![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freakykatTitle: All The Things We Never Were
Author(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
freakykat
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Luke Snyder/Noah Mayer
Summary: I don't wanna dream about all the things that never were.
All The Things We Never Were
Prologue
~Oakdale, April 2017~
He wonders if you can know something too well.
Luke steps onto the porch, boot-clad feet scuffing across the wood floors, and sips his coffee slowly, his still sleep-fogged eyes scanning green hills. He can barely make out a figure minding the horses just beyond the barn. He notes that it needs a new coat of paint. It's been a couple of years since Noah had undertaken that task. He smiles into his cup remembering the disaster that had been. His mind wanders to what could have beens and he shakes his head, rubs at the ache in chest.
It's all too familiar, an uncomfortable itch he can't scratch anymore.
The early morning light slits through the trees, casting shadows across the ground and he focuses on the pattern until that feeling subsides.
He's doing the right thing.
The creak of the door brings his head around and he smiles slowly as he recognizes the paint splattered pajamas that had once been some soft peach but now looked like a color bomb had exploded. He frowns slightly, as Natalie moves up next to him, sipping on her own coffee.
“It's gonna stunt your growth, squirt.”
Natalie snorts into her distorted mug – she'd made it herself during her clay phase – and casts him a disparaging look as she takes a deep, loud drink. “You're just mad ‘cause you hate anyone drinking your imported crap.”
Luke raises an eyebrow, stares pointedly at her hands. “You don't hear me complain when you drink it.”
“That's ‘cause I'm special.”
He chuckles, head shaking as he turns back to let his eyes wander. His mind buzzes but he ignores it, keeps his focus on how the air smells so early in the day, the vivid Technicolor around him, the quiet sounds of the house as it stirs to life.
“When is the cab getting here?”
Luke watches two of the new foals chase each other, grimaces as they stumble a little. “In about ten minutes.”
He refuses to look over at the packed bag on the swing but can feel when Natalie does. Luke wonders what she thinks, knows that it matters even if it shouldn't.
When she speaks, he jumps a little.
“Don't be a chicken shit this time, Luke.”
He blinks over at her, makes a face that she reciprocates, and he loves her more because… she is him. So many years ago, long before his failures and mistakes. There's so much hope in her eyes that they seem lighter just from the emotion.
“That's not why I'm going, Nattie.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she takes another swallow. “Whatever you say, Luciano.” Natalie turns fully to look at him and he waits for whatever she's going to say.
But as usual his baby sister never does what he thinks she will.
“Are you sure I can't drive you?”
“With what license? And what car?”
“Driver's permit, hello. And yours will do nicely.”
It's Luke's turn to snort. “I don't think so.”
She sighs and they stand together for a long, quiet moment, the faraway sound of tires coming up the graveled drive alerting them to the time.
Luke walks to the swing, grabs his bag and sets his empty cup down in its place. He hauls the bag over his shoulder and is surprised when Natalie walks into him, face smushing into his chest.
“It's been a long time, Luke. You deserve to be happy. Always have, big brother.”
He feels the tears sting at the corners of his eyes, peppers her hair with a few kisses as he pulls away. The response sticks in his throat and he clears it, saying instead, “Tell them not to worry and that I love them.”
Natalie gives him an amused look but nods as she crosses her arms. “That'll be the day. And I will.” She waves off his protest, walks with him to the door and makes a “go away” gesture with her hand. “Get out of here. You'll miss your flight.”
Luke smiles big, kisses her sloppily on the cheek, and moves toward the waiting car. He hands the driver his bag, opens the door, and looks back one more time. Natalie waves, gives him a huge grin, and a thumbs up and he feels his chest constrict.
Luke knows he'll be back.
He just isn't sure when.
Climbing into the car, he closes the door, and scoots as close to the window as he can. He watches Natalie, the house, the horses, the barn...all get smaller as they back out and onto the road.
He wonders if sometimes you can know something, someone, a life, a town...too well. If something, someone, a place can know you too well.
There are mistakes that change everything, events that shape your life, moments you can't take back no matter how much you wish you could.
And then there are decisions you have to make to get back everything you want.
~Oakdale, August 2009~
Noah lunges for his phone when it rings – the familiar tone making his heart jump to his throat – and he gruffs out a quick, “Luke? Where are you?”
There's a long pause and he hears the distinct background noise of a bar, his stomach churns as he rubs one hand over his burning eyes.
“Hey, Noah.”
The voice is one he knows but it takes his mind a few moments to fit it into place. “Joe?”
“Yeah, listen, Luke is here. I wasn't on duty until now, man. And we had a new guy. I'm sorry.”
Noah closes his eyes, sighs deep and shakes his head even though he knows Joe can't see him. “It's okay. I'll be there in ten minutes. Do me a favor and don't let him leave.”
“You got it.”
Noah pushes the talk button hard to disconnect, throwing the receiver behind him on the couch, hears the crack it makes when it hits something solid. He doesn't turn to look. His brain runs on automatic as he gathers his keys, wallet, cellphone, locks their apartment door, and takes the steps down so fast he almost slips once. The anger wars with concern and grief. When he pulls up to the parking lot in front of Yo's, he can't recall how he got there.
He takes a deep breath, steels that bit of his heart that hurts whenever he looks at his boyfriend these days, and opens the door, steps through. He catches Joe's gaze and follows the finger that points toward the back. His stare falls on the blond head bent over, practically inside the drink on the table. He moves quietly, sits down across from Luke, and waits until those big eyes look up at him.
The wobbly smile he receives is sloppy and huge, dimples making an appearance and Noah's stomach drops. If Luke is this far gone – where the anger has faded – it's a bad sign.
“Noah.”
He smiles gently, takes Luke's hand and pulls up, finds no resistance as he drags him out of the booth. Noah places one hand at Luke's waist, the other under his arms and steadies him as they walk toward the exit. He manages to nod at Joe, ignores the sad, concerned look he gets in return, and stumbles with Luke out into the muggy night.
“Where are we going?”
Noah squeezes at Luke's waist, drops a quick kiss on his sweaty, alcohol reeked hair and sighs a quiet response into it, “We're going home, baby.”
Luke snuffles in an attempt to argue but it's vague and all inside Luke's head so Noah leads them to the truck, pours Luke into the passenger seat, belts in tightly, closes the door with a quiet thud. He leans his head on the window, bears down on the pressure in his eyes and walks around to the driver's side. Noah climbs in slowly, sneaks a look at an already passed out Luke and turns the ignition.
In the morning, Luke will wake up with another hangover. He'll be soft spoken and apologetic all day. He'll promise Noah that it won't happen again. That it was just the day – that he missed his father too much – will say words he knows Noah needs to hear. They'll kiss gently, determined to forget what had happened. Noah will push into Luke and close his eyes, pretending to believe what he says. Because he has to.
And in another night or two, he'll be back behind the wheel, supporting Luke into the house, missing his boyfriend even when he's in his arms. He'll find a way to hide it from Lily because she can't cope. He'll clean up the vomit from the bathroom floor or his shoes. He'll talk to Luke about meetings. He'll remind him about his kidney. He'll wish every time Luke tells his lies that he could talk to Holden. He would know what Noah should do. But that's not possible.
Holden is dead.
Luke is falling apart.
Noah has to keep it together.
So, he shoves the car into drive and winds his way back down the dark streets to do what he does best now.
~September 2009~
Luke drains the rest of his glass, sighs when the numbness spreads through his fingers and hands. He likes the cold sensation so much better than the angry red that somehow lives inside him every day. He shoves another twenty at the bartender, shaking his empty drink at him and looks around the bar as he waits for his next one. It's not one he frequents often, he'd found it a few weeks ago when he could no longer get a drink at Yo's.
He scowls at the thought. Inside his head, where he still gives a shit, he knows Noah is only trying to save him. To help him cope with his father – Noah is being perfect. Like always. The rush of almost hate that rises up surprises Luke and he shakes his head.
Noah was so good to him.
He loves Luke. He supports Luke. He wants to be there for Luke.
It suffocates in its honesty and hugeness.
He glances at his watch – another reminder of Noah and their love – and sees that it's time to call it a day. Three drinks takes the edge off enough but keeps Noah at bay. It's been working so far. His boyfriend is relaxing every day that Luke comes home seemingly sober.
