Chapter Text
Luke taps his pen against his notepad as he watches the seconds on the clock tick past, not even listening to his professor as he rambles on about imagery in Dante’s ‘Inferno’. He looks to his left and can see Calum captivated in some racing game on his phone, muttering little curse words every time some car passes out his own. Luke can’t help bouncing his thigh, his eagerness to get out of college for the weekend making him fidgety. All this week has been stress – the first week back always is, sorting out classes and timetables. But this is his last lecture of the week, and all he wants to do is get back home and sleep.
His phone vibrates in his hand, and there’s a notification telling him he got a text from Calum. Luke glances back over at his friend, who is now looking at guitar tabs or something, before opening the message.
From: Cal Pal
Stop movin ur damn leg, you drivin me nuts.
Luke sends back a simple ‘fuck off’ before looking at the clock again, seeing that only five minutes has passed since he last checked. His bus will be at the stop in fifteen minutes, and if he misses it he’ll have to hang around and wait for another hour to catch one, and he doesn’t want that.
Bart (which is what his professor insists on being called, and not, you know, professor) is pushing ninety years old. He’s extremely old fashioned and is the kind of professor that will keep talking to the very last second. He doesn’t like technology or people being late, nor does he like people disrupting his classes and making a fuss. Which is exactly what Luke will do if he starts packing all his stuff away and walks out. And Luke really needs to be on Bart’s good side this year. Last year wasn’t exactly his best effort (is anyone’s first year of college? He spent it abusing his freedom and drinking a little too much) and he’s surprised he passed all his exams, but he’s pissed old Bart off more times than he’d like to remember, and leaving the first lecture early is a good way to continue his streak. So he slumps back in his seat and waits for it to hit four o’clock.
Calum has discarded his phone, and instead he’s doodling some kind of skull thing on the notebook he has balancing on his thigh. Luke can see the girls in the row in front of him have pages of notes, colour coded and everything, and Luke looks at his blank page, marked only by small dots made by his pen as he bounced it off the paper. He’s so focused on three of the dots that kind of look like Mickey Mouse if he squints the right way, that he zones out and doesn’t notice when the lecture ends and people start walking out.
“Oi, Hemmings,” Calum says, thumping Luke’s shoulder lightly and pulling Luke from his daze. “You staying here or what?”
Luke starts shoving his stuff into his backpack, losing his only pen somewhere in the mess at the bottom, deciding it’s Monday morning’s problem to find it. “Not if you paid me,” he mumbles, zipping up his bag before standing up.
Calum chuckles, pulling up the zip of his sweatshirt as they start to leave the lecture hall. “So, me and Ash are gonna head out later, celebrate getting through the first week unscathed. You game?”
Luke fixes the grey beanie on his head, picking up his speed to try and catch the bus. “I dunno, Cal, I’m pretty tired. I was planning on sleeping and eating my weight in Doritos. How about next week?”
“Sure,” Calum says, thumping Luke’s arm again and Luke wonders for the millionth time why guys feel the need to do that. He shakes the thought from his head as he exits the front doors, cool September breeze lifting the tuft of unruly fringe off his forehead and making his eyes water. He can see his bus is just about to pull off, and even if he sprints, he won’t be able to make it so he just sighs and accepts his defeat.
“Motherfucker,” he breathes out, fixing the strap of his backpack and staring hatefully at the back of the bus as it starts to drive off.
“Unlucky,” he hears Calum say and silently agrees. Fuck Bart and his long ass lectures, anyway. “I can take you home if you want?” Calum offers, but Luke quickly declines. Luke lives twenty minutes away from the college, in the opposite direction of Calum. He doesn’t want to put him out too much, and forty minutes is a lot of time to waste.
“You sure?” Calum asks. “Ash is at work until half five, so I’m on my own until then. I really don’t mind.”
Luke shakes his head again. “Thanks, man, but it’s fine. I’ll walk to mom’s.”
Calum looks at him for a few seconds before muttering “Alright,” and waving, turning to walk in the direction of the car park.
Luke shouts bye after him, and shoves his earphones into his ears. He scrolls through his music until he finds something he feels like listening to and starts to walk.
