Title adapted from "Wheesht, wheesht" by Hugh MacDiarmid
This probably doesn't make sense if you haven't read Never Met, Never Parted, Ne'er Broken-Hearted, so be sure to read that first!
1.
"What's taking so long?" Alex groans as he flounces into Luke's bedroom.
From his spot in Luke's desk chair, without looking up from his phone, Reggie hums out, "Luke's getting pretty for Julie."
Luke tears his eyes from the mirror, where he's been fussing with his misbehaving hair for the past three minutes. "What's that supposed to mean?" Alex and Reggie exchange a glance, the corner of Alex's mouth squirming in a poorly contained smile. "What?"
Alex tucks his hands into his pockets, leans back against the door jamb, and raises an eyebrow. "Do you really not know?"
"Know…?"
"That you have a crush on Julie."
Luke's mind slaps the idea away immediately, like he's desperately spiking a dangerous volleyball. "No, I don't." Alex's eyebrow somehow finds space on his forehead to rise higher. "Sure, she's cute, but a lot of people are cute."
Cute is a mild word to describe her. He still remembers the first time he saw her at the airport, stumbling toward the shuttle and scrubbing exhaustion from her eyes. She was optimistically dressed in pajamas that suggested that she'd tried to sleep on the plane, though her repeated, giant yawns indicated that she probably hadn't been successful. Overall, her whole vibe was overwhelmed and bone-weary and out of fucks to give. Cute's a word, but the wrong word. "Beautiful" was what came to mind at the time, and when she caught him looking at her and flashed him a bemused smile, his stomach lurched aggressively. A sensation that only got worse when he read the words on her shirt—LA College of Music—and realized that she was probably a musician. Probably a very talented musician.
By now, they've known her for almost two months, and she still hasn't really explained her silence or discomfort around music, but she can't hide her musicianship. Because it leeks out of her even when she's trying to hold it back. It's there in her fingers tapping out a syncopated rhythm when a song comes on in the background. In the words she chooses when she talks about music in class or after live performances. In the way she hums hymns under her breath whenever they visit famous churches on their travels. In the type of feedback she gives on Sunset Curve songs when he shows her pages in his notebook. She's bursting with artistry and talent and the soul of music itself, and the cave she's built to hide from her musical self can't conceal the fact that she's a kindred spirit.
So, yeah, "cute" doesn't really describe Julie. But cute isn't the important part. She's Julie, and she's rapidly become one of the best friends he's ever had, and she's a wrecking ball of musical brilliance, and…
"She lives in LA."
Reggie giggles. "That's your answer to 'you have a crush on Julie'?"
"I don't have a crush," Luke snaps, wincing at the petulant whine in his voice. "And even if I did—"
Alex snorts. "Famously, when people don't feel something, they talk about the hypothetical situation where they do."
"Why are you encouraging this?" Luke gestures his eyebrows pointedly. Alex spent the months leading up to their year abroad stressing about being separated from Willie, and the past two months have been filled with a lot of moping disguised as pacing. Alex has basically become the posterchild for how shitty long-distance relationships can feel.
A role he clearly doesn't appreciate, if the glare he cuts at Luke is any indication. "I'm not encouraging anything, except for you being in touch with your feelings."
"I don't have any feelings."
Alex huffs loudly, but there's a knock from the front door that's definitely Julie. So Luke yanks a beanie over his useless hair and rushes to answer the door.
Reggie had insisted that the Samhuinn Fire Festival was a "classic Scottish experience," but as the four of them make their way up Calton Hill, winding past various fire exhibits and performers dressed in nothing but paint, Luke starts to suspect that this is a niche cultural practice rather than a mainstream Scottish activity.
He also suspects that, for all his "I'm from Boston, I'll face any weather in any outfit" swagger, he'll never have the courage of the naked performers dancing around the exposed hilltop in the late October chill.
Reggie is having the time of his life, rushing around to try to see everything and desperately pouring through the thick brochure to read about the significance of what's going on. Meanwhile, Alex is trying to avoid standing anywhere near the fire displays or making eye contact with any naked performers. The contrast between the two is so stark, and normally Luke would be exchanging glances with Julie and giggling with her about his friends' antics, but right now he feels too self-conscious. Apparently anything he does will be scrutinized by Alex and Reggie and used as evidence against him, so he has to maintain a very normal dynamic with her.
He's still in the middle of figuring out what a normal dynamic with Julie is when Reggie sees… Luke actually isn't sure, because the bassist lets out of a squeak and sprints away without providing any details. Alex groans and rushes after him, looking eerily like a harried, underpaid babysitter.
And leaving Luke and Julie alone.
"Uh, you wanna go anywhere in particular?" Luke asks, trying not to look at her for too long as he gestures at the various exhibits around the hilltop.
"Bonfire?" She tries to play it cool, but he can read the LA in her voice. He'll never admit that he's actually a bit cold himself—sure, he's used to colder weather and, intellectually, he's not impressed by a fall that's not leading into a snow-heavy winter, but there's a dampness to the chill in Scotland that soaks into his chest. Like the constant moisture of Scottish air means that it seeps into every pore and freezes and doesn't let go. Maybe won't let go until spring.
