GRAY DEAL

PROLOGUE

The petite, dimly lit house stood still. The house was the perfect size for occupants of two. And it was. Along the walls hung polished oak frames that cradled photographs of memories from the bright past. The couple's smiles gleamed through the pictures, illuminating the darkness in the house. The faint ticking of the clock in its late hour bounced off of the thin walls. The sound was isolated, nothing else accompanying it. Every now and then, the sounds of small jingles and clinking of glass against one another followed by the muffled sobs and sniffles would break the loud silence.
Luke stood in the middle of the kitchen, thin strands of hair pointing in every direction and still in baggy, gray pajamas, with a broom glued to his shaky palms. He leaned his back up against the kitchen counter, his hand covering his damp eyes, warm tears still streaming down his cheeks. His breath was unsteady, chest tightening as the weight of the event moments before fell on him. He took a wobbly breath in through his nostrils and exhaled through his mouth as he frantically dried his eyes with his loose sleeve. His eyes burned and were stiff from his relentless weeps. Those eyes, still watery, gazed down at the mess. The mess that glared right back at him with the same pair of saddened eyes. The shards of glass, hardly swept up, glistened in the soft moonlight piercing through the crevice of the blackout curtains. A spotlight illuminating his shame.
Luke let out a long sigh from the depths of his chest, gripping the broom firmly once more. As he weakly pushed himself off the counter, Luke began to use the splintered bristles of the broom to finish getting rid of the remains of all of his marital problems. A shattered beer bottle. It was knocked off the counter, nearly exploding on impact. Some of it shot onto his bare feet, which was still dripping with blood. He hardly felt the stinging of the beer-tainted glass, he was focused on playing the slurred scolding of his spouse over and over again in his head. Like a broken record, it was endless and overwhelmingly obnoxious. Luke dipped his head down at the bit of broken glass left on the floor. A mix of anger and distress flared in his chest. He wanted to weep and scream at the top of his lungs all at the same time. He wanted to yell out profanities and tell his spouse that he was again considering a divorce; but he didn't. It would be a waste of his time and energy. It wouldn't be worth the hassle. Finally, a bit of the tension in his chest soothed with the relief of sweeping the last crumbs of glass off of the floor and into the worn out dustpan. He hovered the dustpan over the half-full trashcan, his hand hardly able to grip onto the handle without shaking. Without a second thought, Luke dropped the whole dustpan in the trash.
Luke slid down, hitting the ground hard. The weight of the situation dragged him down onto the floor, knees pressed to his chest and his head in his clammy palms. He wanted to weep, the pressure in his chest suffocated him, swelling up inside. Instead, he fiddled with the gold ring on his finger to ground himself. The gold glistened in the moonlight, revealing Luke and his spouse's initials and engagement date engraved in it. The acknowledgment of that ring only made his chest tighten up more, so he bit his lip. These arguments were becoming far more frequent now. Almost a nightly routine. Luke did appreciate the apologies, but they felt ingenuine. Empty promises just to spark hope in their crumbling relationship. It was like wet paper; the smallest inconvenience would tear it in half. Luke sighed, running his shaky fingers through his unkempt hair. Their relationship wasn't abusive. It's just a few inconveniences. Every couple has fights. Every couple has disagreements. But does every couple hurt another?
"Luke?"
Luke's head shot up to meet the voice. It came from across the kitchen, from Ethan's lips. Ethan stood there, still swaying. He was hardly illuminated by the moonlight, but Luke could still see his face. Luke relaxed his eyelids, expressing disappointment but mostly annoyance. Ethan had the audacity to come back. Like a murderer returning to the crime scene of his victim. Observing the damage he's inflicted.
"Do... you want me to, uh, help?" Ethan glanced at the clean floor, acknowledging that it was already taken care of.
"No," Luke sniffled, slowly picking himself up off the cold, tiled floor. "I took care of it already. I was just about to go to bed."
"Oh."
There was a long, awkward pause between the two. It grew more uncomfortable as the time dragged on without a word from either. They stood about two meters away from each other. Ethan blocked his exit. Luke was cornered.
"Okay, listen," Ethan took an awkward step forward. That step felt like he closed up a foot of their distance, slowly suffocating Luke. "I'm so so... soooo sorry about the things I said, um, earlier."
Luke's face cringed as those familiar words left Ethan's slurred mouth. By now, there was a script of everything he would say next ingrained in Luke's mind. The same excuses. Next was: I'm sorry I got drunk again.
"I'm sorry I got... drunk... again," Ethan placed the palm of his hand in the curve between his neck and shoulder. "You... you know I never ever, ever mean to hurt you... at all. I love you. I love you a lot."
Luke leaned on the counter, refusing to meet Ethan's constricted, blue gaze. The tons of comebacks to Ethan's statements piled up in his chest, filling his throat. He clamped down on his teeth, nearly grinding them in order to ground himself. He couldn't risk another argument.
