Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[54]

"Sketching the lines we cross."

- - 

Sloan and Luke decide to extend their stay in Catskill, both taking some time off their responsibilities. 

They don't know if it's the fact that they're alone together in an ever-electric atmosphere, or the infamous truce they agreed to, but they aren't ready to let go.

Not after Sloan showed her most vulnerable self as he held her. 

Talking about her parents, revealing the circumstances surrounding their deaths, felt both like a weight off her chest and a new challenge. She wasn't planning on opening up to Luke, not when things between them were unstable.

But it just...happened. 

He was here, in her hometown, in her childhood home, and he was holding her onto him like he wasn't planning on ever letting go. 

There's an unspoken understanding about why they're staying in Catskill a bit more, a thread neither of them wants to sever yet.

*

The morning passes slowly, the air quiet but far from awkward.

Luke brews coffee while Sloan curls up in the armchair by the living room window, thumbing through a book she'd found tucked away on one of her family's shelves. It's a memoir she remembers her mom loving, and though she hasn't picked it up in years, something about this morning feels right for it.

Luke leans casually against the kitchen doorway, coffee mug in hand, watching her with a lazy grin. "You're going to disappear into that book if you're not careful."

His tone is teasing but the feeling in him anything but. Having her all to himself, being able to pretend that this is their new normal has his mind spinning. 

Sloan glances up at him, arching a brow. "You're just jealous it's getting more attention than you are."

His laugh is soft, warm like the sunlight streaming through the window. "Touché."

Later on in the day, they find themselves on the porch.

Sloan perches on the bannister, her legs tucked beneath her as she's lost in another chapter of the memoir.

Luke is on the steps, sketchpad in hand. It was his idea to spend some time out here, basking in the crisp Catskill air, though Sloan had raised a brow when he grabbed a pencil and paper from his bag.

"You actually use that thing?" she teases, gesturing to the sketchpad when he sets it on his knee.

He shoots her a look. "What do you think I do with it? Carry it around for aesthetic purposes?"

"Well, you do look good with it," she quips, her lips curling up.

Luke shakes his head, muttering something about her being impossible, but he's smiling as he starts to draw.

It's not until he's finished that he leans back, inspecting his work with a satisfied nod. "Don't move." he says, rising to his feet.

"What are you up to now?"

Instead of answering, he walks over and hands her the sketchpad. Sloan takes it, her teasing fading as she looks down at the drawing.

It's her.

Sitting just as she is now, her legs tucked under her, the morning light hitting her face. The detail is astounding—every line, every shadow, perfectly capturing not just her appearance but the quiet moment itself.

"You drew me?" she asks softly, her voice tinged with something Luke can't quite name.

"It was the obvious choice."