But while Luke's just chilly, Julie is trembling in a coat that's not thick enough for the windy hill, so he follows her to the giant bonfire set up on the edge of the hill. At the moment it's just a huge pile of wood taunting them with the promise of future warmth, but Julie stakes out a spot right at the front.
As they wait for the lighting ceremony, Luke tugs out his notebook and she shines the flashlight of her phone on the pages, and he gets so sucked into workshopping the lyrics of "Bright" with her that it takes a while to notice the way she's vigorously rubbing the hand holding the phone with her other hand to try to warm it up.
When she catches him watching, she offers a sheepish smile. "I don't own gloves."
Normally he would tease her, but she's shivering so aggressively that he can actually hear her teeth chattering in the wind, so he whips the beanie off of his head.
"I've already got a hat."
Shaking his head with a grin, he takes her phone and slips it into her coat pocket. He gently wraps the beanie around her hands, twisting the knit snugly around her wrists to keep out the chill. Glancing up from her hands, he catches a look on her face that he doesn't decipher in time before she blinks it away.
"Better?" he asks, almost wincing at how hushed his voice is.
Eyes unfocused, she nods. "No LA joke?"
"Not until after you defrost." Realizing his hands are still wrapped around hers, he rubs them, trying to transfer extra heat through the knit.
A soft grin squeaks out of her lips, and it's at that moment that the festival organizers light the bonfire. As the flames grow, the light catches on her face, weaving a golden glow into her skin and the strands of her hair. He knows the light comes from the bonfire, but for a moment, it's like the light is coming from inside of her, like she's the sun fallen to earth, a goddess in mortal form.
Fuck.
He has a crush.
2.
"Are you two going to be okay over Christmas?" Alex asks as he slides into the seat across from Luke.
It takes Luke a moment to tug his eyes from the dance floor of the pub. Reggie is spinning Julie quickly and she's giggling, and Luke can hear the sound in his head even though he can't actually hear it over the band and the general din of the pub. Just the thought of the sound is enough to pull a grin onto his face.
Which promptly drops when he glances across the table and catches Alex's skeptical expression. "Yeah, it's gonna be fun."
Alex swirls the straws in his rum and coke. "Oh, I'm not worried that it's not going to be fun. I'm worried that it's going to be too much fun without me and Reg there as a buffer."
"We're not like that."
"Sure, Jan."
"We're not. She doesn't feel… it's not a thing." Alex's face falls, his forehead wrinkling with pity that Luke doesn't want. Slipping an eye back toward Julie, like she'll be able to hear them, Luke lowers his voice. "It's just a crush. Doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just some unrequited feelings I gotta lock in a box."
Alex's cheeks puff with a restrained laugh. "Wow, there's a lot to unpack there, but let's start with 'unrequited'? Are the youths defining that differently these days?"
"Dude, you're younger than me."
Alex shrugs primly as he sips at his drink. "Not emotionally."
"You've met her. There's no way—"
"Yeah, I've met her. Which is why I know that this isn't unrequited. The real question is… do you remember that she lives in LA?"
Luke swallows sharply. "Obviously."
"But do you get the significance of that? Long distance relationships aren't impossible, but they can really suck and you have to communicate." Alex's voice turns delicate and his gaze slips longingly toward his lockscreen—a picture of Willie grinning over the rim of his skateboard.
Luke's jaw snaps so fiercely that the click of the bones vibrates his head. He knows Julie lives in LA. He does. But when he thinks about returning to Boston, he pictures her there. And he has to actively remind himself that she won't be coming back to school with them. Just because the four of them have become this inseparable unit in Scotland doesn't mean they'll continue as that unit when they leave. She'll go back to her coast, and they'll go to theirs, and maybe that's the end of this friendship. Maybe the four of them only exist in this country.
Alex drums his fingers against the table in Luke's eyeline to draw his attention. "Luke?"
Slumping further into his seat, Luke can feel how excessive his pout is, but he can't reel it back. "I wasn't gonna say anything. You don't have to worry about it."
"… that's the opposite of what I'm saying. I think you two need to talk about it. Get on the same page."
"There's no same page to get on. I'm on one page with my crush—"
"—crush?—"
"—and she's in a completely different book with no feelings, and that's fine. That is what it is."
"…that is not what it is."
"Alex, she and I aren't gonna talk about it, okay? That's never happening."
"What's never happening?" Reggie slides into the seat next to Alex with a large glass of bright orange soda.
Smoothly deflecting, Alex wrinkles up his face. "How much Irn Bru have you had?"
"Four pints."
"Please switch to alcohol. It can't be healthy to drink, like, a gallon of tonic."
Julie laughs, the sound surprising Luke from behind his back. "Tonic?"
A stream of giggles seeps out of Reggie, the sugar clearly having settled into his system and combined poorly with all his post-dancing adrenaline. "Alex has an old soul. Boston has moved on from tonic—we call it soda now."
Luke leans back his head, bringing Julie's upside-down face into view. "What do you call it in Cali?"
"Soda." Then the corner of her mouth curls up in a teasing smile. "And we don't call it Cali."
