I have to take these pills. And apparently it’s gonna hurt. And I just need someone to be there with me, because I don’t want to do this alone. I need you to be with me.”

“Of course,” Chloe said. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Beca said. “You’re… the best Chloe. The literal best person I know.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” Chloe said, ending their hug and placing a kiss on Beca’s forehead. “You wanna go grab some lunch?”

“Sounds great,” Beca replied, wiping her eyes again.

“Maybe go wash your face first? Unless you really like the Alice Cooper look?”

“Jerk,” Beca said, laughing as she headed for the bathroom.

“You love me really.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

[whiskery-louis]

Game Night

** Hi everyone here is my first imagine in a while and it is pretty long and there will be a part 2!

Synopsis: Luke and you broke up 6 months ago. Ashton invites you over for game night.

Luke Hemmings x reader

Warnings: None

Please enjoy and let me know what you think!!

*not my photo*

“Come on Y/N you have to come see us! We’re traveling across the country just to see you!” Ashton whined through the phone.

“Well I didn’t ask you too Ash. I can’t risk seeing him-”

“He’s not coming, he’s staying here with her. Hell I don’t even think he knows we left.”

You sighed, “Who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Me and Mikey,” you could hear the smile in his voice. You had always been the closest to him and Michael. Not that you and Calum weren’t close, it was just different.

“What about Cal?” you asked.

“He’s staying back so you know who doesn’t get suspicious about the three of us all leaving for a weekend.”

“I don’t know Ash,” you sighed again. “I have work and stuff. Plus I was supposed to see the twins this weekend, and I wanted to go to Target…” you trailed off as you rattled on with excuses.

“Oh please, you know you miss us just as much as we miss you. It’s been six months Y/N, just come hangout for the night. I promise it’s not gonna be anything big. Just you, me, Mike and Crystal. We’ll just do pizza and play some games. Please Y/N, we’re already at the airport and if you don’t come willingly we got your new address from Lacey.”

You mentally cursed your best friend, she knew you specifically didn’t give any of them your new address for this very reason. You were out of excuses and you could hear Ashton’s smirk through the phone. He had you cornered and he knew it.

“Fine. Text me your Airbnb info and I’ll come over tomorrow when I’m done work. But you better be getting the good pizza, and there better be drinks.”

“Yes she’s in!” you heard Mikey yell in the background. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face.

“Bye boys, safe flight.”

You hung up the phone and put your head in your hands. While part of you was very excited to see Ashton and Michael again there was still a part of you that was worried. There was too much history between you and him so of course they all knew about it. They tried not to take sides during the break up but everyone knew he had Calum and you had the other two. It was part of the reason that you had moved back home instead of trying to find a place to stay in L.A.. You could feel the tension that was building between the four of them and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin their friendships or their band. It was all way more important than you. 

You hadn’t really spoken to any of them much other than the casual ‘how are you’ texts here and there. But from him it had been radio silence for six months. Now here you were, five minute after speaking with Ashton and you were already more stressed than you’d be in week. What did you get yourself into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearing 6:15 and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull up to the house, you had been circling the block for almost 20 minutes and every time you were about to stop you told yourself one more lap. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you, you knew it was only Ash, Mike and Crystal and yet just the thought of being around his friends was enough to make you sick. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered, finally pulling into the drive. You grabbed your bag, and although you hated to admit it, you were excited to see your old friends.

You walked up to the door and hesitantly knocked on it. As soon as your knuckles hit the wood you could hear yelling and footsteps running up to the door.

“Y/N!!!” Ashton yelled engulfing you in a massive hug.

“Can’t breathe…”

“Oi sorry, I’ve just missed you lots.” 

“I missed you too.” you grinned at him, wondering what you had been worried about all day. It felt like no time had passed.

“Well let her in the door man,” Michael spoke up from behind.

You smiled as you entered the house and walked over to Mikey hugging him hard.

“It’s been too long,” he muttered as he let you back.

“Well yeah, that kinda happens when there’s a global pandemic and I move across the county.”

You could tell Michael was going to tell you off for moving but Crystal came in the room then and thankfully saved you from talking about him.

She wrapped her arms around you giving you a quick hug, “It’s so good to see you, I’m glad you made it!”

“Me too, though if I didn’t come willingly I knew you’d show up on my doorstep.”

“You got that right,” she laughed, “It took all my energy to keep them in the house all day.”

“Well I appreciate it, I had a lot of work to get through today figuring I’ll still be hungover on Monday from this weekend.”

It was fitting that as soon as I mentioned being hungover we walked into the kitchen to a full stocked bar.

“Man I forgot you guys really go all out for game nights,” you couldn’t help but laugh at some of the fond memories.

“Okay so what game are we playing first?” Ashton asked as he handed you a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later and you really didn’t understand why you were so nervous to come. It was one of the best feelings catching up with your old friends and thankfully they didn’t bring him up once. You were in the middle of an intense game of charades, Crystal and you were kicking the boys asses.

“Alright do you guys want to give up yet? You’re never going to beat us so why not save yourselves the embarrassment.”

They both looked annoyed at how the game was progressing, “Well maybe if Mike could draw anything other than stick figures we would’ve stood a chance.” Ashton grumbled.

“And now you see why I always make sure someone else gets stuck with him,” Crystal laughed as she dodged the pen Michael threw at her.

You all laughed as you cleaned up and you went over to the stack of games, contemplating what you wanted to play next. You guys had made your way through a few different games and a few rounds of drinks and honestly you were exhausted. Since moving back home you didn’t hang out with many people other than Lacey and you forgot how much energy it took to be around people. You were tired but it was the best kind of tired. 

“Can we just watch a movie now? I’m tired of losing,” MIchael whined from the couch.

“That’s exactly what a sore loser would say,” you shot back.

Michael just smiled and shrugged his shoulders looking at you, “At least I know it, but I so call picking the movie.” He picked up the remote and started searching through Netflix looking for a good comedy that everyone would watch.

“Anyone up for another round?” Ashton asked and you nodded following him into the kitchen to help. It was silent as he rummaged through the alcohol looking for something new to drink. You hopped up on the counter waiting to see what he would make.

“So how have you really been?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, startly by his question and you could see him looking at you intently and knew exactly what he was talking about, or more so who he was talking about.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated what to tell him. “I’ve been fine.” you answered shortly.

He scoffed at your answer, “Come on Y/N, I know you better than that and as relaxed as you seem, there is still a part of you that is on edge. You ghosted us all when you left and it was like we lost a member of our family. So tell me the truth, how are you really?”

His answer startled you, and you blinked to keep the tears at bay. “Ash I really don’t wanna ruin the night and talk about him. Can we just table it for now and go back in there with Mike and Crystal. I really don't wanna bring the mood down.” You stared back at him and there must’ve been something in your eyes because he dropped it. He handed you a drink and the two of you went back into the other room. 

“Hey what were you two talking about?” Crystal asked as you sat next to her on the couch, a knowing look in her eye.

You elbowed her subtly, “Debating if Mikey was gonna pick a shitty movie or not,” you laughed.

“Don’t hate until you see it, it’s a good one you all like.” He pointed to the TV and you saw Shrek was on. “Also you could say thank you I ordered a pizza and it should be here in about 30 minutes.”

“Didn’t you just eat a plate of buffalo chicken dip and mac’n’cheese?”

He shrugged, “If it’s a problem Y/N then you can’t have any.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

You held your hands up in defense “No, no. Just asking, I’m for sure eating that pizza.”

“That’s what I thought,” Michael replied smugly.

You just rolled your eyes at him and sat back to begin the movie. Not even 10 minutes later and there was a knock on the door.

“Y/N since you were so judgy you can go answer the door.”

“Fine, fine. Though you suck at telling time Mikey, this was way less than 30 minutes.”

You got up from the couch and made your way to the door excited that the pizza was here much earlier than anticipated. There was another knock on the door as you were opening it. You froze when you saw who was there. 

Luke.

He must not have been expecting you either because he had a dumbfounded look on his face, and his fist was frozen in mid knock.

“Y/N?” he breathed, his eyes boring into yours.

It was silent and you both just stood there and stared at each other. It had been six months since you had seen him and although there were some noticeable changes he was still the same Luke who broke your heart all those months ago. His arms were larger and his shoulders slightly broader. His hair was longer, his roots growing out which somehow suited him more. He had shaved his quarantine beard but the stubble was growing back. His eyes were the same blue that you fell in love with, but they were missing the usual mischievous glint.

“Luke why are you just-” Calum was caught off walking up behind Luke, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” He squeezed past Luke and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You had no words as you hugged Cal back, you were still in shock at them being here and you couldn’t take your eyes off Luke,

“What the hell is taking so long?” Ashton came around the corner and froze when he saw the new additions to the party. “Oh you guys are early…” he trailed off.

At his statement you felt the rage building in your veins, you pushed Calum off of you turning to Ashton the anger seeping out of you. “I’m sorry what? They’re what Ashton?”

He looked sheepishly at you, “Surprise?” he shrugged his shoulders, with a slight smile on his face.

You couldn’t believe this. It was all a setup. The whole night was a trick for you to see him again when Ashton knew more than anything that it was the last thing you wanted. You were at a loss for words, as much as you wanted to yell, you didn’t have the energy anymore.

“Look we can explain…”

You held your hand up cutting him off, “Don’t Ashton, just don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I’m leaving.”

You stormed into the other room, to get you things. MIchael was trying to look busy but the guilt was written all over his face. Crystal was sitting next to him with her arms crossed glaring at her fiance, she looked up when you walked in.

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had no idea or I would’ve never let them pull this stunt.”

You gave her a weak smile, “I’m just going to get my things and go.”

Michael turned and looked like he was going to say something, but one look from Crystal silenced him.

“Thanks for the fun while it lasted, but please don’t reach out again,” you heard footsteps behind you and knew the others had followed you into the room. “I thought maybe I could be friends with some of you,” you pointedly looked at Luke, “But if this is the shit you are going to pull them I am out. I’m sorry but I cannot go through this again. I just can’t.”

With that you grabbed your bag and all but ran out of the house. As you sat in your car you were thankful that you didn’t have too much to drink and were able to drive yourself home. The thirty minute drive seemed to take forever. All you wanted was your bed and to be distracted by Netflix. After what felt like an eternity you pulled into your driveway and walked into your house. You threw your bag on the table and couldn't believe the night you had. You knew Ashton and Michael had wanted you to talk to Luke when you first broke up, but that was six months ago. You never thought that they would pull this shit tonight. It was almost more painful this time as you realized you had to cut all of them out of your life and not just Luke. 

You hadn’t expected to see him tonight and it really messed you up. You had spent the last six month erasing him from your life, as much as you could. You put everything he gave you into a box that was hidden in your basement. You tried to throw it away but it felt wrong somehow. He was too big a part of your life to completely get rid of. Lacey once asked you why you didn’t get rid of it all and you knew she thought it meant you still loved him but that wasn’t it. You just couldn’t bear to part with everything that had once brought you so much happiness. You hadn’t opened the box since you moved back home, as you went downstairs to bring it to the kitchen, you knew it was going to hurt more after seeing him tonight, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You spent over an hour looking through all the memories the two of you had made during your time together and you were a mess sitting on the floor with tears rolling down your face. Maybe it was from the exhaustion that raked your body or the alcohol that was still in your system but you left the contents of the box sprawled over the island and slipped on his old Nirvana shirt before going to your bed and finally falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next thing you knew you were being jolted awake by a banging on your door. You looked at the clock and groaned when you saw it was only 8:00am. Who the hell would be here so early. Hoping it was just a package you rolled back over and tried to fall back asleep, when the person knocked again.

You signed as you rolled out of bed and trudged downstairs in nothing but the old shirt you fell asleep in. Rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the brightness, you opened the door and had to squint to see who was there.

“Y/N, you uh forgot your phone and I wanted to make sure it got back to you safely.”

You hated that your heart skipped a beat as your name rolled off his lips, your eyes focused on him and the events of last night came back to you instantly.

“Luke.”

[creativeashproductions]

Elysium // Luke Patterson

Summary: The boys of Julie and the Phantoms need a hail Mary to dethrone Downslide from opening for Panic! At the Disco. While Willie is done to help his blue eyed crush and his friends there’s one issue: Willie can’t drive the bus. Moving a bench is one thing but driving an entire tour bus?  There’s only one person who can and Willie’s not sure where she is after year of no communication

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of death (it’s a ghost show, why is this a warning??), mention of assault, violence, and fluff.

Words: 11.5k

A/N: This is why I haven’t posted much in the last week. I’ve been writing this massive fic that I refused to turn into a series. My god, 11k words. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again. Enjoy and comment if you figured out who Rudy is!

Masterlist

There wasn’t much in the afterlife that you enjoyed after time spent in the limbo between the living and dead. Listening to songs before they were released lost its appeal just as much as dancing on stage with the ballet companies around the world, of being an unseen extra in shows and films being filmed.

Then you found a purpose a couple, well it could be more than a couple, years ago when you found a lost soul. William Young, Willie to his friends, had been sitting on the curb staring at the pavement entirely still as he had for two days.

The time from the last breath you took to walking the streets of Los Angeles was a blur in all honesty. The years bled together as you stayed stationary in a world that kept on spinning and changing, growing up. You had watched your friends hit new milestones you could only daydream about. Friends that graduated college and built new lives on the ashes of memories that included you.

Today’s walk was an attempt to escape your friends’ greying versions standing in front of a once vibrant sculpture. It happened every single year, but this one hurt the most. Listening to your friends recall stories of all the adventures you did together.

From being drunken idiots jumping off cliffs into that one lake the summer of freshman year. Or making a bonfire on the school’s roof with all the entryways blocked, rather stupid with the exits being blocked as well. Sneaking into concerts and stealing that one car that came close to sending you to boarding school.

The rebellion that still lived in you had mellowed in the five individuals with the adult responsibilities of family and work. Martha had removed all piercings but her lobes while Chase quit dying his hair colour. Jordan now had three children and a bought house.

Seeing the group no longer young had made your feet swiftly move from the memorial for a walk. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was tripping over something in front of you.

“Ouch.” You hissed rolling onto your back with a moan of pain that faded with the sniffles.

Curled into his knees, sitting on the curb was a teenage boy about your age. Long hair curtaining his profile you found your eyes grasping the cracked helmet that spoke for itself abandoned by his side.

“Your kinda a hazard there.” You simply spoke sitting down next to the distraught teenager, “Heads up, I suck at comforting people.”

At his silence, you spoke once more, “I’m digging the tie-dye. Did you do it yourself?”

“This is some kind of stupid coma dream right?” The boy’s voice was husky from crying and disuse, “I’m probably in some kind of hospital with a tube down my throat.”

“I’d say yes, but it would be a blatant lie.” You spoke twirling a loose thread on your jeans while the stranger gazed at a spot on the street.

His dark brown eyes bloodshot as he remembered the car honking mere seconds before he heard the sound of a thud. He recalled struggling to breathe with his broken ribs and his screams being illustrated with bloodstains.

He remembered thinking how he had just bought that board a week ago with his allowance.

“Am I really dead?”

“Yes. We’re are a couple ghosts in a lively city.” You informed him with one handheld in the space between your ethereal forms. The teen hesitantly placed his hand in yours with a firm shake.

“William but call me Willie.” He softly told you, catching sight of the patch on your jean jacket—one of many from both when your grandma owned it and then when you did.

“I’m Y/N. Let’s blow this disappointment. I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know.” Brushing off the invisible dust on your jeans, you held your hand out to him, “We’re about to make the afterlife our bitch.”

A stark contrast to his former hesitance he immediately grasped your hand to tug himself off the curb. The forlorn skater didn’t question the board in your hand or how he could possibly even touch his own board. He didn’t wonder how it wasn’t in pieces like it had been when he first got hit.

That rebellion that ended your life flared again in the presence of your best friend with crashing Justin Bieber’s house. Of rearranging items in classrooms to freak teachers out and sitting in the cars turning the radio on and off. Haunting the living until the friendship fractured under the influence of a powerful ghost.

Caleb Covington had bewitched the skater with promises and extravagant gifts until Willie had taken the offer.

“He’s not like you said he was! I think you should give him a chance!” Willie cried following you around the place you had taken to be home.

“Willie he’s a bad guy! He butters you up until you give him what you want! That’s when you see his true colours. All he wants is your soul to power his magic and spread his reach!”

“I got to talk to my sister!”

“Your sister is five years old! It’s not Covington that gave you the opportunity. She won’t remember the experience as anything other than an invisible friend!”

“There are so many people at the Club that we can talk to. Aren’t you tired of the same routine and people we see?”

Willie’s pleading brought your full attention to the skater avoiding your gaze, “William Young…you took his offer.”

Willie tore his gaze from the art on the wall to find yours blatantly glaring at him with a bucket of random colour in your hand.

“The Club is going to France to tour around the country for a while. I’m dead, so I might as well make the best of it. Besides who gets to skate through the Louvre!” Willie beamed, watching as a small smile, found its way on your face at his excitement, “I’m sure Caleb would let you come to the Club tonight!”

“Willie, you are my best friend, but I’ve already seen the Club. It’s not my style, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That interaction was one of the very few speckled through the years when Caleb discovered who you were. No matter his offers, you never took the deal and when he saw how close you and Willie where he kept the skater busy. The Club didn’t appear in Los Angeles for a long time until Willie’s distance seemed too great to bridge.

“So, you need a way for the slot to be empty?” Willie asked the trio of ghosts all spread around the area.

Unfortunately for Luke, the only person they could get help from was from the very guy that placed them in a predicament. While Alex was the one spearheading the conversation with the long-haired skater Luke was glowering in his direction.

“The Orpheum was the thing we never got to do. We spent hours practising and performing with one goal-“

“Play the Orpheum and get distance from our parents. Well, at the time that streetdog and becoming legendary was my main focus.” Reggie recounted the feeling of suffocating in a house filled with fighting. A home he wished still stood, now dead all he wanted was to see his parents.

“We almost did it too.” Luke pouted relaxing his glare at the skater who openly sent apologetic gazes at Alex’s bandmates.

“So, we need to get rid of the opening band.” Willie nodded to himself, thinking about ways before he caught sight of the abject horror on the band. The skater’s eyebrows raised, “I know I deeply fractured the trust, but I’m not suggesting murder.”

“Okay. Good.” Reggie whistled relaxing his tense posture while Luke grumbled under his breath an insult that in turn got Alex’s arm into the guitarist’s ribs.

“Your best bet would be getting the bus out of LA. The band will probably celebrate the upcoming gig.”

“Could you make the bus disappear?” Alex hesitantly questioned shifting in his now vintage sneakers. The blonde-haired drummer flushed slightly under the endearing smile from the skater. The feelings create a confliction within Alex under Willie’s issue, leading them straight into a madman’s hands.

“I can move a bench, turn sirens on, but a bus is outside my paygrade.” Willie openly admitted showing his hands deep in his pockets, “The only person other than Caleb that has enough power-“

“-is he just as evil?” Luke demanded crossing his arms to glare at the male that had unfortunately caught the interest of Alex.

However, Luke couldn’t blame Alex for falling for this guy because well, Luke saw the teenage ghost’s appeal. Willie was attractive, but he wasn’t the type of person Luke would fall for. Plus he had initially made Alex incredibly happy, and Luke would never blame Alex for that.

“She is as different from Caleb as one can be. She uh…she taught me everything about being a ghost. Actually, found me where I died.” Willie cleared his throat as the guilt and sadness reared its head from deep within him. The guilt of leaving his little sister to grow up without him and the sorrow of not growing up with the girl.

It wasn’t often Willie allowed himself to remember the little girl, barely five when he died, who was always dancing. His little sister adored the colour purple and anything shiny and more than once Willie had let her dress him up. Willie’s greatest regret is that he’d never have that interaction with her. God, she’d be around his age now and in high school.

“Okay, so where is she?” Reggie clapped his hands, bringing the skater out of his thoughts and back into the present.

Luke saw the hesitation in Willie, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Kinda?” Willie trailed off bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I haven’t seen her in years now. Last time I saw her we fought about the whole joining Caleb thing? I’m not even sure if she’s still in LA.”

“Of fucking course,” Luke grunted shoving both hands in his hair taking a few steps away from the other ghosts.

First, he dies, then he gets caught up in some bullshit revenge plot, then makes a deal with the devil without realizing it, and now their one chance is going up in flames. Luke Patterson was livid with the universe and the shitty hand he had been dealt, but at least he had his friends with him.

“It can’t hurt to look for her?” Reggie innocently offered with a shake of his shoulders, “It’s not like we have any other option.”

“Did we ever even have options?” Luke hissed, causing Willie and Alex each to flinch with the different guilt they carried.

Alex was guilty of going to Willie for help when getting back at Bobby was the biggest thing. Willie was guilty of ignoring his instincts on keeping Alex as far from Caleb as he could be he just wanted to impress the drummer. It’s not like Willie had many options for dating, and well, Alex was the first to get his entire focus.

“Dude. Stop. No one saw it coming.” Reggie bumped his hip against the annoyed guitarist, “Let’s find this ghost and get our shot at playing.”

The quartet of dead guys didn’t have high hopes of finding the girl in question, but it seemed the universe took pity on Luke Patterson. Just two hours into their search on the edges of the city limits an individual was walking.

The person’s stature leaned against a smashed concrete wall of the skeleton of where a building once was. The only thing the group could make out was a faded jean jacket with splotches of colour. Her ankles crossed as her back leaned against the cement, oozed laid back confidence. Coming closer, Luke noticed the sunglasses perched on top of her head and the lips painted dark.

“What do you need Willie? I heard you were looking for me.” The husky voice drew Luke in the most. The lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms enamoured with the girl.

“How’d-“Willie’s question was cut off as you simply tapped your right index finger against your temple.

“How do you think you managed to get here?” You inquired pushing off the cement to stride over to the group. To Willie’s surprise, he was tugged into your embrace before swiftly pushed away, “Come on. We should head in before someone catches us.”

In the dark as much as the other three ghosts, Willie dutifully followed you past the pieces of cement littered around the area. Gasps of surprise sounded as the once empty space became filled with buildings. It was not as extravagant as the hotel the Club worked out of, but it was hidden from the living and dead eyes.

“Where did this come from?” Reggie gasped astounded by the people once hidden from his view, moving around the area. 

“This is Elysium. Don’t judge the name I lost the right in a poker game with Susie and Rudy. I’m Y/N.” You informed the group leading them to the gate where two people stood stoically guarding it, “Rudy was hellbent on calling it Valhalla.”

“This is Luke, Reggie and Alex.” Willie gestured to the awed trio of musicians only lingering on the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the attraction between the skater and the blonde; finding a date in the afterlife was a lot harder than the living.

Nodding a greeting to the two ghosts, you lead the group to a building painted a pretty turquoise blue colour. The sign above the double doors a stark white with calligraphy writing simply stating Elysium Management. It was a building set up like an administrative office of three stories, and you led the group right up to the top floor.

“Just a heads up…Rudy is a little suspicious of people.” You admitted standing outside a door with a nameplate the only descriptor, “He’ll come off a little gruff and rude, but when you get passed that he doesn’t shut up.”

“I can hear you through the door dumbass.” The words were called out from the office door opening.

The man standing in the entry wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown eyes lit up with a teasing look before it shuttered at the sight of four strangers behind you. Rudy had valid reasons to not fully trust people after the shitshow in his hometown when he was alive.

“And you’ve brought strangers.” Rudy deadpanned with a sigh concluding his sentence as he stepped back into the office. It appeared like the world repositioned itself on the young man’s shoulders once more.

“I should be done within the hour. We can go over everything.” You informed your business partner and friend. Receiving only a nod from Rudy, you closed the door to his office, cutting off the view from your guests.

“He’s..uh.”

“Standoffish? Rudy keeps his past to himself, all he’s ever revealed is that he’s from a town a few hours away.” You spoke, opening the door to your own office decorated differently from Rudy’s more sterile black and white aesthetic.

Your office had splashes of colour with vintage posters of both music and film framed on the walls—a plush couch in the corner with a basket of blankets next to it. Instead of sitting behind the dark desk, you chose the couch instead. As you settled in the corner, you flicked one finger bringing an extra seat over.

The motion shocking the three boys accompanying Willie who had seen the abilities himself.

“Okay so why did you want to search for me?” You questioned the skater leaning back in the seat.

“When did this all happen?” Willie countered gesturing to the office in a building settled in the middle of a ghost town. A literal ghost town.

“There’s an empty lot in LA that used to house an abandoned apartment building that Rudy and I both called home. Of course, it was torn down, and we kinda knew that there’s wasn’t a place that didn’t have the threat of being annihilated at some point.” The memories of those unknown days trickled into your mind among the more positive ones, “We wanted a home. A place to call our own.”

“A week or so later a skittish pixie of a brunette crashed into us full speed. Susie had a certain ability that Caleb desired to have under his thumb. There are so many ghosts he had manipulated into selling him their soul. Rudy and I both wanted to stop Caleb from having that chance for everyone.” You continued, “Can I show you?”

The moon shone through the light clouds as a duo wandered LA’s streets in different mental states. The only home you had known had been unceremoniously ripped down with no future plans in place. Your entire life had been in that apartment in a building you had once thought only you inhabited. You had been unaware that on a separate floor, Rudy had been dwelling.

The two teens in starkly different clothing grew close with each other through the whole being the dead thing they shared. The mission was to find another place too, use but the feeling of home being ripped away tore at their hearts. The apartment was a place Caleb Covington hadn’t been aware of.

