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They had a good run.
That’s the first thought that crosses Luke’s mind when he hears the doctor say his life is over.
“The tumor is on your vocal cords, Mr. Hemmings. Now, we can operate, but you have to know that the chances of you singing again are… highly unlikely.”
Calum speaks up from his bedside, where his hand is firmly covering Luke’s.
“But not impossible?”
“Calum,” Ashton warns from his place by the doorway.
“It’s a valid question, Ash,” Michael starts, lifting a finger at Ashton’s warning tone. He continues over Ashton’s instant rebuttal. “Luke’s whole life is singing, we need to know-“
“Boys. Let him finish speaking,” Luke croaks quiet yet firmly, shutting them all up at once. The doctor shakes his head while answering.
“We don’t like to use the word “impossible’ around here but I must emphasize, it is highly unlikely. Judging by the latest scans, we will have to cut into the vocal cords in order to get clean margins. In fact, there’s a chance Mr. Hemmings won’t be able to speak at all.”
“What?” Calum asks incredulously, shooting up from his chair and dropping Luke’s hand. Luke tenses, slowly pulling his hand to meet the other on his belly, wringing them while looking down at them. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how both Ashton and Michael are staring at him, pity painted on their faces clear as day.
“We’re sorry, we truly cannot make any guarantees at the moment. But we will know more once we’re in there, and hopefully we will be able to salvage Mr. Hemmings’s speaking voice.”
“Hopefully? That’s the best you can do? Just a maybe, just a fucking chance-“ Michael starts up again, the anger in his voice cracking and giving way to something more painful. Ashton gasps and grabs him by the arm, pulling him into his chest and beginning to whisper in his ear. Luke can’t hear what is being said, but the way Ashton’s lips press to the shell of Michael’s ear and the shuddering in Michael’s back stops after a few seconds tells him all he needs to know. Michael will be okay because he’s got his other half to calm him. And Ashton will be okay too, provided Michael keeps his composure better than this.
But Calum might not be, if the way he is staring at the doctor in disbelief, his big hands clenched at his side instead of holding Luke’s are any indication.
No, he and Calum might not make it out of this one.
***
Twenty minutes later finds Luke alone in his hospital bed with only Calum; the doctor, Michael, and Ashton left to give the couple space to take in the news. Calum has been sitting in distraught silence, his breathing alternating between deep and seemingly calm to shallow and loud, bordering a panic attack as he tries to shove all his feelings down his chest. Luke stares at the ceiling, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He wishes Calum would take one in his own, the way he has been doing for the last seven years. But he doesn’t, and again Luke worries as he thinks this might be it. His life as he knows it is over and they had a good run. But when he thought that the first time it was the band he had in mind, not his relationship with Calum.
No, that was not supposed to end.
He finally speaks up.
“Cal?”
He watches as Calum snaps out of whatever thought he was in the middle of, his gaze refocusing on where Luke was watching him carefully. He hums absentmindedly in response but says nothing. Luke sighs and reaches his hand out towards his boyfriend and tries not to feel his heart crack when Calum looks at it but doesn’t take it. He sits up further and leans over to grab it; Calum stares at their joined hands.
“What are you thinking? You’ve been dead silent this whole time. Please tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head,” he says with a small and tired smile, hoping to lighten the mood and alleviate some of Calum’s nervous energy. The latter doesn’t smile in return, keeping his gaze down. He hesitates but eventually speaks.
“I just- I don’t know. You’re a singer, Luke. It’s all you’ve ever done, all you’ve ever loved and now you won’t be able to. I’m not even worried about the band, I’m just worried about you. I don’t know how to help you and it’s killing me,” he says, voice wobbling with tears that threaten to spill from the corners of his eyes. Luke hums and shakes his head sadly.
“That’s not true. Singing is not the only thing I love. I love you, more than anything, and you being here is more than enough for me. That’s the best way you can help me, darling,” he reassures, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the back of Calum’s hand. He hears him whimper, feels his hand shake against his lips.
“You shouldn’t be the one comforting me, baby. I’m so sorry I can’t hold it together,” he apologizes as his body vibrates with sobs. Luke’s eyes well up then too, and he scoots over on the bed, inviting Calum to join him in the small space available. He does, and Luke immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders as Calum falls into his chest, crying loudly into his shirt, a fist tightly pulling it towards his face. Luke looks up at the ceiling again and feel the tears drip down the sides of his face.
They had a good run, didn’t they?