"Cuz you've got nothing better to do out there than say all four syllables?"
She gives his forehead a gentle, defiant flick, and his heart spikes at the playful brush of her finger against his skin.
It's just a crush.
"Wanna do the next dance with me?" he asks.
She braces her forearms on the back of the chair next to him and grins. "Only if there's no linking arms. I'm not letting you spin me. You go too hard—I always end up with bruised elbows."
"It's cause of the biceps," Reggie says, slowly nodding his head like he's offering grave wisdom.
Alex's eyebrow raises. The movement is very slight—probably too small for Julie to clock, but Luke has known that face since kindergarten. And he knows it spells danger. But there's nothing he can to stop Alex from innocently asking, "Are Luke's rock-hard biceps causing problems for you, Julie?"
Luke bugs his eyes at Alex and tries to kick his foot under the table, but he catches Reggie by accident, and the bassist splutters Irn Bru all over the table.
But Julie isn't derailed. "His biceps are fine." A sentence that Luke definitely isn't going to obsessively unpack later. "The problem is his…" She gestures her hands vaguely.
Alex nods with understanding. "Personality."
"Enthusiasm?" Reggie suggests.
"A bit of both." Julie tosses Luke a wicked grin that steals his breath.
He's saved from having to defend himself when the cèilidh band leader calls out the next dance. "Pairs, come up for The Gay Gordons!"
A grin squirms onto his face, and Luke holds out his hand. "C'mon, boss. You promised me a dance."
She slides her palm across his more slowly than seems necessary, and every nerve ending on his hand goes off with an explosive firework as her skin comes into contact with it. If she notices the shiver that runs through him, she doesn't acknowledge it. "Okay. Try to keep up."
They're at the point in their cèilidh-attending career where they vaguely know most of the popular dances, but still fumble while keeping up with the shouted instructions. Not that they're alone in their ignorance by any means—Scots may have learned some of the dances in school, but most people don't actually go to weekly cèilidhs or have all the dances memorized.
But Luke knows this one, and he immediately regrets asking her to do it with him, because they start by standing side-by-side, with his right arm looped around her shoulder to hold her right hand, and their left hands clutched together in front of him.
It's a lot of hand-holding and a lot of proximity.
When Luke looks around and realizes that no one else is in position yet, he lets out an awkward chuckle and releases Julie's left hand so that he can wipe his sweaty palm on his jeans.
Ever since the bonfire, he's been hyperaware of her. So conscious of her presence, always a bit more keyed up, bouncing just a little bit more.
… and then they did karaoke on Guy Fawkes Night and he heard her voice for the first time, and now he's an absolute wreck every time he's near her. Before he heard her voice, she was this amazing girl with a brilliant musical mind and a fierce kindness and a playfully sensible attitude and a smile that left him dizzy. Then she opened her mouth and unleashed that powerhouse of a voice and now when he's around her he feels weak in the knees and butterflies in his stomach. Like that one time he thought Eric Clapton passed him on the street, and Luke—someone who never thought he'd get star struck—became almost faint with musical intimidation.
Julie isn't just a cute, incredible girl he has a crush on. She's also his musical hero and those feelings are all tangled up inside him and apparently the end result is that his palms refuse to stay dry in her presence.
Unleashing a nervous chuckle, she peers up at him through her eyelashes. Good god, how is she so close? "You okay there?"
"Yeah. Just warm in here."
She leans in even closer, which is not helping to keep his hands dry. "Is this going to be you all winter break? Me freezing and you claiming that it's too warm?"
"Spoiler alert—I'm gonna be right."
Bemused, she laughs. "I don't think you know what a spoiler is."
"Course I do. It's when I'm correct about the weather."
A giggle pulls out of her and she scrunches up her nose at him in delight. He can't help but scrunch his nose back and, for just a second, their faces are too close and her eyes slip down his nose and come to rest on his mouth. With his arm around her, he can feel her body go still, and the hand clasped in his turn slightly clammy, and when her eyes dart back up to his, there's a nervousness in them.
When she seems to realize he was watching her eye movement, she blinks repeatedly and shakes her head, like she's clearing an Etch A Sketch. "What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing." But his smile only grows, and her nose scrunches up again, and the butterflies in his stomach beat their wings so aggressively that he almost giggles.
He's still pretty sure that they don't need to talk about this.
But… okay, fine. He doesn't just have a crush.
And from the way she's looking at him, neither does she.
3.
"Sooo, how was Jukebox Month?"
"Yeahh, I think most people call it winter break, Reggie."
Before Alex and Reggie can get lost in their banter, Luke groans and throws himself down face first on the couch. "It was amazing, and it sucked."
There's a gentle sway in the couch, a sway that feels like Alex sitting on the arm of the couch next to him. "Sucked why?"
"We talked about us," Luke mumbles into the cushion. Realizing he's probably not super audible, he turns his head to stare listlessly at Reggie, who perches on the coffee table in front of him. "Well, kinda. And I think we're on the same page."
Reggie rests his face in the cradle of his hands, eyes lighting up. "You said I love you!?"
Luke scrambles up, squatting back on his heels and staring between the two of them with horror. "What? No, we just—it's not love."
