Souvenir [Complete]

Nine. Pop/Soda

Luke never would describe himself as good at conflict. He knew himself too well. When he was a kid he would sit quietly in times of stress in his life.

It's pretty safe to say the same applied here, now, in the diner. He approached it cautiously, but found that when he arrived the walls weren't closing in around him. He took that as a good sign.

"Our usual booth," Brian cooed holding Luke's waist and guiding him over to the one Luke sat in every morning. So needless to say, the view was a familiar sight. Luke slid off Brian's jacket that he'd been borrowing for the week. It was the only light one he could find. Of all times for a sudden heat front...

Luke felt his hands get clammy and he picked up the menu on the table.

"What's this?" Brian asked.

"Hmm?" Luke looked up to see if he was pointing at Ashton. No, he was just staring at Luke. "What?"

"You with a menu?"

"I like checking up every now and then. I'm not so predictable, you know." Really Luke was just avoiding looking at Ashton. He could feel his presence from the second he walked in. Or maybe that was just his adrenaline...

"How are you two doing today?" Came the voice Luke had been dreading—and maybe a little bit of longing—to hear. And without waiting for a response he continued. "Our specials today are key lime pie, a bacon, egg, and cheese burger that has enough calories to last two days, and they're trying to make some sort of salmon pancake? I don't even know."

Ashton sounded bored as he read things off. His jokes felt like he'd told them a billion times, and wasn't keen on keeping the humor alive anymore. Either that, or he just didn't want to keep it alive for them.

"Can I have an orange pop and a Philly Cheesesteak?" Brian ordered first, and Luke dared to look up at Ashton. He looked less-than-thrilled, bored, and maybe a little ticked off to be writing Brian's order.

Either that or Luke was projecting.

"Want onions?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"You?"

Ashton's eyes were on Luke, and they were sort of relentlessly...not harsh. Not bored. Cold. Cold was the word to place that. "Oh uh, coffee. And a waffle..." Luke said almost meekly, closing his menu. He wanted to crawl inside of a hole. Why did he feel so guilty?

Was he spiraling? The thing he'd done before, where he thought up of all those scenarios in his head about how Ashton was in New York City. When really he was bussing tables and taking orders. How did this always happen to Luke?

"Are you alright? You look red," Brian asked gently.

"It's the hot front out there." Luke lied. "I'm in the direct sun. I'm fine." Luke was the opposite of fine, but no one else had to know that.

"The glare cuts off right next to you," Brian pointed to the edge of the booth. "You could like...scoot?"

Luke scoot a little, but not enough to get out of the sunlight. Firstly, getting out of the light would put him close to the aisle—which he didn't want for personal reasons. And secondly, it would eliminate his excuse for his flush.

The light illuminated a diagonal gash over Luke's right shoulder. It split the logo of Luke's Rochester University t-shirt—which he'd stolen from Brian last October—diagonally right down the middle. Half light, half not.

"Here're your drinks," Ashton came by and dropped off the orange soda and coffee. And then the little tub packets of half and half and took of muttering that the food would be right out.