#well i did stew in misery listening to my misery playlist when i walked back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

empyreanwritings · 5 years

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Sinful (4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mild angst, feelings of loneliness, anxiety, mentions of masturbation (lmao i’m sorry, those warnings together are a mess). 18+ only

Summary: It’s not considered homewrecking if you want both of them, right? Maybe not, but it sure is naughty.

A/N: This is sort of a filler chapter, but I needed there to be some sort of build up towards the conversation these three are going to have once BuckyNat comes back from their mission! Thank you for all the support on this story cause it’s what keeps me motivated to keep writing it! P.S this is isn’t a smutty chapter but this story is still only 18+. You should not be reading it if you are a minor.

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

Sleep was something you didn't get a lot of often, but it was frustrating when it didn't come to you at all. No matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you never slipped into a peaceful slumber. There was nothing but black and the sound of your frustrated breathing. Wanda once told you to try slowing your own heart rate down through breathing exercises, but it all felt like a sham. Nothing you tried seemed to work tonight.

It was almost pathetic when you thought about the reason for your restlessness - you missed having Nat and Bucky. Which was stupid because you had only been with them for a few nights; it's not as if you had months or years to get used to having them around. You were being clingy, and you didn't have a valid reason for being so.

You kicked your blankets off you as you shifted off the bed. There was no use in lying there and stewing in your own sad thoughts.

You glanced at the clock and saw it was still only three in the morning. Everyone else in the compound was still asleep, so you didn't have anyone to rope into a late-night adventure. You could have woken up Sam, but you weren't in the mood to listen to another lecture about why being a third in a couple never ends well. You were well aware of all the risks. It had been something you thought about the minute the two of them left for the mission - leaving you behind.

Ugh, I sound pathetic, you thought to yourself.

There was a small 24-hour diner just a few miles south from the compound. It was just off an unpaved road, and most people passed it because it looked more like a fancy mobile home rather than a diner. You figured that would be a good spot to spend the rest of your night in.

Misery pancakes were always the best kind of food.

A playlist that had to have been made back in 2012 played over a crackling speaker in the corner of the diner. You were hit with a wave of cold air the moment you opened the door, but you welcomed the feeling. You hadn't thought about getting fully dressed, so you only wore a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with a few questionable stains by the collar, but you hadn't anticipated how hot it was outside. You were sweaty before you even made it to the parking lot, so the air really had been refreshing.

You were the only one in the diner besides the staff and an old man who sat in the farthest booth. He was hunched over a plate of eggs and ate them as if he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks.

By the ragged looks of him, that assumption wasn't far off.

You took one of the stools at the bar and kept your head low until the waitress walked over to get your order. "Misery pancakes" almost slipped off your tongue, but you caught yourself just in time to tell her you wanted pancakes and a coffee. She gave you a look that you couldn't quite read before putting your order in. You wondered if a lot of people came in the middle of the night to eat their feelings. It seemed like a good place to do that.

The waitress - you finally looked at her nametag to see her name was Pearl - placed a mug in front of you and poured some coffee into it. You didn't need cream or sugar for it tonight. No, tonight was as black coffee kind of night.

Or was it technically morning? Time really didn't make much sense when you didn't sleep.

"Penny for your thoughts, hon?" Pearl asked as she set the plate of pancakes in front of you.

You shrugged. "It's kind of a mess. I don't think you'd understand; mainly 'cause I don't understand myself."

"Try me."

You snorted. Pearl was the type of woman who looked like she belonged in a diner - and you didn't mean that in a bad way. She was round in the face, and she wore pink cat-eye glasses low on her nose. She kept her gray hair piled on top of her head, almost like a beehive, and she had dangly earrings that were shaped like dairy cows. Her look made it seem like she stepped right out of the sixties, which might have been how long she's worked here.

You made a mental note to ask her about that later.

"There's this couple that I've sort of had a thing for since I met them," you chewed on your lower lip, unsure of how she would react to this information, "Both of them. Not one or the other, I wanted both."

She smirked, but she didn't say anything. She just waved at you to continue your story.

"We spent a night together. An amazing night, if you were curious, but then I thought that was it. I thought they got their fix of me, and it was time to move on! Then they said they wanted me to be theirs, which I wasn't really sure what all that entailed, but I agreed 'cause I really didn't want to let them go."

