miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2009-01-04 23:05:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | cold |
Entry tags: | -[luke/noah]-, challenge #2, challenges, fanfic, fanfic: [atwt], fanfic: rating: teen&under, ยป by: ashleigh_lin |
fic: Still Worth It
Original poster: ashleigh_lin
*crosses fingers that formatting works*
Title: Still Worth It
Author: ashleigh_lin
Rating: T (probably less, but…)
Warnings: Um. Angst. And schmoop (Relatively equal amounts of each.) AU, though I’d call it more of a divergence. 2,750-ish words.
Disclaimer: I do not own Luke, Noah, or any other characters from As the World Turns. I obviously do not own As the World Turns, because if I did Proctor & Gamble wouldn’t touch it with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. This is done purely for enjoyment and I do not earn a profit from writing or sharing it.
Beta: None.
Author's Notes (A/N): written for luke_noah's monthly challenge #2.
I have no idea if the farm house actually has a dining room; this is a complete fabrication assumption on my part. I apologize if it’s wrong, but even if there’s no such thing as Emma’s dining room… could you just pretend there is? Pretty please with a maraschino cherry on top?
Additionally: This is an AU according to spoilers. It’s kind of the worst case scenario depicting what could have transpired because of that ill-conceived New Year’s kiss. I swear to God, Lucinda has been my hero since I was wee-little and watching soap operas from my grandmother’s knee and asking if she and Lucinda were sisters. No offense meant to her or her fans for the small, unflattering snapshot of her in my story.
Two years later, Luke still wears the watch Noah gave him.
He keeps it meticulously maintained, even though the jewelers shoot him funny looks every time he brings it in. It’s not a Rolex or any other expensive brand, so they don’t understand why he’s so careful with it. He thinks one girl might have got it, back before the engraving became unreadable through every day wear and so many passes of his thumb. He still knows what it says, of course, but that’s because he’ll never forget the way he felt when he first read it.
(He hasn’t felt that way for a long time.)
Luke sees the other man around town sometimes—Noah’s made a place for himself in Oakdale, a niche, something he’d never had as a kid. Luke stopped wanting to make him uncomfortable after he quit coming to the farm, so he avoids places he knows they’ll have a good chance of running into one another. He’s found another place to drink coffee, another diner to eat at, an apartment that isn’t near Olde Town. He writes articles for a small GLBT magazine and it keeps him legitimately busy enough that he always has a convenient excuse if someone suggests going there.
(“Hey you wanna grab something to eat at Al’s? Vienna just put this awesome new thing on the menu. I can’t pronounce it, but it’s great.”
“Sorry, I have this deadline…”)
Of course, he’s unable to stay away entirely. On the rare occasions he does run into Noah, his blue gaze feels more like a brand when it invariably drifts to his wrist. They’re civil to one another, but Luke almost wishes they weren’t. Wishes for anything other than the cool politeness Noah treats him with at those times. Luke can almost believe it doesn’t bother him at all, except his jaw still clenches ever so perceptibly. For a while this gave Luke hope, until he realized it’s the exact same reaction he used to have when someone brought up his father.
(Luke wishes he could stop hoping most of all.)
He’s dated some in the last couple years, but never anything serious. He could hardly stand to kiss any of them, and the thought of going any further makes him sick to his stomach every time. He’s not waiting for Noah, not really, because that would be stupid. He just refuses to settle. And he thinks that feeling ill at the thought of sex is a pretty good indicator that he shouldn’t have sex. He wonders if Noah would be surprised if he knew Luke is still a virgin. He wonders if Noah’s slept with anyone in the last two years.
(He sees Noah at a party, making out with some blond, and doesn’t have the heart to wonder anymore.)
Luke was hospitalized the summer of 2009, because of a constant, sharp pain he’d been terrified came from his kidney failing. It was only appendicitis, but the experience sobered him. Literally. He hasn’t ingested a drop of alcohol since. When he thinks about that time, he doesn’t know if it hurt worse that Noah didn’t come to see him or that Lucinda didn’t.
(Lily tells him that his grandmother still loves him, but he thinks she’s trying to convince herself more than him. Lucinda made sure everyone knew when and why she cut him out of her will.)
Luke attends Noah’s graduation, though he stays at the back, out of sight. Noah smiles and laughs with his classmates after the ceremony, but while most of them migrate toward their families, he stands there by himself. Luke wants to go to him; almost does, can’t fight the urge. Then Maddie appears, followed by Casey and…Emma. Emma's there, and she gives a bewildered-looking Noah a big, smacking kiss on the cheek.
(Luke leaves soon after that. He doesn’t look back. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to see through the tears.)
