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"You heard what I said that night?" Ashton asked with a mix of bewilderment, fear, and anger evident in his shaking voice.
"Of course I did, dumbass," Luke replied while rolling his eyes, "I'm not as light of a sleeper as you think I am."
The curly haired boy watched in shock as the blond pull his pants on and fastened his belt, his sheets pulled tightly around his body because even though Luke had seen him in the nude countless times, he'd never felt more naked and vulnerable than he did in that second.
"You..." He stuttered as he gulped uneasily and balled his hands into fists, "You never said anything back."
And if there was something in the universe like a remote control or a wish from a genie or an accidental discovery of time travel that could've paused that moment, there would've been two distinct things an outsider would've noticed.
One: the abrupt tense in Luke's shoulders, the twitch of his nose, the unconscious raise of his eyebrows and the stutter of his hands across his belt loop. The sudden anguish across his face clearly displayed his innermost thoughts, the reciprocation of the muttered "I love you" Ashton whispered into his ear so many nights ago buried deep down making a surprise appearance.
Two: Ashton's insecurities making their vulgar appearances, his hands twitching as he picked and stared at the hangnails on his bitten nails, eyes ashamedly avoiding Luke because he was used to the sting of rejection. Well, not used to it, rather expected it like one who was used to being on the outside expected being left out.
And because Ashton wasn't looking even though Luke was caught off guard and let his emotions show through unlike usual, they missed each other like someone misses a train, just thirty seconds late.
"Yeah," Luke replied with a deep, indifferent voice as he searched for his shirt on the floor skittishly, "That's because I don't have anything to say."
And technically, it wasn't a lie, because Luke, well. Luke wasn't good with words and it was true that he felt like he lacked the mental capacity to form a coherent and honest response. But that didn't mean that he didn't reciprocate the feelings, rather just avoided them, avoided confrontation. Because that’s what he did best; ran away from his problems.
So Ashton stared with a glum sort of expression as Luke finished putting his clothes back on his body and patted his pockets for his wallet and keys, not even sparing a second glance at the elder boy; though for a completely different reason than Ashton interpreted. Luke wanted to avoid the hazel eyes of his long-time-best-friend-turned-fuck-buddy because he knew as soon as he did so much as glance in their direction, he was a goner. Ashton’s eyes could make him do anything; from convincing him to streak down his neighborhood as a dare at one the first sleepovers the band shared, to guilting Luke into getting him a bottle of water after one of their gigs with his puppy-eyed expression with a complaint of how sore his legs were, to holding Luke’s orgasm hostage even as he teetered on the edge of ecstasy. It was a talent and a curse, the hold that boy had over him, and Luke knew he would stay when Ashton’s eyes pleaded the question his mouth refused to ask.
Ashton, on the other hand, believed this was Luke’s rejection; clean, clear, and concise like he was leaving his dismissal of Ashton’s feelings in a research paper in MLA format, neatly wrapped in a bow tying all of the reasons Ashton and him wouldn’t work, complete with a list of everything he thought was wrong with Ashton.
So at the end of the night, they both interpreted this as the end, because there was an unspoken air of tension that stayed poignant like a strong stench of misery and regret in Luke’s car and bedroom at home, while Ashton’s bed sheets held the scent of Luke’s body, smelling like rejection and heartache.
And because they were both mature adults, and knew that this could (would, as they both knew their own heartbreak was inevitable) end badly, they agreed at the very beginning of this… arrangement, that it wouldn’t change anything about the band.
Only, Luke didn’t plan on falling in love with his best friend. Though the feeling in his gut told him since the very beginning that sleeping with someone he’d had a stupid crush on since he’d met him was a very, very bad idea, it didn’t stop him. He figure he’d get his fill of whatever Ashton could offer him, because this was the only way he’d ever have him, and once Ashton was done, he’d move on.
And Ashton. Oh god, Ashton. The poor boy was downright tortured because he was so sure that Luke felt was he was feeling all those nights they shared kisses and exchanged orgasms in the dark. But, he supposed, he was just interpreting Luke’s obvious bouts of lust as love because he wanted to see a reflection of his own feelings in his best friend.
So the dynamics of the band inevitably changed, because on one hand, the curly haired boy was like a wounded puppy and the blond ached in his own misery because of his fear of commitment, so eventually lukeandashton and michaelandcalum became luke and ashton and michael and calum, because the awkwardness that’d settled over the oldest and youngest had affected them all.