Luke can pretend like the best of them. He switched to vodka because it leaves the least amount of trace. He has toothpaste and mouthwash in his car. Some cologne to splash on himself before he steps inside their apartment.
The drink gets dropped in front of him and he lays the twenty down, finishes it completely in two gulps and is out the door. He stops when a hand is placed on his shoulder, looks back angrily about to spit out “Fuck off” when he catches the gray stare with his own.
“Listen, man. I've been watching you for a few weeks. I think I can help.”
Luke raises an eyebrow, swallows hard and tilts his head in permission.
He looks down when the hand slides to his hip, pulls him closer and then grips ones of his hands dropping a small bag into it. Luke glances up, heart beats faster and his mind screams at him. Tells him this is a bad idea. It sounds too much like Noah and he jerks his head hard, makes it stop.
“That's gonna make you feel so good. And you know, nobody will know a thing.”
Luke breathes deep, clutches his fingers around the cellophane bag, and glances up. He knows what this is but – it hurts. Every day it hurts so much he can't think. He hates so much: his mother for marrying Damian before his father's body was cold, Damian for taking advantage, Noah for being...so damn noble and kind and a fucking pushover, himself for being weak. He just wants to stop, for just one second.
It's getting harder to numb it all.
He nods quickly then looks up. “I don't know how...”
The guy smiles wide, winks and pulls him back into the bar, grips his hand and says, “Name's Greyson.”
Luke doesn't care but manages a smile, a curt and quick “Luke.” He follows Greyson into the bathroom and watches silently while he locks the door. Pulls out the bag, grabs some paper towels and wipes down the counter. Luke almost wants to laugh because, Jesus fucking Christ, he feels like he's in one of those after school specials. He think of Noah's face if he said that and there's a tiny crack of warmth but Greyson is talking and Luke brings his attention back to him.
“Just sniff it. Go slow, man. First time can make you sick. So take it easy.” He hands Luke the little stub of straw he had used.
Luke grips it, takes a quick look at Greyson, who nods at him with a smile and he bends down, straw to white powder, takes in a small snort, then another and a third. Greyson makes some noise at him but Luke pushes away. He tries again and this time it's too much. It clogs the back of his throat and he coughs. Greyson laughs, patting his back and telling him it gets easier.
He wants to tell him to fuck off but his lungs burn a little and then it's this surge of...color...of feeling all over. But it's good. It doesn't make him want to punch the world. His limbs relax and he leans back on the wall, sliding down and he rolls his eyes back, lets it carry him off.
Lets it let him forget.
~October 2009~
Noah glances over at Luke again, smiles a little as his boyfriend drums fingers against the dashboard, singing badly to The Misfits. Luke catches his stare and grins wide, winking and turns back to watch the scenery as it passes them by.
It had been a long day but a good one. He hadn't been expecting the surprise birthday party and he would never admit it in a million years, even under torture from Luke's magic fingers, that he felt like a five year old when the whole Snyder clan had jumped out at him. They'd swarmed him with love and kisses and well-wishes. Luke had stayed by his side. Noah had hugged Emma for a few minutes when she'd told him how much Holden would have loved being there.
There was cake and presents and embarrassing stories and Luke.
Everything Noah really ever needed was Luke.
It makes his stomach warm when he thinks of all the trouble Luke had gone to planning the party. Noah hadn't been sure whether Luke would ever start recovering from losing Holden. He knew it would take a long time and Noah wasn't naive enough to think that Luke was anywhere near that but... he seemed better. He'd stopped drinking altogether and he seemed...more. Luke was just...more. Always had been. Made everything bigger.
And he was back to that. Like he hadn't been for those weeks after Holden's death.
He seemed...
Noah feels that little prick in the back of his head that quietly tells him something's wrong. That he knows better. But he ignores it. It's just his ridiculous need to worry about everything.
Luke's arm falls across the back of Noah's neck, fingers playing with the curls at his nape and he forgets that feeling. Only concentrates on the soft touch of Luke's hand.
He hears Luke sniff quietly and frowns, turns to watch him rub at his nose some. “Hey, you okay? Not catching a cold?”
Luke seems startled for a moment, eyes flashing with something Noah doesn't recognize but it's gone as quickly as it came and he gets a big smile. “Allergies.”
Noah studies him for a moment, that feeling intensifying but he just wants to enjoy the day more. “Oh, good. ‘Cause I'm not sure I would be keen to sticking my tongue down your throat if I ended up getting sick.”
Luke laughs, rumbling and deep, sending a shiver down Noah's spine when his hand curls around the back of Noah's neck.
Everything will be fine.
~~~*~~~
Luke closes the door behind him, hands start that shaking again and he reaches to lock the door. His family is nosy as hell. He should have known better than to agree to the Halloween party. Noah had to work and he could deal with them if Noah was there. On his good days.
But not today.
He tries not to picture Damian downstairs with his brother and sisters where his father should have been. That image should never even exist.
But it does.
And he can't even--
He pulls the baggie from his inside pocket, clears the counter, and lines up, bending, and taking it in so fast his head spins a little. He waits for that sensation, the honey looseness in his limbs and muscles. It takes a few minutes but it spreads out and he sighs happily.
That's good.
He can handle it like this.
Someone pounds on the door and he jumps, shoving the bag into its spot, washing off the remnants of powder down the drain. “Fucking hold on.” He pulls the door open and Aaron is staring at him, a little pissed off.
“You think you can watch the language, Luke. Kids are around here.”
Luke feels a little shamed but mostly it’s anger that wells up and he lashes out with it. “I didn't think Ethan or Nat could knock down the fucking door, Aaron. Figured it wasn't them.” He pushes past his brother's shocked face and stumbles on the stairs. He pauses, breathes deep and opens the door into the kitchen...
...and Noah's huge smile greets him.
“Hi, baby.”
His heart speeds up at the sight of his boyfriend, gut wrenching with guilt which he shoves down and reaches for Noah, sliding their lips together. This always makes him feel steady and he wishes that he could have Noah with him all the time. He dips his tongue in fast but pulls back when he hears a door slam. He glances at Aaron, face twisted in anger and swallows.
He feels Noah tense under his hands.
“You okay, Aaron?”
His brother's eyes narrow in his direction but his face clears and he gives Noah a genuine smile. “No, man. I'm a little tired. How are you?” He steps up and Luke shifts away, lets them hug and talk for a few minutes. Aaron excuses himself, never meeting Luke's stare as he walks out the door.
Noah frowns, looks back Luke. “Something happen?”
Luke flits his gaze at Noah, watches his face. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean,” Noah glances from the door to Luke then back, “you both seemed, I don't know, upset.” One hand grasps Luke's shoulder, dragging their bodies closer together. “What's going on, baby?”
He shrugs, tries not to be annoyed at the question. It's Noah being Noah. He loves him. “Aaron is being an asshole. I don't know.”
Noah's eyes widen in surprise but he doesn't say anything, just nods. “Okay.” Hands reach for Luke's face and he smiles softly, leans in to kiss Luke's mouth gently. When he pulls away his fingers brush over Luke's cheek and he gives Luke a bemused look. “Did you eat all the cookies?”
Luke blinks up in confusion.
Noah's smile grows wider and wiping away the remnants of Luke's secrets. “You had a little bit of flour on your face. I figured Emma corralled you into baking cookies.” He looks sadly at the kitchen counter. “But I'm guessing you Snyders, with your penchant for sweets, ate it all and forgot all about those of us that had to work.”
Luke tries to smile, hides his face in Noah's shoulder, and breathes in.
He doesn't answer because that would mean lying.
And he hasn't lied to Noah.
Not yet.
~~~*~~~~
His skin is crawling, fingers shake as he attempts to open the apartment door. Somehow, when he woke up late that morning, he'd forgotten to switch his stash to the jacket he'd grabbed going out the door. When he steps into the room, Noah stands up fast, eyes wide. Luke glances at the couch and grips the handle of the door hard.
“Aaron.”
“Luke.”
They hadn't been getting along at all lately. Aaron keeps looking in on him, asks him all kinds of question, always looking at him carefully. He suspects that Luke might be drinking. He'd so much as said so to him. But since he isn't, he can't prove it.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Noah.”
