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Sam’s been housesitting for his Aunt on the coast - Luke, AJ and Tom have come down to visit for a few of the few relentlessly sunny days of English summer. They’re spending their time drinking at the house, wandering down to the beach and the pubs, playing copious amounts of video games, even renting a DVD or two.
It’s nice. Just the four of them.
Three of them just graduated, the year has been good, things really picked up at their improv society, it finally feels like they sortofmaybekindofalmost know how to do this comedy thing.
It’s a nice feeling. Scary, but exciting.
Luke’s girlfriend is doing a big Europe trip this summer. She’s in Spain right now? Actually maybe it's Croatia - Sam’s forgotten - but Luke is glued to his phone to text her at weird hours of the day and night. Good for him.
It seeps into Sam’s ribs every time Luke picks up his phone.
***
When they’d met in first year, Sam gravitated towards Luke, it felt like everyone did. How could they not? He seemed to love being the centre of attention, but not in an annoying way. He managed to make himself actually likeable. But maybe Sam was biased. Sam would follow him around almost unwittingly, and maybe he imagined it, but Luke seemed to pop up around him too. They’d find each other between classes at uni, arrive at parties together, walk to the tube together, partner up in classes. Any idle time that could realistically be spent together was spent together. Because of course it was.
It was Luke and Sam, Sam and Luke.
It was nice.
Once, at improv class, they laid on the floor for some bullshit imaginative meditation.
Tom and AJ, naturally, took it very seriously, feeling the parts of their body that touched the floor, imagining light shining through them or whatever.
Sam cracked open his eyes and turned his head towards Luke lying on his back next to him, eyes screwed tightly shut. For a moment, Sam noticed the curve of his nose and the shine of his hair before Luke opened one eye, peering sideways to catch Sam’s. They held the gaze for a moment, Luke’s mouth twisting to hold in a laugh as Sam let out a decidedly non meditative snort and clap both hands over his mouth, eyes squashing shut.
Luke had told him about the bi thing sometime in second year. It was over a cigarette at the back of their local pub, the last one in Sam’s pack for the week.
“Yeah, I dunno guess I’ve known for a while.” He passed the fag back to Sam.
“Like its sort’ve always been there but someone said that word and it sort’ve fell together, you know?”
“Mm.”
Sam blew smoke away from them, then passed it back to Luke. There were only a few others left in the pub, Luke had sat himself right close to Sam on their bench, it was warm where their bodies touched, Luke was always more tactile with a few drinks in him, Sam liked that.
The cigarette returned to Sam, who took the final drag before smushing it into the ashtray. He pushed it all the way into the ceramic until the filter split. His lungs are warm.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it okay?”
“What?”
“The erm, me being bi.”
Sam looked up at him, Luke was searching for something in him, Sam clearly hadn’t been reassuring enough.
“Of course it is Luke. We have plenty of friends who are… you know.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“If it's okay, you should be able to say it.”
“That you’re bi?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s what you need then I’ll say it. Luke Manning, I do not care that you are bisexual. I mean, not that I don’t care, like I don’t mind. It doesn’t affect our friendship. You do you man.”
Luke blinked at him, then softened, nodding, looking down at the dregs of his beer.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
They both took a swig of their drinks. Sam found himself holding his lighter, he brought it up to the table and flicked it on, burning a black spot in the wood, then he grinned.
“Have you sucked any dick yet?”
Luke smacked the lighter out of his hand.
***
The pub by the beach is crowded. Full of freshers and 16 year olds with fake ID’s and tans and eyelashes. The beer is warmish by now and they are sweating through their shirts. But it's nice. Tom is attempting to parse out what his Master’s will be, and if there’s even a point to doing one at all. Sam knows he will be okay no matter how much he stresses. AJ is wondering what he will do when his mates aren’t there next year; there’s some vague plan to keep doing stuff together after uni with the four or three or five or whoever of them. Sam would just be happy to laugh and to make others laugh. Carrie is online right now, so Luke is furiously responding to a text.
There it is, between his collarbones again.
***
Sam had a birthday party about a month ago at his sharehouse. It was good fun, a game of ragecage had materialised in the garage. Luke was naturally heading his team against Sam’s but bless him, he was not a good shot; charisma does not equal hand eye coordination. Carrie had wandered off with some of her friends, and Sam was grateful for an excuse to stare Luke down.
An excuse to blame the feeling in his chest on cheap vodka in disgusting red cups.
And an excuse to win.
Afterwards, Luke slurred, insisted that he’d let Sam’s team win as a birthday favour, slung his arm around Sam, and squeezed him close. Their friends laughed, Sam felt loose and warm. It was nice.