And so it continues like this; Luke avoids Ashton on stage, Ashton makes more videos for the fans since he spends a lot of his time alone, Luke goes out clubbing with Michael and Calum more to replace the hickies that had since faded from his neck with someone else’s lips making cheap dents of their own liquor stained teeth to avoid the feeling of hollowness he feels every night when he falls asleep sober, and Ashton continuing to distance himself from the band he once felt he could call his brothers (ahem, called two of them his brothers, the other one somewhere in between best friend and hopeless crush); until Michael breaks and locks them in a hotel room until they “figure their shit out.”
The awkwardness is tangible and the tension is so thick, Ashton could probably choke on it, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when he barely stutters out the words, “We used to be best friends,” before sucking in a sob so loudly, he’s sure the boys outside the door could hear it loud and clear. And he feels so dumb because goddammit he doesn’t want to be weak in front of Luke but he can’t help the whimpers that escaped his mouth because it hurts, okay? It hurts.
And Luke feels fucking miserable because holy shit, he caused that, and before Ashton could protest, Luke has his entire body encompassed around the older boy, leaning Ashton’s back again his front as he leaned against the wall, stroking his arms soothingly.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered into Ashton’s ear, until the curly haired boy was just hiccupping every so often, and started relaxing his body into the taller’s.
“I know, that like,” sniffle, “You’re like, amazing, and awesome,” sniffle, “and everyone loves you and anyone would be lucky to have you,” sniffle, “And I’m just,” sniffle, whimper, “Just me…” And the crying starts again, and Luke feels his own eyes start to sting.
“Ashton, you’re just you, and that’s 100% amazing. Like, holy fuck, you’re just-- you don’t even know how fucking amazing you are and I just, it kills me to see that you don’t see it.”
“But-” Ashton hesitates and decides, fuck it, “You don’t love me back.”
“No-no, I do-- I swear--” and sudden, the warmth that Luke has grown so used to over the past six months is ripped from his body and Ashton’s frame is towering menacing over him.
“Don’t you dare pull that bullshit pity card on me Luke. You made it damn clear how you felt the last time.”
And Luke feels hopeless because Ashton is banging on the hotel door, begging Michael and Calum to let him out because their plan is “clearly not going to work” and all he wants to do is convince this absolute ray of sunshine that, yes- he’s always loved him. So he does the first thing that comes to mind, which- admittedly- probably isn’t the smartest thing to do, and strides across the room and kisses Ashton with his entire body. He presses the smaller boy into the door, cupping his jaw with his hand while his other tugged on the curls at the nape of Ashton’s neck and he tried to say everything he’s never been able to say out loud in that kiss alone.
And for a few seconds, he doesn’t get a response from Ashton, and the sinking feeling he gets in his gut when he realizes that maybe Ashton doesn’t feel the same way he felt that night a few weeks ago nips at his lungs and he’s suddenly ripping himself away from the curly haired’s lips. Only, he doesn’t get very far because Ashton pulls him back in for another kiss and he can hear whooping and hollering from the hallway from the other half of the band but he doesn’t care because right here, right now, Ashton’s kissing him like his life depends on it.
“I lied,” Luke mumbled against Ashton’s lips as the elder pushed him onto the bed, receiving a quirked eyebrow in return. He pants then, and turns his gaze towards his sweaty hands and whispers quietly, “It’s not that I didn’t have anything to say, it’s that… I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing but, now I know for sure,” and with a fierce determination and a smoky glint in his eye that sparkles when his gaze meets Ashton’s, he states, “I love you. Always have, always will.”
Ashton tackles him onto the sheets with a giggle and sponges kisses along his face, along his jawline, along his neck and down his body. Proclamations of love and promises of a future are whispered into each other’s skins as they rock back and forth into each other with a rhythm so precise and perfect, it feels like heaven.
And when they’re done, and sweaty, and in dire need of a clean, when Ashton forces himself to get out of bed to get a towel; Luke grabs his arm and whispers with wide eyes, “"Just... Be with me. Please?”
Ashton’s heart swelled and answered Luke with a kiss and a murmur of “Always,” before deciding he’d deal with their dried cum in the morning. He just wanted to spend his first night of many with the love of his life.