Luke closes the door soundly, sees Noah jump slightly and glares at his brother. “You trying to turn him against me again? Telling him I'm drinking when I'm not?”
“Luke, come on. Aaron's just worried...”
Luke's eyes shift to Noah and he snorts. “Of course, you're going to defend him. Could you maybe take my side for once?”
Noah's jaw clenches, a sure sign that his own temper is starting to rise and Luke feels something ugly and sharp rise in his chest. He wants Noah angry. Distracted. Anything that will keep him from knowing. Luke can't lose him.
But he can't go back to feeling all that pain every second.
“There aren't any sides, babe. Okay?”
Aaron nods, looks straight at Luke. “I'm not attacking you, Luke.”
Luke huffs out a derisive sound and steps back to the door. “Get out. Go home. Stop bothering my boyfriend.”
He watches his brother and boyfriend exchange glances, feels that anger boil over but before he explodes, Aaron starts for the door. He stops and stares at him. “Just so you know. Before you walked in here? Noah was telling me I was wrong. That he believes in you. Knows you.” The door opens and closes softly while Luke stares at it.
When he turns around, Noah has disappeared into the bathroom.
Luke heads to their closet, pulls out the small plastic bag, glances over his shoulder, dipping his pinky into the powder, pulls up as much as he can, brings it to his nose and inhales. He repeats that a few times until he can feel his muscles start to relax.
He just needs to get through this with Noah. He can't lose him, too. He stashes away the bag and closes the closet door firmly.
~~~~*~~~~
~November 2009~
“How long?”
Noah's stare is angrier than any Luke has ever seen much less experienced directly and he fights the urge to shrink back. His own gaze falls to Noah's hand holding up the see-thru bag that Luke had sworn he'd hidden inside his sock drawer all the way to the back. The thought makes Luke frown. Noah was looking through his private things. He was spying on Luke?
“Where did you get that?”
“The same place you hid it.” Noah's tone was calm but his words were bitten off at the end, like he couldn't say them, like he couldn't believe them.
His eyes flick to the bag, feels his body thrum knowing it's right at his reach and not there, really. Noah waits, blue eyes edged with worry and sadness and beyond that, anger.
What the fuck was he angry about? Luke knows somewhere that if anyone should have that right it's Noah but –
It's so fucking typical of Noah to think the worst of Luke, isn't it? He always had. Never waits for Luke to explain or doesn't care enough to back him up. He opens his mouth and the words that fall out surprise him as much as he can tell they do Noah.
“What the fuck business it that of yours?”
Noah blinks and then he stalks toward Luke, throws the bag at him, teeth clench together as he spits out, “What the fuck business is it of mine? Did I actually hear that shit, right? Did I?”
Luke meets him eye to eye, tries not to lunge for the bag at his feet. “I only use it when I need it, Noah.”
“And how often is that, Luke? How much of this do you need to take?” Noah covers his face, laughing mirthlessly. “I thought – I thought you were getting better – that you were dealing – but – Jesus, how the fuck did I not see this?” He glances at Luke and shakes his head. “I'm supposed to see you and I missed this.”
Luke doesn't want his feelings – guilt and pain and sorrow – to take over but there they are. Just under the surface like always. He can't tear his gaze from Noah. “It makes it better, Noah. Please. Don't. Don't hate me. I just needed to – it hurts less.”
“I could never hate you, Luke.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide and scared. “Why didn't you talk to me? Or someone? Anyone?”
“I don't know – I just – I couldn't breathe, Noah. All I felt was that pain. I miss him so much. So much. And it's -”
“Not your fault.”
Luke doesn't respond and he glances up to meet Noah's gaze. “I just need to feel something that isn't wanting to die.”
That seems to take the wind out of Noah's sails and he takes a step back, away. When he looks back at Luke, his eyes are wet, a little red and Luke feels his heart plummet. He hates to see Noah cry. He never wants to be the reason.
“How long?”
He could lie. He knows that. Noah would probably be better off if he did but there's still enough of what they have for him to save it. “A few months. It hasn't been that long, I swear. And I can – I can stop. I can. I just -”
“Then stop.”
Luke feels his lungs constrict and his heart leap into his throat, stomach drop. The voice is soft, sweet and when he sees Noah – really sees him – he feels the disappointment he'd been avoiding. In himself. With his mother. With Damian. With his life. With Noah.
Noah is there, though. Right there. Like always. Grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little. “Stop, baby.”
Luke's hands are shaking but he nods, curls his fingers in Noah's shirt and lets himself go.
“I promise. I promise, Noah.”
~~~*~~~
He wants to keep the promise he made. Noah suggests that Luke think about a rehab program, maybe outpatient treatment. He swears that he doesn't need it. That it's not that serious. He hides his tremors from Noah, takes a few “sample” pills Greyson had given him. They keep the edge off. He goes to meetings. Sits in the back and listens to people give their sad stories. Part of him understands but mostly he blocks out their words. He doesn't belong here. He's fine.
And he's doing fine. Luke thinks – until Ethan asks Luke when Daddy would be coming home and the wave of grief he'd been keeping behind the crumbling wall rushes out. He calls Noah to tell him he's going to an emergency meeting, tells him to stay home when he insists on tagging along.
He calls Greyson to meet him in the alley by Yo's. When he hands him a hit from one of his bags, Luke smiles at him, hands over the money. He can feel Greyson's eyes on him and something inside him enjoys that. He doesn't have to pretend here.
He goes home to Noah, smiles his good boy smile – that's what he calls it in his head – and lays down in a bed filling with lies and heartache that won't be avoided.
Greyson gives him a sample of some of “the best product, man” and Luke wants to say no. He sees Noah's face when the needle pinches into his skin. Those sad blue eyes hurt him and then they don't because he's lost in nothing. This wonderful nothing and he leans back into the wall. When Greyson's hand reaches inside his pants and curls around his cock, Luke wants to push away.
But he can't.
He doesn't.
He just arches up and floats away in the pleasure.
He doesn't think of blue eyes or home or love.
~~~*~~~
December 2009
Noah can't stop pacing from the window to the door and back. His hands tremble as he checks his phone. He's lost count of how many times he's looked. He can't even count the minutes since he'd last heard from Aaron or Casey.
He wants to be out there, looking for Luke
Noah wants to scream because he should have known. After Lily's announcement at Christmas dinner, it was inevitable that Luke would lose it. But he'd thought that he was enough to stop him.
There's a hand on his shoulder and when he turns, Lucinda hands him a cup of tea. Noah is sick of tea. He shakes his head only to sigh and take the damn thing when she simply raises an eyebrow at him. "If you're not going to eat, at least get something hot in your stomach.”
He responds by taking two large gulps then sets the tea down on the table and begins pacing again.
“Noah, sweetheart, you're going to make a groove in Emma's floor. Please sit down. You can worry that way, too.”
He does what she wants, mostly because he knows better than to argue.
But sitting makes all his thoughts louder and he rubs his dry eyes. Three days of no sleep – except the naps that Lucinda and Emma have made him take – start to wear him down. He keeps his eyes on the table when he says “I should have known.”
“Noah, please. Don't. You can't blame yourself.”
“I knew, Lucinda. I didn't tell anyone that he'd been doing drugs.”
“He asked you not to.”
“But I –“
“Noah.”
Her tone is brisk and hard. It makes him look up and she shakes her head. “You'd been down this road once with him before.”
That wasn't an excuse. He hadn't wanted to repeat his mistake from the election, that was true. He wanted to be there this time. Be the person Luke could trust. Turn to. The person who could save him.
But this was completely different.
And he should have seen it. He should have known.
Lucinda's hand covers his. “We'll find him, Noah.”
He wants to believe. Needs to.
Or he won't make it through.
If he lost Luke, Noah wasn't sure he could survive. Wouldn't want to.
~~~*~~~
It hurts to even try and move his head but he's cold. He tries to roll over to Noah's side, groans when his whole body hurts. When he opens one eye, the bed is empty...and it's not his bed...their bed. He can't – he doesn't know -
Luke bolts up, feels his stomach revolt against the move and leans his head down, touching his blanket clad knee, breathes through it until his hands are steady. He glances up, eyes bleary as he looks around the room. His eyes fall to the floor, find his clothes crumbled there.