*~*
As much as Luke complains about where he lives - in the kind of pop punk way that he’ll never get out of it and it’s sucking the soul out of him - he really doesn’t mean it. Well, sometimes he does, like when the roads are blocked with snow during the winter and he can’t get anywhere without risking frostbite, or when it’s baseball season and everyone goes a little bit bananas. But on most days, when he walks home through the more rural part of it, the smell of grass and fresh air clearing out his lungs, he really can’t complain.
Boston is nice, and Luke’s glad his family moved here. He doesn’t really remember much about Sydney, being only four when they left because of his dad’s promotion, but it doesn’t bother him that much. In Boston, he gets snow at Christmas and his summers are hot (with the first snow fall of every year comes his mother’s retelling of how Ben cried the first time he had a white Christmas), and for the most part the food is good so he’s happy to call it home.
The falling leaves and the broody music make him feel like he’s in some kind of music video, so he acts it out (in his head of course), and so doesn’t really pay attention to the commotion around him. It’s only when he collides with a small man dressed in black overalls and carrying a big, glittery ball that Luke is pulled back to reality and sees the horde of people filling the street and watching as the last few tents are being set up.
Luke knows about this circus. Everyone in Boston knows about this circus. Hell, everyone in the United States knows about this circus. It travels nine months of the year, but from September until the middle of November, it stays put, setting up in one of the large open fields that are surrounded by massive trees and are used mainly for music festivals. And where most of the local teenagers go to smoke pot and listen to rave music on Saturday nights. The ground is rocky and uneven, so it can’t really be used for much else. It’s a nice place though, and once or twice Luke has sat underneath one of the huge trees, reading a book or listening to music.
The circus is a big deal, kind of. To everyone that’s not from around here and doesn’t have to put up with shit traffic and packed McDonald’s for a solid three months. Luke’s passive about it. He’s twenty one years old; he’s not going to get excited about a damn circus. The Hemmings’ did go to it once though, the first year after they moved. All Luke remembers about it is that Jack threw up half way into the show from eating too much candy and they all had to leave. Luke never went back after that, he’d seen enough of it to get it out of his system.
So now as he fights his way through the crowd of people already lining up to get in, even though it doesn’t open for another few hours, he glances at the big sign over the entrance that reads “Cirque de Nuit” in fancy cursive, and goes on about his business.
He does text Calum, telling him that the bloody thing is back and the bus he always gets home is going to be swarming with tourists because one of the stops is right at the gate, and the traffic is going to be backed up for ages. Calum texts back telling him to lighten up, and that’s that.
*~*
As much as Luke likes living on his own – well, with his housemate – he does miss going back to his mom’s and having a warm dinner and open arms waiting for him, instead of two day old pizza and Alex greeting him with a “What’s up, wanker?”.
When Luke opens the front door to his childhood house the smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate almost knocks him out and his chest aches a little bit, because no matter where he goes or how old he gets, that smell will always remind him of Saturday evenings spent with his entire family, before they all got too old to cuddle and watch Disney movies together. “Mom?” Luke shouts as he toes off his Vans, kicking them under the table that holds keys and handbags, and heads towards the kitchen. “You home?”
“In here, sweetheart!” Liz answers, and Luke smiles when he enters the kitchen to see her piping faces and clothes onto the gingerbread men she has spread out on the counter. Luke reaches to take one, but Liz slaps his hand away. “Oh no, you don’t. They’re for Lucy, her and Jack are staying this weekend while Celeste is in New Jersey for a conference.” Luke nods, excited at the prospect of seeing his niece and rests his elbows on the counter. “How was your first week back, hon?”
“Boring, as usual. Have Bart again, Calum’s in my seminar group and Alex managed to give himself food poisoning already.”
“You know,” Liz says, putting the piping bag down and looking at Luke. “You didn’t have to move out. Think of the money you’d save. Just because you’re in college now doesn’t mean you can’t live with your-”
“Mom,” Luke interjects. “I gotta grow up sometime.”
“I wish you’d stay my baby boy forever,” Liz almost whispers as she picks up the piping bag again, lining out a pink dress. Luke hates when she gets like this, it almost makes him feel guilty. He walks around to the other side of the counter and pulls her into a hug.
“I’ll always be your baby boy, mom,” he says, and mentally slaps himself when he does because it’s literally so cheesy and gross. But it has her laughing and swatting at his chest so he doesn’t mind too much.