You stuffed a piece of pancaked in your mouth to keep yourself from going into too much detail about the nights you spent together. Pearl did not need to know about what a wet, needy mess those two turned you into. She'd probably think you were nymphomaniac. While you enjoyed sex, you'd like to think you weren't completely bonkers over it, even with Nat and Bucky.

"They left for a-" You paused. Was it a good idea to give away that you were an Avenger, if she didn't already know? "-small trip. They come back tonight, and they asked me not to change my mind about our arrangement until they came back to talk about it. I'm not even sure what there is to talk about, though."

"Well, what's the problem then? It seems like you have this figured out."

You sighed. "My best friend thinks I'm setting myself up to get hurt. They were a couple first and, well, they can walk away at any time and leave me behind without any real repercussions, you know?"

Sam's words stuck in your head even when you tried to kick them out. There was some truth to what he told you. If things didn't work out, they'd still be the couple, and you'd be left to work on your loneliness without their help. You didn't care much about what people would say; you just hated the idea that you could potentially get left behind. You sucked at dealing with that kind of loneliness.

You were frustrated to all hell because there was always a risk in relationships. In the beginning, you never know if the person you're with is going to be with you forever. Everyone is raised on this notion that love is worth taking risks for if you believe someone is your soulmate, so why was it such a big deal now? Because there were two love interests involved rather than one? How did that make any sense?

You took another sip of your coffee. Your head was beginning to pound with all your thinking.

"Sugar, it seems like you're overthinking," Pearl pointed out. "If these two want to be with you then you shouldn't worry about what anyone else says."

"But-"

"But nothing. Listen, you need to have a talk with them to figure out where you stand - figure out your boundaries. You don't need to think about what your best friend thinks or stress over what could happen. You know why?"

You smiled. "Why?"

"Cause anything could happen! A meteor could strike this diner with all of us in it right now. Someone could die in their sleep somewhere on the other side of the world. Aliens could try and take over New York City again. None of us stress over these kinds of things because there's no use. If they do, it's just a silly excuse to be miserable, and let me tell you, there's a lot we can all be miserable for. Doesn't mean we have to be."

You sat back in your seat, surprised that you hadn't thought about any of that before. She gave you a quick pat on the arm, topped off your coffee, and stepped away to check on the man in the corner. There was a glint in her eye that told you she knew she was right. About everything.

You slipped your phone out and stared at the blank message screen for a moment. It was still early. The odds of either of them being up were slim, but you needed to talk to them, even if it was only for a few seconds.

You: How's the mission?

Bucky: Boring. Nothing's happened yet, and I'm pretty sure this lead was a dud.

Nat: What are you doing up?

You: Couldn't sleep. Went to a diner for late night pancakes.

You snapped a pic of your half-eaten pancakes and sent it to them. You were never the type of person to take pictures of your food and post it everywhere, but this seemed appropriate. There was a slight chance they didn't believe you actually snuck out of the compound for pancakes.

Bucky: Want to talk about what's keeping you up?

You: Not really…not until you guys come back. It'd be silly to talk about it now.

Nat: Do you want to be distracted instead?

You: Yes.

Nat: Yes, what?

The heat was already starting to pool in your belly. You clenched your thighs together out of habit. How they managed to get you soaked through a text message was just a testament to how phenomenal they were.

You: Yes, ma'am.

Nat: Good girl. Now, I want you to go into the bathroom and get yourself off thinking about us. Make sure you stay quiet…don't want to disturb the other diner patrons.

Bucky: And yes, we want pictures of your panties on the floor as proof.

Marvel Tags: @killcomet @stuckysheart @steampowerednightvaler @scarlettglowss

Tags: @coohlwhip @marvelfansince08love @ithoughtiwasflying

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my-5sos-babes · 6 years

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TDMAR || Part 6

Summary: Luke is feelin' and reelin'. Ashton is gorgeous, per usual. Mike and Cal fight a bit.

Word Count: 3260

Triggers: swearing, band(?)

Publish Date: 9/21/18

a/n: trying something a bit new this chapter bc i'm not digging the first person anymore. also sorry for changing the tense in the last two updates?? i totally didn't notice that, i'm v sorry. p.s., I listened to some coffeehouse playlist while writing this chapter, so i'm guessing a lot of the tones in my writing came from that lmao, i'll try to make this story less trash. ALSO, if y'all would like, I can change the whole thing to third person, if it makes the story more cohesive. just lemme know. p.p.s., I saw 5sos the other day, pls talk w me about it <3

He sighed heavily, unable to repress it.

