“He’s an accountant. An accountant,” Dean repeated, in case no one in hearing range had heard him mention that fact two seconds ago.
Luka was sorely tempted to point out that being an accountant didn’t require a blood pact with the devil, even if Dean made it sound that way.
The post-performance celebration had ended up back at one of the small hotels in town and they were all hanging out, still wired. Dean wasn’t the only one trying to drink all the alcohol on hand. There were at least a couple other bands there and, of course, fans who’d been invited to come along or who’d crashed the party. It was loud, with people yelling as they tried to be heard over a soundtrack that someone had put together of the bands who’d performed already.
Dean cradled a half-empty bottle of top-shelf scotch in one arm and was mourning his ex. On repeat.
“I just wanna get married and play music. Or” —he seemed to be concentrating hard— “play music and get married. Have a, have a family and shit.” He scoff-laughed. “She said I was in love with Luka, not her. As if.”
As if? As if what? As if the idea of romantically loving Luka was ludicrous? Was it?
Luka stared at his best friend, understanding clawing its way to the surface. If even Cassidy, whom he had avoided at all costs, could see how Luka felt and Dean didn’t, what did that mean? He felt as if someone had poured ice water down his back. Goosebumps popped on Luka’s forearms and he shivered. It was cold, the desert was always cold at night, but this was a different kind of chill.
Luka was a fool for harboring hope that Dean would wake up one morning and realize he was in love with Luka.
Just because Dean was always in his space, touching him, cuddling when they watched TV together didn’t mean anything. Right? They’d shared a bed multiple times, and Luka woke up with Dean wrapped around him like ivy every damn time. But it never went any further than that,except in Luka’s mind. But if Dean couldn’t love him the way Luka wanted him to, it didn’t matter if Dean was straight, bi, pan or any other label out there.
Luka still thought Dean was bi. But Dean had a roadblock in his head, put there by his terrible family and his need to try and please them, even if he complained about how they treated him like a cash machine. And Charlotte had taken an instant dislike to Luka and had made it abundantly clear the few times they’d crossed paths over the years. If Dean wanted his mother’s approval, he wasn’t going to suddenly choose Luka.
He barely stopped himself from smacking his own forehead. How had he been so oblivious? He’d even written a song for Dean, Lost Apostles’ first hit, and Dean had never realized Mine was how Luka felt about him.
Well, Luka wasn’t living his life for Charlotte, or Channing, and he was done waiting for something to change. Straightening from his spot against the wall, Luka set his empty beer bottle on a nearby window sill. He wasn’t drunk enough for Dean shenanigans tonight, and didn’t plan to try.
In fact, Luka was done.