He swallows, tries not to let the panic set in. He doesn't know where he is. He can't remember anything.
Moving carefully, he reaches for his jeans, his hands tremble again, and he wants something to cut the edge bad but he can't – he sees his hips painted in bruises and gulps down the urge to throw up. His shirt is filthy, stained completely and he doesn't want to know why or how.
He wants to go home.
He needs Noah.
There's a loud noise coming from the front room and he walks unsteadily down the hall until he finds the source of the sounds. He recognizes Greyson – naked and fucking a completely unmoving guy into the sofa. Luke leans one hand against the door frame and shakes his head.
Oh god. No. No. He doesn't – he flashes on being pinned down, letting someone turn him over. He remembers the fullness, the high of it and -
He falls slowly to his knees, takes in deep gulps and someone is standing over him. “Hey, kid? You okay?” The words are slurred but Luke can see some real concern on the face. The man is completely dressed and Luke hopes that he can still think.
“Can you tell me where we are, please?” He keeps his voice steady and stands when the other guy helps him to his feet. He gives Luke an address – he prays that it's the right one – and moves down the hall to the bedroom Luke had been in. He needs to leave.
He's pretty sure he doesn't have his car.
Luke thinks about the call he needs to make. Only thinks about the buttons he's pushing. Only thinks about the address he needs to give. Only thinks about going home.
He hears grunts on the television, the sound of laughter and he knows that whatever they are watching, he doesn't want to see. He wants to vomit. He wants to cry. He can't think. Think.
The call he makes is picked up before the first ring and he cries in relief when he hears the familiar deep voice.
“Luke?!!”
“Noah.” His voice is wrecked, totaled and he doesn't want to think why. He tries again and it sounds the same. “Noah, I'm – please – come get me. Please.” It breaks at the end and he starts to cry quietly into the phone.
“Baby, just tell me where you are. I need – oh god, don't cry, Luke. I'll be there. Just tell me.”
He can't make the words come out and he takes a few minutes to stutter the address into the phone. Noah begs him to stay on the line until he gets to him. Luke tries to breathe and listens to Noah's non-stop talking. His heart beats faster as he hears the sound of doors and tires. He can't go back to that room. He can't stay in the hall. He makes his way out the back and stumbles around the side of the house and ends up in the front yard.
He tells Noah what he's doing and hears the encouraging words and promises but he can't listen.
He doesn't know what he's done. He wants to lay down and just stop.
So he does.
The squeal of tires makes him look up and Noah is there, stepping out of a car idling across the street. Luke's heart skips and he scrambles to his knees on the lawn. Noah searches frantically until he finds Luke and then he's running, falling in front of him. Noah looks him over and then Luke is burying his face in Noah's chest, the tears he had held in wetting Noah's shirt.
Luke's sobs are loud and broken.
He feels someone else, hears Casey's voice thick with his own tears and knows when his friend drops to the ground, holds on to Luke's shoulder.
Noah's voice is gentle, kind and it makes Luke want to tear out of his skin because he doesn't deserve any of it.
When Noah gets up, he clutches harder and receives a quiet “It's okay, baby. I'm not going anywhere.” and then he's on his feet. He can't walk and without a pause, Noah has him in his arms and Luke hides his face in Noah's neck, tears still falling. He stays there the whole way home.
He wants to never leave.
~~~*~~~
January 1, 2010
“Sir, you can't go further than this, I'm sorry.”
Luke grips tighter on Noah's hand and he nods silently at the nurse. “Can we have a minute?”
She smiles and moves a few feet away to give them a semblance of privacy.
Noah gives him an encouraging smile and Luke wants to cry or throw up or run away. Or all three, really. He hates those smiles now. Reminds him of how much he's fucked up.
“They said I can come in two weeks to see you, so I'll be here, okay?”
Luke glances up and smiles gratefully. “Okay.”
“I love you.”
It hurts to hear that and he can't bring himself to return it no matter how much it's true. He loves Noah. So much that he can't live with who he is now. He doesn't know how he ever will.
“Same here.” he manages and then kisses Noah's mouth quickly before turning to follow the nurse out of the lobby and into the facility. He glances back and sees Noah still standing there watching Luke. He waves once and Luke feels something break inside at the distance growing between them.
He needs to get better.
He wants to do this for himself. For his family. For Noah.
Luke thinks that even if he does manage to get himself back, nothing will erase the damage he's done.
Nothing between him and Noah will be the same.
~~~*~~~
~Oakdale, April 2017 ~
Luke crosses his legs for the umpteenth time and glances up at the screen for the hundredth. The little green letters haven't changed since he last looked but he can't help it. Maybe he can time warp his way out of here and where he needs to be. He thinks Ethan would approve of that method. He smiles into his coffee at the thought of his little brother.
His phone vibrates in his jacket and he sets his coffee down, pulls it out and makes a face at the text that is waiting for him.
You called him yet, coward?
He types back: Don't be such a pain in my ass, Nat.
Then stares at the phone for a full minute before taking a deep breath and works his screen, pulls up the first name on his speed dial list and touches it fast. He smiles when he gets a song for the ring tone which turns into a laugh because it's such a ridiculous choice that he can't help it.
“Hello there, handsome.”
Luke rolls his eyes when his stomach flutters because after a decade he really should be used to that. “ABBA? Really?”
Noah's laugh is rich and strong, reminds Luke of so many things that he doesn't have, that his hand tightens around the phone from the overwhelming rush of it. He wants so bad it physically hurts. But he can't do anything about that.
Yet.
“It's completely your fault, Snyder. How many times was I forced to watch that damn movie?”
“You loved every minute of it, don't front now, Mayer.”
There is a long pause before Noah responds, voice low and a little more than wistful. “I very much did.”
It makes Luke's heart stutter a few beats and he waits out the quiet filled with everything that can never be said between them. Talking with Noah is a study in happiness and longing that Luke is still getting used to balancing.
“So what's going on?”
Luke smirks and shrugs even though Noah can't see him. “What? I can't call my best friend?”
“Um... well, seeing as you never call this early in the day and, you know, on an actual weekday, I have to wonder what may be so important that it requires actual voice on voice action instead of text.”
“You're a perceptive man, Mayer. It must come with age.”
Noah snorts. “I try. And I'm not even seven months older than you so shove it.”
Luke laughs at that, the sound carrying around him. Almost no one can make him feel the way he does when he talks to Noah. Like a part of himself is coming through that can't with anyone else. “You're just jealous that I'm still this good looking.”
He knows Noah is grinning now, fiddling with some papers or a pen on his desk, feet swung up on the edge of it.
“Tell me, how do you fit that huge head of yours through doors these days?”
“Usually takes a crowbar.” Luke's chest fills with warmth as Noah laughs and he asks as he throws his coffee in the trash, “How is La-La land treating you guys?”
“It's good. Hot the last week but we're surviving.”
There's an announcement over the airport intercom and Luke covers the mouthpiece to muffle most of the static background noise. When he comes back there's a tense silence and he bites his lip that he can pull this off.
“You at the airport?”
Luke grimaces. “Yeah. Going on a trip.”
Noah pauses before making an interested sound. “Business? Pleasure?”
Luke purses his lips. “A little of both. It's why I called. In case I can't for a little bit.”
There's another pregnant silence and Luke can feel Noah debating what to say.
“Is everything okay?”
Luke smiles. “I promise you, Mom. I'm good.”
He waits to see if Noah will push and sighs in quiet relief when he doesn't. “Okay. But I expect some kind of contact in the next few days, Luke. I fucking mean it. I will search the world over for you and kick your ass if you don't, got it?”
That's so like Noah and it makes Luke love him more if that's at all possible. “I got it.”
“Okay. Good. Have a safe trip. Call me at some point, please. And get me something pretty.”
Luke laughs. “I can do that.” He sees the board change and he rises to his feet. “I should go. I'll be in touch.”
“Damn right.” Then Noah sighs and Luke can feel worry building. He wants to do something about that. But he can't.
Yet.
“I got to go, Noah. Love you.” He always says that. He can't explain how much ever and he's not sure Noah can hear it.
“Love you, too. Be careful.”
The line goes dead and Luke grabs his carry on as he moves to the assigned gate. He glances down at his plane ticket displaying Flight 817: Los Angeles International across the center and waits his turn to board.
|Part One|
Author(s):
freakykatRating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Luke Snyder/Noah Mayer
Summary: I don't wanna dream about all the things that never were.