“Good, mate?” Calum asked.

Luke glanced up from his phone. “Oh, no, yeah. Just thinking about my anatomy notes for tonight,” he lied. “Lots of bones.”

Cal, unable to catch on, continued the conversation. “Ugh. Why would you take anatomy and physiology? It’s such a terrible class. Notes every night, tests every week? I couldn’t fathom having that much work every day.”

“Yeah, I can’t fathom that you know the word ‘fathom’,” Michael quipped. Quickly the conversation devolved into some squabble after Calum shoved Michael rather aggressively. Luke, while amused by the fight--and having no intentions to stop it--got caught up in his own headspace.

That seemed to be the norm these past few weeks. He wasn’t sure if anyone actually bothered to notice, but he hadn’t been talkative. Luke had been trying to look better, though, and that was something that people noticed.

He decided that he was tired of the emo-grunge look, one day. Almost out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. He had some inspiration (from the kid who made his heart beat out of rhythm).

To Luke, Ashton always looks so comfortable in his clothes: button down shirts with loud patterns, suave shoes of varying styles, and an occasional necklace or two. Luke, feeling partially intimidated--and partially turned on--realized that he would have to start putting more effort into his look if he wanted to make an impression. He wasn’t sure how, yet he knew he was going to do it.

With the help of his mother in the purging of his closet, Luke bought nicer clothes, better shoes, and even some accessories. The trip to the store had been interesting enough with the outfits, but when they passed the jewelry section, things got a little awkward.

“Luke? Where’d you go, honey?”

“Over here.”

“In the… accessories aisle?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“... Okay.”

That weekend, he spent time preplanning outfits and coordinating his jewelry so nothing clashed. He felt strangely proud of his work, as he looked at the clothing strewn about his room. He even threw on a few ‘fits and checked himself out in the mirror, admiring the way they fit his body. Luke had never really had such fitting clothing before and was--while apprehensive--unable to keep himself from thinking, Hot damn.

The day he showed up to school in new clothes, though, that pride plummeted. Everyone who knew him stared at him, everyone who didn’t was staring as well.

Oh, Jesus, I’m an idiot. Who the fuck would come to school looking like they just came off a knock-off Gucci mannequin.

Michael and Calum were perplexed at this sudden change in image more than anyone else.

“Woah, dude. What’re you wearing?”

Luke tugged at his sleeve, his confidence falling straight through the floor. “New clothes. Went shopping with my mum on Friday. She insisted.” He added on the last part as an afterthought, as if that would sway his friends shock. It helped a little. He was relieved when they bought his bluff.

“Finally got tired of your rebellion, huh?” Calum queried good-naturedly.

“Sure. Something like that.”

Michael scoffed, “A true punk wouldn’t have let the rebellion fade.” He smirked afterwards.

Luke chuckled. “Guess I’m not a true punk-rocker anymore.”

At first, he found himself pulling his collar up his neck, like he couldn’t cover up enough skin. It wasn’t until someone complimented him during first period that he felt validated again. Gradually, kids every so often would approach him and say something like, “Nice boots!” and “Lookin’ good, Hemmings”; yet, it wasn’t until he saw Ashton for the first time that day that he felt most insecure.

“Luke?”

“Oh, hey, Ash,” Luke said, trying his best to be nonchalant.

“You’re lookin’... different.”

“Well…” He tried to not let the older boy’s word choice bother him. “I mean, felt like a change. Got some inspiration.” The younger boy nudged the other in the ribs.

“Ah!” Ashton replied. A furrow appeared in his brow, his gaze lingering over the new threads adorning Luke’s skinny frame.

If Luke didn’t know any better, he’d say Ash was checking him out. Of course, that wasn’t true. Ashton’s the kind of guy that just does stuff like that. He probably thinks it’s weird. I’m weird for liking his style.

Luke mentally chastised himself. If he feels weird about it, he’s covering it up really well. Christ. Just don’t say anything stupid.

The two surprisingly didn’t speak for just a moment. Luke was astonished by this.

Ashton spoke first. “You did a decent job, Hemmings. Not bad at all… Although,” He circles around the other boy, a hand to his chin, “I think I would’ve chosen a wider pant leg. Skinny jeans just feel too tight for the shirt you have on--in my opinion, at least.

