Coming Up For Air

3.2

"Oh, it's all alright
I guess it's all alright
I've got nothing left
Inside of my chest
But it's all alright."
-Fun., 'All Alright'

⚑ Luke ⚐

Ashton took his tea with one sugar and no milk, and sat down gingerly on the floor next to Luke. Luke studied his face out of the corner of his eye and noticed three distinct things.

1. Ashton had a light dusting of stubble across his chin and for some reason that made Luke's heart flutter.

2. When Ashton's face was relaxed, his mouth turned down at the edges a little, which Luke wasn't used to because even when he was upset, Ashton still usually looked like he was on the verge of smiling.

3. Ashton was wearing Luke's sweatshirt and it was massive on him (to be fair, it was large on Luke as well) and it was adorable.

He wanted to hold his hand so much it burned his bones to restrain himself, but Luke knew it would be too much, too soon, what with Zayn there and Louis there and everybody there and everybody looking, seeing, knowing.

Luke carefully angled his gaze at things other than the way Ashton was blowing steam off the top of his tea, and tried to focus on Louis, who was ruffling himself up for a speech.

"I think it's safe to say we've all had a shit night. Well, I've not, but you lot have and for some reason you've decided that my shit flat is your place of refuge and solace." Louis started, and theater major was seeping from his pores.

Louis, Luke thought, was the kind of person that all the eyes in the room kind of landed on by accident because something about him commanded attention in this obnoxious, magnetic, magical kind of way. He didn't have to do anything particular to be noticed; he just had to kind of stand there and slouch about and exist and at the end of the day people would still, for reasons varying from interest to insult, want to know who he was, what he was, why he was. It was a particular kind of talent that Louis seemed to not notice he had.

Luke did, though--he noticed that as soon as Louis wanted all the eyes in the circle on him, everybody was inexplicably drawn to look.

"So I think that, to aid whatever little dramas you all seem to have going with each other, and I'm really looking at you, Zayn, we should get everything out in the open. Everything off of our respective chests. All at once, no interruptions." Louis looked around and took a long sip of his tea, clearly getting the dramatic frozeness he was hoping for during the pause.

"Whoever is holding Roberta may talk. Nobody else can, except for me because this is my flat and it's a dictatorship in here, ladies and gentlemen. Clear? Any questions?"

"Who's Roberta?" The red-headed girl next to Niall asked. Luke recognized her, but he couldn't place her face.

"The bear." Louis said like he couldn't believe she had to ask. "Any other questions?"

"Why are there candles?" She asked, and wow, she had a rather jarring American accent, all slow and fast, the kind that drags the vowels through the mud after sprinting through the consonants.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. Any other questions?"

"Why don't you have to explain yourself to us when we have to explain ourselves to you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. Louis blanched because Luke knew how unused to contradiction he was.

"Because I'm the dictator. Any other questions?"

"Everybody hates a dictator." She intoned with necessary emphasis and Michael snickered.