Alex and Reggie glance at one another, and snort with an eerie synchronicity.
Luke waits for them to say more, but there's an air of exasperation that hangs heavy around them. Heavy enough that he gets the itchy feeling that they talked about this over break. Maybe even on the plane ride back to Scotland. And based on the weariness on their faces, they've probably come to the conclusion that they're exhausted by the whole Luke/Julie thing.
"Wait, do you think Jules thinks that I'm—" Luke can't bring himself to say "in love with her," but the guys get it.
Reggie shrugs. "She does if she has any sense."
"Which she normally does," Alex adds. "But I'm not convinced either of you are being reasonable about this."
"I don't love her," Luke tries.
"See? Evidence."
For the next couple of days, Luke attempts to shove the conversation out of his mind, but the thought hovers in the back of his brain like a swarm of bees waiting to descend. He's so sure that what he feels isn't love. But it doesn't feel like anything he's ever felt before. The giddy elation that makes his stomach soar whenever he sees her. The pure joy that rushes into him every time she smiles, as if her happiness feeds his. The sharp buzz that runs through every inch of him… except for his heart. His heart is so calm and content in her presence, and the contrast between a body sparking with electricity and a heart that practically purrs is dizzying.
He's not sure what to call that.
And then he's at home, making himself a final cup of bedtime brew at 3 am, when he hears a knock at the front door.
He opens it without thinking about the fact that he's dressed for sleep, and his heart comes to its usual halt when he sees Julie. Wearing her glasses and pajamas, complete with the ridiculous slippers that make him feel soft and fond. Her eyes blink rapidly, like she's startled, and he's about to make a joke about her being surprised to find him in his own flat…
… when the rush of cold air from the outside hallway reminds him that he's not wearing a shirt.
He starts to reach an arm across his chest to shield part of him from view, but that just makes it more awkward, right? So instead he snaps the hand to his hip, trying to lounge casually against the door.
Her eyes raise to his, eyebrow curving upwards with bemusement. "You know it's mid-winter, right? It's too cold to be shirtless."
Okay, good. Weather banter—he can handle this. "I know Angelenos and Scots think that this counts as cold."
"Your nipples think it's cold too." As soon as the words leave her mouth, her eyes bug out the way she does when she realizes she's been too honest.
If he felt like being generous, he'd let it go. But right now, with the hush of 3 am around them, he doesn't, and a sly grin erupts on his face. "My eyes are up here, boss."
She crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin primly. "I'm looking at your eyes. But I have good peripheral vision, and it's hard to ignore your nipples because you're clearly very cold."
"Maybe I'm not cold. Maybe I'm—"
He clicks his mouth shut, but it's too late. A nervous giggle stumbles out of her lips and her gaze shoots to her feet.
Fuck. Why on earth did he say that? Why did he have to make this weird?
"Sorry, I dunno why I said… I am cold. Um, you okay? Did you need something?"
It's not the first time she's come over in the middle of the night knowing he'll be up. Like on the anniversary of her mother's death, when she finally confessed her struggles with music, tucking herself into the circle of his arms and sniffing into his shirt until her breathing returned to normal. Or like the night before her music theory exam, when she begged him to watch Doctor Who with her to distract her.
Julie appearing on his doorstep in the middle of the night had always meant something big was happening, so he forces his embarrassment to take a back seat.
Keeping her eyes on her feet, she holds out a receipt. "I had a thought."
His fingers tweeze the paper. "You know you can click 'no' when the self-checkouts ask if you want these?"
Her shoulder flicks up in a shrug that's trying too hard to be casual. "I couldn't sleep because Finally Free was stuck in my head—"
He can't keep back his delight. "Free was stuck in your head?"
Sliding her eyes up to his, a grin yanks at the corners of her lips. A joy that his own mouth can't help but mimic, a dopey grin stretching his face.
She shrugs again, this time pulling off casual a bit better. "It's an earworm. And I thought of some lyrics that might work for the second verse. Did you want them?"
I love you.
He doesn't know how he keeps the words inside his mouth, but he swallows them sharply and nods his head. "Uhh, yeah, of course I want your brilliance." Without thinking about it, he tucks the crinkled paper against his chest over his heart. "You wanna come in and workshop it?"
Her gaze slips longingly past him into the empty flat and she gives a small nod, but then her eyes pull reluctantly back to his. "Probably shouldn't."
The air between them feels thick with that near acknowledgement, and when she gnaws on her bottom lip, he can't keep his eyes from tracing the movement. He's honestly not sure whether he could have looked away of his own accord if she didn't freeze and tuck her teeth back into her mouth.
He slides his gaze back up the curve of her cheeks until he reaches the brown pools of her eyes staring right into his. His heart punches against his ribs.
Fuck. He really does love her.
Her eyes are darting between his eyes and his lips, and it's way too late at night, and he's far too shirtless for this.
"Yeah, you should probably go," he rasps out hoarsely. That dazed expression still on her face, she nods but doesn't move away. "Uh, we could work on it tomorrow, maybe? When the boys are awake."
The daze clears from her eyes and she nods. "Sounds good. I'll come by after breakfast?"
