The locker room fell silent. The aftershock of Michael's statement seemed to take a toll on Luke as the silence around us stilled. He seemed hurt, flustered, even broken at the spoken words, almost as if they set something off in him, like a ripple effect within, and I couldn't understand why.
I wanted more than anything to, but I just couldn't understand why he was clutching his stomach for dear life, with sorrow in his eyes as he shook his head violently back and forth, all because of Michael's spoken words that had hatred and hurt etched into them.
Standing in between the two, Michael slowly got up, mumbling things to himself before addressing me and walking toward the door, removing his intense stare on a scared Luke.
"Shouldn't you get home to group?" Michael says like it's the funniest thing in the world. "Wouldn't your caretaker worry? Surely it's past curfew, Irwin," he mocks from afar before I walk him back against a wall.
Michael has no right to comment on my living arrangements. He has no right to pick apart my lifestyle that's been forced upon me, that he has no knowledge of, for his own entertainment.
"Yeah, I do know," he retorts, laughing and answering my shocked-filled expression. "Relax. No one else knows, but we can just add this to the list of things I have against you. So, if I were you, I would get the fuck off me. Now," he demands loud enough for Luke to hear and shake at the volume and tone of his voice.
"How?" I questioned in angry shock at the fact he actually knows and decides to use it against me now of all times, and in front of Luke of all people.
I know how I ended up in group. It was a weak point in my life and I was a scared freshman before I got transferred here because of it and I didn't know any better at the time. I just wanted to please my family, but nothing I ever did was enough. Nothing I ever do is enough.
"Bet you had to do some bad shit to end up there, huh?" he presses, like he knows the actual truth. I did nothing wrong. Well, that's what everyone keeps telling me, so that's what I keep believing.
Before Michael can continue talking, he gets cut off as we hear a gasp off the far end of the locker room where Luke was sitting against a row of blue lockers.
The two of us look at him worried, Michael speaking vaguely, trying to hid his once shown emotion. "He's having an attack, just hold him. It'll calm him down. He needs to know everything's okay and calm around him," he says, pushing me off me and turning toward the door.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know him," Michael states before leaving the locker room as I make my way to Luke.
Sitting on the floor, I bring the tall child-like boy into my lap, holding him protectively and rocking a little back and forth to calm him down.
Luke gripped onto me hard, assuring himself I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't. I wasn't just going to leave no matter how late I am for curfew.
"You're okay, alright?" I whisper into his ear. "I'm sorry you had to see me that angry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just got carried away a bit," I said honestly. My anger always gets the best of me.
He nods in what I hope is understandment while wiping at his face and sitting upright in my lap.
"Um, how do you and Michael, you know? Wait, you know what, don't answer that. You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable, I'm sorry," I say timidly and a bit flustered under him as he shakes his head sadly.
Luke snuggled further into my lap, wrapping his arms hesitantly but boldly around my waist as I tightened my hold around him, keeping him still with his head on my chest as I leaned my back against the lockers. Silence fills all around us. The only sound heard is Luke's small breathing.
~~~~~~~~~
The two of us stayed in that position for a while. When we finally decided on standing up to stretch, Luke desperately intertwined our hands together, lightly smiling down at them as I stared at him in awe at such a little gesture he seemed to do all on his own yet again.
Once the mid-October air hit us, I offered to walk him home and for a while, he stood frozen in place, gripping my hand tightly at the thought of home.
A few minutes passed and the sun finally set, slowly creating darkness around us before he nodded reluctantly in agreement, leading the way and pulling me along by the hand.
The sun had gone down and it made me question just how long we actually sat there, wrapped in each other's arms. Pulling out my phone with my free hand and looking at the time, it reads 9:30 and I'm met with several messages from Eric, asking where the fuck I was on a school night, that I ignored while mentally preparing myself for what was going to happen once I stepped foot in my group home.
Luke and I didn't speak on the way to his house, but by the way his palm was sweating in mine, I could tell he was nervous about going home for some reason and I couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like he was going to tell me why.
Luke was like a puzzle, except this puzzle doesn't have a picture on the box that normal people use for assistance to go by.
He didn't talk, so nothing I thought I knew could ever be confirmed unless it was with a head nod or his body language which wasn't much to go on. Well, not all the time.