Later in the night, Luke found Sam in the back garden with the other smokers, whispered hotly in his ear that he didn’t feel well and couldn’t find Carrie and would Sam please stay with him. So Sam handed his cigarette and ushered Luke to the upstairs bathroom - the smaller one that they’ve cordoned off from the rest of the guests. It’s quiet up there with the door closed. Locked. They sat on the tiled floor on either side of the toilet. Somehow Luke has acquired a glass of water, perhaps pressed into his hand by a kind friend on their way up. He took a sip and then looked at Sam.
“I don’ think ‘m gonna throw up.”
“S’okay.”
“Jus’... get anxious I think.”
“I know mate,” then, perhaps a little evilly “Carrie not around?”
Luke shook his head.
“Mm.”
Luke’s eyes bored into Sam, he was a little sweaty and a lot flushed. His chin was tucked, a soft, fold of skin forming at his jaw. Sam let himself stare back.
It's nice, staring.
Luke took another sip of his water but his coordination wasn’t great and some of it spilt down his chin and he licked his fucking lips and wiped his chin and didn’t break eye contact and yep Sam was going to die tonight at his own party. His chest burnt.
Staring is nice, but it's not enough.
“Sam, I wanna -”
“No, Luke.”
It's not enough but Sam doesn’t want it like this. Not when Luke is so drunk and Carrie is so nice. He reaches across to place a hand on Luke’s shin, who looks at where Sam’s hand burns into him.
“Please -”
A knock on the door.
“Luke?” Carrie’s voice. “Are you in there?”
Sam retracted his hand, not breaking eye contact.
“Yeah he is, I’m with him, gimme a sec.”
Luke’s brow creased and he looked towards the door; his brain and body were probably running at different speeds. He looked back at Sam searchingly for a second, before his brain caught up and he used the toilet seat to push himself to stand. He concentrated hard to unlock the door. Sam stood too, reaching to unlock the door for Luke, who hurriedly opened it to see his girlfriend. She smiled and reached up to push his hair off his forehead.
“Hey, are you okay? Sorry, I was talking to Annabelle, Gemma said you were up here.” She looked him over and then past them into the bathroom. “Did you throw up?”
“Nah m’okay.”
“He’s probably had enough, he uh, drank some water.” Sam turned to pick up the cup and pass it to Carrie, who passed it to Luke, who took another sip.
“Yeah okay, thanks for looking after him Sam. Might be time for us to go then.”
Sam knew she was right. Of course she was - she had her head screwed on correctly. It would look weird if he spent his whole birthday party looking after Luke, anyway, even though he would.
“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”
Sam followed as she wrapped her arm around Luke’s waist and guided him downstairs slowly, then slipped away as quickly as possible as Carrie went about finding them a ride home.
Luke and Carrie had met in one of his classics classes, one of the random electives they got to do in their acting degree. Sam supposed it made sense when they got together earlier in the year, they looked good together and she was nicer than the last girl Luke had dated. In fact, she was really lovely, she and Sam got on really well, Tom and AJ too. She had colourful hair and graphic eyeliner, her Facebook had pretty photos of her and Luke, most recently, a casual selfie with a big smile plastered on his face as Carrie planted a kiss on the side of his face.
Not that Sam was checking.
She was really nice. And Luke was really happy. And Sam was really looking forward to her Europe trip.
***
The four of them wander home from the pub, the night air is warm, Sam pulls his pack of fags from his pocket. He lights one and then passes it to Tom. Tom only smokes when he drinks, or only when he’s with friends, or only when he’s had a big week of assignments, or only when he’s had to visit home, or only when he’s offered one. But he’s not a smoker. He extends it to AJ, who of course rejects it, so he offers it to Luke instead, who returns his phone to his pocket, smiles and shakes his head.
“I’m good.”
“You’ve quit?” Tom passes the cigarette back to Sam.
“Uh, I guess? Dunno, just don’t think I wanna make a habit of it.”
AJ claps him on the shoulder.
“Good on you mate.”
“Yeah that's nice for you.” It comes out with a bit more vitriol than Sam intends, so he follows it up with:
“More for me and Tom!” He passes it over and gives him a nudge, Sam’s heart is beating weirdly fast.
“Nah, I don’t smoke.” Tom says, taking an appreciative drag.
Back at the house, they put their rented disc of Inception into the DVD player, AJ had insisted at the video shop that it was insanely good and why the hell hadn’t the others watched it yet? As it plays, Sam notices that Luke has finally put his phone away. The heat in his chest relaxes down into his stomach, a reliable, comfortable warmth. The movie is nice. The popcorn is nice.