Your thoughts threatened to turn darker as a force knocked you onto your bac—aA short brunette groaning in pain to the left of you. The girl was Gwen, who would become very important to both Rudy and you.

I’ve always been a little different than most people. I can move things short distances, but I developed a specific talent. I can get inside people’s minds to plant, remove or alter memories or simply talk and read their thoughts.

The sound of your voice in their heads freaked them out more than they would like to admit. The intrusive tickle of something in their brains unsettling as you made a more present entry so they could feel it.

“What?”

“This is why I can’t be anywhere near Caleb. The whole reason he gives people stamps and takes their souls is because of me.” You fully admitted clasping your fingers in your lap, “He couldn’t cope with the fear of another ghost leaving so added a stipulation to joining his Club.”

“How did you come to create Elysium?” Alex inquired leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. Luke and Reggie followed his posture as the anticipation built.

“Everyone deserves a safe place. A place as far away from Caleb as possible and we do so for free. No fee is required, and ghosts are free to come and go as they please. They are welcome as long as their unfinished business keeps them in this plane.”

It sounded like a sweet deal to the group of teens, but they had other commitments, “You can tell us more, but we need your help.”

The pleading in the messy-haired brunette tore at your heartstrings like the one time Willie brought you to his house. It had been shortly before your friendship fractured, a few years ago. He had brought you to a suburb for low-income families and straight to the backyard where a twelve-year-old year danced.

The dead skater boy and the rebel sat in the patio chair on the tiny porch nestled in the postmark sized backyard. A quintet of pre-pubescent girls danced on the lawn to some bubblegum pop song. The Young girl was submissive to a more confident girl even when the venue was the Young girl’s home.

“The girl to the left is my little sister Kayla. She’s twelve now, it’s been seven years since I died.” Willie’s brown eyes saddened at the dancer who had a spark of maturity in her eyes, “I check in every once in a while. These are Kayla’s friends. The bossy girl is Carrie, and while the band is a group, she is the unofficial leader of the band Carrie’s Constellations.”

 “She looks happy.”

“Kayla’s always been bubbly in personality, but she had questionable friends.” Willie outright admitted keeping his eyes pinned to the girl that had grown up in a blink of an eye. Her dark hair concealed by the gaudy purple wig; the colour assigned to the teenager.

“It’s nice that she still enjoys dance.” Willie finished reaching out to grab your hand in his and just like that Willie transitioned back into carefree, “I found this really cool skatepark I think you’d like.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Alex winced as the three musicians flinched as a sudden purple spark of colour lit up their midsections.

Like a tentacle, your mind reached into the quiet raven-haired boy with the leather jacket. Beyond the imagery of docile golden retrievers and steaming plates of food, you found the regret and fear in the boy. Stepping into a recent memory, you watched their experience at the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“You’ve met Caleb.” You sighed roughly pushing your index finger between your brows feeling the familiar ache.

“It was a stupid decision,” Luke spoke up, tearing his focus from the mysterious girl that ultimately had the power in her hands. The entire plan was weighing on the decision you would give, “Either we join his house band, or we don’t exist.”

“Hm.” You spoke as the kaleidoscope of colours in Luke’s eyes glittered under the sterile lights of the room. It was difficult to look away from the enthralling teenage ghost, but the emotion wafting off Willie was concerning.

“They died before they could perform at the Orpheum. We’re banking that getting the opening slot with giving them the push into crossing over.” The long-haired skater leaned closer, “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t do much.”

“So, you want to pull ’09 incident again?” You completely ignored the trio on the couch staring directly at the sheepish skater with raised eyebrows, “Only this time without the train?”

“Train?” Alex whispered, looking between the two long-time friends with interest and then next thing he knew Alex was in the backseat of a van crushed between Reggie and Luke equally confused.

Chicago, Illinois 2009

William Young and Y/N Y/L/N were complete hellions in the ghost world, creating havoc that fascinated the living population. The recent event being the highjacking of a van filled with drunk teenage boys. These boys had been the sole reason a young girl was recovering in a hospital with life-threatening injuries. The scene changed to a hospital room with Willie and Y/N watching a girl with massive bruising laid.

It had hit both Willie and Y/N hard catching the tail end of the new report, Willie thinking of how that could have been his sister. Even if Kayla was only five years old, having a sister set things more in perspective. For you it was a flashback to when you were alive and thus led you to the ICU room for the girl.

Slipping into her unconscious mind was easy but while the injured teen appeared peaceful to the hospital staff, she was anything but. The poor girl’s mind replayed the traumatic incident over and over like a movie; keeping in the shadows, you gently repainted the portrait with lighter and brighter images. 

For Willie, he watched as you wavered on your ghostly feet and smoothed out the features of the girl. The heart monitor subtly changing as the injured girl relaxed, and suddenly your interference heightened her chances of survival.

“I got it.” You spoke to Willie with a heated glare on your features and when the ghostly musician trio blinked they were back in the van.

Your hands gripped the van’s steering wheel with Willie turned in the passenger seat to watch a group of living boys scream. To the living eyes in the van, no one was in the front seats but whispered words spoke into their minds.

You’re going to go straight to the police and tell them what you did. You’ll hand over the photographic evidence and demand the worst punishment. You’ll leave the girl alone, or we’ll come back to finish our job. You will pay for the hospital bills if the family agrees. 

The boys trembled with the putrid scent of urine permeating the enclosed vehicle. The distant sound of a train echoed in the distance as the van stopped on the tracks. No matter how much the living boys moved the doors refused to open, and the windows remained unbreakable.

“WE promise!” The ringleader cried, slamming his shoulder against the door with the train’s bright lights illuminating the van.

“Let us go!” The other screamed, slamming his bruising hands on the window.

Alex was flinching at each slam of fists on the glass, leaving smears of blood. Knuckles broke from the window. At the very last second, your foot slammed the gas pedal taking the van millimetres from the train screeching on the tracks.

You and Willie stared at the stationary train lit up from the van’s headlights with the rhythmic flashes of the red and blue police lights. The van’s seat arrangement was different with the ringleader in the driver’s seat. 

The three ghost musicians standing unseen behind the duo but in the real world out of the dreamlike memory you knew.

Elysium, Present Day

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex cussed out of breath, leaning back on the couch with shaking limbs and fear in his bloodless veins.

Luke’s eyes blinked owlishly at the boy that he had once thought could never do something as terrifying and torturous. He was afraid to even ask the outcome of the life-threatening incident you did on the assailants.

“That is the reason for the train.” You barely glanced at the shaken trio to stare at who had once been your partner in crime, “Willie, I have responsibilities here. We just opened a new division for the children we house here.”

“It would take a few hours.” Willie pleaded, positioning his hands into a pleading position turning on his charm. The puppy eyes you had always struggled to say no to as if you weren’t the type of person easily capable of staying strong.

“We’ll do anything.” Luke pleaded just as much recalling the countless times he had charmed himself out of situations, “Please help us.”

“I’ll have to make arrangements with Rudy and Susie, but I might be able to pull some strings. I’m really sorry Willie, but I’m gonna need to erase your knowledge of this place. There are too many people depending on this setup.”

Outside the Orpheum

Outside the legendary venue, three out of four band members for Julie and the Phantoms walked up to the marquee. Hopefully, the letters for Downslide would be changed into their band name just under the main act. Everything was riding on Willie and Y/N’s capabilities. Trusting the skater was challenging to do and more so someone they didn’t fully know.

“Look, don’t worry, guys. Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex soothed his friends on each side of him. All three wearing concerned expressions at the place that hopefully was their last stop before crossing over.

“This is gonna work, right?” Reggie questioned with his hand confidently sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. The relaxed posture a juxtaposition to the anxiety and nerves on his flushed face.

“It has to.” Luke’s lips pursed into a pout with his words tinged with a dialect different from his best friends. The faint souvenir from the place he spent a few years growing up before moving to LA.

Luke’s words were highlighted by the groans of pain as that flash of purple courtesy of Caleb’s death stamp appeared. All three hunched over clutched their chests breathing through the pain; Luke was the first to unfurl his form.

“Whoa!” You gasped flashing underneath the marquee beside Willie. Rushing to give Luke support without even a second thought.

When the aftershock faded, the guitarist stood straight up with a thankful smile that boarded on adoration.

“Are you guys, okay?” Willie asked, keeping back with the swell of guilt that happened, seeing the familiar symptoms of post-shock. He had felt them a time or two in the time he had sold his soul to his unfortunate boss.

“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before,” Alex replied, rubbing his hand over the baby blue shirt he had chosen today. His blue eyes doing their best to avoid looking into the puppy-like ones of the skater, “How’d it go?”

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas.” Willie proudly announcing turning on his heel to show off the Downslide jacket he took from the lead singer. His fist extending to bump yours instinctively before he did so with Luke.

“With no chance of getting back in time.” You snickered in response living on the adrenaline and nostalgia of the rebellion. With Elysium, you had turned around your life, “Meaning-“

“-there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freakin’ out.”

 “Nah. This is Hollywood, man.” Willie scoffed with a wave of his hand matching the one you supplied, “I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

As Willie finished his sentence up in the promotor’s office out of earshot of the ghosts stood a very pissed adult. His finger-wagging his finger with teeth clenched, his flushed skin a juxtaposition to the cheery blue Hawaiian style shirt. Frank Wolfe couldn’t believe how stupid his once opening band was.

“What do you mean the bus drove itself into the middle of the desert?” Frank questioned progressively growing more and more frustrated. His assistant Tasha casting concerned looks to her typically collected boss, “BUSES DON’T DRIVE THEMSELVES!”

Tasha flinched at the sudden loud growl of the sentence but more so as Wolfe starting slamming the phone into the cradle. Her fingers halting on her keyboard, going over the list of frequent acts. Unfortunately, the five acts had other commitments causing Tasha to fear tonight. The blonde lady was worried Wolfe could have a breakdown once more.

While Willie snickered to his own words, your eyes, not your mind, could read that Alex wanted to talk to the skater. With only a teasing jab of your elbow in Willie’s ribs you shuffled around the drummer to join Reggie and Luke away from the ‘will they won’t they’ couple.

“So, can you do me a favour?” Luke hesitantly questioned you with his inquisitive eyes a greener colour in the sunlight. His attractive eyes took your full attention with a simple tilt of your head, “Julie’s family means a lot to us, and could you keep an eye on them?”

“And Carlos,” Reggie interjected rocking on his polished pleather boots he had spent ages on finding for his rocker aesthetic back in the ’90s.

“-Julie’s little brother.” Luke supplied at the confusion painted clearly on your pretty features. His green eyes scoured your face as he always did that flushed both his and your faces red.

“Yeah, of course, I can.” You firmly told the two dead boys each standing tense in front of you.

You could easily see the love they held for the living family that had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Since first meeting them you had always gotten the feeling that their living years weren’t the best. For Alex, it was living in the ’90s as a young gay teenager during a terrifying time for the LGBTQ+ community. Reggie flinched at the raised voices, and Luke had longingly stared after the happy families milling around the Elysium.

“Did you ever find out what your unfinished business was?” Reggie inquired fixing a strand of his dark hair that had fallen onto his blemish-free skin. Your smile faltered at his question; nonetheless, you answered.

“I did.” The two words carried a sense of pain with them. Your eyes unfocused recalling the euphoric feeling of seeing the breathtaking white light of the peace exuding from the beyond and the agony of denying crossing over.

“How-“

“Hey! Y/N!” Willie called out to the young denim wearing ghost with his beaming grin, “Don’t go stealing buses without me!”

Luke swore he could see your laughter in the air, just as endearing as the smoky quality your voice carried.

“Don’t go glitter bombing criminals.” You returned as your best friend dropped his board to skate off to wherever he was needed. It was bittersweet to reconnect with him knowing that it could be the last time.

When Caleb found out, not an if but a when Willie had a hand in helping his desired band it was high chance Willie would be gone. Caleb was all too powerful, and when he was betrayed, it never ended well.

“I need to get back to Elysium. Susie’s arrival is tonight. Good luck with tonight.” Your words were accompanied by a hug for each of the boys. The one with Luke lingering the most, “I wish you could play for the kids.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The brunette, messy-haired boy’s words carried a hidden desire simply to be in your space more. The teenage ghost helps those in limbo while wearing a jean jacket with patches from many decades. The jacket creating an unknown time you had lived.

“Goodbye, boys.” You told the trio before you poofed away from the busy streets of Hollywood where the band had come full circle in death.

“Are you guys, okay?” Reggie inquired his best friends, forgoing his casual personality for the layers underneath. His blue-green eyes filled with only concern.

Alex and Luke shared a lingering look, “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The dining hall was filled with long tables and chairs populated by the ghostly forms of everyone currently living at Elysium. It was reminiscent of a British book turned film series of youth with magic abilities. The series had been a favourite of a former resident.

“Incredible.” Susie breathed staring at the joyful people having a place to call home. Making the limbo between life and death more bearable.

“We’ve done well. You smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, “It’s so nice to have you back.”

Elysium was so much more than you could ever hope for. It kept growing and growing with more ghosts. Since the founding of the haven, new developments continuously happened with one resident’s unique ability.

Harvey had joined the haven a year into the founding bringing the ability to gift the residents with the capacity to eat. During his life, Harvey had been a renowned chef and the dream to make food it carried into his death. As long as Harvey cooked the food with his volunteer staff ghosts were able to eat it.

“Harvey has outdone himself again,” Rudy announced his arrival at your side with his arms crossed, displaying his corded muscles. The constellation of moles on his face standing on his pale creamy skin.

“Rudy!” Susie squealed, throwing herself into his arms with the same glee that came each time. Susie and Rudy since their first meeting had a special bond as chosen siblings who bonded over heartache.

Rudy had died, leaving his best friend and his strawberry blonde girlfriend in the living world back in their dark hometown. It was just one tidbit he had revealed throughout your friendship. The only physical connection to his living friends was the three picture on his desk of a group of people.

The first picture had a lean version of Rudy with his arms thrown over a Hispanic boy with a crooked jaw and glimmering brown eyes. The Hispanic boy had his arm around a pretty brunette girl with deep dimples and wavy brown hair. The two boys wore a sports uniform of some kind holding lacrosse sticks.

The second picture had Rudy and the Hispanic teen again but with a beautiful petite strawberry blonde. Along with them was a brunette with blunt chin-length hair and hardened features besides a shorter blonde male with blue eyes.

The last picture was of Rudy with the same Hispanic boy wearing graduation caps and gowns with two beaming adults. The male adult wore a tan shirt adorned with a star on his left pec and dark brown pants. He had to be Rudy’s father with similar features. The woman was of Hispanic descent with laugh lines, and thick dark curly hair pulled into a half do; obviously the Hispanic teen’s mother.

The pain in Rudy’s face each time he saw the pictures closed off a desire to ask him about the people.

“Hello, Susie.” Rudy chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small stature, “How was Europe?”

“Why don’t you ask the five newcomers I found before Caleb?” Susie teased gesturing to the ragtag of new ghosts immersed in conversations.

“Family?”

“A boarding school had a fire. Those five were in the fire when it happened and the only victims out of seven that didn’t cross over.” Susie’s tone faded into a melancholy tone with her small arms wrapping around her middle. Faded brown eyes staring at the younger of the five seeing herself in them.

“That’s terrible.” You whispered, staring at the table with one finger picking the patch of a band from the ’70s, “I can’t imagine how scary that could have been.”

“Yeah.” Susie softly spoke, pushing a strand of her hair off her temple just as equally sad for the way that death had no qualms of how it took.

The youngest ghost in Elysium had been a three-year-old toddler who passed over quickly when he was found by the deceased mother. The two had been separated at death and luckily shared the same unfinished business of finding each other.

“Miss Reynold’s has twelve spirits that finished their business.” Rudy softly informed his two partners. Soft smiles formed on their faces at the happy news of Elysium’s goal being accomplished again.

“May they find everlasting peace and serenity.” Your words intertwined with Susie in perfect sync of the motto coined after the first crossover, “I suppose the Serenity will begin planning?”

“Have the Serenity ever not performed their duty?” Rudy raised one dark eyebrow with a rhetorical question. E/c and faded brown met recalling the countless times Elysium had hosted a celebration for those who found their unfinished business.

“That is-whoa.” You gasped stumbling at the scream echoing in your mind accessorized with the vintage sound of a band.

Calloused hands grasped your shaking form from collapsing onto the ground from a proverbial psionic shove. Agony slammed your brain flickering into an old fashioned club filled with people in both colour or black and white attire. You caught sight of baby pink, deep royal blue and bright red suits. The pained screams of a skater in a dark room overtaking the music in the Club.

“No.” You whispered clenching your hands on your head, feeling the dread building in the pit of your stomach.

The joyful voices in the hall muted while your body flickered with the deep instinct to leave the haven for the one place that utterly terrified you. It was the familiar touch of Susie and Rudy that kept you from finding the one person that meant the world. Willie’s soul was on the cutting board, and Caleb obsession with performing was the only reason Willie still existed.

“Willie.” You whimpered tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, feeling the panic in the skater’s mind.

“Susie help me.” Rudy stonily spoke ushering the distraught girl from the busy hall into an empty room.

Your shaking body finding purchase on the plush sofa with Susie holding one hand in hers and Rudy brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. It wasn’t often your psionic abilities left you in such a state, but the distance proved difficult.

“Shit.” Rudy grumbled frowning, “This is bad. Y/N, we need to get you to Willie. You’re flickering, and the distance isn’t helping.”

“You want to take one of Elysium’s strongest ghosts straight into Caleb’s domain? You know how much he wants her in his Club.” Susie hissed to the co-founder of the haven they had to take extraordinary measures to protect, “It won’t work! You’re throwing her to the dogs!”

“Susanne I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, we always have a plan.” Rudy retorted narrowing his whiskey eyes at the younger girl, “I’ll take her to get Willie, but you need to stay here to make sure everything runs smooth.”

“Are you sure you can-“Susie cut herself off with a nod as Rudy displayed the reason he could do it, “Okay, yep, you can do it.”

Rudy came back into her vision in his signature position with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. The reason why Elysium worked so well was Rudy’s ability to erase an object from the view of anyone. He could make himself invisible to anyone and in practice, developed it to hide items and location. With his ability, Elysium was permanently hidden to anyone outside of his power. Illusions were his unique ability.

“You aren’t the first person to doubt my capability.” Rudy informed the other ghost reaching one hand out. With his fingers caressing your temple, he snapped his fingers, transporting you and him away from Elysium.

The empty room of Elysium’s dining hall was exchanged for the business streets of Los Angeles, bringing an improvement in your body. Pushing away from Rudy, your eyes frantically scoured the unfamiliar area for any hint of Willie.

“He’s close.” You exclaimed closing your e/c eyes to focus solely on your sixth sense kicking in. Rudy’s gasp snapped your eyes open to see his eyes pinned on your feet where a glowing neon purple smoke wisped.

“What is that?” Rudy demanded crouching to touch it, but it was like nothing was there. His whiskey brown eyes meeting your confused gaze.

“I have no clue, but I feel like I have to follow it.” Robotically your feet started walking following the smoke through the streets.

Rudy was silent as you came upon a park swallowed by the darkness of the night with the moon barely showing through the clouds. The odd purple smoke the only offering of light so far from the path with street lights.

“Of course we have to go through a park.” Rudy grumbled, “Nothing good ever happens in wooded areas at night.”

Lifting your eyes from the smoke, you looked at a deeply unsettled Rudy lost in the past only he knew. His mind recalling traipsing through the forest with his asthmatic best friend in the middle of the night. The last night before the unknown took over his life. Oddly enough dying and returning as a ghost was the most normal with everything that happened with his friends alive.

“You can go ba-“

“We’re not splitting up,” Rudy growled plainly scowling at your hesitant features. Rudy’s slammed the door closed on his past life.

Sensing unease Rudy’s calloused hand reached over to slide into yours in platonic support. You continued your mission, unaware that three certain ghosts in breathtaking suits were searching for you. 

Alex, Reggie, and Luke, affected by the purple jolts, failed to find the one place where their plan B could work. What Julie hadn’t known was that the guys had a plan just in case the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business. The three would go to Elysium to accept their fate and ensure Julie believed they crossed over.

With no Elysium in sight, the boys returned to the Molina garage hoping that one thing would go their way: Julie would go straight to bed.

The glow purple smoke trailed through the city park into an older part of Los Angeles before it stopped. Where the smoke stopped was a vast empty space surrounded by trees.

“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic.” You grumbled crossing your arms, “Willie’s somewhere here. Do you think Caleb has an underground lair?”

Rudy cast an unamused expression at you, “From past experience. No, that’s not likely. He probably has an apartment downtown. An underground network of caves in the woods is more shapeshifter style but still not true.”

“One: You’re rambling. Two: What the hell kind of life did you have?” You questioned furrowing your eyebrows at his rather odd piece of information.

“An old one.” Rudy spoke, staring ahead, “Besides, I think we should check out whatever building is hidden from our sight.”

“Hid-“Your mouth halted when Rudy roughly gripped your shoulders to twist you to face the empty space.

“Close your eyes. Trust your senses.” Rudy spoke softly, “Or pay attention to the slab of concrete in the middle of an empty space with well-kempt grass.”

Your palm slammed your forehead with a resounding thump in the night with distance lights from surrounding buildings. Rudy squeezed your shoulders as he stepped to the side once more in turn, closing his eyes.

“Walk in my mind.” Rudy stated for the first time in your friendship, allowing you to look in his mind. Your hesitance was met with another squeeze of comfort in his calloused grip.

Your tired eyes closed as your mind timidly stepped into the rather breathtaking mind of Rudy, who felt guilt the most. While Susie’s mind was like a summer day spent at a lake with brightness and gorgeous field of flowers, Rudy’s mind was different.

It was dark in Rudy’s mind but not as if evil, but as if he had been touched by the darkness and painted permanently. There’s was the odd whisper of childlike laughter intermingled with the full adult laugh of a woman; the laughter overshadowed with the sound of funeral music. You felt the lose near that memory. Rudy’s mind was painful to be in and drowning in the feelings he had.

Your breath caught seeing a door you assumed was of his childhood room with a name you couldn’t pronounce for the life of you.

“My parents named me after my mom’s dad.” Rudy spoke through his mind with a soft smile on his face, “I couldn’t say it, so I called myself Mischief. I stopped using it when my mom died, and I went by a shortened version of my last name.”

Your eyes watched as the door disappeared, and the reason you were in his mind came back to the forefront. Your eyes watched the image forming of a vintage hotel rippling in the air before it solidified. The size reminded you of a castle, and it felt like you were storming it.

Without any more mental interaction, you stepped out of Rudy’s mind back into the real world. The very same hotel in plain sight to both Rudy and your surprised elation.

 “Honestly didn’t think that would work.” Rudy breathlessly laughed, staring at the hotel once hidden to them. A dark comparison to Elysium.

“How do we play this, Rudy?” You inquired looking over at him, “This is very different from stealing cars and scaring teens.”

“Easy. We blend in.” Rudy responded, holding one hand out to grasp yours in which you noticed your attire had changed, “Perks of illusion? I can alter our own perception of ourselves.”

“Oh, wow. That looks expensive.” You replied, staring at the diamond bracelet on your wrist matching the necklace you wore.

Rudy’s attire had changed from his normal button-up with the sleeves rolled to be layered under a charcoal grey vest and jacket. Sleek matching pants to his coat and the dark black-tie matching the elegant black dress you wore. He had taken pity on your footwear to fit your ability to walk and for the fancy place.

He even had diamond cufflinks that matched you, but the wedding rings on your fingers took you aback. Your widened eyes staring at him.

“Tonight we’re Mr and Mrs Martin,” Rudy spoke choking on the last name he gave as it was the upscale name toppled from his lips.

“Okay. This is a test of our abilities.”

“This is if our plan A of being invisible doesn’t work. The one thing we know for sure is that Caleb has never seen either one of us.” Rudy soothed your nerves with a half-smile,” Let’s get Willie out.”

Your arm slipped into the crook of his to walk to the front door, “I feel like a spy. I feel like that Naomi Roma-“

“It’s Natasha Romanoff. Have you ever seen one of the marvel movies?” Rudy demanded walking up the entrance with a pained smile, “You’re like my best friend and when he wouldn’t watch Star Wars! Never caught one of my references!”

“Okay! Sorry, we can watch the movies when this over.” You grumbled as your heels clicked in the foyer of the hotel. The inside made you feel like you were sent back in time to the roaring ’20s.

“Oh damn, this is nice,” Rudy whispered, staring at the chandelier in the extravagant lobby of the last place you wanted to be.

While on the outside the two ghosts appeared cool, calm and collected they were anything but. Both a wreck inside from the perilous errand they had done that could very well be the ending of Elysium. Rudy nudged you to begin finding Willie with your mind, but you didn’t need to.

That same glowing mist was on the ground pulling you in the direction of a dark hall away from the route to the Club. Rudy kept his eye out, a characteristic carried into the afterlife from his time with the FBI, as you followed the mist. The hall continued to get more and more dark as the walk continued.

 Finally at the end was a blood-red door.

 “I swear to god if he kills his Club members, I’ll lose it.” You hissed to your arm candy, “What if he’s really H. H. Holmes disguised as a former magician? His door is blood red!”

“Have you been using your serial killer colouring book again?” Rudy demanded stuttering his steps to place his whiskey brown eyes on you. The sheepish expression on your face was enough of a response to gain the look of disbelief could have sent you into hysterics had the time not been too serious.

With a grin belying the situation, you twisted your wrist to open the door to hopefully where Willie was being held.

