If these sheets were the states
And you were miles away
I'd fold them end over end
To bring you closer to me
Because I don't sleep at all
Without you pressed up against me
I settle for long-distance calls, I'm
Lost in empty pillow-talk again.
~All Time Low, "If These Sheets Were States"
---
Dear Ashton,
I’m sorry I haven’t written. I’ve been pretty busy, but that’s no excuse. I’m doing okay. I twisted my ankle the other day, but it’s doing okay and it barely hurts anymore. The reunion was nice enough, but I wish you’d have come with me. I don’t even care if they would have looked at us funny. It was boring without you. And you’re my boyfriend; that means you’re family, right?
My grandparents send their love to you. Some of the guests found out that I’m gay and when they commented on it, my grandmother just gushed over how great you were, how you’re the perfect grandson and it was just too bad you couldn’t come.
I know it’s been a while, but I’ll be home soon. We can cuddle and eat and sleep and watch The Year Without Santa Claus, and it’ll all be fine. We can make snow angels and when we’re all soaked and freezing we can go in and drink hot chocolate, just like we used to, and everything will be just fine.
Please don’t worry. I love you, and I’ll be home soon.
I promise I’ll be home for Christmas.
Much love,
Lukey xox
Ashton folds up the letter and sighs. Michael looks over from the kitchen; he came over to keep Ashton company. Michael’s in the middle of raiding the fridge, which is practically empty because he and Luke always go grocery shopping together and in the two months Luke’s been gone, he’s only been once and it was so lonely he didn’t go back.
“Why the long face?” Michael asks, coming over to put his arms around his best friend.
“He’s taking so long to get home,” Ashton huffs into Michael’s shoulder.
“Give him a little time, yeah?” Michael says, patting Ashton’s back. “You know how homesick he was. He’s only been gone a month.”
And it’s been the longest month of Ashton’s life. “I know,” he says. “I miss him, you know? He promised to be home for Christmas. There’s only a week left.”
“He’ll be home,” Michael says reassuringly. “He sends these letters by express mail, just to make sure you get them as fast as possible. I’m sure it’s killing him to be away from you for so long.”
“It’s not the same without him,” Ashton says, snuggling against Michael’s chest. “Christmas, I mean. I haven’t even gotten a Christmas tree yet. That was our thing. I put up the lights, but it’s different without him.”
“Just sit tight,” Michael says, rubbing a shoulder. “He’ll be here soon. Just wait.”
---
Luke stops running and almost screams in frustration when he sees the board.
Flight to Boston delayed.
No. This isn’t fair. He promised to be home for the holidays. He was going to be there just five days before Christmas, tomorrow, in time to maybe get a Christmas tree if Ashton hadn’t done it already, in time to watch cheesy Christmas movies, in time to accidentally-on-purpose step under the mistletoe and thus provide an excuse to kiss Ashton.
There’s still time, he comforts himself. I could still make it home in time. Maybe the delay will just be a day.
He goes up to the front desk, backpack weighing down his thin shoulders, practically slumping forward onto the desk.
The woman attending looks up and smiles pleasantly. “Good morning, sir. How can I help you?”
“Send me to Boston,” he says, almost cutting her off.
“Did your flight get cancelled?” she asks, pulling something up on the computer.
“It’s delayed.”
“I can’t do anything about the flight,” she says apologetically, “because it’s snowing where you’re headed.”
“Can you book me a different flight?”
“Not at the moment, I’m afraid. If you’d like, I can set you up in a hotel for the night, and if the flight gets rescheduled, somebody can call the room.”
Luke runs a hand through his blond hair and then tugs on his lip piercing. He weighs it over. “You’ll call if something happens?”
“Yes.”
He shrugs. “Okay, that’d be nice. Thank you.”
He struggles to stay calm as she books him a room. When she finally tells him where to go, he hoists his backpack up higher and starts walking.
When he finally gets to the room, he sits on the edge of the bed and kicks his Vans off. He’s panicking and his nerves are frayed. He jumps at every little rumble from the old-fashioned radiator and he would call Ashton to tell him of this development, as he would have called him all throughout this trip, but the truth is that he hasn’t been the same since he came out and half the family turned on him, and after all those nasty phone calls, he can’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He tried, he did, but before Ashton even answered he shut the phone off.