Being too absorbed in thought, I was startled when Luke pulled me back by the hand, stopping me in front of a red house. He looked down at me for a couple of seconds before letting go of my hand and beginning to walk up toward the door.
I stood there with my hands now in my pockets, waiting for him to go directly inside before trying to navigate my way to my doom.
But to my surprise, every few steps Luke took toward the door, he looked back to me, making sure I was still there, smiling more to himself than to me and I couldn't help the smile his actions brought to my lips as he begin to unlock his door, leaving it wide open as he was looking back one last time before running back to me down the pathway.
Luke stood in front of me shyly before placing his arms around my neck, hugging me tightly.
I smiled up at him, grabbed a hold of his waist, and brought him into another hug. As we disconnected, he smiled down at me nervously with a grin across his face before running inside and closing the door behind him, not looking back.
And in that moment, I realized no matter what the punishment I was facing, it'd be worth it. Luke Hemmings was worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, after about 20 minutes of navigating my way through the dark streets, I'm met with the huge dark greenish house that's been called home for the last two years of my life.
All the lights are on even though I'm 90% sure lights out was 30 minutes ago and head count as well, which I've most likely missed.
Everyone must be awake, preparing themselves for a show, because I never disobey caretaker rules. I'm usually the obedient one in the house out of the 9 other boys, keeping them all in check and watching over the lot of them, so everyone must have been shocked when they called head count and I wasn't there.
Walking up the pathway reluctantly, I mentally prepared myself for what I was going to get. I knew what time curfew had ended, I knew when head count was, I knew I missed dinner and I knew none of them would be excused because of football as much as I wished it could.
Before I could even bring my hand to the door knob, it flung open violently, making a loud bang and causing the 9 boys on a stairwell to erupt in laughter at the sight of me.
Looking up into the house, I'm met with Richard, the caretaker of the house looking down at me more worriedly than angrily, shockingly.
"All of you, it's past lights out. Get," Richard yells, turning to the boys lined up at the staircase, waiting for the scene to unfold.
"Oh, c'mon! Ashton never gets in trouble. At least let us stay to watch," one of the younger boys, a freshman at my school named Jake, says seriously.
"This may never happen again. At least let us be here to witness it," Mark, his roommate, adds on while laughing.
"Now," Richard demands, "or everyone's curfew gets bumped up to 6 o'clock on weekends for a month," he yells, causing all the boys to run upstairs in a jumbled mess.
As they flooded up the stairs, chorusing good nights and good lucks to me, I feel a small tug on the leg of my jeans as I know exactly who it is.
"I couldn't sleep, Ashy," Brad yawns, whipping at his eyes tiredly. "Was too worried about you. I thought you left me here and weren't going to come back like mummy and daddy did. Eric tried putting me to bed, but he isn't really good at it," he says, referring to my roommate. "Can you put me to bed?" Bradley asks kindly, playing with his blue pajamas and blanket in hand before messing his brown mop head of hair further.
"I wouldn't leave you. I won't ever, bud. Come here," I respond, kneeling down and picking him up, hoisting him at my waist.
"Ashton," Richard says sternly once I have Bradley in my hands, clutching tightly on the side of my hip. "Why are you late for curfew?"
"I had to take someone home. I lost track of time. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," I promise worriedly, not trying to raise my voice to frighten Bradley who's about half asleep in my arms already.
"If this happens again, there's no more football and I'm not kidding. I already bend your curfew enough for that."
"I'm sorry, Richard."
"It's okay, kid. Next time, just answer your damn phone. We all worry," he says seriously before I begin climbing the stairs to take Bradley to bed while feeling thankful. This is the first actual time I've gotten in trouble and he's deciding to go easy on me.
"Wait, you aren't getting off that easy. That party tomorrow? I want you home by 11:30 and not a minute later."
"Okay," I say, not wanting to pull an argument, knowing he could've easily taken away football from me without a care in the world.
In many ways, Richard's like a dad to all of us. All he does is care for the ten of us unconditionally and I never imagined a caretaker to do so. At least, that isn't how they are in shows.
"Take him to bed and make sure everyone's lights are out upstairs. I'm going to double check the locked doors."
"Goodnight, Ricard."
