rumor has it. ➵ lashton ✔

1.

Luke whined.

"Mum," he sighed, "if I'm late for my first day of school, I'm dead to the world!" He exclaimed, sliding his flower crown over his fluffy, blonde hair.

Everyone at his old school had said he looked like a duck, with his hair in the style it was. He'd been randomly seeking a changing of the look, but couldn't quite find anything he liked.

"Maybe I'll meet someone at school, and fall /hopelessly/ in love," Luke mused happily, swinging his arms about his body as he danced in the grass.

Luke's mother smiled, knowing what a hopeless romantic Luke was, and had always been.

"Go," she encouraged softly, like a mother should, "go find someone special."

-

Luke walked to school, living only down the road. They hadn't moved there just because of the easier access, however. It was just easier to live in a bigger house, since they had Ben and Jack /and/ Luke, now.

As Luke walked, he hummed a happy little tune to himself, swinging his sweater paws (as they'd been fondly named by his old boyfriend, Dylan) from side to side, before a loud booming noise was heard.

It was coming closer.

Luke dove into the bushes next to him, and peered over the prickly leaves.

It was a black truck. The music they were playing sounded as if it only consisted of a heavy bass, thrumming out one note in a infinitive rhythm.

The windows were tinted, so he couldn't see who occupied the vehicle.

Luke thought it was probably for the best; he didn't need another heart attack today. He hadn't even been to school yet.

It was one of the most well-known Christian schools in the area, and he was less than excited. Christian schools, to Luke, meant nuns and rulers and burning knuckles and spouting hymns at the lunch table and saying a prayer before every meal.

The only prayer Luke would ever whisper was /after/ a meal, if he were clutching his stomach and throwing up its contents.

He recovered from the truck/bomb/nuclear missile assault and continued on, staring at the sidewalk now as he resumed his tune. It was a song he'd been planning to record on the dingy old camera that he kept on his nightstand, perfectly placed so if he were to press play and walk to the designated spot on the other side of the room, and sit on his favorite old stool, he'd be perfectly visible, even with a guitar in hand.

As he neared the school campus, he realised that what he'd been expecting, was not what he should've been.

Most of the kids looked like they'd either look at you funny and ask you what a prayer even was, or they would've slammed you down on the concrete and stomp your face in.

Guys like those, don't like guys like Luke.

A red light went off in Luke's mind at once. Run home, or take off the flower crown?

The only real danger was his flower crown. If people didn't quite accept it in his tiny, one-horse town before, nobody would even have an inkling of acceptance here.

He sighed quickly, realising he'd been ogling the school's front campus for too long. He had to press on. He didn't dare raise his hand to remove the flower crown, for he loved the little thing, and if it got ripped, torn, dirty, lost, or eaten (yes, eaten,) Luke had ten more at home.

Luke thought he was being irrational. He thought that maybe, just maybe, these kids would accept him and think of him as an acceptable member of society-

"Hey, that the new kid?"

Luke's eyes widened as a few boys and a girl walked over to him. The question wasn't loud enough to draw a crowd, fortunately, and these few teenagers looked to be the only normal ones here.

One boy, with black and white striped hair, offered Luke his hand.

"Michael, connoisseur of food to replace school lunch food, Clifford," he smiled widely, his teeth white and almost perfectly placed.

"Oi, don't flatter yerself," the girl huffed, in a thick, Irish accent, sticking out her hand promptly after, with another wide smile. Luke hadn't even shaken Michael's hand before she was introducing herself.

"Hannah, connoisseur of insults to make Michael Clifford insecure."

The girl had long, blonde hair, tied neatly in a braid down her back. At the tips, there were hints of a previous light blue dip-dye.

Bitches love dip-dyed hair, Luke thought, before another hand was offered to him.

"I'm Calum. And I hate both of these idiots," he shrugged, and Luke murmured his apologies before they were thrown right back at him.

"For good measure," Calum nodded, "I feel the need to apologise in advance for any PDA shown by these two. They're big believers in individuality, but that doesn't mean that I need to walk into the bathroom to find you two snogging." The last of the sentence was probably delivered from Michael in a string of curse words, but that was when Luke saw the black truck again.

He felt like it was in slow motion, all of it, Calum speaking, Michael defending Hannah's honor, Hannah laughing like everything was just a game to her, and maybe it was, Luke hadn't quite figured her out yet.

Suddenly, a shared silence was spread through the whole schoolyard as the door to the truck was opened, and the most beautiful boy Luke had ever seen emerged from the vehicle.

Before Luke could gawk over his bandanna, and skin-tight jeans, and a Blink-182 shirt, there was a crowd of people surrounding him, and speaking was restored to the students.

"That's Ashton," Hannah shrugged, "big deal, if anybody came up to me like that, they'd get a fist full of Irish fury," she growled, and Michael's hands smoothed out her shoulders. Luke wondered how that would feel, someone's bigger hands on his shoulders, soothing him, getting him to relax.

Luke got glimpses of the strange boy as he walked inside, the crowd still following him even as he had gone through the door.

"What year is he in?" Luke asked Calum quietly, biting his lip as Michael and Hannah began on a little journey. They wouldn't be bothered to attend first hour, he thought.

"What year are you in?" Calum replied, to which Luke answered that he was in his second year, and Calum replied the same.

"Ashton's in fourth. He thinks he's hot shit, but he just pushes all the lower grades around. The girls love it, but he doesn't love girls, so they're fucked. All the guys just think he's a dick, which he really is." Luke bit his lip, because from what he heard, Ashton wasn't necessarily Calum's cup of tea. He almost wanted to ask why.

"Why don't you like Ashton?" Luke drawled softly, thinking about the features he'd seen before Ashton was swallowed by the crowd. Hazel eyes, he knew for sure. Brown, curly hair. Short. Shorter than Luke.

He felt a tug on his sleeve.

"I don't want to talk about it, Luke. Let's just go get your schedule and locker all set up before the bell."

Luke looked back at the snogging couple.

"What about them?"

Calum smiled. "I ask myself that every day, mate," he nodded, slinging an arm around Luke's shoulder and leading him inside.

-

thank you for reading. another update will be coming your way very shortly!

xx mint