Luke reminds Reid of a boy he used to love.
He says boy because it was so long ago, and he was young at the time. When life was so exciting, bursting with opportunity, energy and potential. Although Reid didn't see it that way, all he saw were rules and obstacles that got in the way of his fun.
But he was there, present and eager. And somehow that was enough.
The boy, the face he can only just remember as it casts shadows through his mind. It's distant, but Reid swears he catches reflections of it in glass windows and car doors. The boy, who Reid saw become a man, who Reid saw become a shadow. Loving for the sake of loving, pouring out meaningless feelings to anyone who would listen, for no reason other than because he felt that was all he deserved. Reid knew that the boy would never really find what he was looking for. Because he was settling, and Reid knew he shouldn't.
Reid knew better then, as Reid knows better now.
As Reid knew better when he first saw Luke, saw how Luke looked at Noah. Settling, and it was unsettling.
He looks at Luke as though he's looking through his years, echoes of memories painting his vision, helping him understand. Imploring him to understand, and to reach out before it's too late. The memories are moulded and recreated as they join and reconcile with what he knows now. With who he knows now.
He looks at Luke, so doubting and unaware. Unsure of every decision, yet seemingly so brazen and bold. Confident in his contradictions, and while so surrounded by friends and family – still so alone.
Luke thinks love is like morphine, that it will generally numb the pain of a lifetime spent wavering and in limbo. He searches for scraps of it in transactions with anyone, and they all leave him with regret and uncertainty. The transactions, that Luke was never sure were right, but they were warm and the space was cold. Like Noah, something just to settle the constant feeling of never having that one thing. The love that Luke thinks he's sharing gives him power, and makes him feel like he's got some control.
But Reid knows differently. He's learnt the hard way.
Love requires restraint. So it can be built, from something small and insignificant to something great and insurmountable. It needs to build in potency, so it can be anticipated, different to craved.
It should be searched for, so it can be found, and so you learn to be patient. Always being patient, because romance can be killed by agitation and hastiness. It should be patient, and carefully so. Not wasted on strangers, or those who don't treat it with the respect it deserves. Not spilled like a cheap drink, or tossed around like garbage. Not wooed by the warm breath of nice but insincere words. It should be treated more carefully. Prized as pure, revered like sacrament.
Reid has never really thought about why, but he knows the answer.
Because love is Luke. It's Luke that is sharing himself with Reid, as he loves. As they love together. It's Luke who gives and it's Luke who is robbed, who grieves when he's mistreated. Luke. Luke, who is tender, delicate and yet so strong. Luke, who aches when he is hurt, in places that can't be washed clean. Luke, who itches with guilt because he's never quite sure that he's enough.
And Reid wants to be enough. He wants his words to be enough, and he wants to build memories and houses and picket fences in testament to his feelings for Luke, but the brick wall that he built years ago holds him back. He's holding back, and Luke knows it – because he's not sharing his dreams yet. He's waiting for Reid to make the first move, and they're both shy and scared and unsure. It's humbling and honest, and they're both better people for it.
Reid knows that Luke is worth more. Worth more than the satisfying but hesitant touches that he's throwing, worth more than the sarcasm and the consistent need to make Luke question where they stand.
But he's worried. Worried that if Luke keeps pouring himself out, with love for things and people and situations that don't deserve it and can't appreciate it the way Reid can, that he won't have anything left.
Reid is trying to find the courage. And in the absence of courage, a veneer of bravery will do.
Because he's waiting, always waiting for the right moment to tell him. To open himself up so they can share what Reid has always regarded as the impractical. The impossible, the unlikely. The kind of love that's difficult to really comprehend. The kind of 'stop your heart, I can't breathe without you, wouldn't wanna try' love, which binds people forever.
Forever, without cause or reason, and unfailing. Eternity, and then some.
Reid has never wanted that before, but now he feels like he can't settle for anything less.
Luke reminds him of a boy he once loved, as he catches the light just right and Reid is taken back, to that time so long ago when things were so right and so wrong all in one. Luke reminds him of a boy he used to love, a lifetime ago.
That boy settled for less than a soul mate.
Reid knows that Luke isn't.
Not anymore, at least.