For the first time in his life, Luke Hemmings made the conscious decision to keep his mouth shut.
It wasn't hard, considering the amount of uncomfortable silence that sliced through the air faster than the blood that was dripping incessantly down his face.
In all actuality, he just really wanted a fucking nap.
But Ashton Irwin was there, standing in front of him in the kitchen, his arms crossed as he stared at everything but his old friend leaning against the counter. He truly believed that maybe if he stared at it long enough, the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
Unfortunately for both of the boys, the tiles stayed in their respective place.
They had been standing like this for twenty minutes already. Luke was beginning to wonder if the other boy was ever going to look up and notice that fresh blood was still coming from many different locations on his face. He wondered if he would stitch his eyebrow back up, maybe wipe the blood away from the corner of his mouth.
Just like old times.
But Ashton made no efforts to move, and Luke didn't blame him. After everything that had happened between them, Luke was surprised that he had yet to be kicked out. He knew he probably deserved it anyways.
Finally, Luke cleared his throat, "Could I, uh, get a rag or something?"
Ashton looked up, trying and failing to hide his surprise after hearing the boy speak. However, instead of answering the blonde's question, he retaliated with one of his own.
"Why are you here, Hemmings?"
Luke shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably wincing at the pain. He knew the bruises would be visible by the time he stepped on the ice the next day, "I didn't have anywhere else to go-"
"What about Calum and Michael?" Ashton's voice was quieter, now. It was the first time he had spoken the names in a long time, "Why couldn't they help you out?"
"They," Luke hesitated, "They were unavailable."
Ashton scoffed, "You three never did change, did you?"
"I don't think you want the answer to that," Luke deadpanned.
"So lie to me, Luke."
Luke finally met his eyes; an act of defiance. He grit his teeth as his back straightened against the counter top, and he ran his already bloodied fingers through his dirt-caked hair, "I'm only here to fix this," he pointed up at the gash on his eyebrow, "That's it. That's the only reason."
"I don't really feel like helping the person who ruined my life. I don't even know how you found out where I fucking lived."
"Ruined your life? Don't make fucking jokes, Irwin. You were going nowhere before it happened, anyways," Luke rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm not talking about that, asshole," Ashton pushed himself off of his position of leaning against the counter across from the boy and stomped over to Luke.
Luke rose too, and they met each other in the middle of the kitchen, chests heaving in frustration and anger. Ashton pointed an accusatory finger at his old friend, "I'm talking about hauling your beat down ass into your house every goddamn week of my life, I'm talking about having to look your mother in the eye and tell her that you got into another fight on the ice and watch the pain in her eyes."
He looked up, being shorter than Luke, "I'm talking about listening to her cry and you promising her you'd stop, that you'd be better. I'm talking about that."
Ashton turned away, shaking his head as he began to walk out of the kitchen - as he began to leave Luke. Again.
"I never asked you to do any of that."
Ashton stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at the boy that was still standing in the middle of the kitchen. Luke's face seemed to be void of emotion, of feeling, of anything close to sympathy.
"I was the only one who cared enough to do it, Luke," Ashton spat.
Luke stared at his feet as he listened to the sound of Ashton's feet pad against the carpet of the living room, of the hallway, until he couldn't distinguish where he had gone. The blood on his face had dried. He was beginning to feel the harsh, stinging pain on his eyebrow and he had to bite his lip to hold in a whimper as he grazed his finger against the cut.
He opened Ashton's fridge and found a beer. He hadn't had a chance to drink at all when he was at the bar. He stared at it for a few seconds, his hand hovering over the cap. He shook his head and sighed, placing the cold glass against his face instead. The feeling emitted a sigh from between his lips and he slumped against the counter once more.
He silently vowed to not tell Calum or Michael about his adventure to their old best mate's house. He wasn't sure how they'd react, but he had a feeling they'd be pissed off and Luke couldn't deal with his linemen's passive aggressiveness during practice; he couldn't survive it.
He let his mind wander to the girl who had been at Ashton's apartment before. He thought about the gasp she had let slip out of her mouth when he had grabbed her wrist, he thought about the way her eyes sparkled with naivety and confusion upon the two of them demanding her exit. Luke could tell she was younger. Maybe a freshman or a sophomore, and he struggled to understand why she'd be spending time with Ashton.
Were they hooking up?
Was she Ashton's girlfriend? He never knew his friend to be into younger girls.
Luke didn't let himself think about it for too long, as his head was beginning to pound and he had to deny the very apparent urge to fall asleep where he was. He tried to remember her name.
Nora? Something like that. Novocaine? No, that was some kind of dental drug.
He could use some of that right now.
Ashton's returning footsteps broke Luke out of his thoughts and he glanced over to the curly haired boy. He carried a needle and thread and a few rags; some wet, some completely dry.
Without a word, he walked over to the blonde boy and began to wipe the dried blood off of his face.
--
Nova didn't sleep much that night. Not that she really tried, anyway. She couldn't stop thinking about her friend and the aching feeling of betrayal that she felt, even though she knew she was playing with the dramatics of the situation.