“As for your jewelry… I like the watch, it’s classy. I would’ve taken out the lip ring, though.”

Luke unconsciously reached for his face, wondering what the hell to say to that. Ash saw this immediately.

“Wait, oh, God--sorry. I just gave you a fucking review like I’m Miranda Priestley or some shit, didn’t I?” The older boy chuckled. “Wow… Jesus, I’m sorry if I made you self-conscious. You do not have to listen to me, just--just ignore what I said.”

The younger boy quickly shoved aside Ashton’s comments. “No, dude! That was awesome. I’ll take notes next time, seriously. That’ll help me so much. But you like it?”

That totally didn’t sound needy, dipshit.

Ashton nodded vigorously. “Yeah, definitely! You are stylin’!” He glanced at his phone, then. “Oh, shit. Better get to class. See you later!” He hurried down the hall. “Stylin’!” He reiterated, already far enough away to shout.

Luke called after Ash. “Aces!”

Luke. Who the fuck says ‘aces’?

Band rehearsal nearly every night meant that Luke couldn’t wear his new (lowkey restrictive) clothes in the afternoon. As soon as he got home, he changed out of whatever button down and jeans he wore that day and swapped them out for shorts, t-shirts and sandshoes. He couldn’t complain, however. He’d rather be comfortable at rehearsal anyways, with how demanding the show was this season.

Tonight was quite a rough run-through. The band director hadn’t been satisfied with the formations or the sound quality; to Luke, Watkins was downright scary.

Everyone else in the band could tell that rehearsal wasn’t going well. Something was just putting them off, but no one knew what.

Calum, who was up on the podium, grew more irritated by the second. Of course, Luke wasn’t able to pay much attention to that since he was busy running across a turf field with a six foot pole in his hands, which was adorned with several square feet of silk, all while dodging disgruntled clarinetists and trombonists. Whether he was fortunate or not, he only caught glimpses of Cal’s stiff arm movements and stern face.

The band dragged on miserably for the next hour. Luckily, when it finally came to a close, Watkins didn’t even bother with a speech; their band director sighed disappointedly and let the kids go. Luke, quite ashamed of himself, began wrapping up his silk while walking off the field. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see Ashton pop up at his side.

“Yikes. Tonight was bad,” Ashton put plainly.

Luke snorted. “Tell me about it.”

They walked together for minute, stewing in their misery. Then, “Think I need to take my mind off it. Blow off some steam or something.”

“Me too,” the younger boy exhaled.

They continued a little longer, both simmering with dissatisfaction and something indescribable that always comes after a bad rehearsal.

“Would you wanna--” Ashton adjusted his harness, fingers twisting at the screws,“--would you wanna go get some pizza? Just veg out and stuff?”

Luke considered it, not expecting a request such as that. “Uh… yeah! Sure.” He smiled wide, looking at Ash. Suddenly he stopped both of them in their tracks. “Wait, is it cool if I invite Calum and Michael?”

Ashton remained quiet for a moment. Luke, of course, took this the wrong way. Before he could let a word out, though, the older boy spoke.

“Of course, mate! Yeah, no sorry--bit of a mental lapse. Yeah, no, that’s cool.”

“Sick, be right back!”

Luke ran towards his friends, both way back on the practice field, doing drum major duties of some kind. By the time he made reasonable distance, he changed his pace back to walking. Luke, pathetically, was winded by that short run, and he strained to control his breathing. When he could hear more than the rush of blood in his ears, he heard Michael and Calum’s voices. They were arguing rather intently.

“... just, Mikey, c’mon, we’ve been over this. It’s not very likely that it’ll happen.”

Michael, ever the dramatist, fired right on back. “Okay, Cal. Whatever you say. I still think it’d be a good idea! I don’t get why you’re so closed-minded about it.”

Luke hung back, not sure if he should be hearing this.

To that, Calum only sighed and shook his head. “The answer is ‘no’, Michael. It will always be ‘no’.”

Luke could feel the fire fueling between his friends. Unconsciously, he knew that there needed to be a metaphorical fire extinguisher, and quickly. So, he happily threw himself into the fray.

“Hey, guys!”

He got a few disgruntled sounds from Michael (unsurprisingly), but Calum gave a more mature response.

“Hey, Luke… Have you been there long?”