"Come over when you're hungry, I'll make you something. Payment for your killer lyrics."
As she nods and backs away, he leans through the doorway, watching as she slides over to her flat. The way he always does if she goes home after dark. When she unlocks the door, her eyes slip back to his. Normally she teases him about walking her home. But tonight the corner of her mouth flinches up in a sad, grateful smile. "Night, Luke."
"Night."
4.
"Didn't you already eat dinner?"
Luke refuses to look up from the pan. "This is for Jules."
He can hear rather than see Alex lean against the counter next to him. "And did she ask you to cook her dinner?"
"Nah, but she said she got to the airport too late to get food, so…"
As he watches the spinach sizzle and shrink down in the pan, Luke waits for his heart to be subjected to a similar sensation—Alex calling him out on his bullshit the way only Alex can. Tossing a cold dose of reality on that little anticipatory dance of joy that's been running through Luke ever since he came up with his plan to meet Julie at the bus station.
For safety. It'll be 1 am when she gets in, and a twenty-minute walk across town while she's tired and out of it. It's 90% about safety. And only 10% about the fact that he's missed her so much during every second of her weekend trip to Venice that he ended up doodling her name in the margins of his notebook like he's in fifth grade.
Alex is going to call Luke out for not protecting himself, and not preparing himself for being permanently separated from Julie in four months, and Luke's whole body tenses for a fight he knows he deserves to have.
But Alex just snags a slice of pepper from the cutting board and pops it in his mouth. "You should ask her out."
"I can't."
"You can. I've seen you ask people out before. Not well, but you're technically capable."
"Bro." He cuts a glare at Alex, but Alex just smiles back with a loose happy glow that suggests… "You just skype Willie?"
Alex grins to himself and looks away, and Luke can't help his own smile. Even after several years of Alex and Willie being together, it never fails to amaze Luke how immediately Alex's mood improves any time he talks to his boyfriend.
The drummer wrestles his smile down. "That's not the point."
"Nah, you're all loved up right now. Can't trust anything you say." Luke chucks the peppers in with the spinach and stirs the vegetables around in the pan.
"Look, long distance sucks. I'm not pretending it doesn't. But you know what would suck more? Not dating Willie."
The thought sticks in Luke's throat, because he thinks about that sometimes. Every single day, actually. But then he thinks about the past three days he's had. How itchy and pained he's felt at Julie's absence. And when he imagines how much worse that would feel if he were missing holding her in his arms, finding her lips with his, tangling their hands together…
But if he's honest with himself, the main reason he doesn't re-open the conversation with Julie is that she didn't hesitate at New Year's Eve when they first talked. Long distance is a non-starter for her. Was a non-starter. Maybe he should try to talk about it, because these feelings and this relationship feels bigger than it did a month ago. Even if he was probably basically already in love with her back then, he didn't know and it hadn't felt as all-consuming. Now, she lives in every single thought in his head, and that's not just going to burn off. She's moved into his heart, and she won't be leaving without something big and painful happening.
So maybe he should bring it up. Ask if she feels differently now.
But his heart is so full of her that it feels like it's been artificially inflated with a balloon of happiness and love, and if he asks her and she says no, the balloon will pop and he doesn't know what'll remain of his heart.
He can bear a love story that never got told because circumstances got in the way. He doesn't think he can bear a love story that never got told because he was the only one who wanted to write it.
Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, Luke tries to shut off the discussion. "Opposite coasts. It would be a mistake."
Alex nods to himself for a long moment, then admits, "Willie's applying for jobs on the West Coast."
Luke scans his friend's face, immediately checking for signs of pain. "I'm sorry, dude."
But Alex shrugs, and the shrug seems tired but not as sad as Luke would have expected. "He's never felt like an East Coast person, and he thinks he'll vibe better with California."
"A-Are you guys—"
"Yeah, we're going to be fine." The confidence in his voice startles Luke, but the lack of worry shines genuinely from every inch of Alex. Worry will probably come and go once the theory becomes reality, but Alex's current unwavering conviction makes Luke's heart warm. So different from the nervous fifteen-year-old who had looked at his boyfriend like their relationship was made of glass.
The drummer's eyes tick to Luke. "Willie's always said he felt like we were inevitable. I don't really feel that, because… you know. I'm constantly stressed about anything happening to our relationship, and whenever I'm not stressed, I worry that I'm forgetting to worry about something. But you two aren't my relationship. And sometimes when I see you two together, I get what Willie means."
"We're not inevitable." But the words taste like a lie on Luke's tongue.
"I think you are. If you don't get together by the end of the semester, I'll… I don't know. Drink a 2-liter bottle of Irn Bru."
Luke opens his mouth to argue—more with himself than with Alex—but Alex nudges him gently. "Willie's thinking LA."
Before this year, Luke had a lot of random, mostly uninformed associations with LA. But now LA means one thing: Julie. And from the look on Alex's face, he knows that. "I don't… what are you saying?"
"If Willie likes California, he's going to stay." The "Willie will obviously love California" doesn't need to be spoken. "So I'll probably move out there eventually."