***
Four months into his treatment, Luke has a dream.
It’s one of those dreams that is so detailed that it almost feels real, except the edges of his vision are blurred just enough to remind him that he is in fact asleep.
In this dream, he is sitting at the edge of the ocean, waves lapping gently at his sandy toes. The water is exceptionally blue and runs on forever, the sun shining so brightly it hurts his eyes a little. He hears the distant shout of seagulls and children laughing as the waves crash loudly, the perfect soundtrack for such a picturesque day. He becomes acutely aware of the lack of pain in his throat. Instead he feels whole, and he reaches a hand up to tentatively touch his head. He feels his curls, long and unruly, the way they were before he had to cut them all off. He shudders, allowing himself to admit just how much he misses them now that they’re gone. His wild hair had always been a sign of his stardom and it killed him every day when he went to worry it but was met with the prickly feel of his buzzcut instead.
He sits there in peaceful silence for a while longer before it occurs to him that there has to be more to this day. He looks over his shoulder and sees that a ways away is a beachfront cabin, elevated to avoid any water getting in. He stands and walks towards it, enjoying the cool sand as it sifts through his toes and tickles the bottom of his feet. He has no way of knowing this cabin is a place he’s allowed in, but his gut tells him to push the door open and find out.
Inside he is met with a quaint and beautiful home, everything in shades of sea glass- blue, green, lilac. He makes his way through the cozy living room into a kitchen flooded by natural light, impeccably white. He stands there for a minute, taking in the beauty of it all. He closes his eyes and it’s then that he hears it.
Gentle snoring coming from behind a door connected to the kitchen.
He walks towards it and pushes it open as quietly as possible. He gasps quietly.
The bedroom is marvelous, rich hardwood floors with a thick blue rug. The cream-colored bed is huge and facing a floor-to-wall window, curtains pushed open to let the light in. On it is Calum, dressed in nothing but bright yellow swim shorts, a thin layer of sweat gracing his tight belly. Snuggled up close to him is Duke, with Petunia laying at the edge of the bed instead. It’s like a scene from a movie, painted in ethereal beauty. Luke tiptoes closer, stopping at the edge of the bed to watch Calum as he sleeps. His left hand is resting on his chest, and Luke almost chokes with emotion at the sight of the thin gold band that is fitted on his fourth finger. He was going to propose before he found out he was sick, and seeing the ring on his tanned hands made him hurt deeply. He reaches a hand out to touch Calum but thinks better of it, retreating and continuing to simply stare instead. He is disrupted by a quiet buzzing sound.
He looks around and sees two cellphones on the bedside table. He picks up the one with the incoming call and answers.
“Hello?”
“Luke? Where’s Calum?” It’s Ashton. Luke looks down at Calum one more time before walking back out to the kitchen, closing the door behind him to not disturb his sleeping loves.
“Napping with the dogs. What’s up?”
“Ryan sent the final draft for the tour poster, he wants us to let him know what we think before sending it up the ladder for approval!” Ashton says excitedly and in the background Luke hears Michael say “it’s so fucking rad, I swear”.
“The what?” Luke asks but he knows as soon as he asks that the band is still together in this dream, in this life that isn’t really his. Because here he doesn’t have an aggressive form of throat cancer that is trying to slowly kill him while stripping him of all that he loves.
“The poster, for the tour that we are going on, with the band we’ve been in for 10 years. Ringing any bells?” Ashton replies sarcastically with the sound of Michael’s laughter chorusing through the phone. Luke scoffs but laughs too, surprised at how warm it feels in his chest.
This is the life he was meant to live, not the one that revolved around hospital waiting rooms and white gowns that were always too short for him.
“Yeah dickhead, I knew that. Send it to me and I’ll show it to Cal when he wakes up. Now go away, I’ve got a sexy man I need to go lay down with,” he jokes, laughing again when he hears the simultaneous groans from his best friends on the line. They say quick goodbyes and hang up, but not before Luke adds, “I love you both so much, you know that, right?” and although he can practically hear the sound of Michael rolling his eyes through the phone, they both say it back with as much love as he did.
He hears shuffling in the bedroom and quickly pockets the phone, walking back into the bedroom.
“Baby?” Calum calls out to him, voice thick with sleep and face still squished against the fluffy pillow under his cheek. He has one eye open and one still shut, peeking up at Luke hopefully. Luke grins so hard his face aches a little, the only pain he wants to feel.
