Luke’s Interlude #4
Luke has spent most of his life going with the flow. From an early age, he learned that following the leader was his best bet in life, whether that leader be Maverick, Regina, or even his own mother. He’s learned to bite his tongue, to hold himself back just to keep the status quo. To maintain the peace at all costs.
And look at where that’s gotten him.
The recording studio is dark when he pulls up, fishing the key out of his glove compartment before stepping out into the night. It’s past two in the morning by now, and it feels like the whole world’s gone to bed. It’s just Luke now.
He’s not supposed to have a key to the studio, but Marco really looks the other way so long as Luke cleans up after himself and is out before the first appointment of the day. Luke’s spent many nights hiding out here, strumming his bass and scribbling lyrics until the wee hours of the morning. Anything to block out the noise inside his head. The recording booth feels like its own universe—a little bubble, floating independently of everything around it.
There have been many days, years really, when Brookside Records felt more like home than his own house did. That really only started to change in the past few weeks. Chloe’s mere presence made that house more a home than it had ever been before.
And now because he didn’t bite his tongue, and he didn’t keep the peace, and he didn’t go with the flow, she’s gone. Grabbed her bag and slipped out into the night like sand running through his fingers while he helplessly tried to hold on.
Because how can you hold on to something—someone—when they don’t want to be held by you?
Luke hums, dropping down on the too-hard couch. That could be a decent lyric, he thinks. It’s been his go-to coping mechanism since he was sixteen, turning his feelings into songs. Still, in the moment, it feels more than a little wrong.
He writes the line down anyway. He hasn’t turned on any of the lights, so only the dim emergency lights illuminate the room at all. It’s a little hard to see as he writes, but it numbs him. And for a brief moment, he forgets why he’s here and not with Chloe.
Twenty minutes feel like twenty seconds, and then the lights flick on out of the blue. Luke winces at the sudden brightness, and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust as he searches for the lightswitch on the wall. Mav’s hand is still on it, like someone pressed pause on him when he spotted Luke.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks blankly. Luke bristles.
‘I was here first. What are you doing here?’ he shoots back, more than a little annoyed that he’s clearly not the only one who has his own key to Brookside. Mav just huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door jamb. His blond hair is messy, the way it gets when he’s been running his hands through it over and over.
‘Just—’ Mav starts. ‘Didn’t want to go home.’ He looks down at his shoes, looking uncertain in a way Luke has never seen him before. Any other day, Luke would ask.
Any day that didn’t have the potential love of his life walking out on him, that is.
Any sort of numbness that his songwriting had brought him rushes away at that thought, leaving him to feel the full brunt of everything. Chloe, with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe in them. Believe in him.
The one person in his life who really believed in him, who helped him accomplish something so daunting. But she won’t believe that he’s here to stay.
‘Yeah,’ he says to Mav, a beat too late. ‘Me too.’
Mav quirks an eyebrow, but the smug look doesn’t hit like it normally does. He pushes off the door frame and makes his way to the spot on the couch next to Luke.
‘Writing a new song instead of cuddling with your girl?’ he asks lightly, and he definitely does not miss the way Luke flinches. Luke tries to block the notebook, but Mav’s too quick and snatches it right off the arm of the couch. His eyebrows rise and rise as he’s written the half-baked words Luke’s written, then lets out a low whistle. ‘Not your girl anymore, then?’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Luke snaps, wrenching the book back.
Mav plops down on the couch next to him, making a show of groaning at the stiff cushions. Marco really needs to invest in a better couch. Luke flips the notebook shut—the short reprieve that songwriting had given him was clearly over.
Mav reached over and plucked one of the guitars off the wall, settling it in his lap to tune it. The two of them don’t talk for a while, the both of them clearly having some shit going on inside.
Though Luke has no idea what could have Maverick hiding out at two thirty in the morning.
After a bit, though, the air starts to feel heavy. Suffocating. Mav plucks a mindless tune on the guitar, the soft music wafting in the air.
‘Chloe went home,’ Luke admits in a whisper. Mav’s fingers pause only for a second.
‘To pack?’ he asks, though he clearly knows the answer.
‘To stay.’ Luke’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s been crying all night like he’s wanted to. God, being in love is so stupid! Giving someone the power to hurt you like this is the worst. ‘Everything got too real for her, so she left.’
‘And what are you going to do about it?’
‘What is there to do, Mav?’ Luke asks helplessly, hating how tears sting at his eyes. He runs a hand through his curls, pulling hard at the ends like the pain on his scalp will overshadow the pain in his chest. ‘If she doesn’t want to take a chance on me, how can I change that?’
Maverick lets the guitar slide from his grasp, landing with a thud on the thin carpet. He rubs his hand over his jaw, giving Luke a weary look. A knowing look.
‘I don’t know, Luke,’ he says softly. ‘Maybe it’s time to stop riding in the passenger seat and take control of what you want for once.’
‘But, I?—’
‘—let others take the lead, I know.’ Mav smirks, a little rueful. He shakes his head. ‘Maybe I’ve taken advantage of that more than a few times. But maybe, you can’t get away with just gliding by with Chloe.’
Luke sighs, staring at an odd stain in the carpet by his foot. Mav’s words swirl around and around in his head—from the start, Luke’s had to take the lead with Chloe. It was abnormal for him, yes, but it also felt so natural with her.
Chloe’s voice whispers in his mind; her fears and insecurities laying themselves out in front of him. He wants to wipe them away, from his mind and hers too.
Mav nudges him in the side. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere hiding out here, you know.’
Luke nods, shooting him a grateful smile. Mav’s is a little dim—Luke needs to remember to ask about what’s bothering him later—but it still warms him. ‘I gotta go,’ he says.
Mav waves him off, leaning to grab the notebook. ‘I’m gonna work on this song, then.’
‘Just throw it in the garbage.’
‘Nah, there’s something salvageable here,’ Mav teases him. ‘I’ll find it. I’m good at finding diamonds in the rough. Clearly.’ He gives Luke a pointed look.
Luke just rolls his eyes, but the jab doesn’t sting like it might have before. It feels like ribbing between friends—which is actually kind of nice. As he makes his way out the door, Mav shouts behind him, ‘Hey! If the baby’s a boy, you’d better name it after me!’