Souvenir [Complete]

Nineteen. Unsaid

"Let's never leave."

That's what Luke was gonna say. That night in April when everything was still cold, yet so warm in Ashton's grasp. His lips still tingling from a kiss that shouldn't have happened, but was unavoidable. The bags full of keepsakes they'd bought under the red jacket. Luke's mind often returned to that moment in the alleyway. And before everything had gone to shit, he was gonna say that.

Instead he left New York City on a bus with a black-eye as a souvenir.

Ashton wasn't dead, he'd bought him the bus ticket. The chain of events were clear as day in Luke's mind, but he had remembered that most. Ashton was allowed to walk him to the station and see his bus off.

Luke had pushed the bus window out to say goodbye, he was teary and still dazed from the punch one of Ashton's not-so-friendly friends had given him. It was one of those hits where even inexperienced fighters knew it would leave a bruise.

Ashton also must have known looking at him then, which was probably why he promised he'd go back to him. His exact words were, "I'm coming back for you, as soon as I can. I promise."

That was a broken promise Ashton would have to make up to him, because it had been two full months since he'd said the words. And honestly, Luke wished he hadn't left him with that hope.

June was in full bloom, but Luke didn't feel happy for the arrival of summer. If anything, he felt ill most of the time. He stopped going to the diner in the mornings. He started sleeping in, and staying up. He held classes, but even then he had to force himself into it.

When he did go out it was to the store to visit Michael. He'd buy things he didn't need just to feel better about himself. But even then, the temporary fix of food or commodity was eventually broken again.

Summer break meant endless days, and sleepless nights. Oppressive heat from the sky and and bone chills in his core. It also meant non-stop attention from Brian.

Yes. Things between them were fine. It's not like Luke could tell anyone that he'd kissed Ashton. And he definitely couldn't tell them that he'd initiated it. No one would believe him. Besides it's not like people were apt to view Ashton in a good light. Ever since word spread about the two sneaking off to the city, the smear campaigns against Ashton's character ran rampant.

Luke didn't even regret the black eye, he just hated that he couldn't get rid of it for weeks. It was when people saw it, they were reminded of the circumstances by which Luke had told people he'd gotten it—to them: he'd fallen on a subway, and that was enough to shock him into coming back early.

He understood the sentiment, he did the same, except he knew all the facts. He saw the look on Ashton's face when the bus started pulling off. He heard his millions of apologies as he helped him to the station. He watched him shove the guy off Luke, nearly taking a knife for Luke's protection.

In the darkest nights he was back there again and again. The cool breeze had ripped through his lungs as he panted. He remembered the tingling in his fingers, as all his senses heightened, except all he was sensing was that he was scared shitless.

Somehow one of those hulking men had snatched Luke wakey from Ashton's protection.

"This your boy-toy, Irwin?" The main guy had asked with a sort of sickening smile. "You know, I don't like faggots, but he's very pretty."

"Look," Ashton seemed to be holding himself together fairly well for someone who had a knife pointed directly at his gut. "I don't have any shit on me, right now."

"Likely story. Everyone on this side of town knows you run. Except you've been gone for a minute. Took a little honeymoon with the missus?" The guy looked over Luke, and he felt his insides shrivel up. "Looks a little young."