So he does what he’s done all through this trip instead: he picks up his pen and finds a piece of paper in the barren desk, and then sits down to write.
---
Ashton has no idea when Luke is coming home.
He’s running now, running to Michael practically in tears. Calum’s there, playing FIFA or some other game with Michael on the couch, and they both look up when Ashton bursts through the door.
“Ashton?” Calum says, staring at his panting, red-faced, red-eyed friend. “Are you okay?”
Ashton doesn’t say a word, just brandishes the letter and fights off the lump rising in his throat.
“Another letter?” Michael asks, pausing the game and getting up. He puts a hand on Ashton’s shoulder. “Ash, are you crying?”
Ashton shakes his head vigorously and scrubs at his eyes nonetheless.
“His flight got delayed,” he whispers, thrusting the letter at Michael. “He was going to be here today. I could have been holding him by now!”
Ashton’s shivering and shaking and soaked through with melting snow and Michael takes him and sits him down on the armchair. Calum gives up his blanket and drapes it over him, ruffling up his hair.
“Don’t be sad,” Calum says as Michael goes to heat up water for hot chocolate. “Luke will be here in no time.”
“I just wanted him to be here today,” Ashton whispers desolately, curling up into a ball. He’s thoroughly miserable. Cold, wet, tired, upset. He can’t even sleep without Ashton pressed up against him at night. He just needs Luke, needs him now, and it turns out he won’t even get him for another day or two.
And he hasn’t cried yet, hasn’t let Luke’s absence get to him that far, but when Michael brings him the hot chocolate, something snaps inside. He misses Luke so damn much, it actually hurts.
“Ashton, don’t cry,” Calum says, perching on the arm and wiping away a tear with his thumb. He takes a long look at the boy sleeping in Michael’s armchair, crying and trying to pretend he’s not, so sick for Luke that he’s run ragged.
“I’m sorry,” Ashton sobs, sipping at the hot chocolate and trying not to cry into it. “I just thought he’d be here by now. It’s almost Christmas and I’m starting to think he won’t get home.”
“Of course he’ll get home,” Michael says, so certain of himself. “He may take his own sweet time doing it, but what can you do? It’s snowing like the apocalypse out there.”
Which doesn’t make Ashton feel any better. If anything, he now hates the snow. Stupid America. Back in Australia, it wouldn’t be snowing so hard.
But then he hates Australia too, because despite growing up there, that’s where Luke is, and where he isn’t.
Dear Ash,
I was going to be on a flight to Boston by today, but it got delayed because apparently it’s snowing there. I imagine you’re having plenty of fun making snow angels and this and that with Calum and Michael, so send my love to them too.
I miss you. So, so much. I wish I could be there with you. I’m dying to get home to you. Michael texted me and told me you were upset. Please don’t be sad. I’ll be home soon, I promise. It’s just a matter of days separating us. They’ve put me up in a hotel and as soon as I can get home, I will. I hate sleeping in the hotel bed because it’s hard to sleep without you next to me. But I’m trying. I want to be wide awake for when I see you again.
I promise I’ll be home for Christmas.
Much love,
Lukey xox
---
When they called, Luke became a whirlwind of panic and and nerves. As he sits at the terminal, his hands jitter and his leg bounces up, down, up, down, up, down.
He must be a nervous wreck by now. He probably looks a mess, too, as he hasn’t had time to properly brush out his hair or change into less worn clothes. He thinks if he doesn’t get on that plane soon he might actually throw up.
He hates planes.
He’s getting funny looks from some of the people at the terminal. Maybe they’ve never seen a 6’4” teenage boy with a lip piercing and skinny jeans so tight they could be painted on him look this terrified before. Maybe it’s because he’s practically vibrating with nerves and some weird excitement. He’ll never know.
He’s never handled a plane ride alone before. On the way to Australia, he was texting Ashton right until the air hostess asked him if he would please put away his electronic devices.
Whatever. None of it matters. Soon, so soon, he’ll be in Ashton’s arms. And then it won’t matter.
---
It’s Christmas Eve. Well, almost. It’s not quite the eve(ning) yet.
There’s no letter for Ashton today.
Luke’s not going to be here for Christmas.