The ground beneath Luke's feet feels like it's spinning, like his whole life is being rotated in a new direction, and when he gets the courage to step off the spot he's currently standing on, he'll be in a completely different place. It's a lot to process on a random Sunday evening. But, despite the calm expression on Alex's face, he's probably just one poorly phrased comment away from a frantic tailspin, so Luke needs to be casual about this. All he says is "Reg know?"
"Not yet, but he's been talking about wanting to live in Pasadena since he was, like, five."
"Only cause he thinks Pasadena's near the beach."
But Alex bats away Luke's attempted deflection. "You and I are the ones who wanted to stay on the East Coast."
"They don't have real seasons in LA. I need seasons."
"Sorry, after the last five months, you're really going to claim that the most important thing in your life is seasons?"
"That, and Wegmans."
Alex rolls his eyes fondly. "I'm not saying we have to move tomorrow. I'm just saying… you seem to think long distance is inevitable, and it might not be. To me, you and Julie seem a lot more inevitable. Just think about it."
And while Luke really wants to not think about it, he almost burns himself on the pan because he can't stop thinking about it. The idea of moving away from Boston leaves an unpleasant kick in his gut, but the sensation is increasingly replaced by pleasant butterflies at the thought of Julie. The image of freeways lined with palm trees and sand (yeah, Luke doesn't really know anything about LA) seems unpleasant until he pictures Julie there next to him.
This was supposed to be a crush. He's not supposed to be contemplating changing his entire life. That's ridiculous. Over the top. Premature. He's always hoped, in the tiny, desperate part of him that's not ready for any part of his life to change, that if he and Julie ever kiss, it will be underwhelming. That the intensity of their feelings is just build up, and if they ever acted on them, those feelings would dissolve to nothingness like the Sunset Curve t-shirts Reggie made in high school.
But then Luke walks over to New Town to wait for the bus, and as he watches Julie stumble down the steps of the bus, his heart kicks into high gear. The instant she looks up and sees him, her whole face floods with the kind of joy that could power cities. And all those other words—ridiculous, over-the-top, premature—vanish from his mind, replaced only with "inevitable."
5.
On the one hand, Luke wants to message Alex and Reggie as soon as he and Julie get together, but on the other hand, he knows how smug they'll be. Also he's a bit distracted by Julie. They don't get nearly as much hiking done on Skye as they planned. Partly because it rains a lot after the initial dry days, as if the clouds are trying to make up for lost time. But mostly because the inside of their dorm room is infinitely more fascinating than the landscapes outside. He's heard people describe Skye as the most beautiful part of Scotland, but Luke's pretty sure that's just because most people haven't seen Julie in Scotland. Skye is incredible, but it's not Julie snuggled up in bed with him, cradled against his chest and confessing a soft "I love you" in his ear.
When they get back to Edinburgh, they separate just long enough for her to drop off her stuff in her flat. As soon as she leaves his side, he's struck with a strange, cold sensation on every inch of his skin, like she's taken all warmth with her. Maybe Boston winters will be a little harder to endure now that he knows how warm the world is with Julie at his side.
He catches the sappy thought and shakes it away as he pushes into his flat.
Alex and Reggie are collapsed on the couch, still in their coats with their luggage piled next to them. The perfect image of post-travel exhaustion. But the instant Reggie sees Luke, he yells "YES! I CALLED IT!" and launches himself across the room.
Never one to reject a hug, Luke wraps his arms around Reggie, but looks over the bassist's head to Alex for clarification. "What's happening?"
A grin filling his face, Alex staggers to his feet with a fond eye roll. "Reg, you gotta let him confirm first."
"Confirm what?" Luke asks.
Alex smirks. "You should see your face right now."
Luke's focus falls to the spread of his cheek muscles, the stretch of his lips, the giddiness sitting inside his mouth like it's about to pour out. The cartoonishness of his own happiness is probably flowing from every pore.
"Yeah" is all he can manage, and Alex beams.
"About time."
Muffled by Luke's shirt, Reggie bursts out, "I told you! I knew if we tricked them into going on a trip together, they'd give in!"
"And I agreed with you," Alex replies, exasperated.
Luke quirks an eyebrow. "Tricked?"
Reggie finally releases him and puffs out his chest with pride. "'Alex and I are going to Croatia, you're not invited, we've heard Skye is beautiful.'" He offers his fist to Alex, who bumps it with a grin.
In any other circumstance, Luke would be pissed at how easily he got played, but he's very happy to have fallen into this particular trap.
Alex's eyes tick sharply to Luke. "You did tell her, right? You're not trying to do some ridiculous casual thing?"
Almost in answer, the unlocked door clicks open and Julie slides inside, now wearing her pajamas and those ridiculous slippers he loves. As soon as her eyes find him, she bursts into a grin and he extends a hand to her. He yanks her in to stand under his arm, and glances back at the guys. There's a long pause, and he suddenly registers how tense she is next to him.
Before he can question it, she asks "How was Croatia?" in a hesitant, overly polite tone. Like she's at a job interview, desperate to make a good first impression.
Luke tugs her in tighter against him. As if the guys need to vet her or have ever been anything other than fully on board.