All The Things We Never Were
Prologue
~Oakdale, April 2017~
He wonders if you can know something too well.
Luke steps onto the porch, boot-clad feet scuffing across the wood floors, and sips his coffee slowly, his still sleep-fogged eyes scanning green hills. He can barely make out a figure minding the horses just beyond the barn. He notes that it needs a new coat of paint. It's been a couple of years since Noah had undertaken that task. He smiles into his cup remembering the disaster that had been. His mind wanders to what could have beens and he shakes his head, rubs at the ache in chest.
It's all too familiar, an uncomfortable itch he can't scratch anymore.
The early morning light slits through the trees, casting shadows across the ground and he focuses on the pattern until that feeling subsides.
He's doing the right thing.
The creak of the door brings his head around and he smiles slowly as he recognizes the paint splattered pajamas that had once been some soft peach but now looked like a color bomb had exploded. He frowns slightly, as Natalie moves up next to him, sipping on her own coffee.
“It's gonna stunt your growth, squirt.”
Natalie snorts into her distorted mug – she'd made it herself during her clay phase – and casts him a disparaging look as she takes a deep, loud drink. “You're just mad ‘cause you hate anyone drinking your imported crap.”
Luke raises an eyebrow, stares pointedly at her hands. “You don't hear me complain when you drink it.”
“That's ‘cause I'm special.”
He chuckles, head shaking as he turns back to let his eyes wander. His mind buzzes but he ignores it, keeps his focus on how the air smells so early in the day, the vivid Technicolor around him, the quiet sounds of the house as it stirs to life.
“When is the cab getting here?”
Luke watches two of the new foals chase each other, grimaces as they stumble a little. “In about ten minutes.”
He refuses to look over at the packed bag on the swing but can feel when Natalie does. Luke wonders what she thinks, knows that it matters even if it shouldn't.
When she speaks, he jumps a little.
“Don't be a chicken shit this time, Luke.”
He blinks over at her, makes a face that she reciprocates, and he loves her more because… she is him. So many years ago, long before his failures and mistakes. There's so much hope in her eyes that they seem lighter just from the emotion.
“That's not why I'm going, Nattie.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she takes another swallow. “Whatever you say, Luciano.” Natalie turns fully to look at him and he waits for whatever she's going to say.
But as usual his baby sister never does what he thinks she will.
“Are you sure I can't drive you?”
“With what license? And what car?”
“Driver's permit, hello. And yours will do nicely.”
It's Luke's turn to snort. “I don't think so.”
She sighs and they stand together for a long, quiet moment, the faraway sound of tires coming up the graveled drive alerting them to the time.
Luke walks to the swing, grabs his bag and sets his empty cup down in its place. He hauls the bag over his shoulder and is surprised when Natalie walks into him, face smushing into his chest.
“It's been a long time, Luke. You deserve to be happy. Always have, big brother.”
He feels the tears sting at the corners of his eyes, peppers her hair with a few kisses as he pulls away. The response sticks in his throat and he clears it, saying instead, “Tell them not to worry and that I love them.”
Natalie gives him an amused look but nods as she crosses her arms. “That'll be the day. And I will.” She waves off his protest, walks with him to the door and makes a “go away” gesture with her hand. “Get out of here. You'll miss your flight.”
Luke smiles big, kisses her sloppily on the cheek, and moves toward the waiting car. He hands the driver his bag, opens the door, and looks back one more time. Natalie waves, gives him a huge grin, and a thumbs up and he feels his chest constrict.
Luke knows he'll be back.
He just isn't sure when.
Climbing into the car, he closes the door, and scoots as close to the window as he can. He watches Natalie, the house, the horses, the barn...all get smaller as they back out and onto the road.
He wonders if sometimes you can know something, someone, a life, a town...too well. If something, someone, a place can know you too well.
There are mistakes that change everything, events that shape your life, moments you can't take back no matter how much you wish you could.
And then there are decisions you have to make to get back everything you want.
~Oakdale, August 2009~
Noah lunges for his phone when it rings – the familiar tone making his heart jump to his throat – and he gruffs out a quick, “Luke? Where are you?”
There's a long pause and he hears the distinct background noise of a bar, his stomach churns as he rubs one hand over his burning eyes.
“Hey, Noah.”
The voice is one he knows but it takes his mind a few moments to fit it into place. “Joe?”
“Yeah, listen, Luke is here. I wasn't on duty until now, man. And we had a new guy. I'm sorry.”
Noah closes his eyes, sighs deep and shakes his head even though he knows Joe can't see him. “It's okay. I'll be there in ten minutes. Do me a favor and don't let him leave.”
“You got it.”
Noah pushes the talk button hard to disconnect, throwing the receiver behind him on the couch, hears the crack it makes when it hits something solid. He doesn't turn to look. His brain runs on automatic as he gathers his keys, wallet, cellphone, locks their apartment door, and takes the steps down so fast he almost slips once. The anger wars with concern and grief. When he pulls up to the parking lot in front of Yo's, he can't recall how he got there.
He takes a deep breath, steels that bit of his heart that hurts whenever he looks at his boyfriend these days, and opens the door, steps through. He catches Joe's gaze and follows the finger that points toward the back. His stare falls on the blond head bent over, practically inside the drink on the table. He moves quietly, sits down across from Luke, and waits until those big eyes look up at him.
The wobbly smile he receives is sloppy and huge, dimples making an appearance and Noah's stomach drops. If Luke is this far gone – where the anger has faded – it's a bad sign.
“Noah.”
He smiles gently, takes Luke's hand and pulls up, finds no resistance as he drags him out of the booth. Noah places one hand at Luke's waist, the other under his arms and steadies him as they walk toward the exit. He manages to nod at Joe, ignores the sad, concerned look he gets in return, and stumbles with Luke out into the muggy night.
“Where are we going?”
Noah squeezes at Luke's waist, drops a quick kiss on his sweaty, alcohol reeked hair and sighs a quiet response into it, “We're going home, baby.”
Luke snuffles in an attempt to argue but it's vague and all inside Luke's head so Noah leads them to the truck, pours Luke into the passenger seat, belts in tightly, closes the door with a quiet thud. He leans his head on the window, bears down on the pressure in his eyes and walks around to the driver's side. Noah climbs in slowly, sneaks a look at an already passed out Luke and turns the ignition.
In the morning, Luke will wake up with another hangover. He'll be soft spoken and apologetic all day. He'll promise Noah that it won't happen again. That it was just the day – that he missed his father too much – will say words he knows Noah needs to hear. They'll kiss gently, determined to forget what had happened. Noah will push into Luke and close his eyes, pretending to believe what he says. Because he has to.
And in another night or two, he'll be back behind the wheel, supporting Luke into the house, missing his boyfriend even when he's in his arms. He'll find a way to hide it from Lily because she can't cope. He'll clean up the vomit from the bathroom floor or his shoes. He'll talk to Luke about meetings. He'll remind him about his kidney. He'll wish every time Luke tells his lies that he could talk to Holden. He would know what Noah should do. But that's not possible.
Holden is dead.
Luke is falling apart.
Noah has to keep it together.
So, he shoves the car into drive and winds his way back down the dark streets to do what he does best now.
~September 2009~
Luke drains the rest of his glass, sighs when the numbness spreads through his fingers and hands. He likes the cold sensation so much better than the angry red that somehow lives inside him every day. He shoves another twenty at the bartender, shaking his empty drink at him and looks around the bar as he waits for his next one. It's not one he frequents often, he'd found it a few weeks ago when he could no longer get a drink at Yo's.
He scowls at the thought. Inside his head, where he still gives a shit, he knows Noah is only trying to save him. To help him cope with his father – Noah is being perfect. Like always. The rush of almost hate that rises up surprises Luke and he shakes his head.
Noah was so good to him.
He loves Luke. He supports Luke. He wants to be there for Luke.
It suffocates in its honesty and hugeness.
He glances at his watch – another reminder of Noah and their love – and sees that it's time to call it a day. Three drinks takes the edge off enough but keeps Noah at bay. It's been working so far. His boyfriend is relaxing every day that Luke comes home seemingly sober.