“What a cliché. He’s keeping Willie in the basement?”

“Will you shut up!” Rudy hissed right back with a clenched jaw entering the somewhat unfinished basement. It was cold even to your dead standards where the cold didn’t bother that much.

At the bottom in front of a desk with only a small lamp as illumination sat a vacant-eyed Willie painstakingly detailing a fabric. The lush purple velvet fabric was bougie, to say the least, and rather outlandish for the skater.

“Willie.” You softly coaxed the teen to glance up from the fabric you found to be something Caleb would wear. Willie’s brown eyes barely met yours before they returned to the sewing needle in his hand and the tiny beads in the bowl.

“Caleb is actually forcing him to be his personal seamstress?” Rudy scoffed,d stepping right up by your side to look at the work.

Both trying unsuccessfully to coaxed Willie out of the stupor he was engaged in the sudden poofing wasn’t heard.

“Mrs. Young taught both Willie and Kayla how to sew. She’s quite the seamstress, reminds me of my old one.” Caleb wistfully responded with a smarmy smile on his face, “Well if it isn’t little Y/N and whoever she brought. Nice threads.”

“Let him go.”

Caleb’s index finger caressed the corner of his mouth so gently to ensure the stage makeup didn’t budge. His clear ocean blue eyes turning thunderstorm navy as his lips parted in such a bone-chilling sinister grin.

“Let him go? He tried to take my new house band from me. He thinks that those boys not crossing over is his punishment. I think that adorable but so very wrong.” Caleb shrugged, dragging his finger down the bicep of his puppet.

“What can we do to- “

“You see after he’s done fixing the tuxedo jacket I’m going to tie him up on the table and slowly strip away his soul piece by piece. No, Willie won’t get the quick and easy zap erasing him. I’ll personally see it’s the most painful thing he experiences and I’ll do so happily.”

“Willie! Wake up!” Rudy shouted, shaking the skater’s shoulder frantically with his focus never entirely leaving the mad man. The whiskey brown eyes panicking at the odd displaced feeling of reliving his living life.

“That won’t work.” Caleb chuckled crossing his arms, “It’s rather amusing you think you can beat me. I’m Caleb Covington! I’m persuasive enough for hundred of memberships to financially benefit the Club.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N bitch.” You snarled viciously throwing your mind into the nefarious narcissistic mind of the washed-up magician. 

Caleb Convington had started to bore his audience with the same tricks at every previous show. The lack of interest depleting the attendance numbers and severely hurting the financials. So Caleb decided to broaden his talent by copying the likes of Harry Houdini.

He had a knack for both the dramatics and swindling his audience to be tricked by the illusions he created. The heightened popularity increased Caleb’s thirst for status and fame, so he overestimated himself.

Surrounded by adoring fans and journalists, Caleb had his assistant lock him in a safe with no key, to the audience’s knowledge, and push the safe into the river. Unfortunately from the infamous magician and escape artist the safe warped due to the material it as made out of. Caleb Covington died drowning in a safe at the bottom of the river.

You flinched feeling the emotion at the time Caleb had died and the feeling of disappointment at not leaving a legacy. Your continued your trek in the struggling mind of a man who viewed himself as invincible. You caught glimpses of a young Caleb with his family and the moments of tragedy that shaped him.

You saw his first taste of power in death and the content since the first time he erased a ghost from existence. It sickened you more as you reached the point where Willie came into Caleb’s path.

I’m unique, Caleb. Unlike you with the illusions and empty promises, I have real power that you could only dream of. Hearing your thoughts and planting my own words is just the tip of the iceberg.

Caleb screamed in response holding his aching head as you cruelly ripped every memory of Willie from his mind. The screams echoed not only in the basement but through the hotel the Club worked out of.

“Stop!” Caleb pleaded, shaking his head back and forth. The anguish was un-fazing to both the lucid people in the room. Rudy too busy trying to wake your best friend from the trance he had been placed in.

“I can alter memories. Remove them and even plant memories of my own design. You may take from people, but I give to people. I refused to give you anything.” You circled the man seeing double from outside and inside his mind.

I’m everything you wish you could be.

Your last action in his mind was searing a burn that flashed across his entire body from a nerve stroked. With the heat equivalent to magma in his veins, you burrowed to where Caleb controlled the souls. With a smear of your fingers, Willie’s soul was released from Caleb clutches.

“C’mon. Get Willie.” You told Rudy sending Caleb into an empty trance as if he was no more than a wax figure. Rudy eased the skater up from the desk while you exchanged Caleb to sit on the chair holding the needle, “We need to leave. I’ll get rid of any speck of Willie in memories.”

“I didn’t even get to punch the guy.” Rudy pouted, dragging his feet up the stairs away from the magician.

“That’s a good thing. I’m sure Caleb would be more pissed about his nose being damaged than losing Willie.” You scoffed helping the man urge Willie to walk up the stairs and then down the hallway to the entrance.

As you walked you brushed the minds of every individual in the building, all members in attendance, you gently removed all traces of Willie. By the time you reached the edge of the park, you had relaxed.

“We should get him to Alex, they didn’t crossover. I can still feel their imprint.”

“He’d be safer at Elysium to lay low.” Rudy replied, keeping on eye on the skater and on anyone he could see.

With only a nod, you ushered the ghost to teleport both the skater and himself back to the safe walls of Elysium. As he did so, you reached out with your mind to the blonde-haired sweet male in adoration with your best friend.

Clicking his place was easy enough for your draining power after the taxing bond with Willie’s absent presence. Instead of walking as you would generally choose you poofed on the cement pad in the backyard of a home. The surrounding skirt of the backyard encased with plants and flowers.

“Hello?” You called out in the darkness. The soft, mumbled words had your feet moving in the direction.

Standing in a circle mesmerized at the purple tattoos lifting off their skin was the boys of Julie and the Phantoms. The teenage beautiful Puerto Rican girl stood across from Luke with Reggie and Alex on each side.

“Alex?” You called out to the boy wearing a baby pink vintage tuxedo that complimented his skin and hair exquisitely. The outfit definitely screamed that Caleb had something to do with it, especially with the missing fanny pack.

“Y/N?” Luke gasped turning to see you in incredibly fancy attire matching his gorgeous blue suit modified to having no sleeves. The anticipation of eating at you to find Reggie rocking a red suit with butterflies on the fabric.

“I’m sorry you didn’t crossover.” Your words soothed the sad teenagers that had accepted their fate only to have no control again. An introduction was brought between you and Julie when the living girl elbowed Alex.

“Not that we mind but what are you doing here? How did you get here, and why are you dressed up?” Luke inquired, pushing his hands into his suit pockets, engrossed with your gorgeous appearance.

“Well when you crash a fancy Club with a narcissistic founder…any means to blend in is necessary.” You responded, “As for your second question.”

Your finger tapped your temple before continuing to speak, “I’m here because Alex deserves to know. You all do.”

The boy in baby pink frantically stepped forward, “What happened?”

“Maybe it’s best, I just show you?” Your brows furrowed to your own question accompanied by your lower lip being bitten by your teeth. The red lipstick not budging as it was an illusion as well.

“Hu-“Reggie grunted as he spiralled with his two dead bandmates into the scene that had sent you on your determined mission.

The rough action of being drawn into your memories as jarring as the first time and just as scary. The maniacal magician pacing the dark basement simply to heighten his dramatic speech. Alex’s heart clenched at the vacant look in the skater’s eyes with the faintest tinge of purple in the gorgeous brown.

“I feel like I got carsick.” Reggie moaned leaning over to clutch his midsection once you released the ghostly trio. Reggie would often gain a look of disbelief and horror from the blonde drummer, but his entire brain was centred on Willie.

“Rudy took Willie back to Elysium where he’ll be safe. If you want, you can join us.” The words were offered to both the dead and living currently in the room.

Opting out, Julie retired to her bedroom to calm down from the rush of performing at the Orpheum of all places. Besides she felt like going to Elysium was best for the three boys, and maybe they would move there. Julie would miss them, but she knew they’d always come back.

Susie was quick to hug you tightly as you stepped through the gates with the dead members of Julie’s band. The boys changed out of the tuxedos they had dropped off at a donation centre, Reggie had wanted to burn them. After living on the streets for a short while, Luke understood the need for clothing, so the clothing was taken to shelters.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Rudy told me you overexerted yourself again.” Susie spoke with a deeply furrowed brow oblivious to the puppy dog look from the bassist in red flannel.

“If I didn’t, Willie would be gone.”

“You’re pale yet flushed cheeks. I can see you have a fever. You need to rest.”

“I need to soothe Willie out of the trance that psychotic prick put him in.” You scoffed shaking Susie’s hand off your shoulder to sidestep her, “I’ll rest when he’s fine.”

“I-“

“At least gab something from the cafeteria for energy.” Susie’s brown eyes dimmed at your typical brush off. The same routine of overusing your powers and not recharging correctly, “He’s in Cottage A!”

The boys were on your heels as you power-walked through the streets of the ghost city with one location in mind. The living streets with homes of all style and colours appeared passed the bakery, the school and the clothing stores.

“You can eat?” Reggie whispered as a little ghost girl licked an ice cream cone walked by.

“Harvey adored cooking for people when he living, so he continued in death. Harvey can make food for ghosts, and so can his staff if they work in his kitchen. His pastry chef provides baked goods to Flora’s Bakery and makes the best ice cream.”

 “Oh my god.” Reggie practically squealed wholly flabbergasted by the almost perfect place you created, “How do you pay for things?”

“We don’t. What Harvey doesn’t grow in his garden, he can make ingredients out of thin air. We all have some kind of job we do. Everyone has a role in fulfilling to keep Elysium running.” You simply spoke keeping your eyes on the cottage with the robin’s egg blue door.

As if he knew Rudy flung the door open elated to see you standing there. Both of you still wearing the illusioned attire. IN milliseconds he wiped the illusion away, returning you back into your street clothes.

“How is he?”

“No change.” Rudy replied, following your steps in the living room. The skater was staring blankly at the wall.

“Willie!” Alex cried, rushing over to kneel beside the boy that had so swiftly stolen his heart without him realizing. The emotion in his word didn’t get a microscopic flinch from the formerly so-called enemy.

“Everyone be quiet.” You demanded forcibly staring each person in the room down for a mere second. With the desired silence continued, you ignored the headache forming in your head to step into the skater’s mind.

William Young was screaming to be released by the prison of his own mind Caleb had forced him into. He had felt the restriction on his soul lifted and the mist of purple leaving his brain, but he was still stuck.

He could barely breathe with the weight on his chest. Willie didn’t like feeling stuck in one place as he was a wanderer at heart. It was a reason why he had joined the Hollywood Ghost Club with the promise of travel.

Willie come back

In his mind, the sound of your voice firstly grounded the young man as a mirage of your form flickered. Your eyes screamed worry while the smile was one of relief.

Caleb can’t hurt you anymore. Come home.

The spectators watching see your flinching wavering expression and the tensing of Willie’s facial muscles. Everyone sat on the edge of their seat as the two pairs eyes opened in synch of the yells of hurt.

What they didn’t expect was your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and you to collapse onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Willie cried, stumbling off the couch onto the cold floor where your body lay prone, “Wake up!”

It seemed everyone forgot the little detail of being dead.

 “She’s fine.” Rudy remarked, shaking your arm with such gentle care matching the four guys’ care in the room.

Your eyelids fluttered open under the bright lights of the unused cottage still waiting for an owner.

“Susie was right.” You grumbled allowing Willie to help you sit up against the blue velvet couch. Your mussed hair adorable in the eyes of the guitarist utterly enamoured with everything about you.

“She usually is.” Rudy mused, thinking of the many times she had proven everyone wrong, “She punched me for not bringing you home.”

“Gotta love her.” You snorted turning to face the four ghosts awkwardly gazing around the room. It was barren of personality with the lack of inhabitants. The yearning quickly found in the boys’ eyes, “You know this isn’t the only cottage in need of people.”

“What do-“

“You’re welcome to live here. I know you three live in that studio, but here you can have a real bed. You can eat and having your own place. You can come and go as you please.” You offered without looking, Rudy.

“I don’-“

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s okay, but the option is always there. Willie, we make plans for a skatepark-“

“Oh, you had me from the start.” Willie beamed tugging you into his arms, “I missed this. I missed you.”

 “Me too.” You murmured into his warm embrace equally relaxed at knowing he was safe again. Your eyes clashing with the soft blue had Ideas songwriting already filled with lyrics of a pretty girl wearing a jean jacket with patches.

The lyrics turned into songs both in the studio and the cottage that Luke, Reggie and Alex accepted in Elysium. It had been a spirited discussion with Julie on moving to Elysium, but the boys were always there when she wasn’t in school. Often Elysium hosted a concert for the residents with the visitation of Julie.

Your reciprocated attraction with the messy-haired hazel-eyed guitarist flourished into a serious relationship. Luke took on the role of teaching how to play the guitar and songwriting. Alex took of mediation while Reggie worked with Harvey.

Willie quickly took on designing the skatepark he taught at while also taking a position at the ghost school.

“Morning.” The soft whisper roused your sleep into the golden glow of the morning light and chirping birds.

The growling aspect of his voice coming from only just waking up. The sight of Luke’s bleary eyes was heartwarming.

 A year into moving into Elysium, Luke had asked if you’d like to move in as he was the only one in the original house. Alex had moved into the little cottage with Willie three months into the relationship while Reggie was going back and forth between Susie’s room and his own place.

“Morning.” You hummed leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“You know I thought my life ended when I died. That I could never find someone and have a family. That I couldn’t share my music with the world. I was wrong.” Luke murmured as he cupped your cheek in his hand, “The band is growing more and more each day. I found the love of my life, and we have a family with everyone. I haven’t felt like I had had home for so long, but I get it now. You’re my home. I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at the adoration Luke displayed in his expressive hazel green gaze just as it had since day one. The awe fell from his lips before you pressed a kiss to his lips, only one of the many in the eons to come.

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[pink-flame]

For the Trope ask, 14 and 27 with Juke, then 19 and 72 with a ship of your choice

I’ll get to the second half of this soon. But for now part 2 of Bodyguard AU Juke! 

Read part one here. 

Bodyguard AU + Sick/Injured fic

Julie Molina was not sick.

Ok, maybe she had been dragging for days and her brain had gone slightly fuzzy and she was pretty sure she had a temperature.

But she wasn’t sick. She couldn’t be. Not when her first ever national tour started in less than a month and her second album had just been released. She had radio appearances and tv interviews and stage rehearsals and a million other things she had to do that week.

So she couldn’t be sick.

Unfortunately her body didn’t seem to get that memo.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Julie turned her head sluggishly toward Luke who was frowning over at her from the back of the car they were being driven towards her next interview in.

She shook her head then realized that was the opposite of what she meant to do. She stopped mid-shake and switched over to a nod.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She told him, the slight croak to her voice doing little to help her credibility.

Luke’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed as he examined her from across the car.

Alex turned to look back from the front seat.

“You are looking kind of like a ghost, Jules,” He observed. “You’re paler than me.”

“I said I’m fine,” Julie insisted even as she shivered involuntarily. “Can we just go over the schedule for today again?”

“Oh look at that,” Alex said, typing furiously on his phone. “It just cleared up.”

“Alex…” Julie whined.

“You should listen to him, Julie,” Luke broke in. “You’re not helping anyone by passing out on live tv.”

Julie crossed her arms and let out an indignant huff. She could feel her lips pursing like an annoyed toddler. She couldn’t help it. Being sick always reverted her back to her younger days and left her feeling pouty and clingy.

Not that she was sick.

Only her head was killing her and her nose was kind of stuffy and she was so tired.

“Maybe…” Her voice cracked and she studiously ignored the look Alex and Luke exchanged at the sound. “Maybe I could take one day off.”

“I’m glad you’ve seen reason,” Alex said. “Not that you had a choice but still.”

Julie sighed, deciding she didn’t have the energy to engage with her best friend at that moment. She sank back into the leather of the seat, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. She would just rest her eyes and by the time they got back to her place maybe she would feel up to doing some work remotely. She could tweak the lyrics for that Spotify exclusive she had promised for next week and maybe even call into a couple of radio shows she had been booked on. She would convince Alex that was a good idea. She just needed to rest for a few minutes first.

At least that had been the plan.

Instead she found herself being shaken awake to the sight of Luke’s face hovering over hers.

“Jules? We’re here.”

Had he ever used that nickname for her before? She didn’t think so. She decided to blame her apparent illness for the sudden fluttering in her chest at the sound of the word tumbling casually from her bodyguard’s lips.

“Alex,” She mumbled, still half out of it. “Maybe I can do a couple of my interviews on the phone…”

“Go to bed,” He interrupted. “Seriously. I’ve got this.”

Julie wanted to protest but her brain was moving a little too slow and Luke was already pulling her out of the car, those absurdly defined muscles being put to work, and she lost her train of thought.

“I can walk,” She grumbled as he led her into her building and over to the elevator, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

“I know,” He said in an annoyingly agreeable voice. “So can I and right now we’re walking together.”

Julie rolled her eyes but let herself be hustled into the elevator. Luke scanned his key card to authorize it to take them to the top floor.

“Who gave you a key to my building?” Julie asked as she leaned against the wall and let her tired eyes slide shut.

“That would be you,” Luke answered, his amusement clear even though she didn’t open her eyes to check his expression.

“What an idiot,” She mumbled.

Her head was now not only throbbing but had suddenly started to feel too heavy to keep upright.

She felt Luke lean against the wall next to her and gave into the urge to lean over and rest her head on his shoulder. Or she would have if he hadn’t been quite a bit taller than her. As it was her head landed awkwardly somewhere towards the middle of his arm.

She sighed and decided it was too much trouble to try again.

He didn’t comment on her behavior, only leaned a little closer to her so she had less of a stretch.

It felt like only a second later that she heard the familiar ding that let her know they had reached her floor.

“Come on,” Luke said, raising her gently off of his arm so he could wrap it around her waist again and steer her towards her front door. He swiped his key again and pushed the door open, half dragging her inside and straight to her bedroom. She briefly had the wherewithal to wonder if she had left anything embarrassing out in plain sight but quickly gave up as she sank onto the edge of her bed.

“Thanks,” She mumbled. “I’m good now.”

He ignored her statement which was clearly intended to dismiss him. He crouched down in front of her and reached up to place the back of his hand against her forehead. Julie shivered, unsure if it was her fever or his proximity that caused her reaction.

She decided the fuzzy feeling in her head was excuse enough to let herself examine his face up close. She hadn’t been this close to him since they were pressed up against each other while hiding in her closet. It wasn’t a good memory exactly, she remembered how scared she had been in the moment, how violated she had felt later when she let it sink in that someone had invaded her home. But she also remembered his hand clutched in hers, soft palms and calloused fingertips confirming her suspicion that he was a musician in his spare time. She remembered his eyes, impossibly big as they searched hers for signs of panic. She remembered his messy hair and how badly she had wanted to run her fingers through it even during a terrifying situation.

And she remembered how he had refused to leave her that night, insisting that he sleep on her couch, just in case. She had gotten up that night, telling herself she needed a glass of water but knowing deep down she just wanted a glimpse of his sleeping face.

It was a good face.

His lips quirked up slightly.

“Thanks,” He said as he dropped his hand from her forehead.

“For what?”

She scrunched up her face in confusion.

“You just said I had a good face.”

Julie would have reacted more to that if she had the energy. As it was all she could do was groan slightly at the knowledge that she managed to say something she didn’t mean to in front of him again.

“Don’t worry, I know you don’t know what you’re saying,” He assured her. “You’re burning up, Boss.”

“I think I’d better lie down,” She mumbled.

He nodded and stood.

“Do you have some...where can I get you something to sleep in?” He asked.

“You don’t have to,” She tried to dismiss but he just stared at her expectantly. “Middle drawer.”

He crossed the room quickly and opened the door in question, grabbing an old baggy shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, bringing them back to her quickly.

“Thanks,” She said again.

“I’ll just…” He jerked his thumb towards the doorway indicating he would leave the room so she could change.

She nodded and started pulling her top off without hesitation. His eyes widened and he spun to leave the room quickly. Ok, she knew there were perfectly good reasons why she should have made sure he was turned around before she did that but she couldn’t latch on to them at that moment. She just wanted to be horizontal as soon as humanly possible. She had just managed to change and slide under her comforter when she heard the door to her condo click shut.

She tried to ignore the sinking in her chest at the sound.

Of course there was no reason for him to stay. He was her bodyguard not her babysitter and certainly not her boyfriend. Sure, she could admit to herself that she had been nursing a little crush on him for months and there had been times she was sure he was flirting with her. But then she reminded herself that was just how he was, chemistry with literally everyone. It didn’t mean anything to him.

So it couldn’t mean anything to her.

Julie sighed and sank deeper into her pillow. She wasn’t sure if she actually slept or if she just drifted in and out of feverish confusion but the next thing she was fully aware of was Luke once again crouching in front of her.

She wasn’t sure if he was real or not and somehow in her fever addled mind that seemed like a good reason to reach out and touch his face.

His eyes softened affectionately when her fingers brushed his cheek and she wasn’t sure if that was evidence that he was real or a fantasy.

“Hey, Boss,” He said softly.

“Hey,” She whispered. “You came back.”

He smiled and held up a plastic bag.

“Of course. I got Tylenol and tissues and some soup I can make you later.”

She felt a surge of treacherous joy at his words even as she struggled to hold on to enough logic and propriety to let him off the hook.

“You don’t have to stay,” She told him, pulling her hand back to her side. “This isn’t part of your job description.”

He chuckled and she wanted to demand he tell her what was so funny but she was distracted by the way he reached out to run his hand over the top of her head.

“Go to sleep, Jules.”

Her brain seemed to take his words as a command, her eyes fluttering shut. Unfortunately only a few seconds passed before a shrill ringing was causing them to shoot open again.

“Don’t answer it,” Luke tried even as she was reaching for her phone which sat on her nightstand.

“Hello?” She muttered, holding it up to her ear weakly.

“Julie? Are you ok?”

She frowned as the familiar voice of her big brother washed over her.

“Reggie? How did you even know I was sick?” She asked.

“Alex called me,” He said as though it should be obvious. “Look, I’m getting in the car right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What? No. That’s like a 6 hour drive,” She croaked out. “There’s no reason for you to come all the way from San Francisco.”

“The flu isn’t something to mess around with, Julie,” He insisted. “You shouldn’t be alone and Alex is working.”

Julie’s head was spinning and even the weight of her phone seemed to be too much for her in her current weakened state.

“I’m not alone,” She mumbled.

“What? Who’s there?” Reggie demanded.

“Just talk to Luke,” She instructed.

She just had time to hear Reggie ask semi-frantically who exactly Luke was before she was shoving the phone into her bodyguard’s hands. He looked slightly panicked but to his credit he took the phone and raised it to his ear.

Julie had intended to eavesdrop on their conversation but in the end she sank into a fitful slumber before she could hear a thing.

The next time she woke up she didn’t feel any better. If anything she felt even worse. Luke was there though. He brought her more pain medicine and walked her to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t fall. He made her soup and hot tea. And when she started to droop again he tucked her back into bed.

“Goodnight, Boss.”

He was still there when she woke up the next day.

She had a text message from Alex saying he had rescheduled her commitments for that day too and she still felt too miserable to fight him on it. Apparently Luke had gone back to his place at some point while she slept because he was wearing fresh clothes when she emerged from her room.

She felt slightly better by lunch, managing to sit up and join Luke on the couch to watch some tv. She discovered he loved the trashy reality shows that drove her crazy and she adored the cooking shows he called criminally boring. They both loved 90’s sitcoms though. At one point he grabbed her acoustic guitar and started playing her a song she had never heard before.

Dreaming like we’ll live forever

But living like it’s now or never

Julie managed a tired smirk.

“Is this your way of telling me I’m dying?” She asked teasingly.

“Not on my watch,” He said firmly before shooting her one of those troublesome grins she would always associate with him. “And that is part of my job description.”

Right. Because he was her employee. Only...surely employees didn’t just hang around for two days to keep their boss company while she was sick...did they?

The next day Julie was starting to feel more human. She insisted that Luke go home. It had taken some convincing but finally he had agreed, insisting that she call him if she needed anything.

Julie spent two more days recovering alone in her apartment, most of her symptoms having abated but a deep sense of exhaustion taking a little longer to leave her. She called Reggie back and ignored his pointed questions about why a bodyguard was so dedicated to her well-being when it wasn’t life threatening and was she sure there wasn’t something she wanted to tell him?

Brothers.

Alex wasn’t much better, texting her every five minutes not with work updates but asking if she had spoken to Luke. Of course she hadn’t. He was her bodyguard not her boyfriend and if some small part of her was disappointed that he hadn’t called to check on her she wasn’t about to say that out loud.

She was feeling back to herself and prepared to return to her hectic life the next day when she got one more message from Alex that had her nearly dropping her phone.

Just a heads up, I found out why lover boy hasn’t called. He caught your flu.

Julie felt a lot of things as she read Alex’s text.

She felt guilty.

She felt worried.

She felt an overwhelming urge to make sure he was ok.

She knew she could accomplish that by shooting off a quick text. If she really wanted to go the extra mile as a boss she could call. That would be normal. That would be appropriate.

But hadn’t they passed that a long time ago?

So that’s how she found herself outside of his apartment, knocking nervously on his door.

At first no one answered but just as she was debating knocking again the door swung open to reveal a pale Luke, his slightly sweaty face scrunching up adorably in confusion.

“Julie? What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice a familiar croak.