“Stop kissing ass,” Luke hears coming from the doorway and turns his head to see Jack hauling in a massive suitcase, a smaller bag resting on top of it. Luke can faintly hear Lucy in the sitting room, cooing at Molly and telling her she missed her.
“Are you moving back here, or what?” Luke asks, eyeing Jack’s luggage and raising his eyebrows.
“Just you wait until you have a kid,” Jack says, and he sounds disinterested. Luke knows he’s too focused on the gingerbread men to even look at Luke any more. Liz seems to pick up on it too, because she’s pointing her finger at Jack.
“No,” she says sternly. “They’re for your daughter.” Jack’s shoulders visibly slump, and Luke almost laughs.
He’s about to ask Jack if he wants to have a Fifa tournament or something later on, after Lucy goes to sleep, when there’s a loud scream of “Uncle Luke!” and he has an armful of laughing five year old. Luke swings her around in a circle and blows a raspberry on her neck, making her squeal with delight before he sets her on the counter.
“Hey Rockstar,” he says, holding his fist out for her to fist bump. “How was school today?”
“Okay, I guess,” Lucy replies, eyes wandering to the baked goods that her grandmother is putting on a tray to let the icing set. Luke scoffs; she’s definitely Jack’s daughter. “We played kickball at recess and the ball hit Josh right in the face and knocked a tooth out,” she informs Luke when her attention returns to him. “He was all bloody. It was gross.”
“Did he cry?”
“Yup. Miss Paige had to call his mom to pick him up.” Luke laughs at Lucy’s gossip, lifting her back down to the ground and laughing when she instantly clutches on to his leg.
“Traffic is nuts already,” Jack says, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. “That fuckin’ circus back again.”
“Language, daddy,” Lucy scolds, and Liz gives her a kiss on the top of her head saying ‘good girl, you tell him’ as she walks past. Lucy beams at the praise, hugging Luke’s leg tighter. Luke runs his fingers through her dirty blonde curls.
Liz turns back to face the boys and Lucy after she’s finished clearing the counter. “I saw them setting up this morning. I thought we might have had some time before all the mayhem started.”
“Daddy, were you ever at the circus?” Lucy asks from where she’s still holding on to Luke.
Jack nods. “Yeah, when I was a kid. Only went the once though, can hardly remember it.”
“Can we go?” Lucy begs, her big blue eyes boring into her father’s and Luke wonders how he’s going to say no to them. “Please? We never do anything fun. I promise I’ll be so good.”
“Jack, take her.” Liz says.
“Yeah,” Luke adds, smirking. “Take her.”
“Okay,” Jack says, smiling at Luke the way he did when he broke their mom’s good vase and blamed it on the youngest. Luke doesn’t like it. “But only if Uncle Luke comes.”
Luke looks down at Lucy, only to be met with big, pleading eyes and a grin that’s missing it’s two front teeth. “Lucy, I was at college all week, I’m-”
“Please, uncle Luke?” Her bottom lip is sticking out and quivering, and Luke feels like the biggest asshole on the planet for making her look like that, even for a split second. He wants to say no, wants to eat some food and get some sleep, but he can’t, not with Lucy looking at him like that.
“Fine!” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go.” He sends Jack his most hateful glare, and gets a cheeky smile in return, one that has too much teeth on display to be sincere.
*~*
When they make their way to the circus, it’s nearing sunset and the sky is glowing orange – a colour which nicely compliments the leaves on the trees that are starting to fall. Jack has Lucy warned not to tell her mother that she was out this late, and Lucy just grins back at him, zipping up her jacket and skipping down the footpath in the direction of the circus.
They don’t have to queue up that long, which really surprises Luke because he would have thought the place would be crazy with people trying to get in on opening night. Within ten minutes of lining up, they’re stepping into the field underneath the sign and Luke’s jaw drops a little bit.
He was expecting a normal circus – clowns milling about and a few stalls with those carnival games and greasy foods. But this is unlike anything he’s ever seen.
The first thing he notices is that the main tent – the big top – isn’t red and white, but is instead black, silver and purple. That seems to be the colour scheme throughout, because each of smaller tents that are dotted around the field is a variation of those colours. Some are black with silver stars, others purple with black moons, and so many more combinations Luke can’t even count. The people who work here are easy to tell apart from the visitors. They’re dressed completely in black and wearing purple or silver accessories – hats, suspenders, shoes, bowties. Their faces painted black and white – as skeletons, some kind of monsters or with symbols on their cheeks. Luke hasn’t been close enough to see what any of the symbols are yet.