She was sure it didn't mean anything. She was sure that when they met for lunch later in the day that he would sit her down and tell her something that would put her mind at ease. She wracked her brain for the better part of the night, searching for conclusions to be drawn from the events she had witnessed.
Luke Hemmings had clearly gotten into a fight. Ashton Irwin was clearly surprised and understanding of whatever situation Luke had gotten himself into.
So what did that mean?
When Nova opened her door to leave for class the next morning, she was blissfully unaware of the tall and seemingly very uncomfortable blonde looming at the end of the hallway. She also didn't notice that there was more movement on her floor than usual; girls were making excuses to spend extra moments in the hall, making it painfully obvious that they were staring at the boy that had no real sense of direction.
Luke had woken up that morning on Ashton's couch. Before the curly haired boy had left for his morning class, he had insisted that Luke bring Nova's sweatshirt back to her as payment for the stitches that were now in the space above his eye.
Ashton told himself that he would return her books along with an explanation for last night's events during lunch. He wanted to do that himself.
So there Luke was, a dark Detroit Redwings hoodie hanging limply in his left hand, his right stuffed into his own sweatshirt pocket. He was wearing a black shirt and a grey zip-up that was pulled over his head. A pair of black joggers covered his legs and if any of the girls in the dorm room were prompted, they would answer, without question, that he still somehow looked good.
Nova didn't notice, though. At the moment, she was more focused on her phone, the same phone that told her the time and reminded her that she slept through two separate alarms and now she was going to have to go to class looking like she just rolled out of bed.
She bumped into him.
And she didn't do it lightly, either. If she hadn't known any better, she would've said that she trampled him. Her phone escaped from her grasp and landed on the floor, where she promptly bent to pick it back up.
"Oh, fuck, oh fuck. I'm so sorry-"
She looked up, noticing the blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes almost immediately. She decided to stop talking.
Ashton said don't talk to him, so don't talk to him.
Does that even apply anymore? Obviously Ashton isn't following his own rules.
"Novocaine, right?"
She straightened back out and quirked her eyebrow, "Sorry, do I look like a generalized anesthetic?"
Luke scoffed at her, "I'm not really here to make conversation, Novocaine-" she attempted to cut him off with a harsh rebuttal, but he didn't give her the chance, "Irwin said I had to give your sweatshirt back."
Nova looked at Luke with intense curiosity and then shifted her gaze to the fabric he held out in his hand.
"That's not my sweatshirt," Nova deadpanned.
"I literally could not give less of a fuck. Please just take it so I can leave."
"No, that's not my sweatshirt. I literally just need my books back. Where are they?"
"I don't care, Novocaine," Luke stressed once more, "Just take it."
"No," Nova crossed her arms and stared up at the boy defiantly, "I'm not taking what's not mine, unlike some people."
Now it was Luke's turn to quirk a curious eyebrow, "Are you attempting to insult me, little girl?" He took a step closer, leaning to her eye level, "Whatever it is, it's not working," he scoffed once more and stepped back, "It literally didn't even make any fucking sense."
"You took my friend from me," Nova accused.
"Who? Irwin? Irwin's a pussy. You can have him if you want 'em."
"Don't talk about him like that, you asshole."
"Novocaine, just take the fucking sweatshirt and we never have to speak again."
Nova met his eyes with a cold glare and he stared back at her with an expression that seemed to be void of emotion. They stayed in an unspoken staring contest until the sound of Nova's final alarm sounded and she blinked in confusion, her eyes widening in pure shock moments later.
"Fine," she huffed, ripping the sweatshirt from Luke's limp grip, "It's not even fucking mine, I don't even fucking care anymore," she grumbled.
Luke stood still as she walked further down the hallway, towards the stairs that would lead her to the exit of her dorm room. Before she got very far, she turned to face him once more.
"My name isn't Novocaine, you dick. It's Nova."
She continued to walk backwards as Luke shook his head.
"Okay, whatever, Novocaine."
And he disappeared into the elevator.
--
When Nova Montgomery thought about her friend Ashton Irwin, a few words came to her mind; kind, compassionate, caring, too-giggly-for-his-own-good, practically-a-five-year-old-stuck-in-a-twenty-two-year-old's-body, maybe something close to a raging alcoholic.
What she never thought Ashton Irwin would be was a flake. But there she was, three cups of blue Powerade deep at a table typically for three. Right now, she was the lone incumbent. Ruth had already taken off for an afternoon power nap and Ashton was nowhere to be seen.
She stared at the books on the table in front of her, the same books that she had found outside of her dorm room with no note from her friend. He had returned the books without an explanation, without even a conversation.
And, well, Nova was pissed. And to her, she had all the reason to be.
She didn't even want to go to her next class. She didn't want to leave the table until Ashton showed up - whether it be in five minutes or at three in the morning - with an explanation and hopefully some better fucking food than what the dining hall was offering tonight. But her phone vibrated all too soon and she was reminded that she had to cross campus in the next few minutes if she wanted to make it to class in time.