“You caught my flu,” She said simply as though that should explain everything.

He managed a smile even if it was slightly pained.

“So you what...came to apologize?”

“No, I…” She held up the bag she gripped in her hand. “I brought Tylenol and tissues and some soup I could make later. If you want.”

His eyebrows raised sluggishly in surprise.

“You’re going to take care of me?” He asked, that soft look back in his eyes.

“I can’t have you dying on me,” She shrugged with a small smile. “Who else would protect me from the over zealous tweens on tour?”

He chuckled before cutting himself off with a cough.

“That’s sweetly pragmatic of you,” He said. “How did you even know where I live?”

“Um, I had Alex pull your personal file,” She admitted.

“Wow, pretty sure that’s an HR violation,” He joked.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. So...can I come in?” She asked only slightly nervously.

In the end she shouldn’t have worried.

He only grinned tiredly and stepped aside to let her pass.

“Come on in, Boss.”

And so she stepped over the threshold thinking about how if this was a song she was writing that would be a metaphor for the start of something.

But that was a song to write another day.

Tag request: @only-trust-fictional-characters

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 18 -Chemistry

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what will they do?, 2.5k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

“Two, three, four!” Alex counted off and the band sprung into action inside the studio. The one good thing about the drums was that it made him hyper aware of every limb on his body. There was no room for distractions or intrusive thoughts when he was keeping time. It was almost like the euphoria of being dizzy, only without the dizziness. He could be okay in this state for a little while - just long enough to reset his mind and declutter itself.

As they finished their take, they heard a familiar voice from the sound booth.

“Sounds incredible boys!”

Caleb. There went the whole ‘reset and declutter’ thing he had going.

Each of the guys looked around at each other, knowing they would have to do their best to pretend they didn’t know anything. This was the first time they were seeing him since Alex had given the news to the rest of the band. None of them had actually discussed what they would do the next time Caleb happened to stop in. Setting down their instruments and slowly filing into the sound booth, they all greeted Caleb, trying to appear happy to see him.

“Let’s hear that playback, shall we?” he said as they all sat together. He pressed a few knobs on his soundboard and they all listened closely to their own song. It was just gonna be another session with notes on where they could dub vocals here and there or duplicate tracks to fill things out - it had to be normal, Alex prayed.

“And let’s stop here for a minute,” Caleb was saying after getting into a couple minutes of the track. “Reggie. What happened to the bassline?” Reggie sat up, blinking at being called out. “That’s not what was on your demo; why did you change it?”

Reggie’s face had already fallen as he made flustered attempts to respond.

“I-I...I just liked that line better...I think it fits the style and the direction of the song,” he stammered, shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. His hands came together in his usual fidget - the one he did when he got yelled at. Alex saw Bobby’s hand curl into a fist.

“Alright, alright, trust me,” Caleb placated. “I understand, probably more than any of you, why improvising a part feels so good. I wouldn’t host a jazz club if I didn’t get that. But here the difference is that no one knows your songs yet, boys.”

“We’ve had faithful fans for years,” Luke interrupted.

Caleb cut him off with a mere look. Shutting his mouth, Luke scratched the back of his head nervously. After taking a breath, Caleb simply let out a sigh.

“Boys.” His tone was really drawing on the charisma, Alex noticed. “My job in helping you reach the stardom that you all one hundred percent deserve is to help you create a footprint on the walk of fame. A footprint means as beginners we can’t mess with the core elements that make your brand. These songs need to stay consistent until we have thousands of fans singing back to you in the audience the very lines you wrote in your humble garage. They need to know the first few seconds of that drumbeat and recall who you are on the radio. They are going to learn those basslines and those chords and add them to their own repertoire while they aspire to be legends like you! Don’t you see how important that is? I know. Playing around is fun; experimenting with new ideas and sounds is the whole reason we’re here. But from now on, I want you boys to stay in one lane, and I will match your speed.”

Eyeing each other warily, they all awkwardly murmured and nodded to agree with him. None of his words had been all that comforting. Alex was stuck thinking about how Caleb had made an appeal to every single one of them and somehow been right on the nose. It was like he could read their minds and it felt rather invasive.

“We’ll remember that,” Alex told him. He knew the other three were battling with their fight or flight responses and it would be suspicious.

“Oh, good,” Caleb replied. “I can see we’re having an off day, but maybe Alex can get the rest of you on board. Let’s run that song again.”

Exchanging glances, the guys stood up and headed back into the recording booth.

“Man, chemistry sucks,” Bobby complained from his seat in the armchair in his garage. Books were spread out around him, as well as about a dozen crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. “Reggie would get this.”

Alex looked up from the history homework he’d been focused on. He was gaining such an ear for whenever Reggie or Bobby mentioned one another and it made him laugh inwardly. For now, though, he had to hide the smirk.

“Well, I would call him, but he’s taking care of his sister tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to bother him anyways.”

This was one of the rare occasions where it was just Alex and Bobby together. Usually at least Luke would be around, but he was out on some date with Julie and there was no telling when he was expected back. Bobby had been helping Alex with history for a little bit but about half an hour ago remembered his own homework in a panic. Now they were both having trouble focusing. Their time in the studio that morning was clearly still on both of their minds.

“Hey, did Reggie tell you we were playing for his cousin’s wedding?” Alex asked in a non sequitur fashion.

“What?” Bobby said, finally sitting up and tearing his eyes off the diagram he was making. “No, he didn’t. Since when was that happening?”

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” Alex told him casually.

“Oh.” Bobby looked down at the floor. “Any reason you haven’t mentioned it until now?”

Alex shifted in his seat on the couch at the suspicion in Bobby’s voice, but tried to play it off with a shrug.

“I just forgot. We’ve had a lot going on since he mentioned it to me.”

It did the trick. Still, Bobby sat in thought for a while, playing with his tongue inside his mouth absent-mindedly. Alex physically bit his own tongue to keep himself from asking what was on Bobby’s mind and pretended to turn his attention back to his history work. There was a long, static pause.

“Reggie’s been really weird lately,” Bobby said.

“Is that so?” Alex didn’t look up this time.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always been goofy and everything, but I mean, he’s been unusual even for him. You know what I mean?”

“I guess I haven’t been paying as close of attention.” Alex flipped a page in his text book. “But I’ll take your word. Are you worried about him?”

Furrowing his brow, Bobby frowned in thought.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, I always worry about him, you know, cuz of everything he deals with at home. But I don’t know...this is different.”

“Is it because of what Caleb said today?”

“I didn’t like that either, but no, that’s not it.”

He looked so serious that Alex couldn’t find it funny anymore. Actually, Bobby seemed so distressed by it that it was making Alex distressed.

“Hey,” he said with concern. “Why do you look so bummed about it?”

He received a glance as though a great weight sat upon Bobby’s shoulders. It was so familiar it shot him in the chest. His friend looked so lost and uncertain, so afraid to speak his mind. And Alex thought Reggie had been conflicted. It was a little worrying.

“I think you actually know what's going on, huh?” Bobby said in resignation.

Nope. Now it was just frustrating. Alex sat up and looked at Bobby directly.

“Okay, I know expressing yourself isn’t your strong suit, Bobby, but please say it out loud. You can do it. Especially with me.”

His friend’s eyebrows knit together even further, trying to convince himself to get it off his chest. A minute passed, and finally he shut his chemistry book, set it aside, and faced Alex.

“I have feelings for Reggie.”

Thank god.

“Good job! You’re officially the last to know!”

Bobby’s face fell into a confused expression.

“What?”

Alex merely shrugged. They were so helpless, but luckily he was better at trying to solve others’ problems than his own.

“I had to let you come to your own conclusion. It was exhausting; you took forever.”

Bobby folded his hands and fidgeted with his thumbs.

“How long have you noticed?”

“Technically? Since before playing at the Pearl. But that’s when it really started to be obvious.”

Smirking, Bobby just bowed and shook his head.

“You know,” he began. “When I was first getting to know you, I didn’t trust you. Luke and I were already so close, and he introduced me to you and Reggie and you two already were such good friends. For a while I couldn’t figure out when you were being sarcastic or serious and I didn’t want to admit I was too sensitive. Reggie helped me figure out the difference and I just sort of dropped anything I was upset about.”

Alex listened carefully, nodding at his words.

“And now you’ve started getting all personal because you know I’m the most trustworthy one here, right?” he half-teased.

Nodding, Bobby smiled a little.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me to get my crap together and tell Reggie?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “But go at your own pace. The last thing I want is you two making things even weirder than they already are by trying to discuss things when you’re not prepared. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great, but don’t forget the rest of the band in the process.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby pondered. “You have a point. Speaking of weird business, I’m still not cool about us pretending to go along with making the album while knowing what we do about Caleb.”

“Me neither, but I think Luke was right. We’re just being careful.”

“Since when is Sunset Curve careful, though? We would just set up and play wherever we could until we got chased off the property, and then we’d just find a new location the next night.”

“The difference is we were nobody fifteen year olds who didn’t have contracts signed. You said it yourself, we could risk losing the rights to our own music if we break things off.”

“We read the contracts, though, right?” Bobby insisted. “I made sure we did. I don’t remember anything that seemed too controlling in them.”

“Would we have known what to look for?” Alex responded.

Sighing heavily and flopping back into his chair, Bobby stared up into the ceiling. It felt like no good answer could be given. Alex was frustrated too, but he remembered what Tía Victoria had told him as well. He believed Willie, of course, especially since Victoria hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him. She hadn’t been able to get a sniff of Caleb’s true nature, and she was a professional investigator. If Caleb could fool her that easily, he’d tied their hands while they willingly held them out.

“Bobby,” Alex started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should stop laying ourselves on the ground and letting him walk all over us. None of this ‘establish the brand’ B.S.”

Straightening his posture, Alex sat up and folded his hands. That was exactly what he wanted to do, too. Even if he didn’t know anything else about Caleb, the way he’d gone after Reggie had left a sour enough taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else to Bobby, Luke stepped into the garage.

“Guys, I was thinking - ” he started.

“You wanna go after Caleb too?” Bobby said.

“Whoa, how did you know?” he sat back in surprise.

“Bobby and I were just talking about it,” Alex told him. Luke raised his eyebrows as he flopped onto the couch beside Alex.

“Were you guys mad when he singled out Reggie, too?”

“Yes!”

“Nobody shames Reggie like that!”

“Bobby, you should go cheer him up,” Luke suggested. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Oh my god!” Bobby cried, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Immediately he stood up and gathered all his books. “Just for that, I’m turning in you guys. Have a nice night, Alex. Luke, I hope it’s cold.” He stormed out of the garage and into his house while Luke and Alex simply laughed together.

“I, uh… I already gave him a speech about it,” Alex told Luke, smirking.

“Thank you!” Luke cried. “I know they tease me about being dense but at least I go for what I want! And so do you!”

Smiling at the acknowledgement of him and Willie, Alex slowly started packing up his homework. He could finish it tomorrow night.

“By the way, how was hanging out with Julie?” he asked.

Placing his arms behind his head, Luke got that dreamy far-off look on his face. The ‘Julie on the mind’ look. He smiled like he’d seen an angel and the angel had smiled back in kind.

“Oh, she’s awesome. She’s way better at roller skating than me. I wish there were two of me just so one of us could hold her hand while skating with her and the other could sit down and watch.”

Alex made a face at the odd visual, but he understood what Luke was talking about. He wondered what he and Willie looked like from an outside perspective. Did they look as happy as he felt? Did Willie bring out something in him that he’d never seen in the mirror? Or even something the rest of the guys didn’t know yet? That was something he really wanted to discuss with Willie now.

“I can’t wait until her mom gets out of the hospital,” Luke was saying. “I want to learn everything she can teach me. She told me she took two years just working on the production of an album for her band. Imagine what we could do with our songs if we had her in the studio instead of Caleb.”

“Wow,” Alex commented. “At this point, I really wish we were working with the Molinas. At least they seem to get us.”

Luke looked at him and Alex knew he’d heard all the underlying meaning in that sentence. All the guys had been accepted by Julie’s family in a way none of their own seemed capable of. Alex almost wished he hadn’t said it out loud because it only tempted him to forget about heading home.

“Maybe one day, we will, Alex,” Luke said, giving him an encouraging smile.

He chuckled as he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door.

“Yeah. That’d be sweet.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Parallels | Chapter 20

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist! | Parallels Masterlist

Characters: OC! Violet Grace Dawson, Luke Patterson, Julie Molina, Carrie Wilson, Bobby Wilson, Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer, Flynn nolastname, Willie nolastname, Nick Danforth-Evans, Dirty Candy 

Guideline: Sunset Universe is the universe in which Sunset Curve is famous and Violet is friends with Carrie, Julie and Flynn. Candy Universe is the universe in which Dirty Candy is more famous and Sunset Curve has broken up. 

Song(s) used: Perfect Harmony - Julie and The Phantoms

Warnings: Bit of cursing

Words:  2,777

The knock on Alex’s door startled him a little. He was getting ready for the day, not expecting anyone to knock on his door before nine in the morning. None of the boys were ever up that early. 

“Come in?” he called, making it sound more like a question than a command. 

The door slowly inched open, revealing a shy-looking Violet in the doorway. He wasn’t used to this version of Violet. He’d befriended the confident, sassy version of her. The one that just barged into rooms, owning her place on this earth. 

“Vi, hey!” he greeted, a little surprised to see her there. 

She chuckled slightly, nervously fiddling with her handbag. “I don’t know why I’m here, but something told me this morning that I should come and have a chat with you…” 

Alex’s head tilted slightly. 

“I had a dream about us talking about a song you wrote. It felt more like a memory than a dream, so I felt like I should… I don’t know… Come and talk to you?” 

A chuckle erupted out of Alex. “I had a conversation with Violet before she left. I showed her a song I wrote.” He turned to his nightstand and grabbed the notebook he had left on it. Opening it on the right page, he showed it to Violet. 

Something inside her shifted. She hadn’t worked on any music since getting back, but she felt as though Alex did need her help a little, as though he was asking her for some help. With more than just the song. 

Her eyes skidded across the page. She could feel the hurt and melancholy seep off the page. She could only imagine what it would sound like with the music added to it. 

“You should show this to the boys,” she whispered, amazed by the power this song held. 

Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not today, at least. Our manager is coming over soon for a meeting.” 

“All the more reason to show them!” Violet exclaimed excitedly. This was the most joy she had felt since returning to this universe. “I know what this song is about, Alex. I know about Willie…” 

The mention of the boy’s name caused Alex’ head to snap up in surprise. “How do you know about Willie?” 

“You guys are actually in a relationship in the other universe,” she told him with a small smile and she could see the relief on his face. “Why’s it you’re not out in this universe?” 

“Management,” he replied angrily. Violet decided not to push it. She could feel the frustration around the topic. “That’s why I can’t show this song today. Not when our manager is coming over.” 

A burst of confidence coursed through Violet as she spoke the next words. “Do you mind if I sit in on this meeting?” It surprised herself a little, but she went with it anyway. 

“Why?” Alex questioned, shutting his notebook and placing it back on his nightstand. 

Violet shrugged. “I feel like it’s a good day for a meeting.” 

While Alex went to wake up the boys, Violet occupied herself in the kitchen, getting some breakfast ready for them. In her mind, she went over the things she would say to their manager. There were a bunch of things she wanted to say. A bunch of which were things she knew the other Violet would say. 

“What are you doing here?” Reggie asked when he entered the kitchen, a surprised smile on his face. 

Violet snapped out of her thoughts, facing the boys that walked in. “Getting you guys prepped for this meeting with your manager,” she replied and handed them plates with stacks of pancakes. 

The boys happily ate the breakfast she’d made, no questions asked. Not even when she joined them in the music room when their manager had arrived. All five of them settled on the couch while their manager sat on the armchair. 

“Okay, I’m gonna cut to the chase. Here’s what we’re gonna do to promote your new album; a launch party at the mansion, like we’d done last time. After this, all four of you will be seen with at least one girl on your arm.” The boys stirred in their seats when the manager’s eyes landed on Violet. “But I can tell one of you is already on that.” 

Violet couldn’t help but roll  her eyes at him. “Seriously?” she spoke up, surprising everyone in the room, including herself. 

“Excuse me?” The manager challenged. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” she started, mimicking the boss himself, “Here’s what we’re gonna do for the promotion of their next album;” she raised her voice a little when saying the next words, “actual promotion of the album.” 

“I’m sorry?” he scoffed. 

“Yeah, you should be sorry.” Violet’s heart started beating faster as she continued. “You’ve been living off these boys’ lives without asking them what they wanted. They wanna make music. They wanna love who they wanna love without any restrictions. They wanna live their lives and be them. Authentically. Unapologetically.” 

The boys stared at Violet with wide eyes and surprised smiles. This was the Violet they had come to know. The Violet that had lived here over the summer. Had they switched again without them even noticing? 

“I’m sorry but who are you to tell me how to run my business?” 

Violet stood up from her spot on the couch next to Alex. “I’m Violet Grace Dawson, and I’m gonna need you to step the fuck up and let these boys do whatever they wanna do. Let them make the music they wanna make. Let them love who they wanna. It’s not gonna affect their music or their success. If anything, them being true to themselves will attract even more people because they’re gonna be able to identify themselves with them. The whole world is queer, why not let this band be queer?!” 

“It’s been proven that straight white men have more success than the queer,” the manager objected. “And what are you gonna do against me, huh? Little girl?”

Violet scoffed. “If you’re not gonna be a good manager to them–” she thought about what she was gonna say next and eventually settled on, “I’m gonna do it myself!” 

The man let out a bitter laugh. “As if a child like you would ever be able to manage a band like this one!” 

“This child has her connections. My mother happens to be a lawyer and my father is a manager himself. Used to be pretty good in this game. So either you step the fuck up or I’m gonna get this band the manager they deserve!” 

Her face had gone beet red, her hands clammy and her heart was pounding. That was exhilarating and scary at the same time. But the payoff was more than worth it. The manager got up from his chair, regarded Violet once more before turning to the boys. 

“You’re fired,” he said to them, but all four of them shook their heads. 

“You can’t fire us,” Luke said and got up as well. “Because we’re firing you.” 

Everyone held their breath as the guy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and turned to leave the room. A collective sigh echoed off the walls before the gang erupted into cheers while wrapping Violet up into a group hug. 

“Did you switch places with the other Violet again?!” Bobby questioned excitedly. 

Violet giggled. “Nope, still me… Gosh that was scary!” 

“Your parents really can help us though, right?” Reggie queried anxiously. 

“Obviously. My dad owns a chain of supermarkets, but he used to be a music manager back in his days. I’m sure if he knew he had a band as great as this one, he’d get back to that world asap!” 

“You’re amazing,” Luke told her, shaking his head. 

“Thanks for doing this for us, Vi,” said Alex. 

She smiled at him. “Don’t miss the gun at the starting line.”

   While the boys tried to figure out a way to switch the two Violets back, the girl herself kept her mind preoccupied with Dirty Candy rehearsals. Though she wasn't sure what to think of the new route the band was going into, especially since she had no clue how to play the drums. 

She asked the girls to focus on choreography right now, stalling every possible instrument-rehearsal for as long as she could. Thankfully, Carrie helped her out and came up with new excuses every single day. 

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked Violet at the end of the Dirty Candy rehearsal. 

“Yeah,” Violet breathed out, “I’m really feeling it today, you know? Keeps my mind off of things.” 

Carrie knew what she meant by ‘things’. It was Luke. She knew that if Violet stopped, she’d be thinking of the boy she had fallen in love with. The boy from the alternate universe. 

“Should we try and find a way to get you back?” Carrie then asked. “We did it once, I’m sure we can do it a second time? Which is technically a third since  the first was accidental…” Carrie’s blabbing reminded Violet of other Carrie. She was this intense, this excitable. 

“I’m sure that, if the universe wants me back, it’ll do its job.” 

Violet knew there was nothing she could do to switch them back. The universe had to figure this one out by itself and all she had to do was wait. Wait and wait and write. That same night, she picked up a pen and her notebook. 

“Don’t blink, no I don’t wanna miss it One thing and it’s back to the beginning ‘cause everything is rushing in fast Keep holding on, never look back And it’s one-two-three-four times That I’ll try for one more night Light a fire in my eyes I’m going out of my mind” 

Then the melody in her mind switched, as though someone had switched the radio station. For a second, she heard Luke singing. She heard his voice, singing these words to her that she had never heard before. Words that were meant for her to hear. Words she needed to hear. 

Not wanting to forget those words, she flipped through to an empty page and started jotting them down while her heart bled and beat faster at the same time. These were Luke’s words. She could feel it. This was from him, to her. 

This was the perfect harmony. 

After Reggie, Alex and Bobby had left the rehearsal space, Luke and Violet were the last ones left. There was a comfortable silence wrapped around them as they sat on the couches, basking in each other’s company. 

“How did you do that?” he asked, “With the manager? Back in the day, you barely dared to say ‘hello’ to strangers, let alone give off on our manager like that.” 

Violet shrugged, “I may have learned a thing or two about confidence from Carrie and Luke – the alternate universe versions of you.” 

Luke couldn’t help but smile at that. “If you could, would you wanna go back?” 

The question had taken Violet aback a little. Would she want to go back? She did miss Carrie and Bobby’s bickering. She missed Reggie’s smart ass and Alex’s sass. She even missed Dirty Candy a little. 

She missed Luke. More than anything. 

“If I could, yes…” Luke tilted his head slightly, urging her to elaborate. “I felt right, there, you know? Like a fish in water. That was my place, my home. More so than this has ever been…” Luke shot her a tight-lipped smile. “But there’s no way I’m ever gonna be able to get back.” 

There was nothing Luke could say to that. He wanted to help her. Somehow. Someway. If it would mean this Violet could be happy. If it would mean he’d get his Violet back. But there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was make this universe as bearable as possible for this Violet. 

“I started writing a song, by the way,” Luke announced and got up to retrieve his songbook from the piano wing. He opened it to the right page and showed it to her. At first glance, Violet could tell this was a song he’d written with Violet in his mind. 

Something this Violet had wanted him to do for years. 

Violet got up from the couch and made her way to the piano. She sat down and started playing the keys, a sweet melody floating out of the majestic instrument. Her eyes quickly found Luke’s, urging him to start singing. 

“Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before”

Violet smiled to herself. Who’d have thought that this guy, whom she was convinced was the biggest jerk on the planet, would write this song for a girl? A version of herself. A better, more confident version of herself. But that was something she needed to shake off. 

She took the next verse, just to preoccupy her own mind with something other than her alternate self. 

“Here in front of me Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen Life can be so mean But when he goes I know he doesn't leave”

Their voices blended together on the chorus and it reminded them both of each other’s parallel self. Though their personalities were completely different, their voices still sounded the same. Their voices still worked so well together. 

“The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony”

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony”

Luke grabbed Violet’s hands, pulling her up from the piano stool and guiding her towards the middle of the rehearsal space whilst they alternated lines. 

“You set me free”

“You and me together is more than chemistry”

Holding her hands close to him, the two sang to each other, almost forgetting this wasn’t the song for the two of them, but rather for their alternate selves. 

“Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands”

“We say we're friends, we play pretend You're more to me, we're everything Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony”

“I wrote a song,” Violet had told Luke. She had written a song and now the two of them were dancing together. As though they’d forgotten all about the parallel universes and they were singing to the person they had fallen in love with over the past few months. 

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony”

It felt so natural, dancing and singing together. Like they had been doing it for years. 

Luke then stopped, holding her hands in front of him as they sang the bridge together. They were all smiles and glistening eyes. In a dream-like state, hoping their parallel selves would feel what they were feeling. 

“I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah You are my brightest, burning star, whoa-whoa I never knew a love so real (so real) We're heaven on Earth, melody and words And when we are together we're In perfect harmony”

Luke then swayed her to the left, then to the right. She twirled and they shuffled along to the music in their heads. 

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa”

Violet almost felt like they were in Dirty Dancing, her favorite film, and they were having a moment like Johnny and Baby. Intimate. Sensational. Craving the wrong person. 

“We say we're friends We play pretend You're more to me We create”

Luke had twirled her inwards before twirling her outwards, letting her turn and turn and turn until she returned to him from the other side. 

“a perfect harmony”

The girl that had just been in his arms seconds ago, had gone. She’d disappeared and instead, reappeared on the other side. He knew right then and there that it wasn’t the same girl. He knew who he had caught in his arms. 

“Violet,” he whispered, looking into those brown orbs he’d come to love. “It’s you, isn’t it?” 

The girl looked around her. Seconds ago, she was dancing with Luke in the rehearsal space in Beverly Hills. Now, she found herself in Luke’s arms in Julie’s garage. She was back. She was home. 

“I’m home,” she whispered before Luke kissed her. Sweetly. Hungrily. Lovingly. 

She was back home. They managed to switch them back. Once more. 

To the universe where she felt most herself. 

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TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST | PARALLELS MASTERLIST

[creativeashproductions]

In the Beginning // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie (Rhodes)’s older sister is the epitome of cool in his, and his friends, eyes with her in a band. Pushed by a hazel eyed brunette with a huge crush on the eldest Rhodes teen the boys decide to start a band. While at first the band is for Luke’s dream of landing you he finds his passion with music.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, dad!Luke

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist writing another alive!Luke fic with Luke crushing on his band mate’s sister. Ugh, just imagine Luke suggesting a band to impress his crush only to fall in love with music instead.  For my fics it will be Alex Mitchell and Reggie Rhodes until JATP reveals their canon names. 

