Chapter Text
It is important to mention that since the beginning of Luke and Reggie’s friendship they had never come close to IT. It being those deep deep unrequited feelings that Luke had. They’d met in 4th grade, when a brown-haired boy with the bluest eyes crashed into another brown-haired boy with eyes like emeralds. After agreeing that it had been an accident, the two boys had laughed it off. Little did they know they were destined to become the best of friends. And perhaps, a little more?
Back then, all Luke knew was that he wanted to keep the other boy in his life as long as he could. The other feelings came eventually later. Maybe it was in 10th grade, or maybe it was a cool day in March when Luke’s mom had finally reached the last straw. So, running out into the wet air he’d found himself on a park bench. Clearly, he had not thought it through though, because in his haste to run out the door and avoid the ever-growing tension between him and his family, he had only remembered to grab his instrument. How freaking typical.
And now, as the chill bite of the spring air wafted down through the crabapple trees, and gently caressed the daffodils, the teenager shivered slightly. No sleeves and spring weather was not a particularly great combination.
Sitting there on the bench, his knee began to bounce uncontrollably. With a slight grimace Luke made to rest his palm squarely there, but it was to no avail. Running, his hands nervously through his hair a strange and hollow laugh echoed from somewhere inside him. He supposed, it was just another thing in his life that he would have no control over. Just like his relationship to his parents.
Yes…just like that. Lazily trailing a finger down the side of his sweatpants, the brunette couldn’t help but think back onto the combining circumstances which had lead him here. For once everything had been going fine.
Yes, for once his parents had forgotten about their son’s musical proclivities. That afternoon, his mother’s eyes had positively shined, as she mentioned some small detail of her work. Luke had smiled at her, happy for once to not feel that awful gnawing trepidation, of when she would bring up what he wanted to do most in the world, and then bash it and him completely. Fundamentally, his parents were not bad people, rather they were two good people who sometimes did unfortunate things. And don’t all parents do that? Don’t all children do that?
But Luke could barely even count how many times his parents were not only the gaslighters, but the whole Goddamned lamp. Not only was the source of lighting not a match, but it was a torch to boot.
Hmm, it had started definitely when his mother had finished talking. Somehow, even after years of knowledge, and what he believed was expertise in his mother’s moods and thoughts, Luke had outguessed himself. Why he ever thought he could ask to go to Bobby’s to practice was far beyond him.
The atmosphere in the kitchen where he had been sitting at the island laughing and listening to his mom’s story, had changed in the snap of a finger. That awful look of superior, and smothering motherly concern slowly drifted onto his mother’s rounded face. And as she carefully drew a piece of brown hair behind her ear, Luke had known what was coming. So gritting his teeth he did something stupid. Or, rather perhaps not the best idea in the world, so yes, utterly stupid. Before she could even get out the words to say no, he had jumped off his seat leaving her speechless
“No mom, I’m going, the boys and I been planning this for so long. Then pausing with what he hoped was an apologetic look on his face he added, I’m sorry…. I just can’t…not this time—"
Knowing that he would have to work quickly before the angry yelling and tears, he dashed upstairs to grab his guitar. Though it was only one flight of stairs, his breath was already coming short. Luke wished he could have blamed it on the running, but it was definitely more due to the anxiety he felt at just having said no to his mom. She wouldn’t hurt him physically. No. Never. But what she would do is call his father and then he would have to come home to the “not surprised” but “severely and irrevocably disappointed” looks. Looks that were oh so fucking specifically TM of his parents. And despite his wish to go rehearse with Reggie, Alex, and Bobby, he suddenly felt hesitant. Am I being selfish.
With this thought pressing against his mind, he came back down the stairs slowly this time. Glancing around he realized that his mom was no where near the kitchen. With each step, Luke got closer to rounding the corner and there his mom stood. The front door was swung all the way open on its hinges, and without making eye contact with her son, his mother made a swift gesture with her hand. Somewhat taken back Luke made as if to open his mouth, however he was quickly cut short.
Enunciating each word carefully, his mother continued to stare ahead.
“Don’t.
Bother.
Coming.
Home.
All thoughts of the boys, or band practice fell from Luke’s mind with those words. That ache that he so often felt in moments of panic, settled atop his chest like a great anvil. It washed over him completely and for a moment he forgot everything. He had known she would be mad, but he had not expected this. Or, maybe he had, and he just wanted to lie to himself?
Either way, standing in the doorway of his house with his mother gesturing coldly, was not an option. The last thing he wanted, was for whatever was stopping his lungs from brining in air, to drag his dignity to the ground by having him begin to panic in front of her. Speaking back was not an option either. To speak would be to definitely start hyperventilating. So, running it was. Without a glance back he flew out the door and down the street, his lungs screaming in protest, and he did not stop…well he did not stop until he collapsed onto a park bench in the middle of nowhere.
So, from the point that Luke had run to the bench, till the moment when he was still seated there now, his breath continued to not come quite right, but he assumed it was enough to fill his lungs. If it had been doubtful before it was assured now, he was so going to be late to rehearsal, and as Luke thought this, it simply became another thing to panic about.
What if they kick me out of the band…what if?...what i—?
And no matter how illogical these thoughts may have been, the seventeen-year old’s chest already felt heavier. The ever present gnawing sensation? It only grew deeper.
But also, how illogical is it? If your late then you’ve messed up, and if you’ve screwed up no one wants you that. or has time for you that? It’s rUde to be fucking late. And aghHh—. Doesn’t Alex hate it when I’m late anyways? Or… no wait is that Bobby?
With each new thought and question that flooded his thoughts, Luke drew his arms tighter around himself, and honestly, he did not know if it was because he was cold, or whether it came from the fact that his leg still would not stop fucking shaking, and it was the only way to attempt to brace himself. Or, if it was a weak attempt to tell his mind to please and thank you, shut the fuck up. Either way he was cold, and definitely freaking out. And he was most definitely, above all things, going to be very late.