player ♚ lrh

41 - give up

Luke couldn't remember the last time he willingly searched for Calum Hood.

It had to have been years ago, probably about the same time he spent countless days and unanswered phone calls attempting to settle a wrong—or rather, a lie—he had no part in making. He'd been difficult to find then, and he was making it nearly impossible now.

And perhaps Luke hadn't looked everywhere, yet, but he blamed it on the fact that he was stalling, and he blamed the stalling on the notion that both Calum and him needed a bit more time to cool off. The heat from their fight was still simmering, hot to the touch, and he needed a couple of days to gather his bearings before he went fueling the fire once more. It was the most rational thought he could come up with, anyway.

But most of all, Luke stalled because of Elise. He wanted to stay in their little bubble; the shelter of warmth and understanding and subtle touches and light kisses and unspoken love they'd built in his home. She'd found a place in his arms and he'd finally found one in hers, too. And now that he had, he never wanted to leave.

But it had been days now. And while a part of him wanted to be content with simply having her all to himself, he couldn't do it to her. He couldn't let her give up the relationships she'd had before he came into the picture, even if he'd felt wronged by the very ones who walked out his door. He might not have a chance at redemption, but the least he could do was keep her from making his same mistake, and letting them go without a big enough fight.

And if she didn't want to fight, he was willing to do it for her.

"Just tell me where the hell he is, Michael," Luke huffed, frustrated with himself, the red-haired boy in front of him, and the dark-haired one he couldn't find, all at once.

Michael turned away. He didn't bother trying to close the door on Luke's face because he knew the fighter would've stopped it anyhow. Instead, with pursed lips and a disappointed sigh, he simply turned his back, and left the boy in the doorway. He figured another fight wouldn't end well for him, anyway. "Why?"

Typical. Luke rolled his eyes toward the boy's back, reluctantly following him inside. "Why do you think? I need to talk to him,"

He turned back around. "No, I mean why, Luke? Why can't you just leave him alone? You already won."

Luke clenched his jaw. He was starting to remember why he'd struck a dead end with Michael all those years ago; he was just as stubborn as Calum. He'd created a list of wrongs in his mind and it would take a miracle for the grudge to disappear. It didn't help that Luke was already impatient, for he hardly had it in him to fight for another lost cause.

But he had to, this time. It wasn't for his sake; it was for Elise's.

"I didn't win anything," Luke stated carefully. "We were never competing."

"Right."

His sarcasm rubbed Luke entirely the wrong way. He hated it, hated the assumptions and the insinuations that his girlfriend was a prize of some sort, whether that was the intention or not. Quite frankly, he was sick of it, and he was sick of everyone thinking he'd somehow participated in a race for the girl's heart—something that a fucking trophy could never amount to.

He scoffed to himself. "You're still exactly the fucking same,"

Michael crossed his arms. "So are you."

Am I, though? Am I really? He knew the answer to that; no. Ashton probably knew it, too. He wished everyone else could see it, the way they did.

"Don't you think I would've bragged, if that were the case?" Luke narrowed his eyes, voice growing fairly bitter in his frustration. "Fucking hell, if I wanted him to think he lost, I would've just told him myself."