FIFTH HALF ― luke hemmings ✓

#1

"Can we start talking about how I told all of you not to camp out of my apartment?"

Grabbing the remote, I paused the series they're all drawn into, hearing complains left and right after doing so. "You are not a very good host, babe." The curly haired boy said while eating popcorns, and even throwing several at me which I successfully ducked with.

"I am a very good host for even letting you in." I smack the pillow right in his face and that caused him to drop the bowl of popcorns on the couch. "Now, clean that up." He could only groan when I raised my brow and he started picking it all up by a handful. His fingers are long enough to grab those in a minute, he should be fine.

"Are you on your period?" The kiwi asked and I turned to him with a raise brow.

"Are you a dickhead?"

"I'm just kidding, geez!" I laugh while going over him, grabbing the snickers he just recently opened and hearing him wail like a child.

"Would you be so kind and play the series now?" The boy with his ridiculously blonde fringe that doesn't move an inch spoke, giving me a certain puppy look that they all knew I couldn't resist.

"Nine damn years and I'm still such a sucker for all you asshats." Grabbing the remote once again, I play the series and they all celebrated like kids—focusing at the show right after like I didn't even tell them all about getting out of my small apartment that's now crowded with both my things—and their things. They don't even pay the rent with me.

Knowing absolutely that my futile attempts were useless, I sat down beside the bassist and ate the bar I stole from him, setting my foot down on the coffee table and watching a series I know nothing about. I heard him sigh after and I was ready to tease him about the bar being actually good when what he said made me appreciate it less. "I wish Luke's here." The rest of the boys seemed to have heard and they all look at us. "We do this with him on our breaks. Now he's barely even at home."

"My home." I corrected, giving him back his snicker bar and turning over to the television to take my head off of the very same thought.

"Perks of having a girlfriend." I could feel the slight twinge in my heart and I tried to breathe it out. Thanks for that, Ash.

"I have a girlfriend, too. You know." Mikey blurted out while he looks at us and they roll their eyes.

"Yes, but you still hangout with us." Cal says, bitterness hinting on his voice. I could only figure out that he's the one pretty pissed about it because he knew our friend weren't like this for starters. "He only ever come with us whenever they fight." I could feel the frustration on his voice and I nudged him.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll make time." I say, knowing all too well that the words coming right out Cal's mouth were the words I've been meaning to say ever since—just not having the guts to do so.

"We have limited of that on this last year's break." My eyes darted on the pile of notebooks stack on my study and knew that we've been trying to write songs whenever we can—knowing that I had a knack for one and only being a part of the band for being one of their songwriters. The songs have been coming up a bit dull lately, and we haven't even gotten past three songs. We're months away from the target comeback and if we don't make it within, we'll disappoint a lot of people.

Mostly their fans.

"Cheer up boys." Ashton made it sound like it was so easy and I admire his confidence. He's the only one keeping us together after years of fighting over the smallest things to things a lot more complicated. He's like the unspoken leader—the Dad of our small mildly dysfunctional family. "He'll come around, I'm sure of that." Ash looks at me and I shrugged.

"Don't look at me. I could never convince the man out of his woes." It's all too weird when they turn to me to reach out for him when I couldn't even look at him without feeling like there's something heavy on my chest or that I'm out of breath. Not because I'm claustrophobic or he smells bad, but because that's the cons of secretly loving a man for almost ever since you met him.

"You're his best-est friend, Lace." Cal says and I almost laugh. Well, that's a pity isn't it?

"Your point?"

"If there's anyone here that can convince him, it's you." That seemed to quickly end the conversation, with the boys looking at me like I'm some kind of a magician that would magically make their friend appear at my doorstep, ready for a movie marathon just like before. I ignored them and grabbed on to one of the notebooks, sitting down beside Calum once again and indulging myself into thinking about the recent one that I wrote.

The hardest thing about loving someone from behind is that you can't—hate them. You can't just go on and tell them that you hate them for not loving you back because it's not a rule to love you back and certainly was it ever a rule to fall in love with your best friend for starters.

Although—it's entirely a different case for Luke Hemmings.

He kind-of knew.

My train of thought stopped when the door opened and all our eyes darted over to the door, seeing a man with an obviously grown out hair. His curls over his chin and way too mature—and different from the past years we've been friends. He looked entirely like a different person—like I don't know him at all. He wore a leather jacket over his white tee, his favorite black jeans, and almost worn out combat boot, his eyes straight towards the living room.

"Hey, mate." Ashton raises the bowl of popcorn that he once dropped on the sofa, the man grabbing it out of his hands and made his way beside me, his other hands going over his shoulders like it's nothing.

And he knows exactly what he does to me. "Shoes, please." I managed to choke out, knowing that my heart is racing too fast I wish he wouldn't hear.

"She's not a very good host, isn't she?" Calum only scoffed as he just randomly waltzed inside my apartment without any messages or explanations of why. Michael and Ashton were the only one who barely tolerated his recent acts—and I guess I'm with Calum on this one.

"Where've you been, mate? We've been calling you since morning." Cal asked with an edge to his voice and the man beside me only shrugged. I looked at him and he wore a weary face—as if he just had been in something he's not in the mood talking about.

"Just out." Calum only shook his head and I sat in between two men with definite issues.

I shake out Luke's arms around my shoulders as it's not as comfortable like before, like it's not normal anymore. "Shoes, please." I say again. "And Ash dropped that popcorn on the sofa just a little while ago." I tried to humor out as I stood up, his brows furrowing before spatting colorful words towards the drummer.

I went to grab a drink from the fridge and when I turned to get back, I see him tower over me. He stood over six foot two and I only got such gracious five foot three. It's still something nevertheless. "Hey, Luke." My heart aches once again, seeing his dreary face. It could only mean one thing, and that one thing he couldn't seem to let go off. "Are you alright?"

He tries to smile but eventually pulled me into a hug, my heart aching even more as he does. "I will be." He whimpered and I could smell the musky scent of his perfume from ever since we're seventeen, my heart being assured that somehow—just only somehow he's still the Luke I know.

"Hey, we're missing the show." I pulled away and my cheeks are already flushed. This shouldn't be it—he shouldn't be hugging me around randomly like before... He couldn't do that to me again.

He couldn't pull me back when he needed me, and push me away after he's done.