wasting time » lh ; mc

twenty

:: 20 ::

When morning broke Luke was expecting something slightly more inviting than his clock reading six-A.M. It was completely unnecessary, he thinks.

Andrew was preparing for another conference—a bigger one, in New York at NHL headquarters—before the sun had even peaked, and that's always a sign that Luke would be dragged along to add to the hours of his life occupied by hockey. It's all beginning to feel like he's fulfilling his high school requirement of community service hours.

They've never been to headquarters—or, Luke hasn't. He didn't even pay enough attention to know why the conference was any different, why it had to be held at the New York office. He didn't even know they were going that far at all. But, he assumed it was the same routine as the last forty-two meetings and conferences and interviews in his lifetime.

It was on the way there, though, that Luke felt he actually mattered. Andrew didn't seem like just a father; he finally acted like a dad. Because there is a difference. And, to Luke, you have to earn that distinction.

With miles and miles ahead of them, several texts and calls from a worried Liz, and aimless staring, there was nothing exciting about car rides like this. Luke sighed, the Morning View album filling the silent space between he and his father.

Most of the small collection of moments Luke can remember being happy with his father was when they'd listen to Incubus. Granted, Luke was seven and anything his father did or did with him was the coolest, most amazing thing in the world. But it was still cool to have that as their thing; he thought that to this day.

It was also something he realized he lied to Penelope about—since he said he only listened to the soundtrack to Ratchet & Clank. It was partially true, though, since nowadays Andrew is never up for father-son bonding that would give him the opportunity to listen to more. And still, after all this time, Luke would feel guilty if they didn't listen to the band together.

"What did you and Michael get up to?" Andrew asked, a conversation starter that Luke would've viewed as a lazy attempt if it weren't for the man's genuine, interested eyes that flicked toward him for a second.

Looking up from his phone, Luke thinks back to the day; they hadn't gotten up to much—literally, since they were sitting on the floor. Good one, Luke. He makes himself laugh—but only one part of the day stuck out to him, triggered a thought that he's not sure he should confide in his father with. So, he shrugs, "We just played A Crack in Time."

"I heard shouting from your room," Andrew noted.

Luke deflates; he wishes Michael wasn't the center of this conversation anymore. He hates when that happens. Admittedly, he's jealous. Incredibly. "Why are you so interested suddenly? Worried about precious little Michael's feelings?" he spat, "I didn't do anything to him." He turned the music up further, slouching in his seat with his elbow resting on the side of the door and fist supporting his head.

"I'm interested because you're my son," his father states, a confused gaze set on Luke as a red light stops them, "and he's the only friend I've seen you keep this long, Luke." And this is true, it's so true that Luke is embarrassed that even his father has noticed—and the man never notices anything. But, maybe Luke is the one who doesn't notice, because Andrew cares and Luke has never acknowledged that fact before.

If his father was being genuine, and wanted to take this opportunity to talk with Luke, then Luke has nothing to lose if he chooses to take it as well. He coughs and straightens his back. "We...uh, we talked about something, actually. It's why he was yelling." He grew even more uncomfortable with the situation when Andrew asked what it was about.

"I don't even know if it's right of me to tell you this—probably not my place either—but if I do, promise me one thing, okay?" Andrew quickly agreed. "Don't let this change your view of Michael at all."

Luke watched the man laugh and shake his head, replying, "Nothing could ever be that bad. I love the kid." Almost more than you love me, he thought. But this whole moment was proof of progress; Luke can't think that way anymore.

"He's been going through a lot lately, but he told me something the other day," Luke started. He didn't know how to say it, how to admit this out loud, because it was so weird to think that he was liked by two people. Not even the fact that it was Michael, or a guy, because that was completely okay (and, Luke was actually worried about how much he wasn't affected by that part of the situation), but anyone with genuine feelings. "He told me he has feelings for me."

It was quiet. For a few, agonizing moments Luke wanted to take back everything he just confessed. He didn't want Michael to be disliked now, all because Luke had no idea how Andrew felt about it—or anything, if he's being honest.

"And do you feel the same way?" the older man finally spoke, Luke sitting back up from his elbow leaning on the door so quickly that he hit his head on the top of the car.

"Uh, I don't know," Luke answered truthfully. "I have Penelope. She's nice to me." He didn't want to flat-out say yes, since that would feel like it's only because Michael told him, and Luke's feelings were altered for a while.

It happens, he knows it does. It's almost like an instant guilt thing, kind of prideful; knowing someone has a crush on you, and you had never looked at them in more than a friendly manner until you heard it from them. Deep down you know it's only because you're too flattered to realize that you don't like them at all—you never would've told that person that you liked them.

Andrew thought carefully, eyes moving toward Luke and back to the road. "Don't lead the boy on, then," he advised. "I don't mind who you date, but if he's going through heavy stuff like you said, don't add to it."

And, well, if he's explaining what's been happening lately, he might as well continue. "Remember when I stayed after? At the hockey game I took you to?" he asks, rhetorical as he explains, "Mike had a panic attack. I think he knows why, but he's acting like he has no idea."

"Maybe he really doesn't."

"You don't get it, this is his thing: he pushes a lot of things away just so he won't have to deal with them." Luke couldn't really complain about it, and that's why he hasn't. He learned a lot about Michael just from the whole moment about the boy's mom. That alone would cause someone to close off, so Luke understands the best that he can.

It was laughable how Luke could imagine the metaphorical, ridiculous light bulb flash above Andrew's head, the man's eyes gleaming when he wonders, "Think you could invite him over after we get back from New York?"

"I might be able to," Luke said, furrowing his eyebrows and turning his head toward Andrew. "Why?"

"No reason," the man smiled, turning up the volume of the radio just as the first song had ended. Circles sounded above the rumble of the old car as the two continued down the highway, Luke both content and full of question.

Maybe Andrew hasn't been handed the Dad of the Year award yet, but there was hope within Luke that one day they'd get to that point and he wouldn't feel like such an accessory to the famous life of his father anymore.

• • •

SHOVE A TOMAGOTCHI UP MY ASS AND CALL ME SQUIRREL FACE CUZ IM FUCKIN PUMPED AS FUCK