By the time it finishes, it's almost 3am, so they wander upstairs to bed. Sam’s aunt has a room of bunkbeds left over from when Sam and his cousins were little and would come visit her. It feels too weird for any of them to sleep in her bed, and too antisocial for any of them to sleep on the couch, and there are four beds, so they all sleep in the one room.
It's kind of hilarious, like a sleepover, or school camp. They’re rickety, but the accommodation is free and the company is good, so Tom and Sam take bottom bunks, AJ and Luke take their chances on the top. They chat their way into pajamas, and keep talking softly once the lights are off.
Then, AJ starts to snore and Luke and Sam realise they’re the only two still talking.
“I think AJ’s asleep.” Luke changes his tone to a whisper.
“Noo what gave it away?”
Luke giggles, honest to god giggles. What the hell. Sam is gonna go insane.
“Do you wanna keep talking?”
Sam is laying, eyes shut, as close to sleep as you could get while still holding a conversation, but it's Luke, so he says,
“I mean, yeah.”
“Maybe we should move downstairs so these guys can sleep.”
“Mmmhhmmm.” This, from Tom’s bunk.
“Yeah okay.”
Gingerly, Sam crawls out of bed as Luke climbs as quietly as possible down from the top bunk. He isn’t very successful since Tom groans and rolls over dramatically. Luke gets to the floor and theatrically creeps to the door, which creaks when he opens it, because why wouldn’t it. He looks back at Sam and grins, face illuminated by the moon. They softly close the door and wander down the stairs. If they sit on the couch, Sam knows he’ll fall asleep, so he asks,
“Wanna sit outside? It's warm…”
“Sure.”
They settle on the back stoop, which is just big enough for the two of them to sit if they are pressed together. Neither of them mind, despite the heat of the night, despite the stickiness of their skin. It's silent for a few minutes, there isn’t even any wind to rattle the leaves.
“How’s Carrie?” Sam wishes he wasn’t interested, but he is, she is nice and she matters to Luke and Sam can’t think of anything else to ask.
“Yeah she’s good, Barcelona right now, says she’d want to move there someday.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm.”
Silence again.
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Move. To Barcelona.”
“With Carrie?”
“Mmm.”
“Well, she’ll come back home and the shine will wear off the idea in a few months I’m sure.”
Luke tilts his gaze to the starry sky. There are more stars here than in the city. Then he adds.
“Might be fun though. I’d like to live somewhere else at some point I think.”
“Barcelona?”
“Maybe. Nice and close to England but with more than three warm nights a year.”
“Right.”
“Not for a while though. It’s nice to have something to look forward to.”
“Nice.”
He sounds so genuine and offhanded about it and Sam thinks he might melt into the ground.
He needs a cigarette.
He grabs the pack and his lighter from his pocket and pulls one out.
“Were those just in your pocket in bed?” Luke laughs, somehow unsurprised.
“Grabbed them on our way out. Sorry, I know you’ve quit.”
“Well, Carrie just thinks it's gross, doesn’t want me to kiss her after I’ve had one, so I figured I’d cut down.”
“I see.”
“Plus, they do give you cancer.”
“They do.”
Sam lights one and inhales deeply, then blows a wobbly smoke ring. Luke watches the ring drift away, then stares intently at the glowing end of the cigarette. Sam knows that stare; maybe he deserves to be a little evil tonight.
“At least I’ll have fun getting cancer. And anyway, it's not like she’s here to kiss you right now.”
He grins at Luke, then lets the hand holding the cigarette rest gently, absently on Luke’s knee, gazing innocently up at the sky.
“I’m not looking.”
“Fuck you.” Luke snatches the offending cigarette and brings it to his lips, inhaling shakily.
“Hey, I didn’t tell you to do anything!” Sam laughs, “One more isn’t going to change your fate.”
“You can pay for my chemo.”
“Nah you’ll be in Barcelona by then,” Sam makes sure to use his best Spanish accent, “they probably have free healthcare, you’re on your own, mate.”
They look at eachother, Luke smiles and his eyes crinkle, Sam always notices it. He gestures for Luke to pass the cigarette back to him.
“C’mon, leave some for the rest of us.” After another drag, Luke does as he is told.
“You know, I still haven’t told her.”
“Told her what?”
“About being bi.”
There was that stabbing in his chest again. Burning.
“Oh… Why not?”
Luke shrugged and drummed his fingers on his knees.
“Mm, dunno, hasn’t come up? Not sure if I even need to? Like, does it even count anymore?”
“What like, cos you’re dating a girl, you’re straight now?”
“Maybe?”
“Is that how that works?”
“Dunno - like, I don’t feel different, but I just wonder if it matters.”