“Yes, angel?”
“Come to bed,” he demands softly, one arm reached out with a grabby hand, much like a child. Luke’s heart pounds and he makes his way to the bed, easily laying down behind him. Calum looks over his shoulder to press a kiss to Luke’s nose and pull his arm over his waist, snuggling back down into the pillow. Luke leans in and hides his face in the back of Calum’s neck, smiling when the latter shivers at the feeling of his warm breath.
“I love you,” Luke whispers.
But he wakes up before Calum can say it back.
***
Dear Calum,
I wish I was doing this face to face rather than in writing, but I know my heart wouldn’t be able to take the blow of the conversation so here I am instead, writing with hands so shaky they could tear through the paper.
I’ve decided it’s time for me to go. I’ve done everything I can to fight this but let’s be honest, I’m not going to get better. The surgery was supposed to fix this and instead, the doctor said I have years of chemo ahead of me, if I make it that far.
I don’t want to feel pain anymore. I want to be free from it, from the excruciating existence I have found myself living through the last four months. I know it isn’t fair to you or the boys or the fans but I just can’t keep going this way.
I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I hope one day you will grant me it. That one day, down the road from here, you look back on the years we had and think of me fondly, rather than with the hatred I know will encompass you soon. My little star, you feel everything so deeply and while I know that you will resent me at first, I also know you’ll move on and love again.
I love you in a way that is otherworldly, and I will be grateful to have loved you until the day my throat finally closes and my heart stops.
Know that you are the greatest thing to have ever graced my life.
Today and always,
Luke xx
***
Today, Luke is in Greece.
Last week, he was in London.
And the week before, he was in Spain.
Ever since leaving his life and treatments behind, Luke has been steadily declining, but he absolutely refuses to slow down. Every day he wakes with an ache in his throat that radiates through his entire body. Some days are so bad he doesn’t move from his bed other than to crawl towards the toilet to throw up. He knows that one day someone will find his body there, by a toilet in a hotel room, or laid out on the floor of whatever room he was in at the time. But he will not go quietly, so Luke does his best to go out and explore and live while he still can.
So today, he stands outside the Parthenon. His ballcap is hiding his face, hollow cheeks and cracked lips the biggest signs of his misfortune. It’s meant to offer disguise from any fans but at this point he looks so close to death that no one has recognized him in weeks so it doesn’t really matter. And anyway, he doubts any of them would approach him if they did realize who he was.
To our fans,
As you know, Luke has been battling an aggressive form of laryngeal cancer for several months now. He has fought brilliantly and while we hope he will make a full recovery, at this time, we do know he will not be able to sing any time soon, if ever. And 5 Seconds of Summer is not 5 Seconds of Summer without him. It is with the heaviest of hearts that we announce the dissolution of our beloved band. We love each and every one of you and we hope you will remember us and all the memories we were able to create together over the span of 10 years.
Thank you forever,
Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael
Luke saw the message when it was posted a month ago and cried so loud he was afraid he would lose his voice forever that day. He screamed himself raw and later that night coughed up blood, another sign of his sickness exacerbated by the strain of his emotions.
But he still woke up the next morning and so he forced himself to continue on, with his travels and his diary and sheer willpower.
The Parthenon makes him feel tiny, as if he could slip away at any moment. Luke was a giraffe of a man but the cancer had taken so much from him that while it didn’t actually cause him to shrink, he had felt smaller each day since his diagnosis. He stares up at the giant pillars and imagines what it would feel like to sit at the top of one and look down at the world. Is that what would happen when he finally passed? He didn’t know, but it was a comforting thought. The idea that he could still watch the world go by without him held him every night, wrapping him up in as much peace as he could muster.
He turned and walked back down the hill, each step straining his lungs further. Although the cancer began in his throat, he was almost certain it was everywhere now, if the pain that blinded him every day was anything to go by. The journey takes forever with all the stops he has to make to sit down and drink water, but eventually he makes it back to his hotel room.
He takes a seat on his bed and checks his phone, unsurprised to see another variation of the same messages he receives every day.
From: Ash
I can’t believe you’ve done this
You’ve broken him
Just let him know you’re alive
From: Mikey
You selfish fucking prick
He deserves so much better but he’s still waiting on you
Jesus fuck Luke I miss you so much
From: Calum
Hi baby, I hope you’re alright. If you can, just reply, yeah?
I promise not to bother you, I just want to know you’re okay.
I love you and I miss you.
