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They’re sixteen when the world goes to sleep, and they climb to the roof of the ranch’s old barn; for a moment, they both feel bigger than everything else. It’s a hot night, the kind that sticks to your skin, and the breeze carries cricket song through the air. If Nick could say anything about living out in the crux of the rural south, it’s that it gets damn quiet at night. All that was left was the loud silence of the world and his own thoughts. Nick usually found it suffocating, feeling that insignificant—but other times, if he felt sentimental, he had to admit that he grew to like the world feeling like it shrunk around just Luke and him.
The ranch felt something like a refuge from all of Nick’s troubles. There were good memories here; a lot more than anywhere else, that’s for damn sure. Nick was wound up from another night of clenched fists and yelling matches with his father. He was tense out of his fucking mind, and needed to get away from his own house for awhile.
Luke seemed antsy, too. He kept drumming his fingers against the old roof tiling; scratching his chin; bouncing his leg. Luke fidgeted when something was on his mind, but it wasn’t like him to be so openly anxious. He was good at keeping his cool; when he’s stressed, he’d seldom let it show. Luke wasn’t one to easily open up about his feelings either, for that matter. He never had a problem speaking his mind, but talking about how something made him feel was an entirely different story. His daddy thought it was pitiful for a man to talk about feelings—it made them pansies, or too girly. Even if Luke would never say it, Nick knew it must have left an impression on him. Nick had to learn to pick up on how he felt through the way he acted instead.
They watched the night sky as clouds gave chase to each other, giving way to the moon and unveiling a sky freckled with stars. They’d point and try to guess constellations, or make up their own if all else failed. They sure as hell didn’t know any real ones, and it was more fun this way even if they did. If they ran out of constellations to make, then they’d find something else. They’d talk about their teachers, or their assignments, or things at home. Luke would talk about all the girls he’d taken a liking to back at school—like Abelene, a brunette with thick curls in their class who ignored Luke but was friendly-like with Nick, or Brandy, a redhead with a tight ponytail who played on the sports team and said she didn’t like no hicksville rancher boys. Nick would get a bad taste in his mouth and change the subject. It never seemed to stop coming back up.
“Ya know,” Luke says after he licks his lips, “I think she’s startin’ to take a real likin’ to me, though. I said hey to her in the hallway today? She actually said it back.” Ever the casanova. Luke flashes Nick a real shit-eating grin about it.
“Yeah, and then told you to go fuck yourself right after, man.”
“Well… Still.”
Nick points up at a line of stars after some time. “That one’s a gun.”
He’s instantly met with a soft snicker from Luke.
“Nick,” he starts, “I, uh, don’t think there’s a gun one.”
Nick laughed a bit, too, because Luke’s laughter could just be infectious like that. At the end of it all, Luke seemed to be the only one who could make a shitty day turn out alright anyway. Nick thought he could get through it—this life—as long as his friend was there for it, too.
Luke would eventually stop paying attention to the stars, and point out the clouds that rolled on by. He’d swear up and down that this one looked like a dog and another was definitely a rabbit. Nick just saw clouds. Luke told him to look at it right and that he was just being uncreative. The truth is that Nick wasn’t really paying attention to the sky much anymore. He found himself watching Luke more often than not, whether it was directly or in the corner of his eyes. The curl of Luke’s lips when he smiled combined with the way the moonlight cupped his face made Nick’s stomach churn in knots. Luke must have felt the gaze eventually.
“What? I got somethin’ on my face?”
Nick felt himself heat up inside. He was really fucking obvious.
“No,” He sheepishly scratched the facial hair on his upper lip. “I’m, um, just tired is all.”
“Hey, I get it. You know, you can… You can talk to me, alright?”
“Yeah, I know. Stop worrying. I’m cool, Luke.”
Nick licks his lips. Luke seemed to loosen up through the course of the night, but he was still tense. Nick could feel it, even if Luke wouldn’t flat out say it. He knew him well.
“Are you alright, though?”
“No. I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” An awkward laugh escapes Luke. “Yeah, I just…”
Luke pauses, and looks a bit uncomfortable. Nick looks right at him, but Luke doesn’t look back.
“If something’s going on, you can talk to me.” Nick nudges his best friend’s shoulder. He holds his hand there for a little bit longer than he needs to before he draws back.
Luke clears his throat. “I, uh, with my momma being pregnant and all, I’m just feelin’ stressed about that baby comin’, you know?” Luke gets the sentence out quickly—like he was just dying to get it off his tongue and out of his mouth, as if he was going to get sick if it stayed there any longer.