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1992

The guitar case was a familiar heaviness as you walked into the home for the first time in months after a practice. You ached from the long travel, and all you wanted was your bed. The yawn came first, then the startled yell at the living room.

Four pairs of eyes met the girl standing in the entryway, surprised at a sleepover with her brother and his full friends. Eyebrows coming together you shook your head wondering why they had come here instead of the typical Patterson home.

“Hey!” Fourteen-year-old Reggie beamed towards his older sister excited she was back from her weekend band practice. Your eyes blinked at his usual upbeat personality before switching to the brown eyes from Bobby, too shy to full meet yours.

Spread around the living room watching a movie was Reggie’s best friends; the socially awkward Alex, the shy Bobby, and the Patterson boy Luke. The young typically spent their time at Luke’s place, so seeing them in your home was strange.

“Reg, what’s up?” You asked crouching to untie your shoes confused at the sharp audible gasp coming from Luke. Standing straight up, you saw Luke awkwardly looking away with bright red cheeks.

“How was practice?” Reggie inquired with the smile he got from your mom and his dark hair from your dad.

Reggie usually wasn’t interested in your band leading you to wonder what the hell was going on with them. Being sixteen you didn’t socialize with Reggie’s friends, thanks to the two year age gap, but you were happy he had good friends. Well, less than two years between you and Luke.

“It was good. Since when are you interested in Crimson Queen?” You questioned moving more into the room with the four young teens, “You haven’t even touched your bass in years.”

One eyebrow raised you individually looked at the boys in the room all with sheets of paper around them. From a distance, you couldn’t tell what was on them, but it couldn’t be homework. They all attended the same high school while you had done correspondence with the band and a tutor.

“Luke’s parents got him a guitar,” Reggie spoke gesturing to the decent brand new acoustic guitar on the floor beside the Patterson. Luke’s hazel eyes widening as you came closer to the group.

Your hand picking up the guitar to look it over finding it was decent for a beginner, but it was definitely not tuned. The sheer sound made you wince.

“So, you guys want to be a band?” You questioned sitting on the floor beside Luke. The boy shifting nervously, you weren’t blind that he got shy around girls, “Do you guys even play instruments?”

“I got the bass, Bobby can play rhythm guitar, Alex plays dru-“

“I wouldn’t call it proper drumming. It’s just something my therapist suggested with my anxiety and frustrations.” Alex raised his hand leading to everyone in the room looking at the tall male, recently had a growth spurt, with the backward black hat.

“And Luke will learn guitar as well.” You added, looking at the quiet, “How well can you play?”

“I don’t even know how to properly tune it,” Luke admitted playing with his fingers adorned with a ring.

Luke had chosen a cutoff shirt in an attempt to gain your attention to his arms he hoped had gotten more muscled. He had a massive crush on you but with the guys your own age he had step up; he started working out. He actually enjoyed it, but he’d enjoy it more if you were checking him out.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You mumbled glancing out the window at the ocean waves thinking. The house was on the prime real estate edge of the beach all thanks to your well off parents; Dad, a doctor and Mom, an interior designer.

Your fingers tapped on the ripped blue jeans you had chosen that day with the flannel shirt opened over the black AC/DC t-shirt. You started standing up, grabbing Luke’s hand to pull him up as well; the boy’s cheeks grew pinker, and his heart fluttered.

“What?” Luke spluttered, staring at his hand, caught in yours in sheer awe.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You answered, dropping is head to reach in your pocket for your key chain.

The key chain had a few keys on it: one for home, one for your car, one for the band van for gigs, one for the garage, and lastly one for the house the garage belonged to. The boys piled into the car, apprehensive for where you were taking them. The only sound was the radio playing local greatest hits, your foot slammed on the brake at the house of your bassist.

“Well Marty, this song has blown up on the charts. New band Crimson-“

“Holy shit.” You breathed staring at the radio. Your door opened as you sprinted down to the steps that led to the garage. The footsteps of the boys following.

The garage was open already with your band members lounging around the space filled with instruments and amps. Their heads swivelling as you frantic turned the radio on.

“Come on.” You mumbled, turning the radio station to the right one, “Guys listen!”

“-Crimson Queen is an LA-based band making waves in the LA Nightlife and hit the top ten with their newest song Sorry Now.” The radio host spoke, “If you haven’t heard the song before, this is the band’s new single.”

The song was blasted from the radio leading to the four girls screaming the song out dancing around the room. Euphoria was the only way you could call the feeling rising in the bodies of the girls in the place. The room burst into more screams as your drummer. Faith switched the radio station.

“Today history was made, Crimson Queen is an all-female rock band fronted by Y/N Rhodes. They started as a hobby at fifteen, but a year later at sixteen they’ve made waves.” A hit radio station, the second one so far, was talking about your band. Holy shit.

“Lucy, this band is going places. My daughter is seven years old, and she’s telling me this band is the talk of her school. I can’t tell how much Lucy listens to their demo.”

Your eyes saw Reggie having a meltdown of excitement for older sister and her band, and you were so unbelievably happy you should care the moment. You rushed over to Reggie to pull him into a hug.

“Girls…and boys.” Mrs Taylor spoke furrowing her brows at the young boys in the garage her daughter had begged to use for the band. Shaking her head, the middle-aged woman turned her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, Ma.” Dawn, your bassist, spoke spreading her pink painted lips to her perfectly straight teeth too hyped up on energy, “What’s up?”

“First congratulations on the single. Secondly, we’re gonna need to get a personal line for the band because our phone is blowing up.”

A sharp gasp from Dawn before the three of the four girls rushed to the house of the Taylor’s. You hung back to look at your brother and his band.

“So? What do you think?” You inquired with the group, “This idea of yours has to be one hundred percent what you want. It won’t be easy in LA, it will come with hardships, and Reggie Mom and Dad won’t let you drop out.”

The four boys nodded their heads because the excitement they saw in your big break was something they wanted. To be able to connect with people cemented their decision.

“Feel free to hang around.” You suggested glancing around the garage that started it all, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The Orpheum, Los Angeles, 1995

The crowd screamed as Crimson Queen, the song that started this road played with the girl crouching to grasp the hand of fans. At the beat of the chorus, you stood up eating up the energy of the last show of the tour. You went jumped on the drum riser rocking on the guitar as Faith did her magic.

Dawn on her bass made her way to rock with your rhythm guitarist Sara sharing grins with you still feeling the euphoria of this success. As the song came to an end, your entire band went to the front of the stage.

“We’d like to thank our fans for the last nine months of our world tour. We started this band in LA in 1991, so we thought it fit to end our tour at The Orpheum.” You spoke to the crowd, feeding off the energy as the concert came to an end.

The road crew would load your instruments up in the van to take home after months of travelling. You were so excited to see Reggie, who would be seventeen now, having celebrated his birthday while you had been in Europe. Too excited were shocked as Reggie backstage.

“Reggie!” You exclaimed tugging the teen into your arms, leaning back to take him in, “Damn you grew!”

Reggie grinned not giving a shit you were coated in sweat from performing your setlist, but your eyes went over his shoulder. Standing close and just as excited was Reggie’s friends. Alex was taller, Bobby looked more confident, and Luke could meet your eyes. Luke also had changed, no longer baby faced.

“Sunset Curve.” You spoke, stepping back to look them over, “I haven’t seen you guys in months, how did you change so much!”

“That’s what happens when you go on tour for almost a year.” Luke teased tugging you into his arms for a tight hug.

It was odd seeing Luke taller and more muscled than when you left for tour, and the confidence was honestly hot. You had seen Luke as anything other than your brother’s friend, who tended to stare a little too long.

“You played the fucking Orpheum!” Alex screamed, holding your shoulders with a wrinkled nose at the damp red thin flannel shirt. The girls wandered up behind you each with a grin at the guys.

“Well if it isn’t Sunset Swerve,” Sara spoke swinging her arm over your shoulder with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Her blonde hair swept up in a bun high on her head from a recent shower.

“Sunset Curve!” The male quartet snapped at the name before they fell back into a happy demeanour. Luke and you both staring at each other with a pink-hued face.

Faith was quieter in the group leaning closer to your band to whisper in your ear, “Jay scored us some drinks. But MJ got us into a party.” Faith’s textured hair tickling your neck.

Grins split the three girls at the suggestion each excited for the party with fellow musicians and plus ones. Sure, the parties had drugs and alcohol, but they were fun and part of the scene. Half of you wanted to go, but the other wanted to spend time with your brother.

“I’ll think I’ll pass.” You spoke up to the girls motioning to the guys, “I’ll head back with them. Meet you at the house later?”

Your black vans moving backwards as you moved to be closer to be flush against Reggie’s side grinning as he bumped his hip against you. Sara, Faith and Dawn each raising an eyebrow at your response since you often dragged them to parties.

“Orrr…we could each take one of them.” Faith cajoled mocha skin gleaming in the light with her hands, tugging her hair into a thick braid.

“You want me to take my seventeen-year-old brother and his friends-“

“-I’m like two weeks from being eighteen-” Luke cut into the conversation buzzing at the possible date, but not date, with the girl he had been crushing on for years. He was pretty sure he was in love with you at this point; he did date a little, but nothing stuck.

“-To a party in Hollywood.” You finished pinning your gaze on the three girls ahead each with mischievous grins. Your cheeks puffed as you breathed out, thinking of the positives and negatives.

Bobby was bouncing on his heels with Reggie leaving Alex shifting uncomfortably in his place. His partially relaxed when Luke squeezed his forearm through the distressed black jean jacket that bought his outfit together. Luke himself was apprehensive on your decision because either way, he got to spend time with you.

“Come on.” Dawn implored, pulling out the big guns with her ocean blue eyes widening into the puppy gaze that did you in each time. Her curtain of short dyed pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

“I’m going to pass this time. Do some shots for me! Not tequila though, that was a huge mistake.” Faith’s grin widened at having you carry you out of the house in the early morning after a wicked party.

“Did you ever find your tho-“

“Faith!” You hissed turning a bright red at her revelation that you definitely didn’t want Reggie to know. The atmosphere turned awkward as everyone realized what the sentence would end with.

Okay so maybe you had hooked up with a few people over the last three years but nothing permanent. It was fun, drunk fun, but still fun and nothing had gone wrong. Your eyes avoided looking at Luke for a reason you couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke motioning for the guys to follow you to the dressing room you had settled in early in the day. The corner of your lips quirked at the awe on each of the boys’ faces.

“I’m in the dressing where bands become legends.” Reggie gasped circling the room with wide-eyed interest. Alex was interested in the band posters on the walls from previous performers.

Luke, however, was more interested in your curves covered by your sweaty stage clothing that stuck to your form. His Adam’s apple gulped as you grabbed your shower bag moving towards the connected bathroom.

“I’ll grab a shower, and we can head out.” You supplied, “I’ll just need to stop at Rudy’s office for our portion of the concert.”

The guys mumbled a response finding a place to wait without hushed conversations of when they would get to play. Luke’s eyes found yours at the low call of his name from the bathroom; a crack opened he walked over.

“Do you have a sweater?” You mumbled at the taller teen with widening eyes as he realized that you were naked behind the door.

Luke stumbled over his feet, retrieving the black pullover Crimson Queen merch he had had for months now. He had saved up money to buy the merch to support the band. The door closed as you tugged the sweater in the bathroom momentarily before walking out.

“Thanks Lu. I forget to pack a shirt.” Luke awed as your nose scrunched up adorably to the amusement of his friends, “So, do you wanna hit the beach? Or maybe give me a concert in the garage?”

Luke intertwined his fingers in yours as he tugged you out of the room with your bag in hand. His heart fluttered as you held on to his hand even in the little office of the Orpheum’s management for the thick envelope of money.

“Thanks, Rudy!” You called over your shoulder at the short, stout man going over the financials and upcoming performances.

The smell of Sunset Boulevard brought a smile remembering the first time you performed and the small group that had waited outside. The first night of autographs and recognition.

“So, Reg how’s my car?” You questioned the teen who impishly grinned tugging the key chain from his black jeans. You had given him the keys when you revealed Crimson Queen had a world tour.

“Right there.” Reggie pointed leading the group of five to the car that would take them to the garage. Reggie drove with Alex in the passenger while you were crammed between Bobby and Luke; Luke was delighted in your warmth against his side.

While your band members partied, you got a first-row seating to Sunset Curve’s talent in the garage where you had started out. It was amazing to see how much they had accomplished in the three years since they started.

The sudden knock on the door had you flailing off the couch onto the floor with a sheet of paper stuck to your cheek. Your spine cracked as you sat up glancing at your watch, finding it was after midnight, only an hour of sleep after inspiration for a new song.

The door was knocked on once more and coming close the sound of crying could be heard, and you wondered if it was Luke. He had been over a few days in the night following a fight with his parents and needed to crash; helped you were giving dating a chance after his well-rehearsed speech.

Imagine your shock when it was Reggie sobbing, “Reggie.”

“C-can I stay here?” Reggie whimpered cuddling himself into the leather jacket he received at Christmas from you. You had inside in your arms in moments, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Are they fighting again?” You murmured to your younger brother content to hold him as he cried. Bringing him to the living room, you held him as he cried humming under your breath the first song you ever let him see.

“Yeah. The music doesn’t work anymore.” Reggie murmured leaning back to wipe his tears off, “Sorry for crashing. I can go stay with-“

“Here. Reginald, you can always stay here.” You soothed the seventeen-year-old boy with sad eyes and a sombre look. His sad eyes shattered your heart, knowing he had suffered the fighting for months alone, “This house is empty Reg. You can move in here.”

His lip quirked up, “Can we play country music?”

“And eat breakfast at night.” You teased him grinning as his lips pulled up into his trademark grin, “The guys can come over whenever they want. I’d actually prefer they know they can stay here, they deserve a safe place to stay.”

You knew that Alex endured living with his parents, who had gone out of their way to avoid him after he came out. Luke couch surfed at your old house, never at Alex’s home; after coming out, Alex didn’t feel comfortable bringing anyone over.

“Good, because they’re outside.” Reggie sheepishly admitted raising his thumbs-up, “Go thinking ahead!”

Snorting the human version of a golden retriever you opened the front door to the house finding two guys in strange positions. Alex was inspecting the light fixture, and Luke was leaning against the wall with his elbow, foot across the other.

“You guys need lessons in the art of pretending you weren’t eavesdropping.” The sigh fell stepping aside for the two to enter the home—each carrying a backpack and small duffle bag for wherever they would have crashed.

The male trio got comfortable in the living room curiously glancing at the mess of papers, sticky notes and pencils. While with good intentions, they didn’t follow boundaries well, even for Alex.

“Whatcha working on?” Luke inquired, leaning closer to a sheet of paper. His pout coming over his face when you quickly tidied up the papers.

“Nothing. I fell asleep on the couch. The label wants new songs.” You groaned rubbing your eyes, “I got inspired last night. Oh! Hey, I took a message for you guys.”

Jogging to your office studio for the band you quickly grabbed the envelope along with the note that you had been given.

“So, Rudy called me, and I had a meeting with him.” You started sitting on the coffee table in front of the trio. The trio leaned forward.

“Rudy?” Luke questioned, pursing his lips together at the male name. While you and Luke were dating it wasn’t official, he was just really nervous with his dream girl liking him back.

“He’s the management for a venue. He asked if our band was available for a concert, but we collectively decided to focus on songs and recording, which you can’t tell anyone about, but he’s in dire need. So, I might have given him something. Specifically a demo of yours and knowing your home situations I gave my information.”

“Okay…so?” Alex questioned, leaning forward. His eyes growing wide as you pushed the envelope in his hand.

Alex quickly opened the cream envelope finding inside a paper along with a mock-up promo poster with Sunset Curve. The squeal was shocking from the teenager as he read the letter and note out loud.

Y/N,

I gave the demo a listen, and we usually wouldn’t do this, but Crimson Queen has been gracious with us. Always mentioning where the band got its start and closing the tour here. To repay the favour, we would formally like to invite Sunset Curve to perform. In the envelope is a mock-up poster as an option for the promo. Get the Sunset Curve’s people to get in touch. I can get the word out to some friends from some labels to come for a listen. Get in touch as soon as possible.

Manager of The Orpheum in Los Angeles,

Rudy West.

 “The Orpheum?” Luke screamed, yanking the paper from Alex to re-read it in complete shock, “We don’t have people!”

“But Crimson does.” You smirked, “On a temporary basis Crimson Queen formally offer our manager’s help.”

In his excitement, Luke lunged to pull you into a kiss freezing the room in shock.

“He got the girl.” Alex breathed elbowing Reggie in the side who’s mouth was open at his best friend kissing Reggie’s older sister. The older sister who was the driving force behind Luke wanting to form a band to impress her, “We need to tell Bobby!”

1995 was the best year for Luke Patterson. He got the girl, his band made it, his parents finally saw his dream was worth it.

The sound of music hypnotized the woman as she wandered down the hall to the open door of the large home. Nothing too over the top like Bobby’s mansion, but it was a nice size in a gated area. Your neighbours being Reggie on one side and Alex on the other side with his partner Willie; Willie had skated into Alex and into a love story pretty much.

Resting against the door edge of the designated home studio you saw Luke had moved a rocking recliner in. Softly playing in the room was a soft acoustic song recorded months previous as a surprise for you.

“When are the lessons starting?” You questioned bringing Luke’s attention to your soft smile and the love in your eyes. Luke’s grin widened glancing down at the miniature version of his love-filled eyes.

“Given her legendary parents, I think at two.” Luke chuckled shuffling the baby to the crook of his arm shifting, so you could curl into his side as well. Both eyes gazing at the little baby you had welcomed what felt like yesterday.

Stevie could fall asleep only to the lullaby her father had created during the pregnancy, and he had written. Stevie had Luke’s eyes, and so far her blonde hair had yet to darken so the question of if she’d take after your hair or his hair was unanswered.

“Hey sweetheart.” You whispered to your daughter falling asleep to the sound of her father’s voice in the room. An adorable yawn pulled from her little body as she nestled into Luke’s arms.

“She’s so gorgeous.” Luke breathed tears welling up as he could understand the reasoning behind his parents’ opinions in his teens. He truly felt terrible at hurting his mom now that he felt the love for his child.

“We did good Patterson.” You murmured back to the man who had held your heart since you were nineteen and back from tour. Your finger tracing Steve’s soft cheek, “I think she has your mom’s mouth.”

Luke’s lips lingered on your cheek heart full of love for his family with you and his little girl. He had known since his eleventh birthday he would marry you even if you were a year older. A year that made the difference when he was months older than his friends, so the year felt like two for you. At eighteen when was tentatively dating you, he knew he would marry you. He never anticipated the sheer amount of adoration for the little girl he would have at twenty-one.

God, he loved his life. He made up with his parents, his best friends, had the girl of his dreams, the most beautiful daughter and it all thanks to music. Can you see why he lives and breathes music?

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[calamitykaty]

Mother Knows Best

Requested by anon: Alive Luke/Alive Rose Molina.  Both Julie and Luke are sick and Mrs. Molina forces Luke to stay home from school to be nurtured back to health alongside Julie. 

Pairing: Juke

Warnings: None. 

Word Count: 1991

The early morning sun filtered through the light linen curtains of the seventeen year old boy's messy room Luke woke up with a groggy feeling. His eyes were crusted over and his head felt heavy, his mouth dry from not being able to breathe through his nose. He groaned as he used the heel of both of his palms to rub his eyes in gentle circles.

“Mom?” He croaked out but was met with silence. With a huff, he swung his feet to the side of the bed and stood up, stretching his arms above him as he did so. He slowly made his way out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen where he saw a note with his mom’s handwriting stuck to the fridge with a magnet. 

“---headed to the airport for the work conference. Be back friday. Money under the cookie jar for you. Make good decisions. xoxo--Mom and Dad.”

Luke crumpled the note and dropped it in the trash with a roll of his eyes. His parents always seemed to be jetting out without him. Luke felt like he was practically raising himself through his teenage years. He grabbed a pop-tart out of the cupboard and headed back up to his room to get ready for school. His body shook with coughs as he made his way back to his room. 

He would have skipped school if it weren’t for the fact that he gave his girlfriend, Julie, a ride to school every morning and that girl had near perfect attendance. He pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and flannel before stuffing his feet into his favorite beat up burgundy vans. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and threw his pack of pop-tarts in haphazardly before slinging the bag over his shoulders. 

Luke got into his 2008 Jeep Wrangler and let his muscle memory guide him to the Molina household. He cocked his head to the side when he pulled up to the house and didn’t see his curly haired girlfriend waiting for him on the porch like she usually does. His eyes flickered down to the clock on his car radio “7:15am...right on time” he muttered to himself before putting the jeep in park and taking the key from the ignition. Luke drug his feet across the pathway to the front door and rung the doorbell. His heavy eyes slipped shut as he waited for someone to answer the door. He lifted his left hand and ran it over his running nose at the same time that Mrs. Molina opened the door. 

“Oh! Luke, honey, I am so sorry I forgot to ring you and let you know that Julie is staying home sick today.” Rose Molina apologized profusely from the door. 

Luke covered his hand over his mouth and coughed before replying “No worries, Mrs. Molina, let her know I will come check on her after school?” He mustered up his puppy dog eyes for her but before he knew it he was being pulled into the Molina house and Rose had the back of her cold hand pressed against his cheek before she moved it up to his forehead. 

“Your mother is sending you to school?” Rose asked as she turned around and grabbed a spare thermometer from the table. 

Luke shrugged and responded “business trip…but, I’m fine” his words unconvincing as he once again had to wipe the snot from his nose. Rose pulled him by the elbow into the dining room and pushed him down into a chair before popping the thermometer into his mouth. Luke instinctively reached up a hand to pull the unwanted thermometer of his mouth but he immediately let his hand drop back to his lap when Rose landed a swift slap on the top of his hand. 

A few moments later and the thermometer was beeping. Rose plucked it out of his mouth and frowned at the temperature which read “101.6”

“Luke Patterson, you are not going to school! You have a fever!” Rose exclaimed when she saw the boy make his way to the front door. Luke threw his head back and groaned “I’m always this hot, Mrs. Molina, It’s natural.”

Rose Molina scolded the boy and pointed her fingers towards the living room, Luke reluctantly drug his feet to the room, not wanting to test her, and plopped down on the leather sofa. 

His eyes darted towards the door when he heard Rose shuffling around in the kitchen. Luke stood up as quietly as he could but didn’t even make it a single step before he heard Mrs. Molina yelling from the kitchen. 

“Luke Patterson, don’t you even think about it.”

Luke froze in his spot with wide eyes “she can see through walls” he muttered to himself before he plopped back down onto the sofa, his body sinking into the cushions. He tilted his head back when he heard footsteps approaching and saw Mrs. Molina with her arms full of home health care products. She sat the box of tissues down on Luke's lap before arranging everything else in a line on the coffee table. Luke eyed each item: Nasal spray, decongestants, cold and flu medicine, vapor rub.

He was brought out of his trance when he heard the motherly voice saying his name while she made a phone call. “Hi, yes, this is Julie Molina’s mother, Rose Molina?” 

A pause. 

“Mhmmm, yes. I know I already called about Julie. I am actually calling about another student, Luke Patterson.”

Another pause. 

“Luke is also going to be out sick today, he has a very high fever. Perfect, thank you so much.”

Rose turned to him “It’s settled then, you will stay here and I will call your mother and let her know what is going on. I’m sure she will be on the first flight home.”

The words left Luke’s mouth with venom before he could stop them “I highly doubt that.”

Rose’s features softened and she reached out to Luke, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Luke let the corners of his mouth curl up into a small smile “not really hungry, I think I might be sick” he admitted finally. Rose Molina pursed her lips at the boy and shook her head. She patted his arm one more time and went upstairs to find some more comfortable clothing for the boy, leaving Luke to his own devices. 

Luke kicked off his shoes and slumped down further into the sofa. The coolness of the leather gave relief to his burning skin. He pulled a tissue out of the box, blowing his nose, before crumpling the tissue into a ball and placing it on the coffee table.  

“You too, huh?” Luke smiled at hearing his favorite voice in the world. 

“Hey, loser” he responded. Julie dropped a stack of clothes on his lap and Luke looked up at her in confusion. 

“Mom found some of dad’s old sweats and a shirt for you to change into” Her voice was nasally and Luke wouldn’t lie, he thought it was kind of adorable. Her nose was red from being blown one too many times, her hair was pulled into a frizzy ponytail and she had bags under her eyes.

Luke grabbed Julie’s wrist and pulled her closer until her knees hit the edge of the couch. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his waist, his head resting against her stomach. Julie coughed into her elbow before bringing her hands down and running her fingers through Luke’s hair.

“You better go get changed and then we can cuddle before the warden gets back down here” Julie joked. Luke nodded his head and relinquished his grip on the girl, grabbing the stack of clothes instead. He pulled himself off of the couch and made a beeline for the downstairs bathroom where he changed into the borrowed clothes.

“MoooOooommm, I don’t want anymore tea”  Luke heard Julie whine when he made his way back to the comfy sofa. He stopped in the doorway and took in the scene of Julie sitting on the couch with a throw blanket pulled around her shoulders and a frown on her face as her mom forced the mug into her hand. 

Luke climbed onto the couch next to Julie and silently took the mug out of her hand and took a sip. Chamomile, cream and honey. “See! Luke understands the healing properties of tea.”  Rose gave her daughter a pointed look.

 Luke definitely didn't understand the healing properties of tea. He hummed at the soothing feeling that the tea gave his throat and offered the mug back to Julie who rolled her eyes at him. Luke shrugged and finished the mug of warm tea and sat the mug on the coffee table. 