Today and always, yeah?
As usual, Luke locks his phone without responding.
***
Luke knows something is wrong as soon as he wakes up.
His eyes shoot open as he takes a deep breath.
A deep breath with no pain.
He reaches up to press a hand against his neck and is utterly confused when he isn’t met by the lump that has been protruding from the left side of his neck for 8 months. And then it occurs to him.
Has it happened?
Is he finally dead?
It’s the only logical explanation because there’s no way he shouldn’t be in pain. With that thought, he shuts his eyes and inhales once more, bones rattling with the ease of it.
He falls asleep again.
***
The next day Luke wakes up with the same feeling, or lack thereof.
No pain.
But he’s awake, right? Which means he’s alive.
Luke stumbles out of bed with ease and quickly gets dressed. He grabs his wallet and phone and runs out of the hotel to hail a taxicab. He’s lucky the driver speaks English and he asks him to drive him to the nearest hospital. The driver looks at him in alarm but begins driving, swerving through traffic to get Luke there as fast as he can. Luke all but jumps out of the cab, throwing whatever money is in his pockets into the passenger seat and calling out a messy “grazie”, no clue if the currency was correct.
The nurse at the admittance desk looks scared as Luke rushes towards her, the actual picture of death, dark plum-colored bags under his eyes and knobby elbows that he slams down on the counter. He quickly explains his situation and heaves a (deep and easy) breath as she grabs the phone and calls over the intercom in smooth Italian for a doctor, any doctor, to come to the front desk immediately.
The next three hours are a blur as Luke is poked and prodded by dozens of gloved hands, needles jabbed into his arms, lights flashed into his eyes, cameras shoved down his throat as endless tests are conducted. Finally, he is led to a room with a single bed to wait for news. Eventually a doctor walks in, the one who first rushed to the desk to answer the nurse’s call, and he shuts the door quietly behind him before turning to face Luke. He looks at him for a minute without speaking and Luke holds his breath.
“You don’t have cancer, Mr. Hemmings.”
Luke stares at him, waiting for him to break into laughter and tell him he’s about to die, but he doesn’t. Instead he smiles and shakes his head as he continues talking.
“In fact, your throat looks so good, I wouldn’t believe you ever had it if it weren’t for the hospital records we had faxed over.”
Luke grunts.
“That’s impossible. Look at me, I am dying. Everything hurts and-“
“You’re in pain?” the doctor interrupts, concern flashing through his furrowed brows. Luke scoffs.
“Well, not now, but my life has been nothing but pain for the last 8 months. You’re telling me I’m not sick?” Luke whispers. Again, the doctor smiles and shakes his head.
“We can’t explain it, Mr. Hemmings. It’s nothing short of a miracle but because we are a medical facility, we cannot use that word. Spontaneous remission, that’s the term I feel comfortable using. You no longer have cancer and with a proper diet and medication, your body will be restored to its natural state in no time,” he explains.
“And you’re certain?” he asks.
“As the skies are blue. Una lunga vita ti aspetta,” the doctor says with an air of finality, like Luke isn’t allowed to argue with him.
Luke stares at the door as it closes behind the doctor and he is left alone once more.
He and cancer.
They had a good run.
***
Three months after the day in the hospital, the day he was freed from his disease, finds Luke standing at the airport as he stares up at the flight directory. His plane home boards in 36 minutes.
Home, to his family and friends and most importantly, to the love of his new life.
Home to Calum.
He makes his way through the sleek hallways of the terminal to his gate. The airport in Johannesburg is busy with tourists and locals alike, everyone moving quickly to reach their next destination. Luke pulls his suitcase behind him, the one he’s been living out of for months.
Just like the day at the hospital, time seems to move in a hurried blur. He’s reminded of his beach house dream and for a moment he thinks maybe he’s been dreaming this whole time. But it’s been 96 days since the doctor told him he’d live, and he’s gained back 15 pounds and his courage, and so he knows he is very much awake and alive.
When the plane touches down at LAX, it takes everything in Luke not to hurl into the nearest trashcan. He’s suddenly very aware of his situation, no longer offered the luxury of ignoring his reality that being in a different country every week allowed him.
He had abandoned his life to go crawl in a hole and die, like a dog that hid under a house because it knew it was going soon.
He had abandoned Calum.
He’s dwelling on all this when he hears the first whispers.
“Oh my god, is that Luke?”
“That’s Luke Hemmings!”
“I thought he was dead.”