"Croatia was great. How was Skye?" Reggie asks, dashing his eyebrows with cartoonish enthusiasm.
"It was…" She glances over at Luke and his smile explodes across his face. She beams back, and murmurs, "… amazing."
Eyes lighting up, Reggie nods at the purple toiletries case in her hand. "Are you spending the night?"
"Um, if that's okay?" The nerves are back in her voice, and Luke squeezes her waist reassuringly.
Alex cuts Luke a quick look, a wordless "remember that the walls are thin" that summons a flush to Luke's cheeks. But when Alex replies to Julie, his tone is purely welcoming. "We assume you're going to be spending the night every night for the next two months."
"No, we-we can split time between our flats. I don't want to impose."
"It's not imposing." Alex holds his arms out to Julie. "Thank you for taking your boyfriend off our hands."
Alex studies her like he's waiting for her to disagree with the label, but there's no hesitation on Julie's face as it lights up in a grin. A moment later, Alex is hugging Julie and Reggie is throwing his arms around both of them and the three of them start bouncing around with joy.
Luke gives himself a moment to enjoy the sight of his happy family before he joins them, winding his arms around this unit that he's going to fight like hell to keep together.
6.
As Reggie drives away from Logan Airport, Luke slumps down in the passenger seat and rests his forehead against the cool window, glazed eyes barely taking in the aggressive cars pushing by on the highway. The only thing that feels real right now is his lips, which rub desperately together as if he'll be able to find a lingering taste of Julie's tearful goodbye kiss.
He knew dropping her off was going to hurt. And so did Reggie, which was why he'd quietly suggested that Luke shouldn't go alone because he probably wouldn't be in a fit state to drive back. But Luke hadn't really appreciated how much it would hurt. He and Julie have been long-distance for six months, and he's… not gotten used to it, because it sucks. Sometimes like a perpetual ache deep within him, and sometimes like a permanent bruise that he forgets is there until he bumps it. It's even worse that he's not alone with the pain. Like when they're out as a group, and he sees Reggie looking around for Julie, or Alex taking the seat next to Reggie, face puckering when he realizes that Julie won't be filling the space next to Luke.
Luke can never really anticipate when the pain of missing her will be at its worst. But he's gotten through it. It's not like he spends all his time crying or moping. It hurts, but he knows he can deal with it.
Or he did, until Julie came to visit for Thanksgiving, and for five blissful days, he remembered what it was like to always have her within arm's reach, to kiss her soft cheeks, to warm her hands with his, to feel her gentle breaths as she sleeps in his arms, to hear her sing without the tinny distortion of Skype, to see her eyes light up as they write together. Skype fails to communicate the full, living, powerful beauty of Julie Molina and, over the past six months, he'd forgotten what she was like in person.
Returning to that distance hurts all the more, because now he remembers how much he's missing.
Especially because now he's missing more than he was before. There was stuff they couldn't do in Scotland, because they hadn't brought their whole lives with them. But in Boston, Julie got to hang out in their rehearsal space, the garage they rent from Luke's childhood neighbor. And she saw them perform for the first time at an open mic in Cambridge, and Luke got to look into the crowd and see his girlfriend glowing up at him with pride. And then got to kiss her immediately afterwards, transferring his performance sweat onto her face and listening to her giggle as she shoved him away before giving him her honest feedback. (Which was mostly positive, and everything constructive she said was completely correct and put words to the things that hadn't been working that he'd been struggling to articulate to himself. Because she's perfect and amazing, and their musical souls slot together like puzzle pieces.)
But the memory that sticks in his head the most right now, the one that plays on a continuous loop projected over the tunnel traffic, is the time when Julie found the abandoned keyboard in the back of their studio. When she began to play, Reggie had been the first to start riffing with her, quickly joined by Alex. It took a couple minutes for Luke to pick his jaw off the ground and chime in. But when they all sang together—switching effortless between Sunset Curve songs and covers of random pieces they all know—a soul-shaking buzz began in his heart that spread throughout his whole body until he was trembling for no discernable reason.
Something life-changing had just happened. Something he didn't and still doesn't fully understand.
Reggie gently breaks the silence in the car. "Just three weeks before winter break."
"I know."
"It'll be here before you know it."
And it will be, though winter break presents its own challenges. Luke is spending most of the break in LA with the Molinas, and even though Julie insists that her dad is very welcoming and supportive, and that Luke has nothing to worry about, he has trouble believing it. How on earth could Ray Molina think anyone, let alone Luke, deserves to be with his wrecking ball of a daughter?
But he's not about to give voice to his inferiority complex when he's already sad, so he just says, "I know."
"And in the meantime, we have to plan how you're going to ask her."
There's no context for Reggie's statement, so the first thing Luke's mind latches onto is the mental image of an engagement ring on Julie's finger. And it's too soon—he knows it's way too soon—but his brain lingers on the image for a long moment before he thinks to ask, "Ask her about what?"
"… joining the band."
Luke opens his mouth, automatically ready to dismiss the suggestion, but the words catch in his heart.
