Chapter 8 - The Past

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Luke and Michael lived in a spacious apartment just down the street from The Vault Club. Close enough that they could see it from their window - close enough that Michael could see Luke walk out of the club with Rosemary whilst he was leaning out on the windowsill. Others lived in that apartment building, too; others like them. Others that also regularly visited The Vault and knew of its history.

It was once a safe space - an escape. Those who found themselves in unforeseen circumstances, with nowhere else to turn, would find themselves taken in by two men who had dedicated their lives to creating this community of misfits. At the time, it was a sanctuary.
Now, it was almost like any other club in London - a dark hole full of strangers wanting more than there was to offer.

Luke often missed the way that things were before. Part of him held on so tightly to those memories, desperately wanting to find his way back somehow... Another part of him wished to forget; perhaps to believe those glory days were never a part of his story would ease the painful pit of nostalgia and longing that he felt deep within.

To force the memory away, to remove the object of his longing, would surely release him from that pit... or at least, that is what he wanted to believe. That one day, after his many years of living, he could bury those memories and never look back.

This was not the year. Despite how often he tried - or told himself that he was trying - to let go of that chapter of his life, it was like he'd dog-eared every page of it. Even with the pages turned, even with the book closed, those corners would catch anyones eye - they screamed of significance. He couldn't avoid them. He was destined to return, in one way or another.

That night, after dropping Rosemary home, Luke and Michael returned to their apartment; as they approached, Luke recognised the fact that all the efforts he'd put in to escape those memories were all for naught. And perhaps they weren't efforts at all, but a lie he had been telling himself... regardless, those memories were fresh as they had ever been that night, untouched by any effort - or lack thereof - to remove them.

"You're coming in?" Michael asked as he walked to their apartment building and noticed that Luke wasn't carrying on towards the club. Luke nodded silently, and Michael held back a smile as he opened the door, holding it open for his friend. Michael didn't want to say it, for fear of making Luke change his mind... but he was thrilled to see him walking through that door because Luke so often avoided coming home at night.

Luke would spend an awful amount of time at The Vault Club, despite how different it had become - it gave him a place to take his mind. And he took it there, often. Home was a place of peace and quiet, aside from Michael's occasional noisiness, and that was something he could only seem to face every couple of months.
He'd rather stay awake for nights on end inside of the busy club than spend even a moment alone with himself. It helped him avoid those pesky memories; or so he supposed.

Inside of their apartment, Luke was quick to carry himself over to the spare bedroom; Michael followed curiously, watching the tense man stand tentatively in front of the wardrobe in the corner. He watched as Luke's hands reached up hesitantly, before quickly whipping the doors open as if ripping off a bandaid - in that moment, it became clear what he was looking for, and Michael's heart dropped.

"Luke..." He blurted, taking a step forward that went unnoticed as Luke continued, pushing clothes out of the way, folded trousers falling to the floor as his hands found the base of the wardrobe. "Luke, wait-" Michael's hand touched Luke's shoulder, but by then Luke had found the gap between the base and the wall of the wardrobe and managed to pull the wooden panel back, revealing the space beneath it.

That space was empty, to Luke's surprise. His stomach sank at the sight, and he almost stumbled backwards as he stood up straight from his slight crouch. Before he had the chance to panic, Michael spoke again.
"Don't freak out yet, Luke. They're not gone... They're just... in my room." He gulped, scratching the back of his neck. Luke turned to him with furrowed eyebrows... He had questions, and Michael winced at the thought. "Come on." Michael nodded his head backwards, turning to lead the way to his own bedroom.

Long Live. // Luke Hemmings 5SOS (Vampire)Where stories live. Discover now