The smell of cotton candy and corn dogs is thick in the air, and Luke’s mouth is watering before he’s even ten feet past the gate. There are a lot of people walking about the place, but it’s not uncomfortably busy that they have to push and shove past just to get around. Luke can see Jack’s grip on Lucy’s hand tighten, and he giggles when he sees her roll her eyes. She’s growing up way too fast for his liking.
“What do you wanna do, sweet pea?” Jack asks, leading the three of them around the small tents. The lady in the ticket booth told them the next show didn’t start for a half an hour, so they have some time to kill.
Lucy shrugs, eyes roaming around and trying to find something interesting enough to wander over to. “Can I get cotton candy?” she asks, eyes watching as a man swirls a stick around inside a big silver basin, pulling it out when it’s covered in purple fluff.
“I don’t know..” Jack says. “It’s getting late and I don’t want you to be too hyper before you go to bed.”
A few minutes later, Lucy clutching a cotton candy larger than her head, Luke suggests they go to the main tent to get a good seat for the show. He’s not ecstatic about being there, but he reasons he’d rather be there and see it than be stuck behind a big pole or something. They walk around to the entrance of the main tent, the flaps held open by thick velvet ropes.
“Do you think we can go in, or?” Luke asks, squinting to see past the darkness. It’s eerily quiet in there, not a sound coming from inside. His question is answered when a teenage couple holding hands just walk right by them, straight into the tent, and Jack shrugs and makes a ‘what-are-you-gonna-do’ face before following them inside, Lucy trailing along behind him.
It’s completely black inside the tent and Luke can barely see in front of him. He searches for Lucy’s hand, feeling a little bit of relief when he finds it and knows that Jack is on her other side. He doesn’t even know what direction they’re supposed to be walking in, or if there’s stairs or anything.
He’s about to take out his phone and turn on his flashlight when the sound of footsteps comes from up ahead and he can see a beam light bobbing as the person holding it walks towards them. “Hi,” the girl says when she gets close enough for them to see. In the light coming from her torch, Luke can see the massive Cheshire cat grin that has been painted on her face and she’s wearing a bowler hat, but it’s too dark to make out the colour. “Sorry for the wait, had to bring someone else to their seats. You wanna come on through?” She motions with her head behind her, and Luke wants to say no because this is obviously not a circus aimed at children and he doesn’t know if Lucy will be frightened.
But without even saying a word, the three start following the girl as she leads them through a narrow aisle. The place smells of sawdust and plastic, a hint of something chemically hanging in the air as well and Luke finds it quite pleasant. “The first night’s always the busiest, but there are still some seats ringside if you wanna sit there? If not there are plenty of awesome seats in the bleachers, it’s up to you guys.” She smiles at them, and it’s enhanced by the grin she has painted over her own mouth. Luke will admit it’s a little terrifying.
“Where do you wanna go, Rockstar?” he bends down to ask Lucy, just so he has an excuse to stop looking at that grin.
“What does ringside mean?” Lucy asks Luke, but it’s the worker who answers.
“It’s right at the front, means you get to see all the sweet stuff up close and don’t have to worry about someone sitting in front of you.” She winks at Lucy, and tips her hat. Lucy giggles and tells her she wants to sit there, and follows quickly when the worker turns and leaves, dropping Luke’s hand in her attempt to keep up.
The worker tells them to enjoy the show when they’re seated, and they sit in relative silence as they wait for it to start. Lucy is too busy looking around to speak, eyes wide in wonderment as her eyes roam around the dimly lit tent. Luke leans over the back of her chair to speak to Jack. “Do you remember it being like this?”
“Nope. It definitely wasn’t this creepy last time we were here. If it was, I wouldn’t have taken her,” Jack whispers, gesturing to Lucy with his thumb.
“It’s kinda cool though. I mean, circuses are pretty dorky, but this is something else.” Jack nods, moving his hand from the back of Lucy’s chair to rub up and down her back. She’s literally sitting on the edge of her seat, little red Converse dangling just above the ground.
“Sixteen years and we never bothered to check it out again – can you believe that?”