Luke shook his head vehemently. “No! Just, uh, just rolled on up. Wanted to talk, you know?”

Calum eyed him suspiciously, but soon enough, let his suspicions go. “... M’kay. What did you wanna talk about?”

“Oh, uh.” Luke had to remember why he came over here in the first place. “Well, uh, Ashton wanted to hang out and get some pizza… Care to join?... Both of you?”

Calum and Michael, with very tense movements, glanced at each other and abruptly looked away.

Michael spoke flatly. “Not tonight, mate. Got some games I planned on beating and shit.” With that, the crazy-haired boy left, slapping Luke on the shoulder as he went.

Calum, a frown dancing on his lips, attempted a friendly smile. It was half-hearted at best. “Thanks, bud, but me neither. Homework... I appreciate the offer.” He walked past Luke with his mace and some stray band equipment bundled up in his arms. “Have fun tonight.”

Jarred by his best friends’ transgression, Luke slouched his way to the band room, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. As he expected, the band had already cleared out, the drum majors lingering in Watkins’ closed office for some official business. What he didn’t expect was Ashton Irwin, sitting in the corner of the room, waiting. He couldn’t help the words as the tumbled out of his mouth.

“Ash, you’re still here?”

The older boy abruptly looked towards the Luke. “I was waiting for you, dude. Pizza? Remember?”

“... Right, I just didn’t think you’d wait.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Pause.

“So what’s the verdict?”

“On…?”

“Calum and Michael. They coming?”

“Oh!” Luke shook his head. “No, they, uh. I think they have stuff going on.” He checked back over at Watkins’ office, where Calum had emerged. “Or something like that.”

“Alright, cool. Let’s get going.” Ashton twirled his keys around his fingers. “I’ll drive.”

“You sure? We can go separately if that’s easier for you--”

“Nonsense! I don’t mind.”

Luke, unaccustomed to being the one taking rides from others, suppressed all his objections after that and followed Ashton. With the setting sun, it would’ve been hard to make out any shapes in the dark. The parking lot lights were on, and Ashton happened to park directly under one, which made maneuvering easier.

It was quite old, the car. A bit rusty here and there, and it groaned like a dinosaur when the engine turned over. However, the inside seemed homey. The seats were worn soft from time, and it smelled musky. Like… teakwood? Something manly, Luke thought to himself. The radio had been on some rock station, but the volume was turned low, so it was only a soft murmur in the background.

Luke found himself sighing.

Ashton, pulling out of the parking lot, glanced over, eyebrows knitted together. “Good, mate?”

He sighed again, relaxing into the seat. “Yeah, Ash. I’m good.”

The pizza was everything they needed it to be. It was cheesy and gooey and just greasy enough. The two boys heartily chowed down on the large platter in front of them, barely bothering with plates.

The diner Ashton had brought them to was unfamiliar to Luke. In fact, he had rarely been to this side of the city. That didn’t hinder him any from the joy of the incredible, wonderful goodness that was this diner’s pizza.

In the neon lighting, everything was cast in some ethereal glow. Some odd greens, blues and reds scattered throughout the tiny, empty room, and formed interesting shadows on the floor. The ‘50s theme--with squeaky leather-like cushions and cool silver metal framings--was a design Luke hadn’t seen often in the area. There were approximately two employees and two customers in attendance.

Luke paused in between bites, studying Ashton’s features. Ashton pushed on, unaware of the boy’s stare. In the lighting, Ash’s face aged significantly. Not in a bad way, of course. He just seemed to look more wan, more tired--but also prettier. Luke couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe Ashton always looked this pretty, but he’s just now seeing it. He wondered if he looked the same.

Don’t be stupid, dude. Ashton isn’t into that.

Luke felt a harsh tug in his gut anytime he even thought about the boy sitting in front of him. The mention of his name, the sight of him, a scrap of his homework, anything. Anything sent his head spinning.

Luke knew that this meant he was something he didn’t want to be. Something that he never expected to be. When Ashton wasn’t there merely two months before, Luke ignored any doubts he may have had about his sexuality, and with ease. He simply brushed off his attraction to men as jealousy… but since the minute Ashton appeared, his walls came crashing down.

Probably around three in the morning a few days ago, Luke whispered, admitted, under his breath:

I like guys. I like Ashton.