Luke can pretend like the best of them. He switched to vodka because it leaves the least amount of trace. He has toothpaste and mouthwash in his car. Some cologne to splash on himself before he steps inside their apartment.
The drink gets dropped in front of him and he lays the twenty down, finishes it completely in two gulps and is out the door. He stops when a hand is placed on his shoulder, looks back angrily about to spit out “Fuck off” when he catches the gray stare with his own.
“Listen, man. I've been watching you for a few weeks. I think I can help.”
Luke raises an eyebrow, swallows hard and tilts his head in permission.
He looks down when the hand slides to his hip, pulls him closer and then grips ones of his hands dropping a small bag into it. Luke glances up, heart beats faster and his mind screams at him. Tells him this is a bad idea. It sounds too much like Noah and he jerks his head hard, makes it stop.
“That's gonna make you feel so good. And you know, nobody will know a thing.”
Luke breathes deep, clutches his fingers around the cellophane bag, and glances up. He knows what this is but – it hurts. Every day it hurts so much he can't think. He hates so much: his mother for marrying Damian before his father's body was cold, Damian for taking advantage, Noah for being...so damn noble and kind and a fucking pushover, himself for being weak. He just wants to stop, for just one second.
It's getting harder to numb it all.
He nods quickly then looks up. “I don't know how...”
The guy smiles wide, winks and pulls him back into the bar, grips his hand and says, “Name's Greyson.”
Luke doesn't care but manages a smile, a curt and quick “Luke.” He follows Greyson into the bathroom and watches silently while he locks the door. Pulls out the bag, grabs some paper towels and wipes down the counter. Luke almost wants to laugh because, Jesus fucking Christ, he feels like he's in one of those after school specials. He think of Noah's face if he said that and there's a tiny crack of warmth but Greyson is talking and Luke brings his attention back to him.
“Just sniff it. Go slow, man. First time can make you sick. So take it easy.” He hands Luke the little stub of straw he had used.
Luke grips it, takes a quick look at Greyson, who nods at him with a smile and he bends down, straw to white powder, takes in a small snort, then another and a third. Greyson makes some noise at him but Luke pushes away. He tries again and this time it's too much. It clogs the back of his throat and he coughs. Greyson laughs, patting his back and telling him it gets easier.
He wants to tell him to fuck off but his lungs burn a little and then it's this surge of...color...of feeling all over. But it's good. It doesn't make him want to punch the world. His limbs relax and he leans back on the wall, sliding down and he rolls his eyes back, lets it carry him off.
Lets it let him forget.
~October 2009~
Noah glances over at Luke again, smiles a little as his boyfriend drums fingers against the dashboard, singing badly to The Misfits. Luke catches his stare and grins wide, winking and turns back to watch the scenery as it passes them by.
It had been a long day but a good one. He hadn't been expecting the surprise birthday party and he would never admit it in a million years, even under torture from Luke's magic fingers, that he felt like a five year old when the whole Snyder clan had jumped out at him. They'd swarmed him with love and kisses and well-wishes. Luke had stayed by his side. Noah had hugged Emma for a few minutes when she'd told him how much Holden would have loved being there.
There was cake and presents and embarrassing stories and Luke.
Everything Noah really ever needed was Luke.
It makes his stomach warm when he thinks of all the trouble Luke had gone to planning the party. Noah hadn't been sure whether Luke would ever start recovering from losing Holden. He knew it would take a long time and Noah wasn't naive enough to think that Luke was anywhere near that but... he seemed better. He'd stopped drinking altogether and he seemed...more. Luke was just...more. Always had been. Made everything bigger.
And he was back to that. Like he hadn't been for those weeks after Holden's death.
He seemed...
Noah feels that little prick in the back of his head that quietly tells him something's wrong. That he knows better. But he ignores it. It's just his ridiculous need to worry about everything.
Luke's arm falls across the back of Noah's neck, fingers playing with the curls at his nape and he forgets that feeling. Only concentrates on the soft touch of Luke's hand.
He hears Luke sniff quietly and frowns, turns to watch him rub at his nose some. “Hey, you okay? Not catching a cold?”
Luke seems startled for a moment, eyes flashing with something Noah doesn't recognize but it's gone as quickly as it came and he gets a big smile. “Allergies.”
Noah studies him for a moment, that feeling intensifying but he just wants to enjoy the day more. “Oh, good. ‘Cause I'm not sure I would be keen to sticking my tongue down your throat if I ended up getting sick.”
Luke laughs, rumbling and deep, sending a shiver down Noah's spine when his hand curls around the back of Noah's neck.
Everything will be fine.
~~~*~~~
Luke closes the door behind him, hands start that shaking again and he reaches to lock the door. His family is nosy as hell. He should have known better than to agree to the Halloween party. Noah had to work and he could deal with them if Noah was there. On his good days.
But not today.
He tries not to picture Damian downstairs with his brother and sisters where his father should have been. That image should never even exist.
But it does.
And he can't even--
He pulls the baggie from his inside pocket, clears the counter, and lines up, bending, and taking it in so fast his head spins a little. He waits for that sensation, the honey looseness in his limbs and muscles. It takes a few minutes but it spreads out and he sighs happily.
That's good.
He can handle it like this.
Someone pounds on the door and he jumps, shoving the bag into its spot, washing off the remnants of powder down the drain. “Fucking hold on.” He pulls the door open and Aaron is staring at him, a little pissed off.
“You think you can watch the language, Luke. Kids are around here.”
Luke feels a little shamed but mostly it’s anger that wells up and he lashes out with it. “I didn't think Ethan or Nat could knock down the fucking door, Aaron. Figured it wasn't them.” He pushes past his brother's shocked face and stumbles on the stairs. He pauses, breathes deep and opens the door into the kitchen...
...and Noah's huge smile greets him.
“Hi, baby.”
His heart speeds up at the sight of his boyfriend, gut wrenching with guilt which he shoves down and reaches for Noah, sliding their lips together. This always makes him feel steady and he wishes that he could have Noah with him all the time. He dips his tongue in fast but pulls back when he hears a door slam. He glances at Aaron, face twisted in anger and swallows.
He feels Noah tense under his hands.
“You okay, Aaron?”
His brother's eyes narrow in his direction but his face clears and he gives Noah a genuine smile. “No, man. I'm a little tired. How are you?” He steps up and Luke shifts away, lets them hug and talk for a few minutes. Aaron excuses himself, never meeting Luke's stare as he walks out the door.
Noah frowns, looks back Luke. “Something happen?”
Luke flits his gaze at Noah, watches his face. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean,” Noah glances from the door to Luke then back, “you both seemed, I don't know, upset.” One hand grasps Luke's shoulder, dragging their bodies closer together. “What's going on, baby?”
He shrugs, tries not to be annoyed at the question. It's Noah being Noah. He loves him. “Aaron is being an asshole. I don't know.”
Noah's eyes widen in surprise but he doesn't say anything, just nods. “Okay.” Hands reach for Luke's face and he smiles softly, leans in to kiss Luke's mouth gently. When he pulls away his fingers brush over Luke's cheek and he gives Luke a bemused look. “Did you eat all the cookies?”
Luke blinks up in confusion.
Noah's smile grows wider and wiping away the remnants of Luke's secrets. “You had a little bit of flour on your face. I figured Emma corralled you into baking cookies.” He looks sadly at the kitchen counter. “But I'm guessing you Snyders, with your penchant for sweets, ate it all and forgot all about those of us that had to work.”
Luke tries to smile, hides his face in Noah's shoulder, and breathes in.
He doesn't answer because that would mean lying.
And he hasn't lied to Noah.
Not yet.
~~~*~~~~
His skin is crawling, fingers shake as he attempts to open the apartment door. Somehow, when he woke up late that morning, he'd forgotten to switch his stash to the jacket he'd grabbed going out the door. When he steps into the room, Noah stands up fast, eyes wide. Luke glances at the couch and grips the handle of the door hard.
“Aaron.”
“Luke.”
They hadn't been getting along at all lately. Aaron keeps looking in on him, asks him all kinds of question, always looking at him carefully. He suspects that Luke might be drinking. He'd so much as said so to him. But since he isn't, he can't prove it.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Noah.”
