BAD OMENS ✬ luke hemmings

4.9 | untouchable

Safe to say, Luke did not have much of a chance to talk to, or even interact with, Aria throughout the party. She, understandably, surrounded herself with her – public – friends. If she wasn't around Michael, she was hanging around Sade or Jonah, and at one point in the night, Luke had spotted her sitting on the chairs out on the grass talking to Raphael, of all people. All he could do for four hours was take an occasional stolen glance, and maybe meet hers.

Though, despite the negatives of the night – the long list that continues to be caused by her – the blond couldn't help but find a little amusement at the way the girl completely pretended that Casper didn't exist. Then again, she did the same with Malcolm, and when he approached Aria, Luke practically saw the look on her face – as if she'd been caught or called out on something, which Malcolm undoubtedly did.

Not that he's jealous, no, far from it. The issue is that he can't imagine Aria ever being that girl, even if she gives him every reason to believe she is. The concept of her ever sneaking away at parties to do something as minimal as making out with someone is unfathomable, and not because she's an angel who could do no wrong.

No, it's incomprehensible because Aria is far too proud to do something like that, let alone with Casper or Malcolm, or god forbid, Raphael. And she speaks no word of it to her friends, due to the pure embarrassment of admitting it. Besides, it's weird watching the people, the girl he knew when he was younger, actually grow up.

Then again, who is he to talk?

He would not have needed to focus on the flurry of thoughts, theories, and complaints that plagued his mind for the better half of four hours if he had seen how often she'd look at him – especially when he got a little too close to someone else – but Aria's always been a bit more discreet in her methods.

Again, not like any of that should matter now. Right now, he finally has the chance to talk to her without worrying about interruption. Everyone is gone; the only two people around are him and her, with nothing other than music playing on a low volume and the sound of plastic cups or bottles getting tossed into bin bags.

Call it a blessing that Michael is passed out in the bathtub upstairs – how he got up there, or into that situation? Luke doesn't know much, other than seeing a glimpse of Aria dragging her friend up the steps, struggling to support his body weight. And Calum called it a night, sleeping peacefully in his bedroom. This leaves the two – enemies–turned–friends downstairs to clean up most of the mess, wide awake and sobering up.

Except, with those two, there's always an issue: the silence. Neither of them speaks to the other as Aria strolls around the garden to collect discarded trash while Luke clears the makeshift bar. With the lights turned on, seeing the mess that disguised itself in the dark is a shock.

Aria picks up the last – known – bottle lying on the grass, dumping it into the filled trash bag before tying it shut and walking to Luke at the bar. She lowers the bag to the floor, leaning it back against the wall, her face scrunching in disgust as she rubs her hands together – some of those cups were not empty and spilled on her hands.

"I'm calling it," she says, her voice hoarse from all the screaming she's done. "I need to wash my hands, gross." Muttering to herself as she disappears into the house, toward the downstairs bathroom where Luke swears he hears a repulsed 'ew' echo in his direction.

He smiles – a tired smile – at her reaction, discarding the last bottle into the bag, flinching as he hears the sound of glass hitting one another before securing the trash with a tight knot and placing the bag down next to the one Aria put down. The bar's surface is still a mess, countertops sticky from the spilled drinks – the main culprit being the Jäeger – and almost entirely drenched in lord knows what mix of things.