Cold Turkey (John & Luke - Pt 1)

Chapter 5

"Hey, sleepy head."

John groaned and tried to open his eyes. "Hmm..." His hands felt like lead weights as he lifted them to his face and rubbed his eyes, then blinked. His dad was sitting on the edge of his bed. "Dad?" he mumbled. "What time is it?" He rubbed his eyes again and looked at the digital clock on the night stand; 11:10. He groaned again. "Why did you let me sleep so late?"

His dad smiled and shrugged. "You looked pretty zonked out. Not sure I could have waken you."

"Sorry." John stretched and his tired eyes drifted to the window. Luke. He needed to go talk to Luke.

Mitch stood up and walked to the window, gazing out casually. "Luke was off and running bright and early."

"What?" John frowned and sat up. "He's...gone?"

"He left a couple hours ago," Mitch said. "But I'm sure he'll be back soon. It is Thanksgiving Day."

John flopped down, rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, moaning low. "I was supposed to help mom," he sighed. "You should have woke me up." His thoughts weren't on the Thanksgiving meal, though. Luke was gone again? Where would he be going on Thanksgiving Day?

Mitch glanced at him. "She insisted I let you sleep." He returned to the bed. "But now that you're up..." he patted John's foot through the blankets. "...you can take over for me, so I can watch the game—since your mom recruited me in your absence."

"The game," John mumbled and twisted onto his back. "I don't get the appeal." The only time John had been interested in watching sports was when he'd been watching Luke. Even then, the game didn't mean squat to him—just that one hot guy playing the game.

Mitch chuckled. "Come on, get your lazy butt out of bed." He walked to the door. "By the way, you'd better have made me a mincemeat pie along with the others."

"Uck," John grimaced. "How can you eat that?"

Mitch cocked an eyebrow and cast him a stern look. "Johnathon?"

"I made it," he groaned. "Don't have a conniption, dad."

"Don't get smart," his dad smirked and pointed at him, and left the room.

John sighed and sagged into his pillow. "Don't get smart," he muttered, and glanced at the window. "No worries there. I'm about as dumb as they come."

● ● ●

Two hours after John crawled out of bed, showered, and went downstairs to help his mom, he wandered to the living room and paused in the archway. His dad sat on the sofa, engrossed in the television.

Maybe your dad has a hard time accepting this part of you, but he still loves you. He'll learn to deal.

John stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and stared at the man. The words were there inside him, and he just wanted to get this over with...but he knew once he attempted to get it out, his nerve would abandon him. He and his dad were best friends. Was it necessary to have this talk now? Couldn't he at least wait till he actually had a boyfriend before he dragged everything to the surface?

"Hey, John." His dad looked up and smiled. "Your mom finally turn you loose?"

John chuckled softly. "For now." He moved into the room, but rather than take a seat on the sofa, wandered to one of the windows. "The game still on?"

"Yeah," Mitch nodded with amusement.

John stared out the window at the empty driveway across the street. Was Luke deliberately trying to avoid him? Did he suspect that John might come over?