Sam considers this, takes another drag, passes the cig. It smoulders in his chest.
“I mean, feelings don’t just magically go away. And I guess it's about how your brain is wired, it doesn’t suddenly change when you start dating someone.”
Luke looked at him and blew smoke out his nose.
“No. They don’t go away.”
Sam sighed, being a nice friend sucks.
“She probably would want to know the whole you, and if that includes being bi, I guess she should know that.” A pause. “I want you to be happy Luke, and I think that means you living truthfully.”
Luke puts a hand on his knee. It burns.
“Thank you.”
Sam nods, returning his gaze to the stars. The moon is bright and Sam sends a silent prayer to it that Luke will drop this subject and he can go back to having a nice night with his friend.
“I do feel a little bummed I’ll never be with a guy though.”
Unfortunately, the moon is just a rock.
“You do?” The night is suddenly oppressively warm. Luke’s hand hasn’t moved. He’s looking up to the sky, Sam is burning and Luke is just looking at the fucking sky, sucking on Sam’s cigarette.
“I mean, it's okay.” And Luke turns his stupid face to Sam and says the worst thing he possibly could.
“But it would have been nice.”
Fuck him. Fuck him for dating a nice girl. For planning to move somewhere nice like Barcelona. For posting nice pictures and hanging out with their nice friends and having a nice night with Sam. For being nice to Sam. Sam has been so nice. Sam is sick of fucking nice. Sam wants fucking fantastic, he wants ecstatic, orgasmic, he wants dirty, disgusting, deplorable, he wants to run away, to start a new life in another country, to smoke all of the cigarettes til his lungs to give out and to live a life onstage with his best friends and he wants to laugh and to cry and to love and to burn into nothingness and he wants to do it with Luke.
He won’t, but it would have been nice. So fuck him.
“Okay…” says Luke, staring. It's that stupid wanting needy pretty chin tucked stare from the bathroom at Sam’s party.
And of course Sam realises he had said all of that out loud, he could have kept quiet, wouldn’t that have been nice?
But Sam is fucking done with nice.
Luke wants. Sam knows that, he’s not stupid.
He’s boiling in the heat.
And Luke is still staring and his hand is still on Sam’s knee when he asks,
“And what am I supposed to do with that, Sam?”
Sam is exhausted. He should be asleep.
“Just fucking ask me for what you want.”
Luke breaks the stare looking to the ground instead. He’s still got the cigarette, which he takes a final drag from it, then presses it firmly into the concrete. He returns his gaze to Sam, to finally say it:
“I want you to kiss me.”
And Sam is nice, he can say he is not, but he is. He holds Luke's face with both hands and leans forward to catch his lips. Luke latches on like Sam is all he’s ever wanted - maybe he is, Sam can live in that reality for now. His mouth is smooth and open and he tastes of delicious tobacco. One of Luke’s hands is placed on the top of Sam’s chest, pressing gently over his collarbones, it is cool on Sam’s hot skin.
Sam pulls away gently, to see him, give him a break, only for Luke to smile and pull him back in, so Sam twists to meet him, because he will give Luke whatever he wants. Luke’s tongue is explorative and soft, all of him is explorative and soft, one hand tangles in Sam’s hair, the other slides from his collarbone over his belly and onto his thigh. Luke pulls away and says,
“On top of me? Please?”
And Sam knows he will never ask again, so he lets Luke lie down on his back on the porch and covers him with his body. He even kisses Luke’s neck, but does not bite, Luke won’t want any evidence when the sun rises. So he contents himself with kissing, letting Luke’s hands glide over his back and through his hair. Let him take what he likes.
Then, Luke’s hands press gently at his shoulders, and Sam pushes up on his hands to look down at Luke. For a moment he is Luke’s. For a moment it is real. And Luke is breathing heavily, his stare is heavy with want; a fold under his chin.
He smiles.
Sam smiles back, because of course he does.
Then Luke’s phone buzzes
His hands leave Sam’s shoulders to cover his face. And Sam knows, this will never happen again, so he stays still. He can hear Luke’s breath become shaky, uneven, he is pressing his fingertips into his eyes and squeezing his eyebrows. Maybe if Sam stays still enough, Luke will come back to him (he won’t). Instead, his eyes are red when he removes his hands and takes one last look at Sam, before wriggling to get free. Sam lets him go, watching as he gathers himself and goes inside as quickly as possible.
A bird chirps nearby and Sam shifts to face the back garden; the sky is one shade of blue lighter. He picks up the packet and pulls out another cigarette.
He didn’t even get a thank you.
Guess you can’t expect thanks for being nice.