content warning: sex
Luke was in San Diego the last time he went to a club. It was long before the arguing, the moving, the leaving the person he used to sit up all night planning a life with. It was a while ago, before the sun made his heart hurt and Lover made him sick to his stomach. He doesn't know why he's here or what he's looking for; he's just been existing aimlessly for the past month, so anybody's guess is as good as his. He orders an Old Fashioned and tries not to cry as he hides in a corner and sips his drink. It's a sad life, he knows, he's become what he thinks might be the worst version of himself. Who cares though, right? Calum is on the other side of the country and Luke has no idea what he's doing, where he's sleeping or who he's with. He could lie and say he doesn't care, but he doesn't see a point. Everybody knows how Luke feels about all of this, so lying in a sad attempt to make himself feel better is just useless.
He's hiding in the corner when a college looking kid bounces up to him, bubbly and full of life that Luke wishes he had. "You look sad," they shout over the music, and Luke just laughs. "Come hang with us."
"You're like, twenty-one. Twenty-two at best."
"Twenty-six, actually, got a baby face. I'm Camryn."
"Luke," he reluctantly replies. "Are you sure you're twenty-six?"
"Yeah," Camryn laughs, "and you're, what, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-eight." Luke raises an eyebrow, and Camryn looks shocked.
"Right, well, you don't look it. Come on." Camryn grabs Luke's wrist and basically drags him across the club to where their friends have congregated.
Luke doesn't trust easy; he definitely doesn't get sloshed in a club with a bunch of twenty-somethings he doesn't know. But after Calum, all bets were pretty much off. So, Luke shares his location with Atlas and orders another drink, then a third, then a forth, and he loses count after that (and he loses, you know, all inhibition, all rational thought, the usual).
When he's had enough for him to not remember ordering his last one, Luke spills his guts to the twenty-somethings that have so graciously hung out with him all night.
And when he stumbles out of the club, mind racing and heart pounding, he pulls out his phone.
(He knows Calum's number easier than his own.)
"Hey, uhm, it's late, sorry," Luke mumbles, his head spinning as he leans against the brick wall outside the club. "Uh, I don't know... don't know what time it is there, but it's really, ahh, it's really... it's really late here. I'm out right now, Atlas said it was a bad idea. I'm kinda fucked up. Sorry, uhh, sorry." He hangs up when he feels that last drink, or maybe the last five, coming back up. He pukes everything up, which isn't anything but alcohol, and he doesn't remember sitting down but apparently he did. He shuts his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, he's in his bed, or, Atlas's guest bed. The sun breaks through the curtains and straight into Luke's eyes. He doesn't know how he got here, he doesn't really care. At least he's alive, he figures.
[one missed call from calum]
[calum: are you okay?]
[calum: did you make it home okay?]
[calum: i talked to atlas. glad you're not dead]
Luke does not know what the hell to do with any of that.
He calls Calum back.
The line stops ringing, then it goes silent. Luke isn't entirely sure Calum has actually answered the phone. Then, after a small sigh: "Hey."