And then the bright lights of cameras flash in his eyes and he realizes with horror what is happening.
He looks like himself again and now people are watching. In a minute, the internet will be swarming with pictures of him looking healthy and whole in an airport. And the band will see, he just knows it. So Luke picks up his suitcase and all but flies out of the airport onto the busy street. He has no time to wave down a cab, instead running at full speed in the direction of the house he once lived in with Calum, red long sleeve unbuttoned over a white tank swaying in the wind behind him. His lungs are heaving but it doesn’t hurt, hasn’t hurt in months, and so Luke perseveres, spanning miles in what feels like minutes. He skids to a halt in front of the house like a cartoon roadrunner, his suitcase thudding loudly as he lets it drop at his side.
Shoved into the green grass of the front yard is a tall wooden sign that says FOR SALE.
Luke is painfully aware of the sound that escapes him, something between a whine and a sob.
There is a car in the driveway, one that he doesn’t recognize, signaling that someone is in the house. He jogs up the drive and with shaking hands, brings his fist against the wood in three rapid knocks.
It’s a minute before the door swings open.
Michael.
Luke watches as the natural smile on his face fades as he realizes who is standing on the doorstep. Michael doesn’t speak, just ogles Luke, and so the latter breaks the silence.
“I’m back.” It sounds ridiculous, pointing out the obvious, and Michael guffaws an ugly sound that is too high pitched and unnatural for him.
“Are you okay? Are you still sick?” he asks warily. Luke shakes his head.
“’M not sick, Mike,” he responds, allowing a small smile to appear on his face. Michael nods.
“Good. Means I can do this,” he says, right before pulling his arm back and swinging his fist full force into Luke’s jaw. The blow catches him off guard and Luke goes flying backwards, landing hard on his ass in the gravel just off the doorstep. He looks up at Michael in time to see him slam the door shut.
Luke stays on the floor, completely shocked at what just happened. He knows what he did was awful, crueler than anything he had ever done, but he never expected Michael to hit him. He’s dwelling on this when the door opens again and this time it’s Ashton instead of his boyfriend. He’s holding a bag of frozen peas and there is a hard look on his face. Without any words, he reaches an arm out to help Luke up and then hands him the bag of iced vegetables. He turns around silently and goes back into the house but doesn’t shut the door behind him, a silent invitation for Luke to follow. He does that, crossing the threshold into the house that he once called home with Calum.
He looks around in aching shame as he takes it in, takes in the boxes piled high in every room, no doubt holding all of the things he left behind when he fled all those months ago. Calum isn’t in the house and Luke wants so badly to ask where he is but Michael is glaring at him from atop the kitchen counter, looking over Ashton’s shoulder, who has turned away to tuck himself between Michael’s open legs, avoiding facing in Luke’s direction. The silence is deafening and it feels like forever before it’s broken. Without turning around, Ashton speaks.
“You owe us one hell of an explanation, Luke.”
Luke gulps.
“I know. I’m sorry I never told you guys where I was.”
“And where was it?” Michael snarls. “I looked for signs of you online every day, no one ever caught sight of you.” Luke nods, head held in shame that he never had to display to his boys before.
“I know. I don’t think anyone could’ve recognized me, the state I was in. I was dying, Mikey. Ashton, I really was. Most days I could hardly move without wanting to drop to the floor and cry out in pain. I left because I didn’t think I had much time left to live. I spent my time moving around, never staying long in one country to avoid being recognized. I didn’t want people to see the shell of a man I had become,” he explains shakily.
“And?” Ashton asks, still not looking at him.
“And I waited to die. I didn’t get treatment at all while I was gone. Every day was worse than the last, until it wasn’t. I woke up one day and I didn’t feel any pain. I thought I had died, swear I did. But then the next day I woke up feeling nothing again and so I went to a hospital and they told me I didn’t have cancer anymore, or at least no signs of it.”
“So you’re okay?” Ashton whispers and Luke watches as the hardness on Michael’s face softens while he places a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“I’ve been in spontaneous remission for three months, gaining back my strength. I’m okay, Ashton,” Luke states, almost not believing the words as they come out of his mouth to someone other than himself for the first time ever.
Ashton wails something awful and guttural, falling to his knees where he is. Michael immediately hops down from the counter and wraps his arms around Ashton’s shoulders, rapidly shushing him and consoling him all at once. Luke can see the tears in the corners of his eyes too, and it makes him break down just as easily, although not as loudly, as Ashton. He inches his way towards his friends slowly, scared that Michael will lash out at him again.