He lets go on a Friday, at 6:33 pm. That’s the time on the watch when Luke leaves it on the bench in Olde Town where Noah gave it to him. The fact that it’s Christmas Eve appeals to the poet in him, even though he knows it’s ridiculously melodramatic. He doesn’t waste time, just takes it off and places it on the bench, then walks away. Dinner at the farm begins at 7:00 sharp, and he’ll have hell to pay if he’s late.
He catches himself rubbing his wrist several times on the way to his grandmother’s and decides to buy a new watch. Tries to convince himself it’s because his arm feels empty without one, and that’s all. He stamps his feet on the rug on the front porch because they’re having Oakdale’s first white Christmas in years, then he opens the door, smiling. His mood is unaccountably mellow, though his wrist still itches traitorously.
He gives Emma and his mother kisses on their cheeks, hugs his dad, Jack, various other members of the clan, and even Brad. Then he joins his sisters and Ethan at the kitchen table where they’re enjoying the loot from the stockings they got to have early (though Luke wonders what the adults were thinking, giving them out right before supper). He’s attempting to steal a piece of home-made candy from Natalie when he hears the door open again. He looks up, absentmindedly wondering who else would dare to show up just in the nick of time, and his knees almost give out when he sees Noah standing there self-consciously, toting a gigantic bag of gifts. He grips the back of Natalie’s chair and stares, can’t force himself not to. He hasn’t been in this room with Noah for nearly two years. Noah had stood in that exact same spot when he said he wasn’t going to visit the farm anymore.
The entire room is silent for a few beats, then Emma is bustling over to welcome him and relieve him of his coat, and Holden is taking his parcel, and neither of them even has to urge the others to leave the room. Everyone migrates to the dining room and Emma closes the door with a quick, encouraging smile. The sounds of a thousand people are muffled and they’re alone.
It’s awkward and tense and Luke is having trouble breathing. He doesn’t quite know what to say and by Noah’s expression, neither does he. Luke wonders sorrowfully if he’ll ever be able to stop reading the other man’s facial features; if it will hurt just as much in ten years when he still can. He doesn’t know if he’s surprised or grateful when Noah breaks the uncomfortable silence at last.
“Um. Emma invited me. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then Faith and Natalie insisted at the Christmas concert the other day and made me promise I’d come.”
Luke can’t quite disguise his shock. He had no idea Noah still talked to his sisters. Had no idea he’d gone to the school concert Luke had been unable to attend.
Noah chuckles; shakes his head wryly. “That’s all true, but none of it has anything to do with why I’m here. I was going to call and make up some excuse about why I couldn’t come, then bring the gifts by in the morning. I didn’t want to face you,” he admits softly.
Luke tries to swallow, though his throat doesn’t want to work properly. Why does hearing this still hurt so much? He thinks he should be used to it by now. He wraps his arms around himself protectively, gaze falling to the floor in a vain attempt to hide the salt he feels stinging his eyes. Through it all, he somehow musters the courage to ask, “Then why are you here?” He meant it to sound less weak than it actually does, but if he talks any louder his voice will break. He feels more than sees Noah finally leave the door and hates, too, how he always knows where the other man is in a room, even when he can’t see him. He sees Noah halt just on the other side of the table. Sees him plant his hands on the table and lean forward. His voice is quiet when he speaks again, almost intimate, and Luke shivers.
“I was leaving work, getting out my phone to make the call. I was going to stop by Java to get a coffee and I passed ou—the bench in Olde Town and saw the watch laying there. I knew it was the one I gave you and I couldn’t… I didn’t want… God, I still suck so much with words.”
Luke looks up briefly and Noah’s shaking his head again with that familiar expression of self-deprecation when he says something to that effect. Luke doesn’t know what he’s trying to say and doesn’t want to let himself hope, not when he’s finally let go. It would hurt too much if this one was dashed along with all the rest.
“Whenever I saw you I always looked for it, you know? I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I thought it was just a habit or something, I don’t know. But when I saw it there, not on your wrist…it hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt like—like you’d given up.”
“I did,” Luke interrupts agitatedly. He uncrosses his arms; re-crosses them again, because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you gave up a long time ago. That you hate me and don’t want anything to do with me.” He doesn’t know how to keep the bitter inflection from his words.
“That’s what I thought, too. For a long time I didn’t want anything to do with you. What you did hurt, Luke,” he said bluntly. “It hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before. I didn’t even want to look at you, but… that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t change the way I felt—still feel—about you. I haven’t been avoiding you because I hate you. I couldn’t ever hate you. I’ve been avoiding you because I can’t stop loving you.”
Luke chokes on the breath he’s been holding since the reminder of his mistake. He doesn’t know what combination of emotions he’s feeling, but he knows the swirling mass inside his head makes him want to throw up. He can’t hold the tears back anymore; they’ve already begun leaking down his face. It’s been so long since he’s heard Noah say he loved him, and even worded as such, it still has the power to knock the wind out of him.
