Ow, ow! More pain. Maybe he wasn't doing this right. He stopped moving and looked down at himself, a little discombobulated. What if he wasn't supposed to be doing this? Did he need a condom?
Cooper would know. Maybe ... maybe it would be best to wait for Cooper. Maybe he could at least show Luke how it was done. And it might be nicer that way. He didn't want to do this all by himself. Anyway, didn't he owe Cooper his first time?
He chuckled quietly to himself at that. Well, whether or not that bargain was still in effect, it was a nice thought. Exploring his body by himself was nice, but doing it with Cooper would be even better. He knew it.
But that wasn't going to happen if he stayed in bed. Luke needed to distract himself. He got up and went over to the full-length mirror to check himself out again. The warm light of the bedroom lamp made his body look lovely and soft. He turned, lifting himself up onto the balls of his feet as he did so, and admired his ass, subconsciously arching his back a little to make it look even better. Could Cooper really fit in him? Would he like the way Luke looked, bent over and willing?
This wasn't distracting at all. He turned around and frowned at his face again. The emptiness was back, the feeling like he was just too plain, like something was missing. He couldn't quite pinpoint it. It just felt like he was still looking at the old Luke when there was something new stirring inside him now, and he was overdue for an outward change to reflect it.
He'd just have to get a haircut or something.
His stomach growled unexpectedly, as if his hunger had been waiting for the right moment to strike at full force. Food, he needed food. Maybe he should wear something to cook it in. He went to Cooper's closet and, with a grin, got out one of the tank tops with the ripped sleeves that he hated so much. Luke pulled it over his head, enjoying the smell, and went to ogle his reflection again.
It was huge on him, and it looked a bit silly. But there was something nice about it; the way it hung just long enough to obscure his junk but showcase his long thighs, and the definition the ripped sleeves seemed to give his arms. He'd never worn a sleeveless shirt before. It certainly added attitude.
Oh, who was he kidding, he looked ridiculous. And he was starving.
He hoped Cooper didn't mind him using his bed and wearing his clothes.
And eating his food
, he thought as he began to prepare a pot of Kraft Dinner. But somehow he couldn't imagine Cooper caring one bit. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he stirred at the stove. Now that there was no sex to distract him, he was starting to worry again. Where
was
Cooper? No wonder he couldn't think about anything but Cooper, given his growing anxiety about his whereabouts.
He set his computer on the table while he ate and looked at hairstyles online, but nothing really jumped out at him. He liked his hair the way it was. He looked through more photos of tattoos by Cooper, wishing that Cooper hadn't deleted his website and all his portfolios. He had really been serious about quitting. But then, Luke couldn't imagine how he would feel if his art had caused someone's death, even indirectly. Could he ever do it again?
He was long finished with his dinner, the bowl forgotten beside him, by the time he realised that he had been scrolling through a blog of extreme body modifications for over an hour. It was remarkable how quickly he got used to them. Eventually, he thought, he might even come to find some of them attractive. He supposed it was similar to how he'd gone from thinking that Cooper was a disgusting brute to sex on legs over the course of a week. Were these new preferences real, or were they just an illusion? Well, the preference for
men
was definitely real. That hatred and disgust he'd felt was trickling away into nothing now that he'd admitted it and let himself feel that way. Did that mean it had all been jealousy?
The revelation hit him like a shock. It
had
been, hadn't it? He'd hated gay people because he was jealous that they had got to be gay and he didn't, he hated fashionable people because he felt that he couldn't be that way and he'd even hated Cooper because he wanted to look like him! Not exactly like him, obviously, but people
looked
at Cooper. They noticed him. They saw someone cool and different, someone artistic. Luke wanted to be that way too.
He wanted a piercing. That would be a good place to start, right? Maybe tomorrow he could go get his ear pierced. Except he didn't have any money. Maybe Cooper could do it for him—did tattoo artists do piercings too? He wanted Cooper back desperately now. He was having a full-blown self-actualization moment, and Cooper was missing it!
He got up and took his bowl to the sink, scrubbing hard at the dirty dishes as he tried to keep himself calm. Cleaning was a good distraction, wasn't it? Maybe he could clean some more. He started with the counters, wiping them down and organizing them. Cooper wasn't a pig, but he was definitely a bachelor. There were plenty of dirty cracks to clean.
