Definition [ot4]

Thirty One

Luke's cold. He's thin, all of his body mass is spread out over his giant frame, so he gets cold easily. And it doesn't really help that Michael and Calum are practically in each other's laps in the seats in front of his. He squints, then glances over at Ashton, hoping the older boy will get the point.

He's got his headphones in and his phone clutched in his hands, gazing out the window thoughtfully. Luke's eyes zero in on the sticker stuck to the top right corner of his chest. It's all white, with only "Pls do not touch the artwork" written on it in Calum's chicken scratch. Luke had forgotten that Ashton wasn't up for touching people today. Come to think of it, he wasn't up for talking to people, either. Calum was his mouth piece, apparently.

Luke huffs again, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. His fingers smooth down the goose bumps on his bicep slowly, but he's still freezing. Ashton glances at him out of the corner of his eye, probably only because Luke had made the entire seat move, but then turns back to the plane window again.

Calum laughs from the seat in front of them, quickly followed by Michael making an annoyed noise, and Luke scowls. They know he hates being left out of things. And he's still fucking cold.

"I hate," Luke announces, to no one in particular. He doesn't even bother finishing the sentence, because no ones probably paying attention to him. Even if they are, they should know that he just hates everything. He hates this plane, he hates his band, he hates how hungry he is, he hates how cold he is, he hates that he doesn't have a blanket, he hates that no one will cuddle with him. He just, he hates everything. But mostly his band.

"What's the matter, little Lukey?" Calum sits up and turns to peer over the seat, all big, bright eyes and fluffy hair. Luke hates when they call him that, too. As always, Ashton and Michael both follow Calum's line of sight and glance back at Luke expectantly.

"I just," Luke huffs again, sticking his bottom lip up and glancing down at his lap. "I just hate!"

Calum gives him a considering look, eyeing him curiously for a few seconds, before he nods in agreement. "Me too."

Michael looks amused at the conversation. Well, from what Luke can see of him over the plane seat. Ashton pulls out one ear bud so he can listen closer, and eyes Luke up with a small smile. Luke knows they're amused at Calum's response, not the conversation. They're listening to see what Calum's going to say, not what they're talking about.

Luke doesn't respond, too caught up in his burning jealousy, so Calum takes it upon himself to reply. "Wanna join the mile high club?"

"Yes," Luke mutters miserably, not quite meaning it. Any other day, he'd be up for it, but today he's just upset. He's upset that everyone loves Calum and not him, and he's upset that he's still cold. Calum doesn't sense his sarcasm, apparently and jumps up. Michael's eyes widen while Ashton's narrow, as Calum trots over to Luke and grabs his hands.

"Right, then, better get a move on!" He says enthusiastically. He tugs Luke up and out of his seat, making the taller boy stumble, then drags him down the isle. Calum holds the creaky, plastic, bathroom door open and ushers Luke in, bowing slightly when Luke passes him.

Luke leans against the sink and pouts, while Calum shuts the door behind them and struggles with the lock. When he finally gets it, he turns and wraps his arms tightly around Luke's waist, propping his chin over Luke's broad shoulder and gripping the back of Luke's flannel shirt. Luke hums in surprise, instantly hugging back with his arms wrapped around Calum's neck.

"Why so glum, chum?" Calum asks softly, always so gentle.

Luke laughs and smacks the back of his head in one swift movement, ruffling Calum's hair and making him giggle. "Don't ever say that again."