Seeing him now, in the late-night glow of this decrepit hole-in-the-wall, Luke really knew this to be true. He couldn’t not like someone as beautiful, someone as genuine, as Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

He bit into another slice of pizza, pondering. A question slipped past his lips into the space between them.

�� “How’d you find this place?”

His voice almost disappeared into the abyss, it seemed. Everything was so quiet. So gentle.

Ashton smiled, swallowing his last bite. He smiled like he had a secret, an old memory. “Few months ago… I was just driving around and saw it. Was kinda hungry, so I stopped in. Now, it’s uh…” he fiddled with some leftover crust, “it’s my favorite place.” The corners of the older boy’s mouth turned down slightly, yet Luke didn’t notice. “You know, I’ve never actually brought anyone else here before.”

It was supposed to be question, but came out as a statement.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Really?”

Ash nodded. “And, honestly, I don’t care for pepperoni. I’m typically a just-cheese kinda guy.”

Luke glanced at the scraps of pepperoni pizza and back to Ash, unsure of how to process this information. “Um. I feel honored?”

Was that the right question?

Ashton physically shook himself from a pensive thought and replied. “Yes. Yes, you should definitely feel honored.”

Luke smiled shyly. “Then, I do.”

A second passed between them with no words spoken, just little grins and twinkling eyes. There was a spark in Luke’s chest. A hopeful, teensy flicker of a flame. Maybe Ashton felt it too.

Their waitress sauntered in, breaking the charged air.

“Hey, boys! How you doing? Need anything?”

“We’re doing great, Shirley. Thank you,” Ashton put kindly.

The pretty waitress--as if from nowhere--then procured a glass she had been hiding somewhere; Luke didn’t want to imagine how she was able to keep it hidden.

“Aw, Shirley, I can’t--” Ashton started.

“Of course you can. It’s on the house! For my favorite customer.” With a wink, the dark-haired girl went behind the vintage-style double doors, leaving the room an empty void again.

Ashton, shaking his head with good humor, picked two straws out of the nearby dispenser and held one out to Luke. “Like some? It’s strawberry…” He let out a small giggle.

Luke couldn’t resist his smile as it crept onto his face. “Love some.”

He grabbed the straw from Ashton’s grip, unwound the wrapping and plopped it into the glass. The older boy motioned to the cherry on top, but Luke shook his head. Ashton, plucked the fruit from the whipped cream and tantalizingly dangled it in the air. Luke watched as Ash’s jawline protruded sharply under the taut skin. Ash chewed slowly, and, whether he was aware of it or not, and smirked sinfully. Luke swallowed thickly.

God damn.

The younger boy pushed aside the images in his head and focused solely on the strawberry milkshake. He focused on the closeness of their foreheads as the sipped from the glass at the same time. He focused on how when they both reached for their drink, their hands brushed for just milliseconds. His heartbeat thrummed in his throat.

He assumed he was imagining the blush on Ashton’s cheeks. Probably just a trick with the neon. Yeah, it’s just the lights.

He chuckled to himself, knowing he should know better. And he chuckled at the mantra that repeated in his head again, like clockwork. Nonetheless, Luke brushed off all of his unwanted thoughts and focused on the moment and the beautiful boy before him.

Not much later, Ashton dropped Luke off at school, where they had left Luke’s car hours earlier. Ash carefully parked right next to the old machine and shut off his engine. Together, the two sat in the still air, neither wanting to break this peaceful lull they were experiencing. It was something precious, fragile, new. They knew, though, that it was inevitable.

“Do you even know what time it is?” Luke asked from the passenger seat.

Ashton squinted at his watch in the dark. “Almost midnight, I’d say.”

The boys looked at each other and immediately burst into a fit of giggles.

“My mum’s gonna kill me,” Luke managed between splutters.

“Me too,” Ashton chimed, breathing heavily.

They tried to sit a while a longer. Luke, however, knew he had to go before his mother actually murdered him.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Hmm?”

“Um. Thanks, for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

Ashton smiled through the darkness. “Of course, Luke. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this in ages. It felt nice.”

Luke said nothing in response, only gave a soft smile; reluctantly, he opened the door and heaved his lanky frame out of the seat. In his own car, he pulled on the seatbelt and turned the engine over. At that, Ashton did the same, and once he was certain Luke was ready, set off himself.

The younger boy sat just a few minutes longer, relishing the new memories. He smiled once more to himself, shifted the car into gear, and took his time on the ride home.

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