Luke is about to answer when a hush falls over the crowd and what little light there was is extinguished, enveloping the tent in pure darkness. Luke’s spine tingles a little bit, but he ignores it because if a five year old can sit through this, then so can he.
The silence is tense and thick, everyone waiting for something to happen. Luke holds his breath, and he’s not sure why. It just seems that even breathing will ruin the illusion, will break whatever spell the entire audience seems to be under.
And then the spotlight comes on, and a tall, slim man is standing in the middle of the ring, dressed in black pants and a purple blazer, microphone clutched in his hand as his eyes roam around the crowd. They seem to be taking in every single face, his own face split in a massive smile. It’s too dark for Luke to see Lucy, but he can almost feel her vibrating with excitement beside him.
“Hello and welcome!” the ringmaster says, spinning around and addressing everybody. Luke honestly doesn’t know how someone has the confidence to do that, stand in front of hundreds of strangers and talk. He almost passed out giving a presentation in college. “Welcome, everybody, to the Cirque de Nuit. Hopefully when you leave here tonight, you will have been thrilled, frightened and dazzled! The boundaries of you beliefs pushed, your sanity tested!” Luke again thinks of the five year old beside him and wonders if maybe the people who run this place should point out that it’s one giant creepfest.
“We’ve travelled everywhere, looking for the most talented, most daring, most courageous performers who are willing to share their gift with you!” the ringmaster continues. Luke feels a little hand squeezing his thigh, and puts his own hand over it. He kind of wishes he could see the look on Lucy’s face – he just knows she’s a little bit wonderstruck. “All we ask is that there is no flash photography. Some of the acts require intense concentration, and any distractions could be fatal. Other than that, forget about everything else and lose yourself in the magic for the next hour and a half.” Luke rolls his eyes, because really, lame.
The spotlight goes out and the tent is plunged into darkness again, but not too long after it’s filled with a dim glow. Luke was right, Lucy’s mouth is hanging wide open and she almost has stars in her eyes.
It’s quiet, not a sound from anybody, and no indication that anything is going to be happening any time soon. Luke keeps his eyes on the little parting at the other side of the ring, waiting for the ringmaster to walk back out and introduce a performer. But nothing happens. Luke’s starting to get fed up, getting a little fed up with the pretentiousness of it all, when there’s a body falling from the ceiling, pummelling pretty fast towards the ground, and Luke’s throat is dry. He wants to cover Lucy’s eyes and block her view when the person hits the ground but he can’t move. He closes his eyes, waits for the thump – but it doesn’t come.
He opens one eye slowly, sees the person suspending an inch from the floor, and then opens both eyes. She’s a young woman, early twenties at most, dressed in a glittery purple leotard that shimmers beautifully in the dim light. Wrapped lightly around her ankles and grasped in her hands are long, flowing pieces of silver satin, attached somewhere high above. She twirls around, disentangling herself from the material and takes a bow. There seems to be a collective exhale from the audience, and it takes Luke a couple of minutes to get his heart beating regularly again. He watches open mouthed as she runs around the ring, still holding on her satin ropes, and lifts herself into the air again, flying past like something from a dream.
Luke likes to think of himself as a logical person, always listening to reason and trying his best to understand things and how they work. Not necessarily useful things (he can tell you all about jellyfish and cocoa beans), but he likes thinking things through, likes when things have order, make sense. But this circus is making him doubt everything. His jaw has hit the floor so many times, and his heartbeat has never been this unsteady before.
He has red indents in his palm from his nails, squeezing his hands tight when the tightrope walkers were dancing across the thin wire better than he walks on solid ground, dropping and swinging by their fingertips, no net below to catch them should they fall. His lip is bitten raw from watching a trapeze artist and her assistant, depending only on a tiny metal bar to keep them up as the bent and twisted in the air. His stomach is still tense from watching a flame dancer, dressed only in black pants and adorned by body paint to keep the flames off his skin, twirling burning batons and fiery hoops around like they’re nothing. Acrobats, sword swallowing, knife throwing – he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.
After all this, it’s the clowns that push Lucy over the edge. Luke really doesn’t blame her; they’re terrifying. Black faces with white eyes and smiles, purple balls on their noses, purple contacts, unruly purple afros with a tiny top hat lost in them, running around and bumping into each other. They wouldn’t look out of place in one of Luke’s nightmares.
