[One day Luke will realise America’s easy charm is cheesy as fuck. Right now his entire being can be summed up with gawky squealing noises that only increase in intensity until America decides they should fall in love all over again and Luke looks like all his excitement is about to run out of his burst eyeballs and into this cuppa joe he’s been stirring intently for the past three minutes.
There are no actual squealing noises, of course, because Luke is the very opposite of the roaring and bawling and rustling of dark grasses. Already withdrawn, he reacts to disasters letting them sink into him like a stone in a deep well. After the trauma of Valentines day his muteness fell on him and drained up into his kisses. It kept him from saying simple words like I Love You, until it was easier to say nothing at all and lie next to America, hoping he understood the sentiment behind tender touches and thoughtful actions and fucking taping his guts back together.
Not the grossest thing Luke’s ever done with a body, but it’s up there.]
Guess a bit of you was still here with me.
[His mouth twists at his own dark joke. It’s not like he was comforted by falling asleep and catching a glimpse of America’s painstaking thoughts, stained with blood and viscera and flecks of things Luke can’t identify. Except he was, in a gruesome way. Luke’s used to people dying and leaving nothing behind. No body, no burial. Nothing but memories. In some ways it was nice, keeping some small part of him close by, tended to like a well-kept gravestone. Except it was a keen reminder that America hadn’t faded into nothingness. Somewhere, he was alive and happy. Going along his own path.
And he did know. Luke didn’t have to spend a week hating himself because America did know Luke loved him, and he wants Luke to keep loving him and Luke thinks he might do just that.
He wishes he was younger, so the words he wants to say wouldn’t stick in his throat, clogged up behind shame and self-awareness. But if he was younger, he wouldn’t care so much about being in love. He wouldn't like America for being like him, and he wouldn't find joy in being attracted to someone, or in America's flattering and uncertain feelings.]
I never know what you mean.
[And now they’re two sappy teenagers engaged in a disturbing staring contest, looking at something beautiful that they don’t understand. America pours all his passion and joy and life into his movements, and his words are free and light when Luke obsesses over crafting perfect polished sentiments, as if he can make the world right and sensible if he finds the right thing to say. But it’s okay. If neither of them comprehend the other all that well, love isn’t lessened by it.
Not caring (or rather, not realising) that America’s going to give him ringworm, Luke waits for him to take his shitty instant coffee before settling down on the opposite end of the bed, leg tucked under him as he starts on his vinegary chips with extra vinegar.]
Barbecue snake? How d’you get into a situation where you have to seriously consider eating a snake? That doesn't sound like the high life.
[Those people he’s dating can’t have been treating him right. Luke is clearly the superior provider, even if this chicken will give them salmonella.]
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There are no actual squealing noises, of course, because Luke is the very opposite of the roaring and bawling and rustling of dark grasses. Already withdrawn, he reacts to disasters letting them sink into him like a stone in a deep well. After the trauma of Valentines day his muteness fell on him and drained up into his kisses. It kept him from saying simple words like I Love You, until it was easier to say nothing at all and lie next to America, hoping he understood the sentiment behind tender touches and thoughtful actions and fucking taping his guts back together.
Not the grossest thing Luke’s ever done with a body, but it’s up there.]
Guess a bit of you was still here with me.
[His mouth twists at his own dark joke. It’s not like he was comforted by falling asleep and catching a glimpse of America’s painstaking thoughts, stained with blood and viscera and flecks of things Luke can’t identify. Except he was, in a gruesome way. Luke’s used to people dying and leaving nothing behind. No body, no burial. Nothing but memories. In some ways it was nice, keeping some small part of him close by, tended to like a well-kept gravestone. Except it was a keen reminder that America hadn’t faded into nothingness. Somewhere, he was alive and happy. Going along his own path.
And he did know. Luke didn’t have to spend a week hating himself because America did know Luke loved him, and he wants Luke to keep loving him and Luke thinks he might do just that.
He wishes he was younger, so the words he wants to say wouldn’t stick in his throat, clogged up behind shame and self-awareness. But if he was younger, he wouldn’t care so much about being in love. He wouldn't like America for being like him, and he wouldn't find joy in being attracted to someone, or in America's flattering and uncertain feelings.]
I never know what you mean.
[And now they’re two sappy teenagers engaged in a disturbing staring contest, looking at something beautiful that they don’t understand. America pours all his passion and joy and life into his movements, and his words are free and light when Luke obsesses over crafting perfect polished sentiments, as if he can make the world right and sensible if he finds the right thing to say. But it’s okay. If neither of them comprehend the other all that well, love isn’t lessened by it.
Not caring (or rather, not realising) that America’s going to give him ringworm, Luke waits for him to take his shitty instant coffee before settling down on the opposite end of the bed, leg tucked under him as he starts on his vinegary chips with extra vinegar.]
Barbecue snake? How d’you get into a situation where you have to seriously consider eating a snake? That doesn't sound like the high life.
[Those people he’s dating can’t have been treating him right. Luke is clearly the superior provider, even if this chicken will give them salmonella.]