"But," Ethan started. "You gotta understand that, you 'n me, we're both... adults. We both hafta make our own decisions 'n what not."
"What do you mean?" Luke squinted his eyes, slightly tilting his head to rest on his shoulder. He hardly understood a word said through Ethan's mumbled words. Despite that, this was new. This was oddly new, especially for Ethan.
"What I mean is; you can't... con-trol me 'n all that. I am... I can make my own decisions. I am not an alcoholic, 'n you're not my ma. So, please, can we stop... fighting over me drinking. If I wanna drink, I will. If I wanna quit, I can.
Yeah, I can... be an asshole. I guess I'm just frus-frustrated. I'm not a lil kid. I don't need someone to show me what's right 'n what's wrong. I don't needa be told by someone else to quit alcohol. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"
Luke's mind went blank. Was he really being a jerk? Was he really that controlling? He pursed his lips tightly as he retraced his steps, replaying his side of the argument in his head.
"I try. I try so hard to help you, but you never listen to me!" "You know how much I hate this part of you!" "Do you even love me?"
Asshole, Luke thought to himself, biting the inside of his mouth. I am such an asshole.
"Yeah," Luke's voice trembled. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a jerk. I was just worried for you, especially after the incident."
"It was an accident," Ethan squinted his hazy eyes with a slight shake of his head carelessly. That struck Luke hard in the chest. Did Ethan just not care about what that accident even involved? Did he just not care about how Luke felt about it? Did he not care how much it hurt him?
"Ugh, whatever," Luke rolled his eyes. "I'll just go to bed." Luke pushed himself off of the counter and cautiously made his way past Ethan. He still kept his eyes off of Ethan as much as possible; forming an imaginary barrier between his eyes and Ethan's presence.
Ethan placed a foot out in front of Luke's path, stopping him immediately. The barrier shattered and Luke stared at Ethan directly in his small, constricted pupils. They seem to cut straight through Luke's eyes. Despite still being drunk, those eyes weren't normal.
"I didn't mean it like that, Lu," Ethan relaxed his squared shoulders. Luke could still smell the bitter beer in Ethan's breath. "I didn't mean it like that at all. Yeah, these 'n those events got way outta hand, but I never ever mean to hurt you. I wasn't thinkin' straight 'n I was really, really drunk that night. I didn't mean to do any of that to you, 'n you know that."
Luke stood there, still staring into those eyes. It didn't feel right to accept that, but he felt terrible for denying it. Luke slumped his shoulders, his head hanging off of them in defeat. I mean, he wouldn't really have control of his actions under the influence, would he?
"I can't... stay mad at you, but..." Luke halted mid sentence, biting the inside of his lip again. He wouldn't be surprised if his fangs had left a temporary indent in his bottom lip by now. He felt guilty for wanting to say the things he desired. He didn't like when Ethen was drunk. It never did any good for either one of them. Especially after that one night. But Luke didn't want to be controlling whatsoever. He sighed, letting the words seep back into his chest. "I don't know."
"It's okay. I love you," Ethan smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth barely curving. "I love you a lot, 'n I would never put you in a situation where you felt uncomfortable."
Luke could feel his eyes water uncontrollably. He didn't know why. It felt morally wrong to tear up, but there was nothing he could do to ground himself now. The dam broke. "I l-love you too," he stammered, his bottom lip quivering as warm tears ran off of his eyelashes. Ethan's smile brightened up slightly. It didn't feel reassuring. He extended his arms out, letting Luke fall into them. Luke silently sobbed into Ethan's sleeve, gripping onto him tightly as he pulled his head into Ethan's chest.
"I'm sorry for being a huge jerk to you," Luke choked between sobs. His voice was nasally and shaky. "I don't ever, ever want to be that way. I don't want to be controlling."
"It's okay, hun," Ethan rubbed Luke's back in a repetitive, circular motion. As if he was babying Luke, he began hushing under his breath. "Let's go to bed. I can sleep on the couch if you want me to."
"Okay," Luke, sniffling. He desperately wiped the tears out of his eyes, straightening himself up. "And yes, I prefer you to sleep somewhere separate tonight." Despite being on better terms than an hour before, Luke couldn't stand the idea of being around Ethan right now. The air around them still felt cold, he didn't feel comfortable. That didn't bother him though. He was really exhausted. It was a little past 12:45 AM. Luke's eyelids were already weighing down on him. To add more weight on him, Luke had to work in a few hours as well.
Ethan nodded, "I understand. I'm fine with being driven off. I mean, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with an asshole drunk like me either."
"No," Luke frantically shook his head. "No. What makes you think that I'd do that? I love you, Ethan. I'm not driving you off, I just need space."
Ethan placed a cold, firm hand on Luke's shoulder. He towered over Luke, staring down with his bold, sapphire eyes. Despite the threatening gesture, he just seemed to smile softly. "I'm messing with you. I'm fine with sleeping on the couch, love."