He gently tugged on Julie's arm until she was leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. 

“Sorry I didn’t text you, I could have saved you from the Molina infirmary” Julie reached forward and grabbed a handful of tissues.

“S’not so bad…” Luke tried to reason. 

Julie scoffed in response “you would think i’m on my deathbed by the way she is acting”

Luke chuckled “she just cares about you, Jules.” 

“She’s annoying” Julie retorted and leaned back into Luke’s side. Luke placed a chaste kiss on the girls head and let his heavy eyelids slip shut. The two teenagers slept on the sofa, curled up together for nearly four hours. Luke was the first to wake and grimaced at the pool of drool that Julie left on his chest. 

“Oh, good you’re awake” Luke looked to the right at Julie’s mom. “You need to take another dose of medicine and then I have soup for both of you on the table.” Rose handed the small cup of pre-measured liquid medicine to Luke. Luke brought the cup of medicine to his lips and swigged back the strawberry flavored medication, his face twisting into disgust as the liquid slid down his throat. 

“Jules..” he gently nudged the girl awake and passed her dose of medication over to her. The two teenagers untangled themselves and made their way to the dining room where they were greeted with two bowls of chicken noodle soup. 

Luke sat opposite of Julie and eagerly began to eat his soup. “This is nice.” He commented half a bowl later. 

Julie stopped, spoon midway to her mouth “it’s just Campbell's chicken noodle, weirdo.”

Luke shook his head at her misunderstanding him. “Not the soup, love…”

Julie dropped her spoon back into her bowl and propped her elbows onto the table, resting her face between her hands and waited for the shaggy haired boy to elaborate. 

Luke picked up his bowl and slurped up the remaining soup from his bowl. “Being cared for, I mean, it’s nice….you’re really lucky.”

Julie reached her left hand across the table and placed her hand on top of Luke’s.

“Luke, you know your parents love you, right. They care for you more than anyone else.” Julie assured. 

Luke mustered a timid smile and nodded “yeah, but this…” he motioned around with his hands “being nurtured, I guess, it’s...nice.” 

Rose walked back into the room before Julie could respond, happy to see that both of then finished their soup. 

“Let’s take those temperatures again and see where we stand.” She handed each teenager a thermometer, eliciting a groan from Julie but Luke was happy to oblige. He popped the thermometer under his tongue and waited patiently for the reading to complete, The thermometer beeped and he handed it over to Rose. 

“99.2” she read from his thermometer “and...Julie” She eyeballed the thermometer that was still in her daughters mouth and had just begun to beep “99.7, I think you kiddos are going to be just fine” She smiled.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 18: Summers In Florence] [Series Finale]

A/N: If it doesn’t end with a wedding, is it even my fic??! 😂 For those who somehow haven’t yet read Baby You Were My Picket Fence (my most popular series), you might be a tiny bit confused during this chapter. Just roll with it. 😉 Also, COVID-19 doesn’t exist. What a wonderful world. Thank you so much for sticking with me and BYCNL. I love you all. 💜

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @allauraleigh​ ​@deakydeacy @bluutac​ @johndeaconshands​ @nyxaura​

It’s May 25th, 1984, and Roger and John are in Perth, Australia to promote Queen’s eleventh album, The Works.

Interviewer, daytime television host Ronald Inglewood: “Good morning and welcome to our viewers across Australia! We’re sitting down this morning with Roger Taylor and John Deacon, respectively the drummer and bassist of Queen, who are here to talk about the band’s brand new album called—quite self-assuredly, if I may say so, gentlemen—The Works. Hello to you both.”

Roger: “Good morning, Ron!”

John: “Hello.”

Interviewer: “And this latest album has been rather well-received so far, is that right?”

Roger: “It has, yes, and we’re enormously proud of it.”

Interviewer: “Now, The Works is a very different album than Hot Space, Queen’s sort of notorious foray into disco...do you think the back-to-basics, classic rock and roll feel of The Works has been the driving force behind its success?”

Roger: “Well, you know...I think experimentation is very important. We’ve always been an experimental band. The single Bohemian Rhapsody was hugely experimental, and that’s why it was such a phenomenon. We were experimenting long before A Night At The Opera, and I suspect we’ll keep on trying new things until we run out of ideas, whenever that is! I didn’t love every song on Hot Space, I’ll be completely transparent about that, but I certainly don’t think the album was a failure or a waste of time. It was an experiment. And The Works is an experiment as well, just one that runs in a different vein, I suppose.”

John: “Some people did actually enjoy Hot Space.”

Roger: “I think I know one or two.”

Interviewer: “Of course, it did have its bright spots. Under Pressure remains one of Queen’s biggest hits, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Yes, and John wrote the bassline for that one!”

Interviewer: “Really?!”

John: “And Roger has his own hit on The Works, at last. We’re all very happy for him.”

Roger: “Only took ten years.”

John: “Fourteen, actually.”

Roger: “I’m going to murder you as soon as we get backstage.”

John: “You’re welcome to try.”

Interviewer: “Now this hit of yours, Roger, is Radio Ga Ga. And I’m sure we’ve all seen the famous music video, the hovercraft, the futurism, the clapping...we’ve all seen it, right? Where on earth did you get the idea for that song?”

Roger: “It actually originated from something I heard my daughter Violet say.”

Interviewer: “Fascinating! And you’ve just welcomed another one recently, haven’t you?”

Roger: “Yes, last month, in fact. A little girl named Nora. “

Interviewer: “Congratulations!”

Roger: “Thanks so much, Ron. Our eldest, Violet, turned two in January, and the idea for Radio Ga Ga came about when she was first learning to talk. She would always stumble around—you know how babies do—clapping her hands and squealing the most nonsensical things, and one day she started trying out ‘radio’ and then adding random words to it, ‘radio goo goo,’ ‘radio mama,’ ‘radio dada,’ etcetera. Well ‘radio ga ga’ got stuck in my head and I started sort of lamenting how television had begun to eclipse the radio as a medium for music and entertainment. We were on vacation in California at the time, and I locked myself in a hotel room with a keyboard and a drum machine to get it written. I initially thought it might end up on one of my solo albums, but then John heard it and wrote a bassline, and Freddie really thought it could be a hit and pushed to have it on The Works...and here we are today!”

Interviewer: “That Freddie Mercury has awfully good instincts about these things, doesn’t he?”

John: “Oh, he’s a genius, no doubt about that.”

Interviewer: “And John, I understand you wrote the other single released from The Works, I Want To Break Free. Any deep philosophical messaging in that one?”  

John: “Well I suppose we’ve all been in situations that feel...rather constraining or hopeless. And then things that bring us back to life again. So this song is about a character going through that process and coming out on the other side.”

Interviewer: “Indeed.”

John: “But we wanted to keep things amusing and lighthearted in the music video, hence the dressing in drag bit. And to our absolute horror, Roger was very alluring as a schoolgirl.”

Roger: “It’s true. I have irresistible legs. I was born to wear miniskirts.”

Interviewer: “Ah, this is the music video that is beloved in Europe and here in Australia but has stirred up so much controversy over in the States. Has the hullabaloo dampened your enthusiasm for the song, or even the entire album, somewhat?”

Roger: “We’re not bothered much at all, to be honest with you. It’s like I said, Queen is always going to have fun and experiment and take creative risks. And if people don’t like it, then they’re welcome to not listen.”

Interviewer: “Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Roger: “Americans, you know, they can just be so bloody puritanical. It absolutely takes all the enjoyment out of life. All the humor. Americans these days can be very difficult for us to connect with.”

John: “Well, not all of them.”

Roger: “No, of course, not all of them.”

John: “But we’ll start touring at the end of August, and we’ll be spending several months in the States, so they have time to come around to us. We’re all really looking forward to being on the road again.”

Interviewer: “It has certainly been and will continue to be a very eventful year for Queen. And for the four of you personally. A new baby for Roger, and you’ve just gotten married, haven’t you John?”

John: “I did, yes. And Roger was in attendance! No miniskirt that day, though. Sadly.”

Roger: “The whole band was there. And my girlfriend and children too. It was quite a party.”

Interviewer: “That’s wonderful to hear, considering the...the...well, not to bring up tabloid gossip, but the complexity of the situation. It was a destination wedding, wasn’t it?”

John: “Yes, we were married in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. It’s breathtaking, the largest Franciscan church in the world, built in the 1300s. And we filled it with friends and family and live music and flowers and food...all the trappings. Took about a million photos. Celebrated until dawn.”

Roger: “It was a very sentimental occasion. Everyone really enjoyed it. John cried.”

John: “I did, it’s true.”

Roger: “He promised he wouldn’t and then he did.”

John: “Well, you don’t have to bring it up all the time!”

Roger: “It was touching, really.”

Interviewer: “It must have been a magical time. You’re positively radiant, John! Marvelous. And some much-needed good news, I imagine. I understand you’ve recently gone through an exceptionally antagonistic and protracted divorce.”

John: “Well...uh...I suppose that’s...uh...”

Roger: “How about we ask you the same thing? How was your divorce, Ron?”

Interviewer: “What?”

Roger: “You’re on your third marriage, is that right? And I think I heard that the latest Mrs. Inglewood is very young indeed, almost thirty years your junior. How did your former wife take that news? How did your adult children? How was your goddamn divorce?”

Interviewer: “That’s a rude question.”

Roger: “Yes, you’re right, it’s an extremely rude question. So you shouldn’t fucking ask it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 25th, 1986, and the children are tearing open presents under a fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree in the living room of Garden Lodge.

Freddie and Jim Hutton are serving cookies and milk and clapping their hands as they tower over tiny shoulders, cheering the kids on as they litter the floor with wrapping paper and bows and scatter their new toys everywhere: Care Bears, Magic 8 Balls, My Little Ponies, Mr. Potato Heads, Barbies, Etch-A-Sketches, Transformers, miniature Lukes and Leias and Chewbaccas, View-Masters with scenes of oceans and deserts and forests and stars. With so many fragmented families, there was only one logical approach to handling major holidays: convincing everyone to celebrate together on neutral ground.

Mary and Veronica are chatting by the roaring fireplace. Phoebe, Joe Fanelli, John, and Roger are embroiled in a brutally competitive Scrabble game; Dominique, smirking stealthily, leans over Roger to read his tiles and periodically whispers ideas to him. Brian and Anita are circling the flock of giggling children—Laszlo, Anna, Teddy, Evelyn, Lena, Antoni, Violet, and Nora—and snapping photos with your Canon between long, yearning gazes at one another, wearing matching Christmas sweaters that are a deep, passionate crimson. Chrissie’s husband Denny is admiring Freddie’s extensive vinyl record collection as he sips a hot chocolate and compulsively strokes his green-and-red striped tie. Tiffany the cat rolls around between his feet and occasionally hisses or gnaws on an ankle, which Denny takes in stride, as he does most things.

Meanwhile, you and Chrissie are camped out by the wet bar, drinking mulled wine and nibbling on cookies shaped like snowmen and reindeer. You give Veronica a wide berth with the children anytime you’re in the same space; she hates you, and she’ll probably always hate you, but she loves her children too much to poison them with that reality. Their happiness is her whole life, her purpose. And that’s the only thing that finally convinced her to come to the bargaining table.

“She seems...nice,” you tell Chrissie, gesturing to where Anita is crouching to wrestle a Yoda piggy bank away from Antoni before he can lob Teddy on the head with it. To John’s children, Veronica is “mum” and you’re the distinctly more American “mama”; and no one ever really taught them that, they just started doing it somewhere along the way.

Chrissie rolls her eyes and shifts Stevie to her other hip. For two and a half years after leaving Brian, Chrissie made it her mission to date at least one man from every country in Europe. She managed to cross off Ireland, France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Sweden, Switzerland, Portugal, Poland, and Greece before meeting professional archer Dennis Clarke at the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. They got engaged at Christmas, eloped on New Year’s Day, and had a daughter that Chrissie named after Stevie Nicks nine months later. Stevie Clarke has adorably chubby baby legs, wide blue eyes, and blonde hair without a single spiraled ringlet.

“My therapist said I needed to cultivate a rapport with Brian for the good of the kids,” Chrissie says. “You know. Be the bigger person. Get amnesia and forget about how he made my life a living hell. Act like I don’t want to freaking decapitate him. So I, trying to be nice, trying to rise above and make polite small talk with my nauseating ex-husband, made a comment about how much I liked EastEnders. So he starts watching EastEnders. Then he begins to fancy one of the actresses. Then he meets her at a movie premier in Beverly Hills and invites her to the concert at Wembley. Then he ends up in love with the woman. What the fuck. You couldn’t write this shit.”

“Love is a roulette wheel,” you agree.

Chrissie scoffs sardonically. “Yeah. Russian roulette, maybe.”

After his marriage fell apart, Brian bounced between New Orleans and London, liberated bliss and aimless, disgraced, black depression. Whoever Peaches is as a person, she couldn’t tame Brian’s demons. You worried about him almost constantly until he started seeing Anita. She’s cheerful and magnetic and persistently hopeful in a way that reminds you of Roger. She’s good for Brian. She’s good for all of you. Well...Chrissie is still coming around to the idea.

“I do like that she wasn’t fucking my husband behind my back,” Chrissie muses. “So that’s something.”

“And she’s good with the kids.”

“True...”

“And her hair matches Brian’s.”

Chrissie laughs. Her sparkling ornament earrings jangle, and Stevie paws for them with minuscule, uncoordinated, wrinkly hands. “Okay. You win. I don’t despise her.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” You knock back the rest of your mulled wine. “I’m gonna go search the refrigerator for cheese cubes, you want anything?”

“Yeah, a Valium.”

“Slavic Jesus would be horrified. And on his birthday!”

Chrissie grins. “Surely drugs would be the least of our sins.”

Freddie’s sunshine-yellow refrigerator is enormous and a labyrinth of shelves and crevices without a single tray of cheese cubes in sight. You sift through jars of olives, bottles of champagne, a glazed ham waiting to be put in the oven, a sack of yams, eggnog, rising bread dough, and numerous pies—apple and cherry and lemon chiffon, naturally—swathed in aluminum foil.

“Damn,” you mutter, and then you try a mysterious drawer beneath the double doors of the refrigerator. Lo and behold, it contains a sprawling tray of cheeses. “Yaaaaassssss.” You lift the tray out, set it on the kitchen counter, and peel back the clear, clinging saran wrap. As you spear cheese cubes with a decorative toothpick—the handle is a little plastic Christmas tree—and plop them onto an appetizer plate, you hear the click of heels on the hardwood floor behind you.

You glance back. “Hi, Dom. Can I offer you any of Fred’s extremely expensive and exotic cheeses?”

“Sure,” she replies in that effortlessly elegant French accent; but that’s not why she’s here. She’s wringing her delicate hands, which are bronzed from her last holiday to Ibiza and ringless. Dom divorced the husband she had back in France—or maybe he divorced her, who knows, that’s not your business, although Roger would tell you if you ever asked—and she and Roger signed papers for the good of their daughters. But being Roger Taylor’s wife is not always such an easy thing.

“He’s getting bad again, isn’t he?” you ask softly.

Dominique nods; but you already knew.

Roger was perfect for years after they had Violet: attentive, content, startlingly domestic. He rarely popped pills. He went to physical therapy. He quit smoking six months ago at Dominique’s insistence, around the same time John quit for you. But since the Magic Tour ended in August—and with no new tour in sight, considering Freddie’s seeming reticence about scheduling another—he’s started to drink more, stay home less, disappear at night citing dinners or parties or recording sessions that Dom isn’t invited to. He’s edgy and irritable. He’s rarely home when John calls. And you can see all those immortal shadows of imperfection creeping back into him like storm clouds, like smoke.

“I’m going to tell you something,” you say. “It’s very similar to what somebody else once told me. I wasn’t ready to understand it yet, to really let myself feel it, to believe it, but you might be able to.”

She watches you with those vast oil-well eyes, biting her lower lip, waiting.

“Roger is wildfire. He’s bright, yes, he’s warm, but he’s reckless and insatiable too. He always has been. He always will be. And that has nothing at all to do with you. It’s not your fault. He’s wonderful, of course, and you already know that; he dazzles people, he makes life so exhilaratingly beautiful that you forget what it felt like without him. But he’ll always disappoint you. He’ll relapse, he’ll cheat, he’ll come home late, he won’t come home at all. And he’ll hurt you. He’ll do it as many times as you’ll let him. But here’s the thing other people won’t tell you.” You smile at her, with empathy, with sorrow, with hope. “It might still be worth it.”

Dominique blinks, not understanding.

“It might be enough for you to only ever have part of him, because that part is so incredibly brilliant. It was almost enough for me. And I would never blame you for leaving Roger. But I wouldn’t blame you for staying either.”

And then you embrace her, and she latches onto you, her long manicured nails nipping through your sweater, her Coco Chanel perfume a plume that fills the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You hold her until she pulls away, swiping at her tearing eyes with slim fragile fingers, sniffling, looking away to hide her heartbreak behind her shock of glossy bangs.

“Here.” You pile an appetizer plate high with cheese cubes and shove it into her hands.

Stunned, she giggles. “All my woes have vanished.”

“That’s exactly how stolen cheese works,” And then, seriously: “Don’t be sad on Christmas, Dom. There’s plenty of time for that later. And I’ll do everything I can to help him.”

“That’s why you’ll never leave the band, isn’t it? You can’t leave Roger alone. You can’t let him destroy himself.”

“I owe him,” you say simply. “Without him I never would have followed Queen to London. I never would have found this family. I never would have married John. Roger took things from me, yes, of course he did. He took until I felt empty. But he also gave me the world.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully.

“Please, Dom. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Alright. Joyeux Noël.” She gives you a parting wave and slips back out into the living room, where Freddie is now playing the grand piano and signing Thank God It’s Christmas. Roger is assisting in an increasingly hoarse falsetto.

A moment after Dominique leaves, John strolls into the kitchen, humming merrily. He stops dead when he sees your somber face, your shining eyes. “Who do I have to fuck up?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No one. I just heard something sad.”

“Not about you, I hope.”

“No, I don’t have many sad stories anymore.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He reaches out to take your hand. A sapphire glints on your left ring finger, and it means everything.

“You sure you don’t need me to torment anyone for you? I could get drunk and plow my Benz into their house. Or write a scathing diss track about them. Was it Brian? Please tell me it was Brian.”

You laugh and twirl a lock of his fluffy hair. “That won’t be necessary.”

“In that case, you’re needed in the living room immediately,” John says, smiling. “Antoni climbed halfway up the Christmas tree and says he won’t come down for anyone except his mama.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s November 3rd, 1999, and Roger, John, and Brian are promoting Queen’s upcoming compilation album, Greatest Hits III.

Interviewer, daytime television host Brad Chenoweth: “Today we have a very special treat for our viewers. Here with us in our London studio are the men of Queen: guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon. Good morning, and thank you all so much for being here.”

Brian: “It’s our pleasure.”

Roger: “I do screams as well as drums, Brad.”

Interviewer: “Hahaha, yes, of course. Now Queen has had an extremely busy year, and this Greatest Hits album has a few new selections on it, right? Take us through that process.”

Brian: “It does have a few new tracks, that’s correct. You know, ever since Freddie...ever since we lost Freddie Mercury, I mean, you know, it’s impossible to fill a space like the one that he left in the world.”

Roger: “Yes, yes.”

Brian: “But as difficult as it was, after finally finishing Made In Heaven in 1995 and getting it just right, feeling as if we had really done Freddie justice...we were left with this distressing feeling of ‘what’s next?’ What are the three of us supposed to do with ourselves? Split up and never work together again? Retire to the seashore? Open up some corner store to putter around in until we die?”

Roger: “A clog shop, perhaps.”

Interviewer: “You were thinking, ‘well hell, we’ve got plenty of talent ourselves!’”

Roger: “Well, talent, yes, but also energy. Drive. We’ve been working at being one of the best bands in the world for almost thirty years now, Brad. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to stop.”

Brian: “None of us wanted to stop, we came to that realization. And so we’ve done a tremendous amount of benefit concerts and recording sessions with some of the best artists of our time, and I think people who listen to this album are really going to appreciate that. We’ve got a live version of Somebody to Love with George Michael, and The Show Must Go On with Elton John, he’s just lovely to work with...oh and a rap version of Another One Bites The Dust with Wyclef Jean, which John was not exactly a fan of. But we all have to learn to give and take, don’t we?”

Interviewer: “Absolutely, and I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on a copy of this record. Is there any chance Queen might settle on a permanent new front man one day?”

Roger: “If we can ever find somebody John likes enough!”

Interviewer: “But, truthfully...none of you wanted to quit after Freddie passed away? It was a unanimous decision to keep with it?”

Roger: “Essentially, yes. I mean I think it was an all or nothing deal, wasn’t it? If one of us left then that would throw the whole thing off. I was always adamant from very early on in the band’s lifetime that I wouldn’t be interested in continuing without John. And I couldn’t imagine him and Brian being left alone together, my god, there’d be literal bloodshed, someone’s throat would be cut within the hour, believe me.”

John: “We might have lasted a day or two. But yes, it was more or less unanimous.”

Interviewer: “Now you’ve always been known as the quiet, domestic one, John. You weren’t tempted by the thought of retirement? Not even for a moment?”

John: “Well...I think it depends on the circumstances, really. I like working, and I like touring and traveling a good part of the year. But I imagine I’d get very homesick if I was alone on the road. Fortunately, that’s not the case. So the thought of retirement didn’t appeal to me nearly as much as it might have otherwise.”

Interviewer: “That’s right, I understand that your wife has been Queen’s touring nurse for...how long now? Twenty years?”

John: “Since 1974, so that’s twenty-five years.”

Roger: “Wow. It’s been that long?!”

Brian: “Feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Interviewer: “How lucky for you, John. And look, you’re beaming!”

Roger: “Get it together, Deaks.”

John: “I’m an astronomically lucky man. It’s like having home with you anywhere in the world.”

Roger: “She’s good for curing hangovers as well, so that’s useful. And she knits everyone hats.”

Interviewer: “And you’ve got children, haven’t you John?’

John: “Four from my first marriage, yes. They’re all adults now so they come to visit us quite often, especially when we’re travelling. It worked out beautifully really, because they’re very close to their mother, of course, but my wife and I got together when they were all still fairly young, and so she’s always been there for them as they’ve grown up. My youngest especially was a rather...how would you say it diplomatically? A spirited child. But he warmed to her right away.”

Brian: “All the children are still friendly with each other as well, mine and Roger’s and John’s.”

Interviewer: “One big happy family, huh?”

Roger: “There are still a good amount of screaming matches between us dads, to be completely forthcoming.”

John: “You have to keep things interesting.”

Roger: “Exactly!”

Interviewer: “Yes, one can sense that there are still plenty of egos in this room, even after all these years! Tell me, Queen is nearly three decades old now, a worldwide phenomenon, the second-bestselling artist in the UK of all time behind the Beatles...how have you stayed together for so long when most bands last only a fraction of Queen’s lifespan?”

John: “Well I think we’ve all, you know, for the good of the band we’ve all had to grow towards each other to bridge the disagreements and keep peace. For example, I’ve had to learn to be more communicative, more open to collaboration and change. I can be someone who’s very comfortable being in the background. But then I’m resentful if people don’t see my point of view, even if I haven’t properly expressed it. So I have certainly had to work on that quite a lot.”

Brian: “Yes, John, I think that’s very true. Personally, I’ve had to learn to not get lost in the details so much. I have a bad habit of getting so fixated on something that I cause a massive row over a vanishingly small aspect of a song that no one else will ever notice. It’s just not worth the strife. So I’ve really tried to avoid that. Although, I’ll admit it, I still occasionally cause my share of drama.”

John: “Oh, sure.”

Roger: “And I’ve had to work on being less...”

John: “Annoying?”

Brian: “Combative?”

Roger: “Fiery.”

John: “That’s one word for it.”

Interviewer: “Was there ever a time when Queen’s existence was in serious jeopardy? And if so, how did you pull through?”

Brian: “Well, to be perfectly honest, as a band we went through quite a difficult time in the early 80s. And then we did again in the early 90s. And on both occasions there was a real worry that Queen might be over and we would all go our separate ways. But what kept us together through that...and feel free to disagree, Rog, John, if you have a different perspective...but what I feel kept us together was this profound sense of family. Queen predates all of our marriages, our children, our successes in the music industry or otherwise. It has become a constant place of belonging in the midst of professional and personal turmoil. And now our partners and children have been integrated into that network as well, so even if an individual relationship is strained or falls apart, the gravity of the band keeps us all in a perpetual symbiotic orbit. And I don’t see that ever ending.”

John: “Yes, well, I suppose that about sums it up, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Bleeding christ, Brian. ‘Perpetual symbiotic orbit.’ Just say we’re friends, you pretentious twit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s August 19th, 2020, and John’s 69th birthday party is winding down as the sun dips lazily into the rust-colored western horizon.

You’re standing on the cobblestones in the garden behind the Surrey house. You had always thought it was too extravagant, too massive; it wasn’t until Roger sold it to you and John in the spring of 1982 that you realized it was the perfect size after all. Six bedrooms meant one for each of the children, one for you and John—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper and nautical decorations, to be exact—and the last for when Chrissie and Denny or Roger and Dom stay the night, which is fairly frequently. Your vacation home, where you and John spend most of the summer when Queen isn’t on tour, is a little country cottage in the sunlit Alpine hills of Florence, Italy. John designed it himself, every last detail; right down to the white picket fence grown over with ivy.