She grumbled a few curses directed towards her missing friends seat and slung her bag over her shoulder.
She made it to her English class earlier than usual and twiddled on her phone aimlessly as the rest of her classmates filed in around her. She didn't speak to many people in this class, and for good reason too; generally, the human population just annoyed her.
Now, granted, she wasn't one of those types to flip her hair and smirk as she said, "I'm not like other girls," But she was the type of person who chose to not associate herself with people that she deemed unworthy of her time. She hated the types of people that seemed to never grow out of their high school phase; people who still spread rumors or laughed at immature jokes or dressed like they had somewhere to be when it was obvious that the only things on their schedule were classes all day.
That's why she always preferred the company of her father, the one person who didn't pretend to be someone they weren't, the one person who was genuine and kind and unaffected by the shitty world around him.
She wanted to be like her dad.
She sent him a quick text before the professor walked in;
miss and love u heaps. hopefully i can come home again soon <3
She shut her phone off afterwards, making the conscious decision to not harass Ashton Irwin until after her long class was over. Calum Hood took his respective seat next to hers as she slid her phone into her pocket. He smiled genuinely at her and nodded a hello, which she returned politely.
One thing Nova had learned to appreciate about herself was her talents in English; they had landed her in higher classes since her first day. And now, she was sitting in a lecture hall surrounded by mostly seniors, but a few straggling juniors and sophomores spread across the crowd as well.
"What's shakin', bacon?" Calum poked the dimple on Nova's cheek.
"I hate your greetings. I swear they get worse everyday, you need to think of some better content, Cal. Maybe just stick with 'hello,' smart one."
Calum Hood and Nova Montgomery were by no means friends. They would barely consider themselves acquaintances. However, they both seemed to like each other's company well enough to continue sitting next to each other and to occasionally work on projects together. Calum was easy to talk to. It made Nova question why the nice boy chose to surround himself with people like Luke Hemmings.
She assumed it was some unspoken rule with the hockey team; perhaps if they were teammates, they had to at least pretend to like each other.
Maybe that's why Luke was so popular. Because people were forced to like him.
Their professor walked in quietly and began their lecture, but Calum was anything but ready to focus on what was happening in front of him. It happened a lot, and Nova had found herself wondering on many different occasions if perhaps Calum had a hard time focusing on anything but hockey.
"So," Calum whispered, leaning in a bit closer to Nova's seat, "D'ya have anything going on today?"
Nova eyed him curiously. His dark hair was short and curly and he was wearing his jersey with a pair of joggers.
Do hockey players wear anything else but black fucking joggers? Jesus Christ, go find a pair of jeans.
"Why do you want to know?" Nova shot back, her eyes shining in amusement. Even if Calum hadn't sparked a conversation, she was sure she'd have a hard time focusing anyways. In a weird way, she sort of welcomed the distraction. The longer she wasn't thinking about why Ashton was acting so weird, the longer she hoped she could stay sane.
"It's game night, baby. You should come support us," Calum nudged her with a suggestive elbow, "Going to be a good one, anyways. It'll be fun."
Nova shrugged, 'I don't know, Cal. You know that shit isn't really my scene."
"Trust me, No, I know that. Miss 'I don't need friends, they disappoint me.' But you should come. Hockey's fucking awesome and you know it."
"I have homework."
"You literally don't."
"I don't understand hockey."
"Yes, you do. You've probably talked more about the Chicago Blackhawks being swept in the 2017 playoffs more than I've spoken about my own damn team."
"Because the Nashville Predators didn't deserve shit and I'm still pissed that the Hawks couldn't score a damn goal to save their lives," Nova spoke matter-of-factly, loud enough to catch the attention of some of the people near them.
Heads turned in Calum and Nova's direction and the professor lightly scolded the pair before returning back to his lecture.
"Please," Calum leaned in again, whispering in Nova's ear, "One game. And if you don't like it, you never have to step foot in the arena ever again."
Nova was silent for a while and Calum's brown eyes stayed on her, the puppy-dog look that she hated more than anything in the entire world. Although they weren't close, she still wasn't completely immune to his charm.
"Fine," she grumbled, "One game. That's all you get."
Somehow she knew it wouldn't be the only time she sat in those stands.
------
ay yo, procrastinating updating because even though no one's really reading this fic i still want it to be something im proud of checkkkkkkkkkk. this chapter isnt much of anything but it really introduces a lot of the main points in the story so im excited to continue delving into stuff.
i really, from the bottom of my heart, hope whoever is reading this is enjoying it and its bringing at least a little bit of joy into their lives. writing is a really nice outlet for me and i hope reading can become an outlet for you and i hope i can help you in some way.
anyway i totally wrote most of this chapter ten minutes ago and its past midnight but i really wanted to put something up tonight so i hope you enjoy. ignore the spelling errors too im a piece of human garbage and allison looked it over but we're both half asleep so we def missed some stuff.
please please please vote and comment. it'll help me know if people are actually enjoying what im putting out. ill talk to yall soon and i love you.
emily <3