Luke closes the door soundly, sees Noah jump slightly and glares at his brother. “You trying to turn him against me again? Telling him I'm drinking when I'm not?”
“Luke, come on. Aaron's just worried...”
Luke's eyes shift to Noah and he snorts. “Of course, you're going to defend him. Could you maybe take my side for once?”
Noah's jaw clenches, a sure sign that his own temper is starting to rise and Luke feels something ugly and sharp rise in his chest. He wants Noah angry. Distracted. Anything that will keep him from knowing. Luke can't lose him.
But he can't go back to feeling all that pain every second.
“There aren't any sides, babe. Okay?”
Aaron nods, looks straight at Luke. “I'm not attacking you, Luke.”
Luke huffs out a derisive sound and steps back to the door. “Get out. Go home. Stop bothering my boyfriend.”
He watches his brother and boyfriend exchange glances, feels that anger boil over but before he explodes, Aaron starts for the door. He stops and stares at him. “Just so you know. Before you walked in here? Noah was telling me I was wrong. That he believes in you. Knows you.” The door opens and closes softly while Luke stares at it.
When he turns around, Noah has disappeared into the bathroom.
Luke heads to their closet, pulls out the small plastic bag, glances over his shoulder, dipping his pinky into the powder, pulls up as much as he can, brings it to his nose and inhales. He repeats that a few times until he can feel his muscles start to relax.
He just needs to get through this with Noah. He can't lose him, too. He stashes away the bag and closes the closet door firmly.
~~~~*~~~~
~November 2009~
“How long?”
Noah's stare is angrier than any Luke has ever seen much less experienced directly and he fights the urge to shrink back. His own gaze falls to Noah's hand holding up the see-thru bag that Luke had sworn he'd hidden inside his sock drawer all the way to the back. The thought makes Luke frown. Noah was looking through his private things. He was spying on Luke?
“Where did you get that?”
“The same place you hid it.” Noah's tone was calm but his words were bitten off at the end, like he couldn't say them, like he couldn't believe them.
His eyes flick to the bag, feels his body thrum knowing it's right at his reach and not there, really. Noah waits, blue eyes edged with worry and sadness and beyond that, anger.
What the fuck was he angry about? Luke knows somewhere that if anyone should have that right it's Noah but –
It's so fucking typical of Noah to think the worst of Luke, isn't it? He always had. Never waits for Luke to explain or doesn't care enough to back him up. He opens his mouth and the words that fall out surprise him as much as he can tell they do Noah.
“What the fuck business it that of yours?”
Noah blinks and then he stalks toward Luke, throws the bag at him, teeth clench together as he spits out, “What the fuck business is it of mine? Did I actually hear that shit, right? Did I?”
Luke meets him eye to eye, tries not to lunge for the bag at his feet. “I only use it when I need it, Noah.”
“And how often is that, Luke? How much of this do you need to take?” Noah covers his face, laughing mirthlessly. “I thought – I thought you were getting better – that you were dealing – but – Jesus, how the fuck did I not see this?” He glances at Luke and shakes his head. “I'm supposed to see you and I missed this.”
Luke doesn't want his feelings – guilt and pain and sorrow – to take over but there they are. Just under the surface like always. He can't tear his gaze from Noah. “It makes it better, Noah. Please. Don't. Don't hate me. I just needed to – it hurts less.”
“I could never hate you, Luke.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide and scared. “Why didn't you talk to me? Or someone? Anyone?”
“I don't know – I just – I couldn't breathe, Noah. All I felt was that pain. I miss him so much. So much. And it's -”
“Not your fault.”
Luke doesn't respond and he glances up to meet Noah's gaze. “I just need to feel something that isn't wanting to die.”
That seems to take the wind out of Noah's sails and he takes a step back, away. When he looks back at Luke, his eyes are wet, a little red and Luke feels his heart plummet. He hates to see Noah cry. He never wants to be the reason.
“How long?”
He could lie. He knows that. Noah would probably be better off if he did but there's still enough of what they have for him to save it. “A few months. It hasn't been that long, I swear. And I can – I can stop. I can. I just -”
“Then stop.”
Luke feels his lungs constrict and his heart leap into his throat, stomach drop. The voice is soft, sweet and when he sees Noah – really sees him – he feels the disappointment he'd been avoiding. In himself. With his mother. With Damian. With his life. With Noah.
Noah is there, though. Right there. Like always. Grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little. “Stop, baby.”
Luke's hands are shaking but he nods, curls his fingers in Noah's shirt and lets himself go.
“I promise. I promise, Noah.”
~~~*~~~
He wants to keep the promise he made. Noah suggests that Luke think about a rehab program, maybe outpatient treatment. He swears that he doesn't need it. That it's not that serious. He hides his tremors from Noah, takes a few “sample” pills Greyson had given him. They keep the edge off. He goes to meetings. Sits in the back and listens to people give their sad stories. Part of him understands but mostly he blocks out their words. He doesn't belong here. He's fine.
And he's doing fine. Luke thinks – until Ethan asks Luke when Daddy would be coming home and the wave of grief he'd been keeping behind the crumbling wall rushes out. He calls Noah to tell him he's going to an emergency meeting, tells him to stay home when he insists on tagging along.
He calls Greyson to meet him in the alley by Yo's. When he hands him a hit from one of his bags, Luke smiles at him, hands over the money. He can feel Greyson's eyes on him and something inside him enjoys that. He doesn't have to pretend here.
He goes home to Noah, smiles his good boy smile – that's what he calls it in his head – and lays down in a bed filling with lies and heartache that won't be avoided.
Greyson gives him a sample of some of “the best product, man” and Luke wants to say no. He sees Noah's face when the needle pinches into his skin. Those sad blue eyes hurt him and then they don't because he's lost in nothing. This wonderful nothing and he leans back into the wall. When Greyson's hand reaches inside his pants and curls around his cock, Luke wants to push away.
But he can't.
He doesn't.
He just arches up and floats away in the pleasure.
He doesn't think of blue eyes or home or love.
~~~*~~~
December 2009
Noah can't stop pacing from the window to the door and back. His hands tremble as he checks his phone. He's lost count of how many times he's looked. He can't even count the minutes since he'd last heard from Aaron or Casey.
He wants to be out there, looking for Luke
Noah wants to scream because he should have known. After Lily's announcement at Christmas dinner, it was inevitable that Luke would lose it. But he'd thought that he was enough to stop him.
There's a hand on his shoulder and when he turns, Lucinda hands him a cup of tea. Noah is sick of tea. He shakes his head only to sigh and take the damn thing when she simply raises an eyebrow at him. "If you're not going to eat, at least get something hot in your stomach.”
He responds by taking two large gulps then sets the tea down on the table and begins pacing again.
“Noah, sweetheart, you're going to make a groove in Emma's floor. Please sit down. You can worry that way, too.”
He does what she wants, mostly because he knows better than to argue.
But sitting makes all his thoughts louder and he rubs his dry eyes. Three days of no sleep – except the naps that Lucinda and Emma have made him take – start to wear him down. He keeps his eyes on the table when he says “I should have known.”
“Noah, please. Don't. You can't blame yourself.”
“I knew, Lucinda. I didn't tell anyone that he'd been doing drugs.”
“He asked you not to.”
“But I –“
“Noah.”
Her tone is brisk and hard. It makes him look up and she shakes her head. “You'd been down this road once with him before.”
That wasn't an excuse. He hadn't wanted to repeat his mistake from the election, that was true. He wanted to be there this time. Be the person Luke could trust. Turn to. The person who could save him.
But this was completely different.
And he should have seen it. He should have known.
Lucinda's hand covers his. “We'll find him, Noah.”
He wants to believe. Needs to.
Or he won't make it through.
If he lost Luke, Noah wasn't sure he could survive. Wouldn't want to.
~~~*~~~
It hurts to even try and move his head but he's cold. He tries to roll over to Noah's side, groans when his whole body hurts. When he opens one eye, the bed is empty...and it's not his bed...their bed. He can't – he doesn't know -
Luke bolts up, feels his stomach revolt against the move and leans his head down, touching his blanket clad knee, breathes through it until his hands are steady. He glances up, eyes bleary as he looks around the room. His eyes fall to the floor, find his clothes crumbled there.
He swallows, tries not to let the panic set in. He doesn't know where he is. He can't remember anything.