He reaches their side and kneels down, shakily wrapping an arm around Ashton. The older man leans into it, allowing Luke to hold him while he cries. It feels painstakingly familiar, just the way Calum had sobbed into his chest the day of his diagnosis. Michael sighs deeply but leans forward, embracing both of them tightly.
“You bastard, we have been terrified for months. There was no way of knowing- Calum thinks you’re dead, Luke, have you been to see him?” Michael rushes out and Luke tenses in his arms.
“I thought he’d be here,” Luke whispers, shaking his head frantically. Michael explains that Calum moved out two months after Luke left, too depressed when he woke up alone every morning in the bed he once shared with his boyfriend. He sends Luke off and tells him he’ll text him Calum’s new address.
Luke stands and is halfway to the door when Michael calls out behind him. He turns just in time to catch the car keys that Michael tosses him. He says nothing else but Luke can see the forgiveness in his face and while he doesn’t deserve it, he accepts it with a grateful heart and a final nod.
The drive to Calum’s new place should take 16 minutes but Luke gets there in 12. He runs into the lobby of a fancy apartment building and takes the elevator up to the penthouse. He waits anxiously for Calum to answer his knock at the door. He hears footsteps shuffling towards him on the other side of the door, Calum calling out “Who is it?” but Luke can hardly breathe, let alone let a word roll off his heavy tongue. The door opens.
Calum stands there, one hand braced on the door frame and the other still on the knob. His eyebrows furrow as he takes in Luke, who is visibly shaking with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black pants. They don’t speak, only stare, as Calum tries to make sense of what is happening and Luke tries to find the words to explain.
Finally, Calum reaches out a hand, still silent, and gently caresses Luke’s cheek. The blonde turns his head, burrowing his face into the other’s soft palm. Calum’s mouth falls open, a breathless gasp dropping from his lips. Luke blinks at him and finally moves, stepping closer to invade Calum’s space. The latter finally breaks, crying as he lunges forward to wrap his trembling arms around Luke’s once-again strong body. Luke returns the embrace and begins to apologize, his words slurring through his snotty throat as he cries gently into Calum’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Cally, I’m so sorry, I should have never left, I missed you every second I was gone, please forgive me, oh god, can you forgive me, I just want to be with you, please,” he cries, and through his ranting he hears Calum responding with “oh fuck, I can’t believe you’re alive, I thought you were gone, I missed you, I mourned you, I leave flowers for you everywhere I go, I love you so much.”
***
Luke watches Calum as he bounces around on stage, his bass wailing beautifully, with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He’s so entranced he almost misses his cue to sing but he pulls the mic in close and without looking away, croons all his love to Calum as the mass of fans make the stadium vibrate with the sound of their voices.
At the next break of the show, before they are set to sing Lover of Mine, Luke calls into the mic for the fans to listen up. The loud roar of the crowd dies down to almost silence in a heartbeat.
“Once again, everybody, thank you so much for being here. Thank you for welcoming me back with open arms, I couldn’t have beat this thing without you. Nor without my brothers, Ashton and Michael. And especially not without Calum, the love of my life. This is Lover of Mine.” The fans scream in appreciation, a wordless agreement of sorts. Luke takes the microphone off the stand and begins walking towards Calum as the song starts playing and he sings his lines. As Calum closes his eyes to sing the final chorus with Luke, Luke drops to his knees before him, hand slipping into his pocket to pull out the ring he had been keeping in his suitcase for the last two years. The crowd roars to life, louder than they have ever heard them. This prompts Calum to open his eyes with a smile and it is a second before he realizes that Luke is right in front of him, holding up the ring. Calum gasps and immediately begins sobbing as Luke speaks.
“My little star, being your boyfriend and best friend has been the single most rewarding experience of my life. I will never be able to fully express just how much you mean to me, nor will I be able to thank you for all your love and support from the first day we met, 8 years ago. I loved you then, I love you now, and I want to love you forever. Will you grant me the privilege of being your husband for the rest of our lives?” He’s not even halfway through when Calum starts nodding, agreeing to let Luke give him the world.
***
And 64 years later, as Luke looks over at Calum, who is snoring quietly on the other end of the sofa, his tired feet propped up on Luke’s lap, the same thought he had all those years ago crosses his mind once more, this time with wholehearted joy instead of crushing fear.
They had a good run, didn’t they?