Noah continues to talk, voice becoming urgent, “I don’t want you to give up, Luke. I know it’s been a long time and I’m a selfish bastard for even asking, but I’m going to do it anyway: Please, don’t give up on us. I’m begging you,”
And suddenly, faster than he can process, arms are around him, pulling him in as urgently as Noah’s voice is pleading and Luke is stiff, resisting at first, already mortified beyond belief that he’s letting Noah see him in such a state. But he can’t fight this. He has missed these arms around him for so long that the will to hold himself away, to flee, simply evaporates as if it had never been. The internal struggle is over almost embarrassingly quickly, then he’s clutching Noah’s sweater, burying his face in the soft wool, giving in to the silent sobs tearing through him. He thinks he must have been insane for thinking he could ever truly give up. As long as he knows this exists, there’s no way that could ever happen. He wants to curl up, to somehow crawl inside of the other man so that he never has to live the emptiness of life without him again.
Noah pulls one arm away and Luke nearly begins to panic, but he’s only reaching into his pocket and Luke knows exactly what he’s going to see before the hand even comes back into view. Noah’s fist opens, and there’s the watch, being held out to him face-down. The hand holding it is shaking slightly but noticeably. He looks at Noah’s face for the first time since this surreal encounter began, and he doesn’t know why he’s surprised to see that he’s crying too.
Luke takes the timepiece; uses his sleeve to wipe the blurriness from his eyes so he can see the new addition: “Still?” is etched crudely where the other words had been—probably with a pocket knife or that Swiss Army thing Noah carries everywhere. He feels like he could cry again, but he takes a deep, shuddering breath and holds it in. Holds it all in, because if he starts to lose it he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get it back for a very long time.
“You know, I’ve put a lot of work into keeping this in good condition, and you go and scratch it up at the first opportunity,” the words themselves are playfully annoyed, but the voice he uses to say them is soft and still a little watery.
“Sorry,” Noah says, shrugging uncomfortably. The tension in his body is evident. Luke can feel it, even through the foot or so that separates them.
Luke holds the watch out for him to take, and Noah’s eyes widen. “Put it on me?” he asks quickly, before the other man can get the wrong impression. Noah nods immediately, that unbearable tension easing slightly, and takes the watch and the offered wrist. He fumbles a little while he’s fastening it.
He doesn’t let Luke’s hand go when he’s done and Luke doesn’t pull away either. He’s wondering if it’s too soon to try to embrace him again, but before he can decide Noah inhales, ducks his head, and takes Luke’s mouth in the most welcome kiss of his entire life (even if it’s also the saltiest). It’s deep from the beginning, tongues coming out to dance in gleeful reunion. Two years of separation dwindles, becomes nothing as their lips fit together with intimate remembrance, like it’s only been minutes since they last did this. Noah is grasping at him almost desperately, like he can’t get close enough; Luke’s hands are on Noah’s face, in his hair, before he slides his arms around Noah’s neck and holds on for dear life. Someone moans—it could be either. Both. He doesn’t know because he’s becoming light-headed and everything is muffled by white noise. Oxygen could easily be the most expendable thing ever as long as Noah never, ever lets him go.
Their bodies eventually disagree as they break the kiss with a gasp. Noah kisses his face, his hair, any part of him he can reach while they’re held so tightly together, then he comes back to Luke’s mouth and they’re kissing again, lazier, slower, but just as deeply. Luke never wants to do anything else ever again.
A polite cough nearby breaks the moment and they jolt, though neither one lets go. Emma is in the doorway, smiling knowingly. “I’m sorry boys, but the others are getting restless. Do you plan to join us?”
“Sure Grandma. We’ll be there in a second, okay?”
Emma doesn’t answer, but the door closes again. She says something in a low voice and a chorus of groans erupts from within. The sudden, out-of-place ruckus startles them both into a fit of giggles. A fit which doesn’t last very long, but somehow dissipates whatever anxiety remains after their…discussion.
They’re forehead to forehead and remain like that for a moment longer, sharing breath, savoring the connection and wanting it to last as long as possible. With a final, nearly chaste kiss, they pull apart, though Noah still refuses to let Luke’s hand go when he tries to tug it away.
Luke doesn’t tug very hard.
They head toward the dining room, but before they enter Luke says, “It is, you know.”
For once, Noah understands immediately and smiles. There’s still a bit of pain in it, and Luke knows exactly how he feels. He knows this hurt is going to take a long while to heal, but even that knowledge isn’t enough to quell his rising optimism. He knows they’ll get through it somehow. No matter how much time it takes.
(Love like this only comes once in a lifetime and it is always, always worth the wait.)