after midnight >> lukeia short story

sweet boy; young god

Leia Woods and Luke Harte meet for the first time when they're seventeen years old.

Luke is waiting in one of the numerous hallways of the "lost and found" headquarters somewhere in New York City.
I don't think I ever was this far away from home.
In his ill-fitted suit and with his sweaty hands which keep catching on the material of the leather chair, Luke feels like a child who was mistakenly placed at the adults' table.
He is waiting for one of the platinum blond reception ladies to click with their heels, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave. We're looking for serious musicians and not children."
Luke can almost smell their vanilla perfume. They're gonna come any second now. They're gonna tell me they don't want me.
Luke is trying to put a brave face on. He doesn't think he ever felt this terrified.
Is this how it feels to grow up? Living in this constant state of fear and insecurity?

He can hear his parents voices. They are arguing. Again.

When he was younger, his parents always tried to keep it from him when they were fighting.
They did not shout at each other. Instead they showered each other with kindness. Pretended that everything was just so perfect.
"Honey, sweetie, darling. Oh, you forgot to take out the trash? Don't worry - I'll do it for you. You can't come to Luke's parent-teacher conference? That's totally fine. I can go by myself. You need money, again? Oh, sugar! Take all our money and my heart, too. I'm just so in love with you."
But now? They don't even bother anymore. Not for Luke's sake anyways.

He hears another voice.

Sometimes Luke likes to imagine how people look, what their life's are like, what their secrets are.
Some might call it "people watching", but Luke disagrees.
It's not really people watching when you only focus on their voices, is it?

The voice is male, deep. Aged because of cigarettes. The cheap kind.
Years  of smoking can do that to you.
The man - let's call him Brian- is in his fifties.
His wife divorced him two years ago, since then he's living in motels.
He collects empty liquor bottles and is afraid of dying, that his children will grow up to hate him, that he will always feel this alone.

But maybe Luke is wrong and the man is not called Brian.
Maybe he's called Jake or John.
If Luke had a therapist, she would probably be telling him by now that he's projecting his own fears onto strangers.

But at 17, Luke is too tall. His elbows too sharp when they're not resting on his ribs. His laughter like the echo of a gun shot. Too much.

Luke is restless in one of the countless hallways in the middle of nowhere.
His parents are fighting each other, fighting his manager, fighting the cruel world for trying to take away their son.
Their voices keep growing louder and louder.
Accusing each other of taking away his shot at a normal life.
Luke swallows.
"You're selfish! Think of his potential!"
Luke takes a deep breath.
"He is too young."
Luke closes his eyes.
There is a moment of quiet. The silence stretching painfully until Brian speaks, "Maybe we should ask Luke what he wants."
And Luke bolts.

Leia Woods and Luke Harte meet for the first time when they're seventeen years old.

Luke is hiding from his parents and his manager when he first hears her voice.

A soft voice, shaky and full of all the emotions Luke can't help but feel. 
She is walking the hallway up and down.
Up and down.
Luke tracks her movements with his eyes.
Up and down.
He follows the line of anxious tension in her shoulders and the nervous shaking of her fingers as she smoothes the fabric of her dress.
The girl's mother motions her to sit down. "Leia. You need to calm down. Nerves are just no good."
The girl stops for a moment but then returns to her almost practiced motions. 
Up and down.
Up and down.

She looks just as terrified as I feel.

At 17, Luke's got a mess of blond hair, gangly limbs and a boyish smile that makes everybody who sees it, fall in love with him a little bit.

Leia looks up and Luke smiles.

That's how everything starts.