Chapter Fourteen

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A.N. ASA (Luke/Tom) IS SO FIT IN THIS GIF GOD I do think it's the eyes, I wanna go swimming in those fucking eyes!

Okay so I intended to write this chapter and have it published ages ago, around the time of Bonfire Night (November 5th) - a peculiar tradition here in old England that I've been wanting to include somewhere in my stories at some point. Since this story is set around this time of year (all my stories are cold and wintery and bitter lmao), I thought I'd just do it now...

Chapter Fourteen

"You really know how to make a guy feel special, has anyone ever told you that?" Luke smiled, when we pulled apart.

"Maybe once or twice," I said, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. My back was pressed up against my car, parked at the side of a road near the beach.

"You know, I get this very stand-offish vibe from you a lot of the time," Luke said, backing further away from me. I looked out to sea, and paid close attention to a ship I could see in the skyline. It was growing darker, the sky a misty grey, and getting blacker by the minute.

"You do?" I asked him, not really focused on what he was saying but trying not to look at him. I avoided his sharp blue eyes, where I thought I might see something colder underneath, and I avoided his lips, smiling like Tom used to smile, but not exactly the same. I met his gaze suddenly, and felt a little squeamish.

"Yeah, like you'd bite my head off if I said the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"I wouldn't do that," I murmured. I probably should have been offended, but I came to accept some things about myself a long time ago - the first among those things being how much of a cunt I could be at times.

When I was a little boy, there was a time when I would look in the mirror and the first word that would come to mind was just ugly. Back then, I really feared that I'd be alone forever, that I was completely unlovable, unapproachable, and maybe even a little undeserving. By the time I was sixteen, I found a way to put all of my insecurities behind me. I thought fuck it; fuck other people, and fuck their opinions. They didn't matter to me. They were nothing to me.

I suppose that was when I really started becoming detached from the world around me. I didn't realise it at the time, but I started treating people differently, like they weren't even people, just accessories in the background of my life. The people that I saw at school, the friends that I'd make, or enemies I'd break - they really were nothing to me. I liked to think I'd changed since then.

"I'm sorry, I just say what I think without realising. I think I'm just starting to understand you," Luke admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you speak about Tom, it brings it out. I can see it when you're talking about him, like something darker comes out of you."

"I have a whole lot of regret about Tom," I sighed.

"Yeah, it's obvious."

"Let's stop talking about him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, sorry. He's on my mind so much these days, and I forget to shut up sometimes," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. His eyes furrowed on me, like he was scanning me over, and I'd never felt more exposed to him. I felt like he could see everything, like he knew everything. I was shaking, wracked up in regret and grief and guilt.

He noticed, and smiled.

His hand left my shoulder and took my hands into his, rubbing on them gently. "You're shivering," he said, pulling me closer. "Are you cold?"

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