Michael’s come to sit with him again. Or rather, sit with him as he stares at the empty corner where a Christmas tree should be.
God, it’s just so empty in the corner without a Christmas tree, so empty in his heart without Luke. Even Michael curled up on the couch next to him, sharing the blanket, doesn’t ease that ache. It’s almost worse in a way, because if Luke was here, that would be him, and it’s a slap in the face, a reminder that it’s not Luke.
Ashton doesn’t have the heart to do anything except cut out paper snowflakes with Michael. Something childish, distracting. Methodical.
Ashton’s are prettier, as Michael points out. Neater, better designs. Michael notes the heart in the center of one.
“You really miss him, don’t you,” Michael marvels. “I wish I could love a girl the way you two love each other.”
Ashton shrugs. “You’ll find someone someday.”
“I think maybe very few people have the kind of love you two do,” Michael muses. “I think you and Luke have the kind of relationship you find, like, once in a lifetime.”
“But he’s not here,” Ashton sighs. “He promised, you know? I guess he thought he’d be home, too.”
“It’s okay,” Michael says. “He’s with you. Here.” He taps the left side of Ashton’s chest. Ashton stares at him blankly.
“He’s in my lungs?”
“Wrong side,” Michael says, tapping the other side. “Now I feel weird touching your chest.”
If Ashton wasn’t so upset, maybe he’d bother to joke around a bit, tease Michael, but he’s gloomy and can’t garner the energy.
“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” he says quietly, putting down his scissors. “I could do with some extra sleep.”
Really, he’s just going to lie in bed, stare at the Christmas lights in the bedroom, maybe tweet Luke telling him how much he misses him (like he’s done every week, with massive reciprocation), but if Michael knows he’s not actually sleeping, he’ll just bother him.
“Promise me you won’t be sad?” Michael asks, holding Ashton at arms length, scissors dangerously close to Ashton’s fluffy golden-brown hair. “I don’t want you to be sad on Christmas Eve.”
“I’ll do my best,” Ashton says, and musters up a smile. And he really tries to make it genuine for Michael.
“Then good night,” Michael says, putting down the scissors and handing him a snowflake with the letters “I (heart) U” in the middle. Ashton shakes his head. You have to give Michael props for trying, he thinks.
He falls asleep clutching at Luke’s side of the bed.
---
When Luke gets in from the airport, he practically sprints through customs.
“You’re in a rush,” the woman says, looking at him oddly. “Somewhere to be?”
“I promised my boyfriend I’d be home for Christmas,” Luke breathes exhaustedly. “There’s still time. I can be there by the time he wakes up.”
The woman smiles in understanding. “Good luck to you. He must be lucky to have someone who cares so much.”
That’s what they all say. That Ashton must be lucky. Well, Luke thinks, feeling bittersweet, he’s almost home, but it’s taken him this long. Ashton, lucky? Not a bit. If Luke hadn’t been feeling so homesick, if he hadn’t decided to go to the reunion, he could be back home by now.
When he finally gets out, Michael and Calum are waiting for him.
“Thank God you’re here,” Michael groans, grabbing Luke’s suitcase off the baggage claim conveyor belt. “I swear, Ashton was going to cry if he woke up and you weren’t there.”
“I promised I’d be home for Christmas, didn’t I?” Luke says miserably, and Calum envelopes him in a consoling hug.
“Let’s get you home and cleaned up, and then we’ll get you a tree if it kills us. Ashton didn’t want to go without you. When he wakes up, you’ll be there.”
“Oh, God,” Luke says, and they go to find a taxi. “He’ll probably be mad at me.”
“Solution, Christmas sex,” Michael suggests. The glare he gets in return is less than gratifying.
“This isn’t funny, Michael,” he snaps. “We need to get that tree, and fast. Where do we even go? It’s like, three in the morning.”
“Got you covered, bro,” Calum jumps in. “I got a Christmas tree for you while Michael was at Ashton’s this afternoon. Just take it over there after you get fixed up. You look like crap.”
“Thank you,” Luke breathes in relief. “We have like four hours. Ash gets up early on Christmas day.”
“Then let’s get to it, yeah?”
---
When everything’s said and done, considering the circumstances they worked under, the tree looks pretty fucking magnificent.
