Coming Up For Air

0.3

"Oh, pretty [boy]

I know that I just met you

But I might just dare to say

That I love you."

-NeverShoutNever, 'Sweet Perfection'

⚑ Luke ⚐

"You're home?" Calum called out from the tiny kitchen. "You're early."

"I got closed up a little faster than usual and I didn't stop for food." Luke told him, hanging his keys up on the peg by the door. It was still odd to walk into his own apartment rather than his parent's house--strange to be greeted by his best friend rather than his mother.

Luke hopped over the granite counter and into the kitchen, shifting the flip chart on the fridge so he could open it. The number 67 was surrounded by bright yellow paper, and underneath it was an inspirational quote of some sort.

"I still can't believe I've made it two months." Calum said, reaching around Luke and pulling out a soda.

"Yeah, man. I'm really proud of you." Luke told him sincerely.

Calum and Luke had been best friends since they had met four years ago. Luke was thirteen and had just moved from Australia because his dad had been relocated by the company that he was working for. He was five feet of pure terror when he entered the classroom on the first day wearing a punk-rock tee shirt because he hadn't been issued a uniform yet. Everybody had been staring at him like he had an extra head when Calum, the fourteen-year old teacher's aid, sauntered over and introduced himself as one of the only other Australians in the school. They'd been nearly inseparable ever since.

Nearly.

About ten months ago, Calum had broken up with his girlfriend of almost a year. It was messy and terrible and there were lots of tears and emotional poetry and somehow, right under Luke's nose, Calum had gone and developed a drinking problem. A really, really bad one--as in, Luke had to rush him to the hospital one night two months ago after he had found him passed out on the bathroom floor. Since the moment he had woken up, Calum had sworn he would never drink again, and Luke swore he would never let him. So they had rented a flat together and shifted their entire lives 174 blocks from Luke's semi-childhood home. He hadn't looked back since.

"Do we have any orange juice?" Luke asked.

"Why're you still wearing your work shirt?" Calum asked instead, not answering Luke's question.

"I gave my shirt to some guy because he leaned against the wall. I was painting. It was wet."

"That's oddly generous of you. Why?" Calum was sitting on the counter when Luke turned around with the orange juice in his right hand.

"He seemed desperate. And kind of nice. He had a date with some crazy girlfriend and I didn't want to lose my job. He's bringing it back tomorrow." Luke told him as he poured himself a glass.

"Did you at least get his name?"

"Ashton. I could identify him to the police if my shirt went missing, if that's what you're asking." Luke thought back to earlier that day--Ashton had had light brown hair--kind of tousle-y--and green-brown-hazel-ish eyes that reminded him of rainstorms in the spring; mud and fresh cut grass and sunshine struggling through clouds.

"That wasn't what I was asking, but it's good to know." Calum shoved a green apple into his mouth. "Wayy--iah ooh ay a uh?"

"Excuse me?" Luke responded, pulling a package of Ramen out of the cabinet and grabbing a pot.