Moving carefully, he reaches for his jeans, his hands tremble again, and he wants something to cut the edge bad but he can't – he sees his hips painted in bruises and gulps down the urge to throw up. His shirt is filthy, stained completely and he doesn't want to know why or how.
He wants to go home.
He needs Noah.
There's a loud noise coming from the front room and he walks unsteadily down the hall until he finds the source of the sounds. He recognizes Greyson – naked and fucking a completely unmoving guy into the sofa. Luke leans one hand against the door frame and shakes his head.
Oh god. No. No. He doesn't – he flashes on being pinned down, letting someone turn him over. He remembers the fullness, the high of it and -
He falls slowly to his knees, takes in deep gulps and someone is standing over him. “Hey, kid? You okay?” The words are slurred but Luke can see some real concern on the face. The man is completely dressed and Luke hopes that he can still think.
“Can you tell me where we are, please?” He keeps his voice steady and stands when the other guy helps him to his feet. He gives Luke an address – he prays that it's the right one – and moves down the hall to the bedroom Luke had been in. He needs to leave.
He's pretty sure he doesn't have his car.
Luke thinks about the call he needs to make. Only thinks about the buttons he's pushing. Only thinks about the address he needs to give. Only thinks about going home.
He hears grunts on the television, the sound of laughter and he knows that whatever they are watching, he doesn't want to see. He wants to vomit. He wants to cry. He can't think. Think.
The call he makes is picked up before the first ring and he cries in relief when he hears the familiar deep voice.
“Luke?!!”
“Noah.” His voice is wrecked, totaled and he doesn't want to think why. He tries again and it sounds the same. “Noah, I'm – please – come get me. Please.” It breaks at the end and he starts to cry quietly into the phone.
“Baby, just tell me where you are. I need – oh god, don't cry, Luke. I'll be there. Just tell me.”
He can't make the words come out and he takes a few minutes to stutter the address into the phone. Noah begs him to stay on the line until he gets to him. Luke tries to breathe and listens to Noah's non-stop talking. His heart beats faster as he hears the sound of doors and tires. He can't go back to that room. He can't stay in the hall. He makes his way out the back and stumbles around the side of the house and ends up in the front yard.
He tells Noah what he's doing and hears the encouraging words and promises but he can't listen.
He doesn't know what he's done. He wants to lay down and just stop.
So he does.
The squeal of tires makes him look up and Noah is there, stepping out of a car idling across the street. Luke's heart skips and he scrambles to his knees on the lawn. Noah searches frantically until he finds Luke and then he's running, falling in front of him. Noah looks him over and then Luke is burying his face in Noah's chest, the tears he had held in wetting Noah's shirt.
Luke's sobs are loud and broken.
He feels someone else, hears Casey's voice thick with his own tears and knows when his friend drops to the ground, holds on to Luke's shoulder.
Noah's voice is gentle, kind and it makes Luke want to tear out of his skin because he doesn't deserve any of it.
When Noah gets up, he clutches harder and receives a quiet “It's okay, baby. I'm not going anywhere.” and then he's on his feet. He can't walk and without a pause, Noah has him in his arms and Luke hides his face in Noah's neck, tears still falling. He stays there the whole way home.
He wants to never leave.
~~~*~~~
January 1, 2010
“Sir, you can't go further than this, I'm sorry.”
Luke grips tighter on Noah's hand and he nods silently at the nurse. “Can we have a minute?”
She smiles and moves a few feet away to give them a semblance of privacy.
Noah gives him an encouraging smile and Luke wants to cry or throw up or run away. Or all three, really. He hates those smiles now. Reminds him of how much he's fucked up.
“They said I can come in two weeks to see you, so I'll be here, okay?”
Luke glances up and smiles gratefully. “Okay.”
“I love you.”
It hurts to hear that and he can't bring himself to return it no matter how much it's true. He loves Noah. So much that he can't live with who he is now. He doesn't know how he ever will.
“Same here.” he manages and then kisses Noah's mouth quickly before turning to follow the nurse out of the lobby and into the facility. He glances back and sees Noah still standing there watching Luke. He waves once and Luke feels something break inside at the distance growing between them.
He needs to get better.
He wants to do this for himself. For his family. For Noah.
Luke thinks that even if he does manage to get himself back, nothing will erase the damage he's done.
Nothing between him and Noah will be the same.
~~~*~~~
~Oakdale, April 2017 ~
Luke crosses his legs for the umpteenth time and glances up at the screen for the hundredth. The little green letters haven't changed since he last looked but he can't help it. Maybe he can time warp his way out of here and where he needs to be. He thinks Ethan would approve of that method. He smiles into his coffee at the thought of his little brother.
His phone vibrates in his jacket and he sets his coffee down, pulls it out and makes a face at the text that is waiting for him.
You called him yet, coward?
He types back: Don't be such a pain in my ass, Nat.
Then stares at the phone for a full minute before taking a deep breath and works his screen, pulls up the first name on his speed dial list and touches it fast. He smiles when he gets a song for the ring tone which turns into a laugh because it's such a ridiculous choice that he can't help it.
“Hello there, handsome.”
Luke rolls his eyes when his stomach flutters because after a decade he really should be used to that. “ABBA? Really?”
Noah's laugh is rich and strong, reminds Luke of so many things that he doesn't have, that his hand tightens around the phone from the overwhelming rush of it. He wants so bad it physically hurts. But he can't do anything about that.
Yet.
“It's completely your fault, Snyder. How many times was I forced to watch that damn movie?”
“You loved every minute of it, don't front now, Mayer.”
There is a long pause before Noah responds, voice low and a little more than wistful. “I very much did.”
It makes Luke's heart stutter a few beats and he waits out the quiet filled with everything that can never be said between them. Talking with Noah is a study in happiness and longing that Luke is still getting used to balancing.
“So what's going on?”
Luke smirks and shrugs even though Noah can't see him. “What? I can't call my best friend?”
“Um... well, seeing as you never call this early in the day and, you know, on an actual weekday, I have to wonder what may be so important that it requires actual voice on voice action instead of text.”
“You're a perceptive man, Mayer. It must come with age.”
Noah snorts. “I try. And I'm not even seven months older than you so shove it.”
Luke laughs at that, the sound carrying around him. Almost no one can make him feel the way he does when he talks to Noah. Like a part of himself is coming through that can't with anyone else. “You're just jealous that I'm still this good looking.”
He knows Noah is grinning now, fiddling with some papers or a pen on his desk, feet swung up on the edge of it.
“Tell me, how do you fit that huge head of yours through doors these days?”
“Usually takes a crowbar.” Luke's chest fills with warmth as Noah laughs and he asks as he throws his coffee in the trash, “How is La-La land treating you guys?”
“It's good. Hot the last week but we're surviving.”
There's an announcement over the airport intercom and Luke covers the mouthpiece to muffle most of the static background noise. When he comes back there's a tense silence and he bites his lip that he can pull this off.
“You at the airport?”
Luke grimaces. “Yeah. Going on a trip.”
Noah pauses before making an interested sound. “Business? Pleasure?”
Luke purses his lips. “A little of both. It's why I called. In case I can't for a little bit.”
There's another pregnant silence and Luke can feel Noah debating what to say.
“Is everything okay?”
Luke smiles. “I promise you, Mom. I'm good.”
He waits to see if Noah will push and sighs in quiet relief when he doesn't. “Okay. But I expect some kind of contact in the next few days, Luke. I fucking mean it. I will search the world over for you and kick your ass if you don't, got it?”
That's so like Noah and it makes Luke love him more if that's at all possible. “I got it.”
“Okay. Good. Have a safe trip. Call me at some point, please. And get me something pretty.”
Luke laughs. “I can do that.” He sees the board change and he rises to his feet. “I should go. I'll be in touch.”
“Damn right.” Then Noah sighs and Luke can feel worry building. He wants to do something about that. But he can't.
Yet.
“I got to go, Noah. Love you.” He always says that. He can't explain how much ever and he's not sure Noah can hear it.
“Love you, too. Be careful.”
The line goes dead and Luke grabs his carry on as he moves to the assigned gate. He glances down at his plane ticket displaying Flight 817: Los Angeles International across the center and waits his turn to board.
|Part One|