Sure, Calum probably forgot to water the tree a couple of times and that’s why it’s a little dry, and sure Michael’s not the best at wrapping giant ribbon evenly around trees, and maybe Luke broke a few baubles and got glass in his fingers, but even with a bandaged hand, and a messily decorated, dry tree, Luke’s starting to feel better. When Ashton wakes up, maybe he won’t be mad. Maybe it’ll still be a nice Christmas.
Calum and Michael help him wrap up the presents he brought for Ashton and stick them under the tree. Michael knows where Ashton put his presents for Luke and puts them under the tree, too. Later on in the day, they’ll come back with their presents for Luke and Ashton and have another exchange, but they’ve got enough decency to give them privacy for reunion.
Luke can’t bring himself to sleep, wants to surprise Ashton, so he just sits in the old armchair, curled up into a tight little ball. He’s exhausted; he’s been on the road or in the air for as long as he can remember at this point. He’s so happy to just be home, soaked in the warm yellow light emanating from the corner. It’s dark outside and quiet in the house and a little lonely in a way, but he’s finally at home, and that’s all that matters.
He doesn’t mean to, but he’s so tired that his eyes start to close a little, and his rigid limbs go limp, and his head lolls to the side and he’s out.
---
When Ashton wakes up, his first thought is Luke.
Rather, the empty space on the bed that Luke should be filling but isn’t. He sighs a little and swings his legs over the side of the bed reluctantly. He can’t stay in bed forever, as much as his body is screaming at him to. He shudders as his bare feet make contact with the freezing hardwood floor and pulls on a shirt and jeans and some socks. Slowly, he makes his way out to the living room.
Luke promised he’d be here. It’s not his fault he isn’t. Just try to get through today.
When he steps into the living room, his jaw drops.
There’s a Christmas tree, fully decorated with presents under it, in the corner. There wasn’t a Christmas tree in the corner when he went to sleep last night. He’s way too old to believe in Santa, and if there had been an intruder, surely he (or she, because equal rights) would have taken something--not left a tree and presents. And those are his and Luke’s ornaments, too. Did Michael do this?
“Michael?” he says aloud. Nearly smacks himself, too. Michael’s not hiding in the room, that’s ridiculous. Like Michael could be summoned from streets away by just calling his name. Like he’d just appear. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But without his little genius boy, he makes a lot of stupid decisions.
There’s a groaning noise. Ashton nearly falls out of his skin, he’s so shocked. There’s somebody in the armchair. There’s somebody in the armchair.
“Ashton,” the blond boy in the chair says, yawning and blinking his usually bright eyes; they’re duller than Ashton remembers. There’s so much exhaustion lining his face, the shine of his eyes stolen by stress and anxiety, both of which Ashton was not there to mitigate.
“Luke,” he says, and puts a hand to his mouth in utter bewilderment. Ashton’s eyes look a little too bright now, Luke thinks. Like he’s about to cry. Luke doesn’t know how he pictured this--Ashton sweeping him up for a hug, going the other way entirely and screaming at him, being hurt, but instead, Ashton just looks so overwhelmed, like he’s about to fall over. Luke grimaces at the pain in his neck and the startled whimpers falling from Ashton. Fuck, he’s made him cry.
“Don’t cry,” he blurts out, tripping out of the chair and stumbling into Ashton’s arms. “I said I’d be home for Christmas. Don’t cry, please.”
“You came home,” Ashton chokes out, enveloping Luke in a hug and swallowing hard. “God. Oh, God. I didn’t think you were--I thought--I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Luke breathes, his voice catching. “I’m sorry.”
They stand there for a long time. Ashton cries quietly into Luke’s thin shoulder and bunches up the back of his hoodie in his fist. Luke finally lifts his head from Ashton’s own shoulder and leans his forehead against Ashton’s.
“Merry Christmas, Ash,” he whispers.
Ashton laughs a little then. “Merry Christmas, Lukey.”
They stay like that until Michael and Calum come to find them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(A/N) Well I haven't posted a chapter this weekend because I didn't have that much computer time to work and also I'm coming down from finals and I'm exhausted, but I had this saved on my computer as a Christmas gift to y'all. Soooo Merry Christmas :)
If you have NOT read my other story, Over and Over, then please go and check that out :)
<3 Love you guys, bye