Thread by @qelossas

#tomluke

tom spots him lingering around the gas station corner store, counting his change in front of the rusty payphone that probably no longer works and smells like piss.

quite a sight, tom thinks, a boy in his private school uniform all prim and proper, socks pulled up to his knees, not a hair out of place, trying to operate a rusty payphone. it intrigues him.

"hey, you," he calls, and the boy turns around, dark hair bouncing. "yeah, you."

the boy regards tom warily. expected, really, stranger danger and all that, and tom in his wife beater and leather jacket, half burnt cigarette in his mouth and a hand in the pocket of his ripped jeans might very well be just the thing good little schoolboys are told to avoid.

"i won't eat you," tom calls. "not before something else around here eats you first. come here, i don't bite."

the boy does, albeit cautiously, hands behind his back. adorable.

"you're not from around here," tom says, taking a long drag of his smoke. "where'd you hail from?"

"you're not supposed to do that."

"excuse me?"

"you're not supposed to, you know," the boy points at tom's cigarette. "smoke near a gas pump. it's a fire hazard."

tom chuckles. "is that what they taught you? at whatever fancy school you go to on the other side of town?"

the boy scrunches his nose. it's a cute nose, small and upturned. "it's just common sense."

"alright, alright," tom raises his hands in surrender, but makes no move to snuff his smoke. he leans back against the gas pump, which earns him a look. very cute. "what's your name?"

"lucerys. but my friends call me luke," the boy- luke- says, and immediately looks like he regrets telling tom that. tom has never seen bigger, clearer eyes on anyone, framed by lashes that look like they'd look exceptionally pretty when wet with tears.

"nice to meet you, lucerys," tom says, testing the name on his tongue. lu-ce-rys. it's a pretty name. for an even prettier boy. "i'm tom. tom bennett."

luke nods, eyeing the way tom exhales smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "tom."

"i haven't seen you around these parts before," tom continues. "looking like that, you'd get jumped the second you walk down that road. how old are you?"

luke pulls at the hem of his blazer. "seventeen..."

"fuck," tom says, cigarette smoke billowing. "too young to be out here."

"ran away from home, or something? who're you trying to call?"

luke winces, averts his eyes. "i- i don't know. my phone ran out of battery, and i don't have enough money for a bus ride back. but i don't know where i am, and my brother would kill me if he knew, so i-"

"fuck, alright," tom finished his smoke, plucks it from his lips and throws it at the ground. "come now, i'll give you a ride. and it's not a van, so don't worry," he adds, seeing the way luke's eyes widen. "i've got a bike."

"r-really?"

"what can i say,-

you tugged at my heartstrings," tom touches his chest, feigning pain, but it's true enough, just not in the way luke is thinking. "on one condition."

luke's face falls. it is so cute that tom has to laugh.

"i want you to go into the corner store and buy us a six pack-

and a pack of smoke. you got your id on you?"

"yes, but-"

"perfect. here's the money," tom reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a wad of cash, all twenties and hundreds. "coors and marlboro. do that, and i'll give you a ride home. deal?"

not a minute later, luke exits the store with neither a six pack nor a pack of smokes in hand. and tom laughs, and tells him to keep the change, and buys the stuff himself.

"by the way," tom says, as luke is climbing onto his bike behind him. "since you failed spectacularly-

at buying my beers, you'll help me finish them before i take you home. deal?"

luke smiles, a sweet, boyish thing. "deal."