Luke wakes up later than he would have liked, even considering his lessons aren’t until later. He prefers getting up in the early morning, no matter what time he falls asleep, or he tends to feel groggy and disoriented all day. Already he feels a little fuzzy; the extra sleep blankets his normally sharp mind and gives him an unwanted peace.
By the time Luke gets dressed in his unofficial uniform of a clean white button down, a tie, and jeans, Ashton’s already making breakfast for himself. When he catches sight of Luke, he preemptively sticks another piece of toast in the toaster oven.
“Morning,” Ashton says, turning his attention back to his schoolwork lying open on the counter.
“Morning,” Luke says. “Got class today?”
Luke shouldn’t bother asking; he knows Ashton’s schedule by heart. While he learns at the Conservatory on a full scholarship for his music, hardly anyone is so lucky; Ashton takes evening classes in addition to his cello lessons.
“Yeah, theory,” Ashton says, grimacing as usual. As far as Luke can tell, finding someone who actually likes theory is nigh impossible.
“I’m going down to the conservatory,” Luke continues, having finished with the morning small talk. “The performance hall should be empty until noon. I want to practice in the hall before the recital.”
“Oh,” Ashton says, turning from the breakfast process. “Can I come?”
“Why?” Luke asks, heading back to his bedroom to grab his violin. “Shouldn’t you finish your theory?”
“I’ll bring it with me,” Ashton says easily. “I’ll be your test audience.”
“You’re a shitty test audience,” Luke points out, though half smiling. “All you ever do is tell me how nice it sounds and stare.”
“You know, some people might actually appreciate that,” Ashton gripes. “And what can I say? I like watching you play.”
“You just like watching me.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t find you at least mildly attractive.”
“Mildly attractive,” Luke grumbles.
“But extremely talented,” Ashton says with a wink.
“We can stick with mildly attractive,” Luke objects, moving towards the door.
Luke has trouble taking compliments. For someone who gets so much praise, Luke’s oddly unaccustomed to accepting it. Probably that stupid instructor’s fault. Although, Ashton didn’t know Luke before the Conservatory, so it’s difficult to say if he was always this way or not. Luke’s only been here a year, coming in early at 17, and Ashton didn’t even meet him until a couple of weeks after he arrived, when he was accepted (and, much to everyone’s alarm, promptly made concertmaster) to the symphony orchestra. And he didn’t really know Luke until they’d both submitted requests for a flat following a breakup that left Ashton stranded with no roof over his head.
Ashton hurries to catch up with Luke, who’s halfway out of the flat, grabbing his theory book on the way out.
---
The minute Luke had walked through the doors on the side of the stage, he’d spotted Calum on the opposite side--doing the exact same thing.
Luke catches his eye and Calum freezes, eyes narrowing at Luke, immediately gearing up for a fight. Luke glances uneasily down at Ashton in a chair in the front row, silently pleading for help. Ashton’s hardly a fighter, but he’s at least bulkier and knows his way around.
