Souvenir [Complete]

Six. Ciggarette Butt

Luke woke up late. Sure it was Saturday, but he couldn't believe he didn't set his alarm. It was 10:30 before he jumped out of bed, when he was normally out of the house 2 hours before.

He made his way to the bathroom, and tried to make himself look presentable. On the plus side: he had slept for a while. But unfortunately, he didn't look or feel like he had.

He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He dabbed a moisturizer—thicker than the one he normally used—on the dark circles under his eyes that he couldn't get rid of. He ran his wet hands over his blonde curls so they'd spring together.

He looked fine enough in the mirror. He guessed. Maybe when his hair dried, it would look better.

Luke wasn't stupid. He knew he was pretty. He knew his features were pleasing to the eye. He knew that as far as aesthetics went he was beautiful. He didn't always think that way though. He tended to nitpick, and over examine things no one else would notice and commonly thought that they were the most noticeable things about him.

Today it was the dark circles. So he dressed in light color. A baby blue sweater over his dark blue shirt. Soft, warm, somehow still springy. He wore those pants that he knew made his bum look good. They were like a blue-ish grey bootcut suit pants. They were crumpled in the basket from when he wore them Monday. But they were his best pants, and he wanted to feel pretty.

Part of his reasoning for sleeping late was because he was up for most of the night. Listening out for Ashton. He got scared he wouldn't hear him knock, so he couldn't sleep. Plus he wasn't tired. Somehow thinking about him being in the garage and in the cold didn't settle well. But Luke didn't know any other way to settle it. So he just lied awake thinking about it.

If he hurried, he could get to the diner before the lunch rush and see him. Clear things up a little. That might make him feel better. No, it would definitely make him feel better. To see his face. Maybe even see those little dimples in his cheeks when he's trying not to smile. The gentle reassurance that everything was fine.

Luke put on his best coat and scarf bundled them tight around his neck. It was cold again today.

By the time Luke made it to the diner, it was still relatively slow. But the waitresses on duty weren't Ashton in anyway. Luke furrowed his brows and plunked in his usual booth.

Ashton had said he was supposed to be here today...

The disappointment he felt didn't really hit him immediately. It sort of crept up on him while he was pushing around his scrambled eggs—if he ate a waffle right now, he would be sick. He didn't understand why he was disappointed. He just knew that he felt like he'd done something wrong.

He wondered what he could do to fix it.

"Hey Karen?" Luke looked up at her when she brought him the check.

"Yeah, baby? You okay? You didn't eat hardly anything." Karen looked at him with worried eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Luke nodded. "Hey, uhh, do you know where Ashton is?"

"Oh, angel, he left," Karen hummed.

"He did?" Luke's heart dropped.

"He only had a half shift today so he headed out."

"When?" Luke perked up.

"I don't know, maybe five minutes before you got here. Why the sudden interest?"

Luke shook his head to ward off any sort of creeping suspicion. "I'm in charge of letting him in the house. But if he left then that means he could be waiting!" Luke gasped. He gave Karen a 20 and stood up quickly. "I gotta go! Thank you for the food."