That sense of rightness when her voice joined with his, the glee when she and Reggie naturally riffed off of one another, the laugh she and Alex exchanged when he joined in. The way their sounds slotted easily together, making space for her and stepping back when she needed to take center stage. The way the whole thing just felt right.
Not polished. Not even good, really. Rough and unrehearsed and raw. But undeniably right. The first draft of perfection.
"Fuck, she needs to join the band," he hisses out.
Reggie chuckles. "Why is that a 'fuck' thing?"
"Different coasts. How are we gonna rehearse? And what if she says no?"
The thing about long distance that Luke hadn't been prepared for is his constant fear of rejection. The way that every sad and tired expression Julie makes causes him to worry that their relationship is the problem. The way that he constantly frets that the distance is limiting her college experience. The way he worries that this amazing, precious thing—one of the best things he's ever experienced in his life—will crack, stretched too thin over 2,591 miles.
Asking her to join the band gives her another thing to potentially reject, and his leg bounces aggressively against the cool car door.
But Reggie continues to sound chipper as he replies, "We'll figure it out, and I don't think she will."
Luke finally pulls his eyes from the window. "You and Alex talk about this already?"
"Mhm."
"And you waited to bring it up until now so you could distract me?"
"Yep!" Reggie sends a bright grin Luke's way without moving his eyes from the road ahead.
The bassist lets the car fall into silence, and Luke sucks his lip between his teeth, letting the idea roll through his head.
Or at least, that's what he plans to do. But then his tongue catches a spot of vanilla-flavored lip gloss on his mouth, and he can clearly picture Julie crouching in front of him, holding his eyes with her firm gaze and scrunching up her nose with that fierce look she wears when she's daring the world to disappoint her. That same look she gets when she rolls her eyes and says, "I love you. That's non-negotiable. Everything else, we'll figure out."
And just that image soothes the tension in his shoulders.
"Yeah, I'll ask her."
+1
When Luke finally pulls the rented moving van to a stop outside the Echo Lake apartment, he heaves out a relieved sigh and flops back in his seat.
"Soak up that sunny LA, boys."
Reggie quirks an eyebrow at him. "So the five days of complaining about the constant nice weather we're being 'condemned to' was…?"
"A drum roll."
Alex snorts. "This is why you're not allowed to write my drum fills. Your idea of what drums can do is questionable."
Luke would defend himself, but someone walks out of the apartment building, shielded from full view by a shadowy overhang. "Is that Jules?"
Another snort explodes from Alex. "Nope, that's an elderly white dude."
Sinking back with a pout, Luke checks the clock on the dashboard with a nervous bounce of his knee. He doesn't need to turn his head to sense Alex and Reggie glancing at one another. "What?"
Reggie shrugs. "Just wondering how long you're going to hold out before you propose."
"I'm giving it to December," Alex puts in.
"I dunno. I think he might wait for their anniversary for romance purposes. Yeah, I'll put money on that. Next March."
Reggie holds out his hand to Alex, who takes it immediately. "I'll take that action."
Before Luke can say anything, a figure slips out of the apartment building. And this time, there's no question of who it is. Luke flies out of the cab of the van, stumbling as he hits the ground, but he quickly fumbles to his feet and bounces across the front yard, reaching Julie before she seemingly even processes that he's coming. Her face lights up so much that the harsh midday LA sun pales in comparison and she rushes to swallow the distance between them.
He bends his knees to scoop her up, hugging the backs of her thighs and spinning her in place. Her whole body vibrates with her giggles, and when he finally comes to a halt, he lets her slip gently through his arms, lowering her toward the ground. As soon as she comes in range of his mouth, she catches his lips in a sliding kiss. He wraps his hands around her cheeks, keeping her close as he peppers kisses across her mouth.
Between kisses, she gasps out, "How was the drive?"
"Long. Did you know there are 2,591 miles between here and Boston?"
She rests her forehead against his and peers up through her eyelashes. "I think I've heard that, yeah."
"And there's even more when you gotta stay on streets. We drove, like, 3,000 miles."
"Wow, we should have been complaining a lot more the past two years."
"That's what I was thinking."
He leans in to her again, but Alex's voice screeches through the cab door. "DUDE. We still have to drive to our apartments. Can we please unload your shit?"
Luke pulls away with a grin. "Yeah, yeah, we're comin'." But as he turns back toward the van, Julie's forehead crinkles up and she bends down to pick up a small black box. Luke's hand jumps to the pocket of his sleeveless hoodie, as if he'll find that the box is still in its proper place and Julie has found someone else's engagement ring.
Her eyes slide over him, expression inscrutable. "Did you drop this?"
"Uhhhhh." He sheepishly screws up his face and holds out his hand, but she doesn't give it to him immediately.
This isn't a surprise. They've talked about marriage before. But it's never been concrete, and the box in her hand is very concrete.
Scanning his face, her eyes squeeze up the way they do when she's trying to piece together the next lyric. "You asked if we could go stargazing in Yosemite next week."
He gently pries the box from her grip. Her expression softens, nose scrunching up, and his grin spreads over his face.
"Spoiler alert, boss."
"You still don't know what a spoiler is."
He twines his fingers with her and kisses the back of her hand. "Cause I don't need to know. I've got you."