Luke often sought the approval of his family; especially from his father. Luke’s overachieving behavior didn’t seem to cut it, though; it didn’t matter whether Luke was doing good in school, or doing the most on the ranch. He could bust his ass working and he could still never do enough in the eyes of his family. Nick kind of wished that Luke stopped caring about it so damn much—he already saw how much effort he put into everything and it was enough. Enough for him, anyway. So what did it matter? Luke was just trying too fucking hard.
“I gotta look out for it, too. A new baby ain’t gonna make my folks any less busy. It’ll be up to me. I guess I just feel like I need to grow up and be the… responsible older brother now.” Luke scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry, I, uh… yeah.”
Luke was always certain, and when he wasn’t, he would still keep moving with bouncy confidence anyway. You never would have been able to tell that he was unsure of himself, not even for a moment. But that ability to remain unbothered was breaking now—if only a bit—but it’s not the only thing that’s breaking. Nick’s heart felt like it was breaking apart in his chest, too. Seeing Luke be unsure of himself gave Nick a strange mushy feeling inside his stomach. Even if Nick got pissed off with Luke and his chipper-ass attitude sometimes, he didn’t want him to change.
Luke’s stubbornly determined attitude kind of kept Nick going in some way. He found himself wishing he was like Luke more often than he’d like to admit; Luke was steadfast and optimistic, and Nick often couldn’t see the brighter side of jackshit. He just couldn’t. Nick never could understand how Luke was able to carry himself so well all of the time, and he never will. Whether or not Nick ever understands, he’ll continue to silently admire Luke for it.
“C’mon, Luke. This whole damn farm would fall apart without you. You’re busting your ass taking care of this place all day.” Nick pauses. “You’re a lot more responsible than I am, anyway. That’s for sure.”
Luke laughs abruptly. “It’s a ranch, Nick. Not a farm.”
“Whatever.”
“But seriously… Thanks, Nick. I, uh… I feel a lot better knowin’ you think that, you know?” A tenderness creeps up in Luke’s voice, and he finally returns Nick’s gaze. His smile is small, but reassured. His brown eyes are deep and warm. Nick should feel embarrassed for thinking something like that, but he really did feel that way. The way Luke’s looking at him, Nick could swear that Luke loved him. That maybe he saw him as more than just his fuck-up friend. There’s that sick feeling in Nick’s stomach again. Luke’s eyes stop being warm, and become burning hot. Nick looks away.
“I guess I kinda am the more responsible one, huh? You can’t even finish your homework without copyin’ off mine.” Luke’s grin gets wider. Fucker.
“Shut up!” Nick shoots back. His smile betrays his words.
The boys sit together in silence for a couple of minutes before Nick exhales. “Hey.”
Nick reaches in and digs around in his pocket, pulling out a busted up pack of cigarettes and a scratched up lighter. There are only two left in the carton. He presents the items to Luke.
Luke smiles. “Man, I still can’t believe you took some of Pete’s cigs. He’s gonna kill you if he realizes it later.”
Nick doesn’t bother to respond to the remark before one of the cigarettes is already dangling from his lips, and he’s flicking the cap off his uncle’s lighter to burn it. He takes a long drag, inhaling sharply and coughing violently. Luke can’t help but laugh his ass off at the display before Nick tells him off right quick. He hands his friend the other cigarette. Luke hesitates for a moment—it’s not like his folks would be exactly thrilled if they learned of this—but he decides to take up the offer in the end.
Luke slack-handedly holds the cigarette between his fingers and up to his lips, and Nick frames his hand around the lighter to protect from wind before lighting up. Nothing. He flicks the wheel twice, three times, and the flame tries but struggles to stay alight. Again, nothing.
“Shit,” Nick’s hands shake a bit anxiously, “Damn thing must be empty now. Shit.”
“That’s alright. C’mere. I saw some folks do this back down in town.”
Nick looks over to Luke, and realizes his friend is much closer than he would’ve thought. Luke leans in real close and grabs Nick’s head between his hands; the tips of his fingers softly brush against Nick’s black hair and his thumbs press against his cheeks. Luke's hands are firm, but gentle, and callused from ranch work. His touch is like acid, burning right through Nick's skin. Nick’s heart pounds in his chest, and he swears he must be sweating so much that he could slide off the damn roof. He knew his face must’ve been blood red by then; he could feel the heat himself. Luke seemed unbothered by the encounter, though. It wasn’t anything to him. It was everything to Nick.
Luke tilts his head to the side a bit—kind of like how the ranch dog does—and meets the tip of his cigarette against Nick’s lit one. Luke inhales and like magic, his cigarette sets off smoke in a few seconds. He softens his grip and lets go. Nick goes into another coughing fit. The ghost of Luke’s hands linger.