Souvenir [Complete]

Twenty-six. Pink

It was deep into the night when Luke left Ashton's hotel room, glowing pink with something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Maybe it wasn't the worst day of his life. Maybe it wasn't all for nothing. In that moment he felt the sting on his lips. Like before when he and Ashton had kissed in the club. No longer a bad memory, but something that made him happy. Something that felt like magic.

Luke hadn't kissed him tonight. They hadn't done anything except talk and watch Family Guy reruns on the box television. But Luke had a hard time focusing on anything other than Ashton.

There they were laid out on the bed not touching, not close. Except one time when Ashton's knuckles brushed his. Luke jumped at it, unable to focus on the show for a full five minutes after.

His heart hammered in his chest at the memory. It was a feeling like no other. Ashton had seen him, and talked to him. Those dreamy eyes. That smooth voice.

It was all about him! It was all to make him see! How  wonderful. Luke felt lighter than air with that knowledge. Everything Ashton had done since he got back was just for Luke.

As soon as Luke got home he inspected the scene he'd left. The half empty wine bottle, the lasagna on plates. Luke for the first time since running into Ashton felt the full twinge of guilt at what he'd said to Brian.

"I don't love you."

Something drew him to the phone, and he knew it was late, and that he shouldn't call now, but he did anyway.

Voicemail.

"Hey, it's me. I know you're probably pretty upset with me right now, and I get it. But I think maybe it's best that we go our own ways. It's not your fault—I know what I said in anger. You deserve someone to give you the same that you give, and that's something you won't find with me. So...I'm sorry that it has to end like this." Luke teared up, but tried not to show it in his voice. "And I'll miss you. You were a great first boyfriend."

Luke bundled up in the red leather jacket as soon as he had hung up. He cried over the loss of one, but comforted himself with the idea of the other.

Luke stopped a comparison from budding in his mind. Brian was a first love that grew tiring, he could see that now, even if it was hard to admit. Ashton was something new. And to compare the two would be a disservice to both.

Luke couldn't sleep. He boxed up all of the things that reminded him of Brian and shoved them in a box. He stuck it in the corner of his closet. No one would ever need to see it again.

With half his CD collection wiped out, and a good chunk of his stuffed animals all serving time in a cardboard prison, Luke bundled up to Ashton's coat. He prayed that the lingering bits of cigarette smoke and pine air freshener would lull him to sleep like it had done so many nights before this.

And eventually it did.

Word had gotten out by the next day. Whether someone had seen Luke sobbing on the porch, or someone had ears inside his house. The whole town knew.

Luke felt eyes on him as he walked into the diner the next morning. He blushed, and walked faster. At first he thought it was his imagination, but after the fourth person in his path turned to watch him as he walked, Luke's anxiety began to spike.

He sat down in a different booth this morning—still in Ashton's section—and everyone was watching him still. He couldn't tell if they were sympathetic looks or not, but his gut told him the latter.

"Someone's popular this morning," Ashton hummed, pouring Luke a glass of coffee the proper way.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" Luke begged to Ashton.