player ♚ lrh

27 - girlfriend

Luke didn't fuck with a lot of things. Socializing, for one, was near the top of his list.

If he had to talk to people, it would be on his terms. And 'his terms' meant short, clipped conversations until he was done, and when he was done, he was out. Small talk was hardly part of the question.

The thing about Luke was that he stopped caring about formalities a long time ago. If he needed-or, much less so, wanted-to talk to someone, he'd get to the point and he wouldn't stick around for anyone.

He knew it came off as rude. But he'd long since reached his breaking point with fake smiles and pointless conversations. He'd had enough of it to last a lifetime, and Luke decided for himself that he'd no longer take any part in it. If he didn't want to talk, he'd wouldn't, and if he wanted to leave, he'd fucking leave. No guilt to be felt.

It was so backwards to him. The moral high ground that everyone around him seemed to feel, a pedestal of superiority they placed themselves on just for faking it. It was fucking absurd. He might be a dick but at least he was real.

Most people didn't feel the same way. He couldn't care less.

"I'm not throwing you a fucking party," he muttered flatly.

The curly headed boy next to him sighed in annoyance. "It's not for me, genius."

"Well it's definitely not for me."

"Yes it is!" Ashton groaned. "We talked about this."

"You talked about it. I ignored you."

"Your silence said it all."

"Oh yeah?" Luke raised a bored brow, not bothering to glance at the boy in his passenger seat. "Did it tell you that you're fucking annoying?"

"Close, but no—"

"Then you heard wrong."

Ashton rolled his eyes, elbow digging into the center console of Luke's car. He knew this wouldn't be easy, not with someone as stubborn as his friend.

Parties were the sort of environment the pair of them used to thrive in. For Ashton, it came easy. He liked people and people liked him. He was the good time and everyone loves a good time.

As for Luke, he partied a little differently. For one, they were always his parties. And secondly, he didn't end the night with a couple new friends; he almost always ended it with a girl or two in his spare room and the right amount of substance running through his veins.

He did whatever the hell he wanted at parties, because he could. It was his penthouse. He had the money. The girls came to him. So why the fuck shouldn't he take advantage of it?

He used to ask himself that question every night. And every night, he answered it the same way; he should.

So he did. And it was fun. Both boys had their fair share of wild nights, and they had to admit that they'd enjoyed it at the time. They were younger, a little more reckless and a lot less careful. No responsibilities on their shoulders, and certainly no consequences.

It was good until it wasn't. And now, after all the shit they brought him, parties weren't exactly Luke's scene anymore.

Ashton knew that. He knew why, too, and he understood it. No part of him wanted to revert back to the two reckless boys they were, years ago, any more than Luke did. That wasn't why he was urging him to throw one; he wanted to make a good memory, this time. Something to prove that Luke was back and things were different, better even.