“Look what we got in the mail.” You hold up the invitation to show your husband, grinning, raising your eyebrows. “Guess we have to buy him another toaster.”

He reads the names on the shimmering cardstock patterned with jungle ferns and dinosaur footprints. Interesting choices. “Is Ben actually going through with it this time?”

“John!”

“Wasn’t he supposed to marry some Italian heiress or something?”

“Love can be complicated, Mr. Deacon,” you remind him.

When he smiles, crinkles spring up around his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it can be.”

“Ben Hardy’s having another wedding?” Chrissie calls over from where she’s shooting arrows at the archery targets set up in the backyard. Denny periodically steps in to correct the angle of her wrist or elbow. “And Queen’s invited this time?”

“Apparently,” you reply. “You could go too if you were still married to Brian.”

“Ha!” Chrissie cackles and looses an arrow. It hits damn near the bullseye. “Not worth it.”

“I’ll bring back all the scandalous gossip I can scrounge for you.”

“You better. What do the kids call it now? Spilling the tea? Spill all the tea, bitch.”

“Oh, kettles and kettles’ worth.”

“So a teapot,” John says. “Not another toaster. Maybe decorated with...” He squints at the invitation again. “What’s the theme? What do they like? Fossils? Brontosauruses?”

“Bizarre people,” Chrissie mutters.

“I’ll figure something out,” you say. “Something special. Something old.”

“John?” Brian shouts from the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator is covered with sketches and birthday cards and photographs curling and fading around the edges. “Anita and I are heading out now, can we get a hug goodbye?”

“Ugh,” John jokes. “Well, alright.” He gives you a wink as he trots off.

The Surrey house isn’t exactly roaring—John has never been one for crowds, and incidentally neither have you—but it is alive with his children and grandchildren and life-long friends. Not just his, you correct yourself. Ours.

Veronica—once Tetzlaff, then Deacon, then Tetzlaff again, and finally Kowalski—is not in attendance. You see her only at holidays and birthday celebrations for the kids and grandchildren, and even then only in passing. She is still cold towards you, resentful, extremely Catholic...although somewhat less dogmatic since her second husband Ivan, a former priest, left the Church to marry her. When the last of her children were grown, Veronica got certified to be a doula and now primarily serves unwed mothers seeking assistance from Catholic charities in London. She mentioned to Chrissie, who later told you, that something you had once done for her had inspired her to pursue it. That’s the only nice thing you’ve heard her say about you in almost forty years.

Roger wanders over to meet you, nursing a Heineken, stroking his white beard with his free hand. He and Dominique have always been off and on—including a few years in the late 80s when he moved out of their three-story Kensington townhouse and had a daughter called Adeline with some leggy, platinum blonde supermodel—but these days they’re mostly on. He and Dom had two children after their reconciliation: a son, Blaise, and a daughter named by Freddie after the Japanese word for tiger, Tora.

You gaze out into the sunset. Half of the garden is flooded with white calla lilies, a new bouquet for every February 15th since 1978.

“You’ll be sending back an RSVP in the affirmative?” Roger asks.

“Of course! Any excuse to visit the States. And I like Ben. Although he doesn’t look anything like you.”

He groans. “Those wigs, bloody hell.”

“It’s like they produced a whole movie just to have an excuse to make fun of your atrociously crunchy bleached hair.”

“And I bet you enjoyed that.”

“You deserved it.” When Freddie’s health began to fail and Queen stopped touring, you went back to school to get a degree in physical therapy. You and Roger have sessions three times a week, provided he’s on the wagon; and he usually is, nowadays. When he’s not, John’s the one to get the call from Dominique, and he hunts Roger down, convinces him to come home, works whatever quiet, soothing magic he carries around in his deep pacific blood. But right this moment, Roger is awfully quiet himself. His large, pale eyes—like clear water, like unraveling delphiniums, like the harmony that only comes when age burns away all those last entrenched talons of bitterness, of fear—skate over the calla lilies.

“Do you think things would have been different for us?” Roger asks softly. “If she had lived.”

It took you a long time to understand why Roger was in no hurry to get a divorce, to move you out of the Surrey house. They were the only ties he thought he had to anchor you to the band, to him. They were the only cards he thought he had to play to keep you in his life in any capacity. But John fixed that dilemma. He can fix just about anything, you’ve learned.

“No,” you tell Roger. “You would have worn me down eventually. You and your drinking and drugs and late nights and interminable recklessness. It might have taken longer, but we always would have ended. And John always would have been my home. She wouldn’t have kept us together. She just would have lived. And I wouldn’t have loved her for being a part of you. I would have loved her for whoever she was, whoever she grew up to be. But now I’ll never know who that would have been. I love the children I have, Roger, I do. But I still miss her, miss the person she would have been. It’s like chasing a shadow. It’s like a page of a book written in a language I can’t read. And it’s a feeling that never quite goes away.”

He smiles at you wearily, immensely sad, full of perfect understanding. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October 10th, 2020, and the reception is held under shedding autumn leaves the color of rubies and imperial topaz and amber and yellow jade. The exuberant bride and groom weave through the crowds milling about the quaint farm, which is nestled in the hills of a small town in Northern California called Zenia. It belongs to Gwilym, apparently, and he and his flame-haired girlfriend Shiloh are shuttling tirelessly this way and that making sure everything goes according to plan. They don’t speak much to Ben or his new wife directly—there’s a stiltedness there, an uncomfortable period of readjustment that reminds you of how John and Roger were for a while after all the secrets came out—but there is undeniable kinship as well. Love can be complicated, you find yourself thinking, for the innumerable time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.

Making the rounds with the bride and groom is a strikingly beautiful, dark-haired boy who wears a miniature suit and a perpetual, mischievous grin. The new Mrs. Hardy almost always has her hand on his shoulder, his back, wiping cake frosting from his cheeks, ruffling his hair.

“Eli is kind of a demon kid,” Joe Mazzello warns you. “But in the best possible way.”

“Hm. I have somewhat of an affinity for demons myself.”

“Clearly,” Roger quips, sipping pink champagne. The snack table is Halloween-themed and extremely casual: Cheetos and pumpkin pie and caramel apples and dinosaur-shaped brownies. Per usual, you’re grazing through an orange paper plate stacked high with enough nibbling material to keep any undesirable small talk at bay. But strangely, in all of the times you’ve crossed his path since Bohemian Rhapsody’s filming began, you’ve never minded chatting with Joe.

“Yeah, you two were married at some point, right?” Joe asks. Then he immediately blanches. “Oh my god. That was so rude. I did not just say that. I’m so sorry. I saw it on Wikipedia. I’m gonna go drown myself in the stream now.”

“No, you’re right!” you admit in a peal of laughter. “Briefly and disastrously.”

“It wasn’t that disastrous,” Roger protests, thieving a Cheeto off your plate. He misplaced his prescription sunglasses on the flight over and is thus relatively helpless.

“Rude. Get your own. They’re over on the other end of the table.”

“I can’t see that far—!”

“Dom?” you call as she sashays over in a flowing white dress and licking a stick of orange rock candy. “Please control your husband.”

She smiles. “If I haven’t managed it yet, I don’t think there’s much hope.” She nods to Joe. “It’s so nice to see you again. Meeting you people was the only bright spot of that whole movie ordeal.”

“What, you didn’t fancy it?” Roger jests.

“At least they included you,” you tell Dom, smirking. “They ignored my existence entirely. They threw in some random woman with zero lines and called her Veronica in the credits. Whatever.”

Dom rolls her expressive umber eyes. “Yes, how flattering, I was in two scenes and one of them involved a joke about Roger cheating on me.”

“You’re a star, baby,” you say. “Deal with it.”

Dom smacks your arm playfully. She may be annoyed, but it doesn’t pain her the way it used to. She’s had decades of practice.

“The script could have been better,” Joe concedes. Then he spies John as he approaches, almost drops his caramel apple, waves frenetically. “Hi, Mr. Deacon! Hi!!”

“Wonderful job with all of this, Joe.” John shakes his hand as Joe gapes at him, starstruck. He’s always like that around John, appreciative, in awe, acutely aware of John’s legendary place in rock and roll history; and you love that someone besides you and Roger look at him that way.

“Thanks, I did it myself. Just kidding. It was 99% Gwil.”

“Well, I’ll still get you front row seats at the next Queen + Adam Lambert show.” It had taken a long time for John to find a front man he liked...a long time. He drove Roger and Brian insane. He kept saying he wanted someone who was like Freddie and yet simultaneously not trying to be Freddie, someone genuinely kind and charismatic and empathetic, an otherworldly talent, a natural performer. And then, on an unassuming spring night in 2009, they found him.  

Joe claps a palm on John’s shoulder and grins, his eyes glistening. “I’m obsessed with this little old guy! Obsessed, I tell you!”

“You want to see how old he is?” Roger teases. “Lift up that hand-knit hat and see what’s underneath. I’ll give you a hint. Not much.”

“At least I made it through the 90s without requiring hair plugs,” John counters.

“It was from all the bleaching!!”

“Hi, Rog!” Ben shouts as he rushes to embrace Roger, nearly knocking him off his feet. Mrs. Hardy is still across the field, talking to Brian, Anita, Rami, and Lucy, and trying to convince Eli not to crawl into a chocolate fountain.

Ben Hardy has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, mostly because he’s nothing at all like Roger. He’s subterranean-voiced and emerald-eyed and brooding and guarded and seems so much older than his twenty-nine years, and then every once in a while someone will come along and light him up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Unlike Roger, Ben doesn’t light up for many people. He does for his son Eli, of course, and for Joe Mazzello...and for his new wife. He lights up for her like fucking wildfire.

“Ben,” you say, holding out a bag speckled with black cats. “I have our gift for you.”

“You shouldn’t have! Thank you so much.”

“You can’t thank us until you open it,” John chastises.

So Ben does. Inside is an album of hundreds of photos you’ve taken of Queen since Roger bought you your first Canon for Christmas in 1974: pictures that have never been released publicly of the boys at the Rainbow, at the Budokan, in Rome, in Boston, in Japan, in New Orleans, at Montreal, at Madison Square Garden, at Live Aid, at the Surrey house, at Montreux. Interspersed are some of John’s sketches, the only ones you can bring yourself to part with: close-ups of a long-haired Freddie drawing on messy eyeliner, Roger adjusting his sunglasses with a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, Brian tuning his Red Special.

“Oh my god,” Ben whispers.

“Most of those are very old,” you explain. “And I heard you both like old things.”

“We definitely do.” He hugs you, suddenly and fiercely and warmly; and you catch a glimpse of what it must be like to be one of the few people that he allows to truly know him, those shadowed depths to balance Joe’s uncomplicated light.

Maybe that’s it, you realize. Maybe Joe is more like Roger and Ben like John.

The wedding playlist is exclusively classic rock songs: the Doors and Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac and Led Zeppelin and Queen. As A Kind Of Magic ends, the eerie opening notes of Hotel California ripple out over the breezy autumn fields.

“Not this fucking song!” Roger cries.

Joe turns to you, confused.

“LSD,” you inform him. “1977. I would not recommend it.”

“Noted.”

Roger continues, rubbing his forehead: “It makes me think of...freaking...weird, creepy shit...like swimming at night through cold water. But I just keep swimming and can’t get anywhere.”

“It makes me think of sharks,” you say. “Maybe they’re related.”

“Freddie always said it made him think of birds,” John sighs. “And the color blue.”

The three of you pause, nodding, remembering.

Joe frowns solemnly, peering down at his shoes. “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“He would have adored you,” you say.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?! You would have been best friends. Always looking out for people. Always plotting the next escapade. That charming chaotic energy. The utter inability to bake anything.”

“Awwww.” Joe beams, delighted. “I fucking love you guys.”

“That’s the thing,” Roger says. “People don’t realize it. We’re more of a family than a band. We find people we take a shine to like ancient treasure, snatch them up, sand away all their rough edges, show them everything the world has to offer. And if they can survive the casualties of stardom, that trial by fire, they become permanent. They grow like roots into our blood, our bones...and perhaps we claim a part of theirs as well. They become things we can’t live without.”

“And once you’re in the family,” John tells Joe with a fond, crafty smile. “You can never leave.”

[flyingstar360]

Bittersweet Memories

So, Happy Thanksgiving and I’m really sorry for Alex angst/ooc. There’s a little bit more adult-ish content in it,  and by that, I mean we have boys kissing, mentions of teenage drinking, a few colorful words I may have forgotten to edit out, and mentions of some pretty serious homophobia topics. Also, I’m straight, so I’ve never had to come out or anything, and this is my first time writing openly gay characters. Hopefully, I did okay, and I don’t offend anyone! Any way, it’s a long one, so sorry!

Bittersweet Memories

              Alex twisted his drumsticks between his fingers. Julie and her family weren’t home. She told the boys she was going to go volunteer with her dad and brother, but honestly? Alex’s anxiety post Orpheum had been at an all time high. Between secret meetings with Willie, trying to avoid Caleb and save Willie’s soul, band practice and their growing fan base, and the fact that the holidays were coming up? Alex felt like one of the strings of Luke’s guitar, right before it snapped.

              He knew Thanksgiving had always been Reggie’s favorite holiday. It was the one day his parents didn’t scream all day, because there was just enough distraction and alcohol to keep them from going after each other. He and his brother would play flag football and watch the parade with their cousins.  The delight was practically oozing off him as he and Luke were curled in front of Julie’s laptop, rambling on about the musical acts performing. Ironically, it was a show about hell, or something?

“Dude if musicals had been like this? Yo, I would never have given you a hard time about them.” Luke said to Alex, looking up from his spot on the ground.

              Luke’s relationship with Thanksgiving was a little more complicated than Reggie’s. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t hate it. Plus, now that they were dead, Luke had never been closer to his family. Even though they had no idea Julie was actually helping him leave little clues around for them to know he was there with them.

              “Are you gonna go see your parents today?” He asked Luke.

              “Already done. Julie helped me leave a little message for my mom.” Luke grinned.

               Alex rolled his eyes. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with cranberry jelly.”

              Emily Patterson made the best homemade cranberry sauce Alex had ever eaten. The Thanksgiving he’d spent at the Patterson’s was one of the best meals Alex had ever eaten. But Luke, for some reason, didn’t like the cranberry sauce his mom made. It was one of those fancy ones, with real cranberries and orange in it. To Alex, it smelled and tasted exactly like he always dreamed the holidays would. Sweet, with a hint of spices. But no.Luke wanted processed cranberry jelly. Alex remembered seeing the two of them arguing about it the last Thanksgiving they’d been alive. Luke had run away a few weeks later, and they’d died in July.

              “Julie got me a can of cranberry jelly to leave on the counter. Mom’ll know.”

              Alex hated canned cranberry jelly. All he could think about was the way it had clung to his button down shirt the last Thanksgiving he spent with his parents. He remembered the sounds of the plates crashing, the way the glass pie plate had shattered as it hit the wall and smashed next to his face, and the way his father’s voice spit out the words as he- No, Alex didn’t want to think about it.

              Alex hated Thanksgiving, actually.

              It was two Thanksgivings ago- or two Thanksgivings before he died, instead. His dad’s coworker had come over with his family. Alex didn’t mind. Mr. Marsters’s son was a little older than him. And he was cool. Seth Marsters was a baseball player at the fancy private school in town. He was class president. He was handsome. He liked good music. And he was honestly really nice. Alex never minded spending time with him, and their parents were good enough friends that it happened pretty frequently. The two had ended up in Alex’s room while their dads talked work and their moms finished the dinner and drank wine. Sometimes they’d play Super Mario Kart on Alex’s Nintendo and the TV he had in his room. Other times, the boys just sat around and talked and listened to music.

              “Okay.” Seth had said as he opened the tape deck Alex had in his room. “Don’t laugh, but I made you mix tape with some of the other songs I thought you’d like. I would have burnt you a CD, but Dad wouldn’t let me use the computer, because he was too busy with work.”

              Alex grinned and flopped himself across his blue bedspread as he watched Seth fiddle with the tape deck. Alex didn’t have a lot of friends. His anxiety made it hard to make friends at school. So, the guys in band were his best friends- and so far, the only people who knew he was gay. Luke had actually been the first guy Alex ever kissed- after they’d snuck a bottle of something that had made Alex’s eyes water and throat burn out of Mr. Patterson’s liquor cabinet. Reggie would turn up at the backdoor in the middle of the night sometimes, with cuts or bruises Alex never questioned but would clean up nonetheless. And Bobby would show up at lunch with extra food packed for the guys, and his mom always made sure Alex had something without nuts in it. It was that kind of stuff that made Alex feel normal. And not like a freak. Even though he knew he was different from everyone else.  But besides the guys, he didn’t feel comfortable with almost anyone else. Except Seth.

              “Okay, but I can’t promise not to laugh until I hear what songs you picked.”

Seth grinned back and hit play as he plopped himself next to Alex, resting on his elbows, face to face with Alex. It took everything Alex had not to blush as Seth went on and on about why Nirvana was a better band than Poison. Nodding dumbly, he didn’t even register what was playing- until he heard a familiar voice whose CD was hidden behind his copy of The Hobbit on his bookshelf.

              “I’m sorry, is this Whitney Houston?” Alex sat straight up. Seth was the one blushing now, as he fumbled to skip the song.

              “Yeah, it’s dumb, I just-“

              Alex reached out to stop him. “Dude, I love Whitney Houston. She’s got a killer voice.”

              Seth turned a shade redder than before. Alex had never seen him flustered at all before. Seth was normally the one all put together, and Alex was the anxious mess. It was honestly pretty endearing, and Alex felt the butterflies in his stomach.  “I heard this on the radio and I kind of thought of you instantly.” Seth said quietly. “It just.. well. It makes me think of you every time I hear it, I guess.”

              Alex just kind of blinked for a moment, processing what that could mean, as Seth watched him carefully. But Before Alex could really say anything, Seth leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex’s.

Oh.

OH.

Alex closed his eyes as Seth wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in closer. His lips were soft and Alex thought he could taste a hint of Chapstick, and root beer. It was a million times better than the clunky teeth and lips kiss he and Luke had shared. This was like a movie kiss, in Alex’s opinion. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart was pounding- suddenly he felt like he really got why the guys in the band were so obsessed with girls  Being able to have moments like this, feel like this, without anyone judging you? Without anyone thinking you’re spreading a deadly disease? It felt almost as good as playing music.

              “And I will always love you-“ Whitney’s long hold of the note drowned out the sound of Alex’s mother’s heels clicking down the hall, but not the screech she let out after pushing his door open and seeing the two boys’ moment.

Alex wouldn’t forget that sound. Or the sound of the front door slamming as his Dad sent Seth and his parents away without even eating.

              “Dad, it’s not his fault.” Alex said as his father stormed back into the dining room where Alex stood next to his mother. As his dad started to yell again, Alex cut him off.  “Dad! It’s not his fault. I-I kissed him back.”

His father froze, eyes wide, face purple. Veins were bulging on his neck. Alex hadn’t meant to say that.

              “I’m gay, Dad.”

He sure as hell hadn’t planned on saying that. He took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know it’s upsetting, but I’ve known for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and-“

              That was when the glass pie plate with his mom’s famous cherry pie hit the wall next to his face. Alex ducked to avoid the plate of cranberry jelly that followed it. His father only stopped hurtling dishes at Alex because his mom stepped in between them and told him to leave the house. He ran out, shirt covered in cranberry goop splatter and cherry pie filling. He must have looked like he’d murdered someone when he’d shown up at Bobby’s house. Bobby’s mom brought him clean clothes and let him spend the night. After that Thanksgiving, Alex noticed Luke’s parents looking at him strangely after church. Reggie’s parents didn’t let him come over anymore, not that he did much anyway. And Seth got accepted to a “boarding school” that Alex had heard whispers about. He never saw him again.

~

             “Alex?” Julie stopped just inside her bedroom, by the door. Alex jumped up from where he was sitting by the window. Somehow, during his trip down memory lane, he’d wandered into her room, absent mindedly tapping on the bongo she had by her window.

              “Ah- Sorry. Boundaries. I know.” He mumbled, putting the bongo back on her windowsill.

Julie shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite the chair Alex had found himself in.

              “It’s okay. Carlos told me he heard drumming coming from in here and went to distract dad. When I didn’t see you in the studio, I just figured you went to spend Thanksgiving with Willie or checking in on your family or something.”  She looked at him intensely and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly and reached her hand out to rest on top of his. It slipped right through him, and he pulled away, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to be a good friend, and he was lying to her and being an anxious wreck again. He started to protest, tell her he was fine, when someone knocked on her door. Ray stuck his head in.

              “Hey, niña.” He smiled at Julie. “Pizza should be ready in about ten minutes.” Julie nodded. “You did some good work today. Thanks for coming to help out.” She smiled back at her dad.

              “You know it’s always been my favorite part of Thanksgiving.” She told him. Alex noticed Reggie and Luke peeking out from behind Ray. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The guys slipped through the door as Ray closed it, both standing awkwardly.

              “We’re sorry, dude.” Luke started. “We kinda both forgot that Thanksgiving isn’t a great day for you.”

              “I got really excited because it’s always been a good day for me. I didn’t mean to brush off your feelings.” Reggie shifted his weight from side to side. “I just really love the parade and I heard there were puppies after it now and puppies are way better than football and-“

              Julie cut Reggie off. “You don’t like Thanksgiving?”

              “You work on Thanksgiving?” Alex countered. He knew he was being a little short, but there was no way he could handle Julie looking at him the way other people did when they found out he was gay.

              “We volunteer at Marsters House every year. We serve dinner and hang out.” She said. “And you’re avoiding the question.” Alex stiffened in his seat when Julie mentioned the word “Marsters”. Luke and Reggie went pale. Julie noticed all of it. “Please don’t tell me the Marsters’s stole music or something from you guys too.” She groaned. “It’s bad enough knowing Carrie’s dad isn’t who I thought he was, if Seth and Cory are liars too, I couldn’t handle it.”

              Alex was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Could ghosts even throw up? He tried to take a few deep breaths. “Julie.” He whispered. “I need you to tell me where this place is.”

              She jumped up. “No. No way. Last time you guys were upset and I told you where something was, you got sucked in by Caleb and I almost lost you to those stamps. No way!”

              “We’re going and you can’t stop us!” Alex raised his voice at Julie. “Wait, what are you doing?”

              Julie was grabbing her sweater. “I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll take you there. But you guys aren’t going alone!” Alex looked over at his bandmates.

              “Okay.” He said.

              “Dad?! I just realized I left my phone at Marsters’ House, I’m gonna go grab it!”

~

              It sounded like the aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner from just outside the building. There was yelling at football games and possibly video games. There were lots of people inside- most of them around his age. But the man who opened the door was decidedly not his age. But it was absolutely Seth.

              “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think I may have left my phone in the kitchen?” Julie lied without a blip in her demeanor. Alex was both impressed and terrified. Looking over at Luke, Alex would be willing to guess Luke felt the same way. As they went inside, Alex knew he wouldn’t be going to the kitchen. Instead, he turned down the hall, and followed adult Seth into an office. On Seth’s desk was a photo of him with another handsome man- blond. Seth had a type.

              “Alexa?” Seth said, as he settled himself down at his desk. “Play Alex’s Mixtape.” Suddenly, Whitney Houston came from the speakers. Alex couldn’t breathe. Someone grabbed his hand. Julie. She squeezed it tight.

              “Thanks Seth! Happy Thanksgiving!” She yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Alex away. Reggie and Luke were waiting outside. He brushed past them for a few yards, pulling his hand free of Julie’s grasp, before having to stop. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth as sobs ripped from his throat. He felt the rest of the band catch up, wrap their arms around him. He turned his head and sobbed into Luke’s flannel. Reggie rubbed circles on his back. After a few moments, as the sobs subsided, he realized Julie was murmuring something to him.

              “Alex, it’s okay. You’re okay. We love you, and you’re okay.”

He inhaled and wiped his face and looked right at Julie.

              “I’m gay.” She blinked a few times. Gave her head a little shake Looked at Reggie and Luke, who were holding their breath next to him.

              “I- Was-was I not supposed to know that?” She asked.

All three boy’s jaws dropped.

              “You knew?” Alex asked. “How long have you known?”

              Julie shrugged. “Since like, day one? Anyway, you talk so much about Willie too, so I just assumed that-” She stopped suddenly. “Seth. You’re Seth’s Alex. Oh my god.” She stood up and took a few steps back, then started pacing. “There’s no way. None. I don’t understand.” She looked at the guys. “Seth has seen the video my dad made for Edge of Great. How did he just not notice?”

              “I noticed.” A voice came from behind her. Julie whipped around. “Your dad called. Wanted to make sure we found your phone. I told him you had left already, but I figured I’d check to see how far you’d gotten. Didn’t expect you to have company.” Seth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

              “Can you see them?” Julie asked.

              Seth shook his head. “No. But I mean, you’re talking to air. And it sure sounds like you’re trying to talk Alex out of an anxiety attack. Lord knows I’d done that a few times.” He got quiet for a minute. Alex stood, and walked slowly until he was face to face with Seth. He had more wrinkles around his eyes than Alex remembered, but of course. He was twenty-five years older. “Is he here?”

              “Tell him I tried to take the blame.” Alex turned towards to Julie. “Please.”

              She nodded. “He says he tried to take the blame. He didn’t want his parents to blame it on you.”

              “I mean, I did kiss him first. Anyway, they were going to send me for conversion therapy no matter what.” Julie winced. Alex looked back and forth between Julie and Seth.