Lucy scrambles from her seat onto his lap, and Luke grips her small waist and moves the both of them to the seat she previously occupied. He can’t even make fun of the look on Jack’s face, because he knows that he looks the same. Even the music playing is haunting and heavy, reverberating through Luke’s entire being. It’s equal parts spooky-voodoo and enchanting.
When the clowns scurry out of the ring (finally, Luke thinks), the ringmaster enters again. He thanks them all for coming and hopes they’ve had a good time. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, when Luke is about to get up and leave. “Our main act!” He smiles again, and backs away, and just like before the entire tent is thrust into darkness.
The spotlight comes on again, and standing in the centre of it is a man dressed in a simple tux, top hat sitting at an almost impossible angle on his head. He just stands there, not moving, not even blinking, and Luke has no clue what the fuck is going on.
The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long black feather, holding it out in front of him. The next second, it’s on fire, purple flames starting at the bottom and slowly crawling up towards the man’s hand. Just as the flames lick the pads of his fingers, they’re gone, and instead, there’s a raven perched on the magician’s hand. Luke feels as though all the breath has been knocked out of him.
The spotlight shuts off, and the tent is filled with a purple glow. Luke can make out another figure walking into the centre of the ring to join the other, and then there are two spotlights, illuminating the newcomer. And once again, Luke is left speechless.
The assistant is around his age, and is dressed comically simple to everyone else in the entire circus. A simple black button down and skinny jeans, beat up Doc Martens and an eyebrow piercing is his costume. At first glance, Luke thinks his hair is jet black too, but when the light catches it, Luke can see flecks of reds and blues and greens through his fringe. Even a small black and white feather.
Luke is captivated from the second he sees him, aware that he’s staring but is unable to look away. Luke misses half of what the magician is doing, unable to pull his eyes away from the pale young man who looks more magical than anything else Luke has seen. The assistant catches Luke looking, intense green eyes locking on Luke’s cerulean blue, and Luke swears that the young magician winks, actually winks at him.
“Now, we need a volunteer,” the magician announces, throwing his arms out and beckconing to the audience. “Marco, would you be so kind as to fetch me one of our lovely audience members.” Marco salutes at the older man, and (Luke should have known really) walks in the direction the three Hemmings are sitting.
As the assistant gets closer, Luke’s heart rate speeds up, and there’s no mistaking that he’s the one that’s been picked, because Marco’s eyes are on him, small smile on his lips. But when Marco stops two feet in front of him, his eyes travel downwards, landing on the small girl in Luke’s lap, who’s looking back up at him with such an amazed expression that he actually chuckles.
He shakes his head and moves his attention on from Luke, holding his hand out for Jack to take. Luke thinks Jack is going to decline, but surprisingly he doesn’t, taking Marco’s hand and following him. “Oh my god, daddy!” Lucy gasps, and Luke would find it adorable if he wasn’t feeling something weird and uncomfortable in his stomach.
When the show finally ends and Marco and the magician take their final bows, Luke is a lot more disappointed than he would like to admit. Before the ringmaster even finishes his goodbye, Luke is dumping Lucy into Jack’s lap and running towards the exit of the tent. The same girl is standing at the entrance, and sends a quizzical look at him as he rushes past.
It’s dark when he exits the tent, and he’s suddenly aware of how much time has actually passed. The cold September night air is fogging in front of him as he heads towards the other side of the tent. He doesn’t know where this burst of madness has come from, but he wants, needs, to see the assistant. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to him if he catches up with him, but he has to say something. He can’t go home without talking to him, to Marco.
He sprints around the outside of the big top to get to the entrance the performers use, It’s not fenced off or anything, and behind the tent Luke can see massive trucks and trailers, all lit up and waiting on their owners to come back.
It’s then that Luke spots him, ankles crossed as he leans against one of the metal fences that mark out the path. Luke stops in his tracks and watches as the magician walks out, throws his arm around Marco’s shoulders and says “Good job, son!” Marco beams up at the man and they head off towards the trailers. “Has your mom gone back yet?”
Luke loses all confidence as quick as he got it, and sighs before turning and heading back to the entrance where he finds Lucy and Jack waiting for him.
“What the fuck was that about?” Jack asks, staring incredulously at Luke. “You’re a nutter.”
“Nothin’” Luke mumbles, scuffing the toe of his Converse on the ground. “Let’s just go home.”