"Night, Ash, and hey, I expect all of us to get tickets for the big first game next week," he says, smiling and dropping his once stern tone as I nod my head in agreement, astonished at the fact he even remembered with everything else he has on his plate, as I begin going up the stairs carefully with Bradley tucked into my side.
Going up the stairs, I'm met with 5 doors. As I walk to the last one with Bradley's name on it along with Ryder's underneath, I kick it open lightly.
All 5 rooms are the same size with the same things inside, two single beds against opposite walls, either black or white colored, and two dressers with one small closet to share.
"Ryder, what are you still doing up?" I ask, looking at the blonde boy sitting up in his bed, looking at me patiently.
"Bradley isn't the only one who's gotten used to your good goodnights. I tried putting him to sleep like you do, but I couldn't, so I called Eric and he was way worse," he says quietly, noting Bradley is now asleep as I place him on the bed, laying his head on the pillow while leaving his blanket next to him, then tucking him into the covers and kissing his cheek.
Walking to Ryder's bed, I sit at the edge, beginning to respond. "Eric isn't good with children at all."
Ryder's in the sixth grade while Bradley's in the first. I don't know why either of them got moved to this home since the other boys and I seem to be of the same age group, but none of us have yet to question Richard or the younger boys as to what could've happened that got them sent here instead of elsewhere.
"Do you ever think Bradley's sick?" Ryder questions. Bradley doesn't act like most kids his age, always repeating things for confirmation, rather confused of his surroundings and even frightened more than most at his age.
"He has autism," I tell Ryder honestly. "It's when kids have different social skills or complications that make them act differently, or not want to speak verbally to most."
"Will he ever get better?" Ryder asks. "I don't want kids picking on him at school."
"That's completely up to him and his development," I say, remembering Richard telling me there isn't much we can do about it. It's up to Bradley and his mindset of letting people in. We just have to deal with it and make it to the best of our ability to make him feel safe and normal. "And if you ever see kids pick on him, you give them a little one two like I taught ya, okay?" I say, jabbing at Ryder's stomach, causing him to laugh.
"No one picks on my brother," he agrees, high fiving me.
"Yeah. No one messes with Richard's boys, ever," I agree. Ryder made this whole situation of being here easier on himself by thinking we're all family and in many ways, we are.
"Love you, Ashton."
"I love you too. Now c'mon, bed time. Tomorrow's Saturday and you can go outside and play all day after doing your homework," I assure the jittery boy, who's smiling in his bed, before tucking him in as well before leaving the room quietly and shutting off all the lights upstairs like Richard said.
Walking to my room down the hall quietly, I'm met with Eric sat up in his bed, his arms crossed over his chest while I close the door quietly behind me, beginning to strip to my boxers.
"Where were you, man?"
"Taking someone home. I got a little sidetracked. I forgot all about Bradley needing me to go to sleep," I tell him, honestly feeling rather bad for leaving him to deal with that.
"Do you have a girlfriend you aren't telling us all about? Lately, you seem happier and way more secretive."
"Never," I laugh, throwing my beaten up sneakers in the closet and shutting the room light off.
"Ashton."
"Yeah, Eric?" I ask, mimicking his tone of voice amusingly. Eric's in the same grade as I, but he's sort of way smarter than I am. He takes honors everything, even plays soccer, so he is popular and known as a heartbreaker around school.
"Are you gay?" he asks quietly as I begin to shift in my bed, uncomfortable. "Some things have been going around school and I just want to hear it from you if it's true."
"What have you heard?" I ask, trying to hold back tears at everyone finding out what I've tried two whole years to hide since being moved here.
"There's just this thing going around about how you're never with girls, despite how many want you," he says as I shift my body to face the wall.
"I'm not, Eric," I swear falsely, knowing I've been gay since grammar school, knowing being gay's what got me here in the first place.
"You know if you were, I'd be okay with it. We'd all be," he says and I subconsciously let a sniffled cry out louder than I was supposed to at the remembrance of my parents.
After a few moments, I hear movement on Eric's side of the room before he pushes my sheet up, slipping in my bed and pulling me into him.
"You're always so strong for all of us in here. You don't have to fake something you aren't with us, ever," he says as tears stream down my face, latching onto him.
"We love you, Ashton, gay or not. That doesn't change the amazing person you are. That doesn't change everything you do for us at all," he whispers into my ear before sleep falls between both of us.