               “What’s that? They sent him to a school. That’s what they told me”

              “No, Alex.” Julie said quietly. “It wasn’t a school.”

              Seth sighed. “Of course, that’s what they told him.” He looked at Julie and the empty space around her. “Um, where…”

              “Oh! Um, A little towards your left, just kind half turn, and he’s right in front of you.”

              Seth shifted and looked at Alex. “It wasn’t a school. It was a group of people who thought that, through a bunch of therapy and medical procedures, they could make me not gay anymore. Clearly, it was not successful, as I am still a flaming homosexual.” Julie giggled at that, and Alex couldn’t help but smile as he saw Seth’s face break into the familiar grin he once knew. His heart ached a little as it faded away. “I was worried they’d sent you to one too. And when I heard you had passed away from a bad hot dog, I worried- well, I was scared that it was a cover-up. That you’d… Anyway.” He trailed off. “I have no idea how you’re here. Or why. But I’m happy. I love Colby. He reminds me of you sometimes. You’d have been great friends. We met at a Whitney Houston Concert in DC when I was in college. He spilled his beer on me during I’ll Always Love You. I said you were sending me a sign.”

              Alex blinked back tears. “It was the best kiss of my life.”

              Julie smiled. “He said it was the best kiss of his life.” Luke pouted and crossed his arms as Julie’s eyes got wide.

              “It is a long story.” Alex laughed, as he wiped away some tears.

              “Want a ride home?” Seth asked Julie. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot going on.” Julie nodded.

~

Later that night, there was a knock at the studio door. Alex did not expect to see Julie, in her pajamas and with a blanket and pillow outside the studio.

              “Hey! Are you okay?”

              Julie nodded. “We’re watching a movie.” She held up a copy of The Bodyguard on DVD. “I knew my mom had a copy somewhere.”

              As they snuggled on the couch, Julie’s back against Luke’s chest, her legs draped over Alex’s lap, Reggie sitting on the ground in front of them, holding Julie’s hand and leaning against Alex’s legs, he realized something.

              Maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad after all.

[reiddidactic]

“It’s always been you.”-Spencer Reid

TW:mentions of blood, and perceived death.

I had grown a custom to being in the background, that just comes with the territory of being in the B team of the BAU. What you thought all of those files Hotch, now Emily, spend all night looking over we’re solved by the magnificent eight? There’s a whole other team of profilers that live in the bullpen too, I am one of them. Today started out as nothing special, nothing spectacular. With my car parked in its usual spot and my hands fulleith my go bag, keys, badge, phone, and a tray full of assorted coffees I make my way to the elevator.

“You know bringing him coffee everyday isn’t going to make him love you” I hear the familiar voice of our technical analyst Garcia giggle as I step on to the elevator our floor already lit up.

“It’s the thought that counts Pen,” I huff attempting to tuck my phone and keys away without dropping one of the many things in my hands, “I can always pretend that one day it will”

She rolls her eyes at me, “besides the rest of your team might get jealous, and think you’re trying to leave them”

I laugh, “yeah right, my chances of being on the A team are long gone.”

We step off and make our way to the glass doors where we usually part ways, for most of the day.Except for today. As Garcia so lovingly put it today I have restarted trying to express my feelings through coffee, now I do wonder off towards my desk to put my things away but pull a coffe cup from the tray and write his name on it, quickly and sneakily walking towards Doctor Spencer Reid’s desk to drop off my gift to him, before retreating to my desk watch for the rest of his team to arrive so I can see the look on his face when he gets his mostly likely second cup of coffee for the morning. I wait mildly impatiently for them to come in one by one. First is Emily, then Luke and Matt, followed shortly by Rossi and JJ. Usually he’s here by now just as the worry starts to settle in, in walks his tall somewhat lanky figure. Brown curls so disheveled but also so neatly styled like his goal is bed headed curls. I watch him walk to his desk and set his things down before he turns and gives me that small smile of thanks as he picks up his cup. This becomes our reoccurring form of communication for the next few weeks.

After landing back in Quantico after an exceptionally difficult case I make a b-line straight to my desk hoping to bury myself in as much paperwork as humanly and inhumanly possible. A small post it note on my computer stops me from doing just that.

“I got you a gift after I heard about St. Louis, I figured you would bury yourself in work-“Spencer I smile and look down to my keyboard and a black box with a lilac colored ribbon tied around into a bow rests, with a second post it note reading “modern issues call for modern solutions” also in Spencer’s handwriting I open the box to find a pair of prescription blue light glasses, and briefly remember Spencer warning me that all of my computer usage could be the cause of my poor sleeping habits. I look up from my desk just in time to catch Spencer flashing me a smile from the glass window of the round table conference room.

Over a decade I’ve spent pining over this man, from our time together in the academy, to watching him go through the worst times of his life, all the while seeming to have taken the backseat in his life were I once was a huge part of it. Around the six year mark I decided it was better to be his in his life as a backseat friend then to press him for nothing more. I’ve watched all of his budding romances and wished to be the one that made him smile, made him feel normal and loved, but I know my role, I’m not the main character of this story he is.

Leaving that night I never would have thought someone would be so bold as to plant a car bomb in the vehicle of a B team agents car but I guess I was grossly wrong. Because as Spencer and I walk out of the elevator and down the rows of cars, hearing nothing but the beeping of a car alarm alerting that the doors had been locked or unlocked. A blast knocks us both on our backs. My ears ringing from the sound alone my head throbbing from hitting the concrete floor. I sit up watching through blurry vision as agent Cooper screams hurriedly trying to put out the fire covering most of his leg. Seeing the remains of his car engulfed in flames I turn to look for Spencer who had been right next to me. There he lays unmoving, but gasping for air. I rush to him as fast as my concussed body will allow.

“Spence?” I call trying to get him to respond, “hey you’re gonna be okay.” Trying to comfort him as I scan his body for what caused his sudden inability to breathe correctly.

“I’m sorry” he says through gasps for air and I focus on the pained expression on his face.

Ignoring his apology I brush his hair from his face repeat my now mantra, “You’re gonna be okay” seeing the pieces of shrapnel laying near him and the small but steady stream of blood leaving his abdomen from the piece of metal in his side, a part of me doesn’t even believe myself.

“Spencer you are going to be okay, help is coming you just need to stay with me” I force out grabbing his hand.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it out of this one kid” he smiled weakly at the pet name I’ve never outgrown. I shake my head causing more throbbing, “I’ve never said thank for the coffee every morning, or told you-” he coughs causing more pain and blood to flow from him “-how much you actually mean to me, all this time it’s been you”

“What do you mean?” I ask tears beginning to blur my vision even more, if he’s saying his peace now he won’t fight to stay alive long enough for someone anyone to help him.

“From the day we first started with the team, when you found out we weren’t assigned to the same team, I’ve loved you. But I never did anything about it” he groans reaching out for me I grab his hand, “I’ve been an awful friend, I’ve been mean to you, I let you let me make you my emotional punching bag, and you don’t deserve that”

I can’t bring myself to saying anything other than, “You don’t get to decide that, you have nothing be be sorry for” as tears stream down my face he continues.

“When my team used to make jokes about your team, I never stood up for you, I even went along with it, I said that you’re team was practically asking for all the losses that you took, you’re not only a better profiler than me, but a better person, you would never do the things I’ve done.” He almost smiles

“What do you mean?”

“All these years I’ve lied to myself about how I feel about you, and I searched for you in everyone I’ve ever loved or thought I’ve loved” he pauses only to cough some more before continuing, “JJ because being around her was easy, she always made it easy to talk to her about anything, she was like a replacement best friend for you, Maeve she was the one that was the closest to you, she understood me like you do, she made me feel like you did when we spoke. Always happy to hear my voice. Max, she made me feel normal, and loved. B-but if you put together all of their best qualities and the things that made me think that I was truly in love with them it makes you.”

By now I’m hysterical but the sound of someone running pulls my gaze from him as I was paramedics and the rest of our teams running from the opposite side of the parking garage fills me with hope that he will make it out of here.

“Spencer helps coming I just need you to stay with me, and maybe stop talking so you can save your strength” I cry he lets go of my hand to run his fingers through my long curly hair before resting his palm on my cheek.

“I don’t think I’m go in to get out of this one kid. But I need you to know that it’s you. It’s always been you” with a small smile he drops his hand from my face as the paramedics reach us and immediately start taking Spencer’s vital signs and radioing back to the ambulance, that it’s all clear to come in and to have the hospital ready on stand by; and I am numb as they begin chest compressions because he’s stopped breathing on his own. I am sobbing and broken as they start moving him to the stretcher quickly wheeling him back to the ambulance..

Three days in the hospital and I can finally go home, in theory, I instead go to see Spencer. Garcia told me he was awake yesterday. I get dressed and make my way down to his room, he is awake. I stand in the doorway for a minute before walking in further.

“Hey, I thought you were never going to come,” Spencer smiles at me.

“What happened to I’m not going to make it out of this kid?” I smile back.

“I didn’t think I was going to,” he says patting the spot next to him on the bed. I move to sit next him and he pulls me into his side, “I am happy to see you’re okay”

“Okay? I thought you were going die, couple that with literally not being able to hear how you were doing,-” he stops me by pressing his lips to mine, brushing my hair behind my ear resting his hand on my cheek. I pull back,

“You can’t fix this by kissing me you know” I smile,

“It’s a start, though” he returns the smile and I rest my forehead on his, “I love you”

“I love you more”

[halcyonnhood]

Ramen, Baking and Glitter || l.h

Summary: Luke realizes he loves his best friend while on tour and confronts the feelings when he sees her again.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: possibly a few curse words.

Authors note: The italics are Luke's memories of her! After the asterisks (***) is when they're back in LA and in present tense. I hope the format looks okay, I typed this out on my phone. Also the OC is very special to me (more about that in the tags.) I may write more about her and Luke.

- - -

The band 5 seconds of summer have travelled thousands of miles over the years. They've explored new countries, cities, and towns. They've met new fans, friends, and probably too many flirty humans. Luke enjoys every last bit of it, he thrives on the attention. Yet, no amount of love from fans manages to take his mind off one of his best friends waiting back in LA for him. Everything happens to remind him of Sarah.

When the boys stayed in Japan, Michael had demanded to stop for ‘proper’ ramen before they left the country. Of course, no one had the heart to deny him his love for traditional Japanese food. The four of them had been bantering and talking about plans when the longing had struck Luke. He was mid bite of his chicken ramen and all he can remember is the silly heated debate he and Sarah had before the tour.

Sarah tosses the bright orange bag back at Luke and scrunched her nose in disgust. She hadn't eaten all day and upon arriving at Luke's house, she decided she wanted to fix something easy. So naturally, she rummaged through his cabinets and made Luke reach the ramen shoved on the top shelf. When he handed the orange bag to her with “chicken flavored” printed across the top, she felt like she was going to have a brain hemorrhage. Now she just stares up at the top shelf in disappointment, as if red bags would magically appear instead.

“I want ramen.” Sarah tells him with pouted lips.

“You just threw the ramen at me,” Luke says. He points at the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, because that's disgusting.” She makes sure to enunciate the word disgusting. “It's chicken.”

“What do you have against chicken ramen? You like chicken, we literally just had some last night.” Luke questions.

“Ya, we had grilled chicken. It's the flavoring in the ramen, it's weird.”

“What kind do you like then?”

“Beef.” Sarah says. She gives him a playful smile when he rolls his eyes at her, “It is the only acceptable ramen.”

“It is not!” He argues. “You're just wrong, you monster. Chicken is a classic,”

She fake gags, “I have taste buds, you giant oaf. Now we have to go to the store because you're wrong.”

Luke spent the rest of the Japan trip thinking about Sarah. He thought about how much he missed her randomly dropping by his house and pretending she owned it. He thought about how she would've really enjoyed eating traditional ramen instead of the instant kind, she would never want to leave the foreign country. Lastly, he made a mental note to buy the girl all the beef ramen she could ever want and to find a restaurant that serves the real stuff. He knows something so small would make her whole day and he just wants her to smile.  

Japan isn't the only time Luke is reminded of the strong willed girl. They had met a fan in Munich who looked uncannily like Sarah and he hadn't been the only one who noticed. If Luke's being honest, he hadn't been paying much attention to the girl at first. She had won some radio station competition and the whole band had greeted her at once before she turned to talk to Michael first. He had taken more of a notice to her after catching Michael's not so subtle glance at the boys and the first thing he had connected was the hair. The fan had her hair honey blonde hair pulled back into a French braid, so what? It wasn't uncommon to see the almost brown hair color and the style was popular. It's not like he hadn't seen it on anyone other than Sarah, he had. It was just such a common sight around his household that he automatically associated it with her.

When the fan had made it to him and pulled away from the hug, Luke felt bad for not paying attention to anything she said. He wanted to, but he was captivated by how she could be a perfect doppelganger. Dark olive green eyes, freckles spotted across flushed cheeks, and a small button nose. All things that looked eerily similar and one look at the boys showed that they had seen it too.

“Holy shit,” Michael said as soon as she had left “That kid looked exactly like Sarah,”

“It's weird,” Calum added. “I mean, all of the features just matched,”

Ashton had chuckled at their surprise, “They do say everyone has lookalikes,”

“Still so weird, especially after not seeing Sarah in months.” Luke said with a shrug. He tried not to think about it too hard.

Three different shows went by without Luke being reminded of her. He thinks it's because he made more of an effort to facetime her at the end of his nights and fulfill his longing to talk to her. When they stop in Paris, he's proven wrong. Luke wishes he could be cheesy and say it's because he realized he was in love with her while in the city of love. Except he realized his love was more than platonic weeks ago.

Ashton had suggested that they go somewhere local for breakfast. So, the duo set out on an adventure for the best place that served breakfast. They ended up in a bakery, ordering an abundance of baked goods and iced coffee. The savory scent of bread mingling with the sweet scent of pastries and cookies reminded him of none other than the girl that he may or may not be in love with. More often than not, she'd spend her extra time using new recipes to bake cookies, cake, and bread. Most of the time she subjected the boys to taste testing, but none of them seemed to mind. There would be days that Calum would be sad to come over to Luke's and find no treats. It was even sadder on recording days when she couldn't make it to the studio to visit and drop off her baked goods. The best days were always when she stopped by.

“Booooys,” Sarah sing songs, “I made some cookies!”  

She sits the plate covered with aluminum foil on the desk and sits next to Michael on the couch. Ashton's listening to the producer play back their latest song while both Luke and Calum are diving for the plate to see who gets a cookie first. The sight just reminds her of how childish they can both be and it makes her laugh.

"What kind are they today?” Michael asks.

Luke sits back and looks at the cookie in his hand while waiting for her to respond with her normal rambles about the recipe. Usually she'll tell them all about how the website lied about the amount of butter or come up with an excuse to why ‘the first batch is bad’. He has to admit that he loves hearing her get so passionate over her baking skills.

“I made two. Can you believe it? TWO!” Sarah excitedly tells him. “I made salted caramel and raspberry with white chocolate chips. AND the caramel is homemade!”

"Wait, you know how to make caramel? This is so good” Calum says while waving around the half eaten cookie.  

"It's so easy, it's just cream, sugar, and butter. But it burns if you don't take it off the heat fast enough. I may have ruined a pan,” She explains the last part timidly.

Some time during her explaining how to make caramel, Ashton had also grabbed one of the cookies. He just shakes his head at the girl with a chuckle, “Sarah, you'd be a good baker if you didn't burn everything,”

"Says the man who is on his second cookie,” Sarah says with a glare.

"This is the third time you've burnt something,”

“I'm betting that other bakers have burnt things before!” She argues.

The other three stay quiet as the two go at it, both of them living for the argument. For a minute, Luke thinks that Ashton is enjoying it too much. That is until Sarah's expression softens from the furrowed brow to a relaxed and playful one instead. Sometimes he thinks they're both too argumentative and honest for their own good, but it always ends in good fun. He could never understand why they actually enjoyed arguing and often times egged each other on, but as long as no one ends up in tears, everyone let's them hash it out.

“The cookies are really good, Sarah.” Luke tells her honestly. His insides feel melty and gooey as her eyes light up at the compliment.

"Thank you, Luke!” She thanks him in an overly sweet tone, “You know how to be a GOOD best friend. That's why I love you,”

It's possible that Luke had fallen hopelessly in love, not that he'd admit it. He had spent the entire world tour consumed with thoughts about Sarah, always seeking out bits and pieces of her in every place they visited. He even associated her with ramen out of all things. Ramen. He knew he'd have to deal with the conflicting emotions eventually, but he still opted to push them away to have a clear head for the rest of tour. A mostly clear head. All he knew was that it was a future Luke problem.

*  * *

“Are you really bringing up the brownies I made in 2017?”

“They were MEMORABLE! Gosh, I remember how bitter they were. It feels like it happened yesterday,”

“Cocoa powder is bitter, you little shit!”

The argument can be heard throughout the hallway leading up to the dressing rooms in the Forum. Luke hadn't been expecting to hear the bright voice until later tonight, so naturally when he hears her, it makes his heart soar. Her words towards Ashton sounds harsh, but he can hear the playful hints in her tone. He isn't even to the door and can already visualize her darkened blonde hair falling past her shoulders, her usual makeup, and a smile tugging at her pink lips. He feels like he might explode with excitement.

Luke is right. He leans against the doorframe and watches two of his favorite people argue. She has half of her hair pulled back in a ponytail, purple glitter tapped onto her cheekbones, and the light catches on her shiny lip gloss. Neither of them acknowledge his presence, but Michael gives him a knowing grin from one of the chairs. He doesn't mind, he's just happy to see her again and admittedly he missed their playful fights. It gives him time to think about how he'd admit his love.

Girls are usually the ones to secretly fall in love with their best friends, at least that's how it's always portrayed in shows. Is it weird for guys to do that? Luke isn't sure how he's supposed to tell her, should there be some grand gesture? Just be straight up with no frilly things? He should've bought her flowers on the way here from their last promo video. He just wants her to feel appreciated whether or not she holds the same feelings towards him.

Luke is brought out of his daze by a smaller body colliding with his and warm arms wrapping around his midsection. He envelopes the smaller girl in his arms and gives her the tight squeeze that he's been waiting months for. She pulls back and he smooths down her frizzy hair with a small smile.

“I missed you so much, Luke.” Sarah smiles brightly up at him. The sight is enough to turn his heart to mush.

He just returns the warm smile, “I missed you more,”

“Now that you're here,’ Sarah turns around dramatically and points a manicured finger at Ashton before continuing, “You can protect me from bullies!”

“What's he bullying you bout’ this time?”

“My brownies! He can never be nice to me. I slaved all night for y'all and he brings up the disaster of 2017. I'm so much better now.” Sarah huffs.

She snatches the Tupperware bowl off of Ashtons lap and twirls around to push it into Luke's hands instead. He takes one out and savors the first bite, Sarah watching his every move for a reaction. She isn't wrong, it's much better than the first time when she forgot to add enough sugar. When he makes a noise of appreciation for the sweet treat, her face lights up and she sticks her tongue out at Ashton with a laugh. Luke swears that he could watch her soft features all evening, but he could settle for a bit of time before the concert. The last concert of the tour. Then he could spend the rest of his days talking to and watching her when she visits.

Sarah points her nose up in a mocking way, “See, Luke agrees that they are good brownies. I'm right. Now if you excuse us, I've got to paint Luke's nails!” .

“Luke's opinion doesn't mean you're right,” Ashton tuts.

"It does too! Accept defeat, Ash.” She calls out while dragging Luke out of the room with her.

Luke almost forgot that he had texted asking her to repaint his nails. Between potentially obsessive thoughts, promo, concerts, and trying to be a real tourist; Luke hadn't found the time to find someone to keep up with his nails. He definitely wants them done for the show, so he doesn't complain about their abrupt departure from the boys. Sarah leads him a few rooms down to one of the unoccupied dressing rooms and points at the lineup of polish bottles on the makeup desk.

"I didn't know what color you wanted this time, so I bought nearly half of my collection with me,” She says.

"You didn't have to bring all this, Sarah. You could've just picked one for me,”

“I wanted to have a choice! I think you should pick something new though. No black or red.”

“You're really going to do that to me?” Luke asks in mock distress.

It makes Sarah let out a giggle and roll her eyes, “I'm so horrible, I know.”

It only takes Luke a moment to narrow down which colors he liked best. He really wanted the sparkly red, but he couldn't ignore her opinion when he valued it so much. She wants something different, so he hands her the pastel  pink polish and gives her a sheepish glance. She doesn't react badly though, she just gives him a wide smile with her pretty lips and motions for him to sit in the chair.

Sarah gets to work with painting his nails, making precise strokes to avoid a mess of polish. He admires the patience and steadiness required to do such a simple task, because the last time he tried it looked like a toddlers handy work. After watching three nails being covered in pink, he turns his attention back to taking in her features. Her brows dip down into a tiny furrow as she concentrates and he notices the new freckles dotted around her forehead and nose. He figures that she must've been in the sun recently, he's always known that the spots darken with exposure to sunlight. He likes how it just adds more depth to her complexion.

Luke also enjoys the glitter. She tends to save the bold look for festivals and he wants to tease her about how their show must be important. He just finds himself fascinated by how it looks on her and how it instantly brightens all of her features. Of course he wouldn't tease her about it when he thinks she looks so effortlessly pretty. Although the thought of him being the reason for her flushed cheeks is tempting enough.

When Sarah sets the closed bottle back onto the desk, Luke notices her makeup sitting neatly in the corner, probably so she can freshen up throughout the night. He wonders if the glitter would have the same effect on him. Plus, he just wants her close to him.

“What's going on in that brain of yours?” Sarah waves a hand in front of his face.

“I was just thinking,”

She purses her lips at him, “No shit, sherlock. Elaborate,”

"You know how you do your makeup? I was thinking about if I'd look good in it and if the fans would like it” Luke tells her honestly.

“The fans would love it, lu. And we'd be matching!” She gushes. He can tell she's already visualizing the look on him.

"Can you do mine too then?”

"I don't think you could afford my services,” She answers, while already reaching for her makeup.

There's more steps to the makeup look than Luke had originally anticipated. She explains each and every step to him and somehow listening to her explain bb cream ends up being the softest thing in the world. She promised that it'd only even out the redness and he does like how natural he looks. After contouring and adding blush, she finally moves onto his eyeshadow and glitter. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror as she pulls back his hair into a half ponytail and he likes how pretty he looks. The glitter looks nice on him and he matches Sarah perfectly.

Sarah pulls out the gloss wand with a ‘pop' sound and smiles at the man, “One last thing.”

"Thank you. I almost look as pretty as you,” He tells her. He likes how her face flushes a darker pink at his compliment.

"Oh, stop that. You could rock it better than me any day,”

Luke studies Sarah's expression for a moment while she puts her makeup away and he's never wanted to kiss someone more. He's spent months away and he's been consumed by his newfound romantic love for her. Now that she's in front of him again, he wants to kiss her and take her out for authentic beef ramen like he had planned. He wants to watch her bake and compliment all of her new recipes. He wants to hold her tight and never leave her again. He's just afraid that she'll never see him as anything other than a friend. He'd accept any love over none at all, but he'll never know the difference until he tries.

"Sarah, can I be honest with you?” Luke questions.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, “Always. What's up?”

"I think I love you,” Luke tells her carefully. “Tour gave me a lot of time to think about how I feel about you.”

"Romantically?” Sarah looks at him in awe and points at herself, “Me?”

"Yes, you.”

“I'm really not sure what to say in this situation,”

"You don't have to say anything,” Luke rubs his sweaty palms against his pants, “We can just pretend this never happened.”

"No, I mean…I think I like you too. It's just that you're my best friend and you were gone. So I don't know how I really feel? It's easy to think one thing without the person around. Now you're here and what if I just missed you?”

"We can always wait to talk about this,” He assures her, “I was just going to ask you to go on a date with me after the show,”

She gives him a lopsided smile, “What kind of date?”

“I figured I'd ask you to a Japanese restaurant, but no weird seafood since you hate that. I thought you'd like some traditional ramen. We had it in Japan and it reminded me of you.”

"The real stuff? Michael talks about how good it is all the time!”

Luke smiles at her reaction, “Would you like to go with me?”

"You know what? Yes! It'll be fun.”

The boys are finishing up last second preparations backstage when Sarah joins them. Michael and Calum are talking with each other and she doesn't see Ashton with them yet, so she takes it as a chance to talk to Luke. He's fidgeting with his in-ear monitors when he notices her walking up to him, a sneaky expression across her features.

"Being a troublemaker?” Luke raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know it! I just took a break to wish you luck,”

"I always need that,” He chuckles.

The stage managers are rushing around and one speeds by calling out that they'll be on in one minute. Luke gives her a frown, sad to leave in the middle of a conversation. Sarah on the other hand just smiles instead and motions for him to lean down. When the tall boy does, she stands on her toes and places a soft kiss against his lips. His blue eyes widened at the unexpected kiss, but softened after the initial shock. She pulls her lip gloss out and touches up his gloss that she had messed up, not wanting to ruin his look. Luke didn't expect Sarah to make the first move, yet he's the one blushing.

“I-” He starts.

Sarah doesn't let him get a word in edgewise and pushes him lightly towards their other three friends, “I think you're going on now,”

"You look pretty. I'll see you after!” She adds again with a smile at the shocked man.

Luke is definitely in love with her, there's not a single doubt in his mind. All he can think about through the concert is the fact that he's never been so excited for noodles in his entire life. Noodles and his favorite girl.