Luke spent another ten minutes emptying all the plastic bags strewn about and putting them under the sink. He found a vacuum in the cupboard by the door and did the living room and the bedroom, stopping to pick up things on the floor as he went. Finally he finished with the bedroom floor, he continued on to Cooper's dresser and desk. Unfinished sketches lay strewn across it, most of them dusty and old. Luke felt vaguely guilty when he found them, but not nearly as guilty as he felt when he found a box of old sketchbooks pushed into the back of the closet.
He opened them—after all, Cooper had gone through
his
sketchbook—and began to flip through them, the pages stiff from age. He was right; Cooper did have formal training. These were mostly figure sketches, actually, similar to the ones Luke did himself.
After looking through several of the sketchbooks and admiring Cooper's talent, he closed them and reached for another box, this one was made of a thick black plastic with a silver trim, like a fancy tool box. He brushed the thin layer of dust away, undid the metal clasps, and gasped a bit as he opened the lid.
A silver tattoo machine lay nestled in thick black foam amongst several different needles and bottles of coloured ink. It was beautiful, sleek and shiny, like a deadly fountain pen attached to an exquisite torture device. Luke resisted the urge to touch it, looking over the other contents of the box instead. A large black box that he assumed was some sort of motor, along with a foot pedal that looked well-used in comparison to the gleaming silver of the machine itself.
He shut the box quickly, before the urge to touch became overwhelming, and pushed it delicately aside to pull another box forward. This one was silver and looked much more worn. A peeling sticker on the front proclaimed "Cooper" in large, graffiti-like letters, and underneath, "Piercing Shit."
Luke's heart jumped and began to pound in his chest. No. No, he couldn't. What if he didn't sanitize properly and he got infected? But it wasn't hard to sanitize a needle, was it? He opened the box to reveal a small bottled clearly labelled "sanitizer." He could look up how to do it on the internet.
No, he was being stupid. He couldn't put a needle through his ear! Luke was a wimp; he'd probably pass out. This was just stupid. He slammed the box shut and went into the bathroom, pacing back and forth several times before sending his reflection a sharp glare.
"You are not going to pierce your own ear," he said sternly under his breath. "You're going to go clean more or something."
Instead, he found himself back in the bedroom, kneeling in front of the box once again. Just have a look. He opened it and sorted through the tools. Needles of different sizes, gloves, sanitizer, jewelry. Cooper had it all. He just needed to find some instructions on the computer and ...
He closed the box and brought it to the bathroom, then went and got his computer. He sat on the side of the bathtub and found a website on how to pierce ears professionally. Most of the instructions cautioned that it was much safer to have it done by a professional rather than in the home. Un-sterilized piercing could lead to infections, they cautioned, and infections, if left untreated, could lead to death.
Cooper would hate him for doing this. Oh well, Cooper wasn't here.
Following the instructions carefully, he heated the piercing needle over an open flame and then dunked it in the bottle of sanitizer for good measure. Then he swabbed his ear with the sterilizer, and even found the piercing cork in Cooper's supplies to position behind his ear. He used the thin marker to place the black dot on his ear where he wanted it, and then he stood and stared at himself in the mirror for half an hour.
There were so many reasons that he wanted to do this. Everything that had happened to him, so much change, and none of it had been directly his own doing. It had all been influenced by others, all forced. This was something he could change for himself, something that would be his, and only his. If only he wasn't such a coward. His hands were shaking and sweaty under the gloves.
I'm insane,
said a voice in his head.
I can't do this.
But he wasn't going to listen to that. He picked up the needle with shaking hands and placed the cork behind his ear. Eyes open, deep breath.
Don't think, just do it.
His hand wouldn't move. It only jerked a little from side to side and continued to shake. He let out a deep breath and sat down on the side of the tub again, the needle clutched precariously between his shaking fingers. Luke blinked and a few hot tears leaked out. Damnit, he needed to do this.
He stood again, grabbed the cork, and in a quick motion, shot the needle towards his ear.
Nothing. His hand froze again, moments before it hit the skin.
Luke gritted his teeth. "No, come on," he said out loud to himself "I can
do this
."
The sterilized earring sat on the alcohol-soaked cotton swab in front of his watering eyes, taunting him. He could feel his mouth starting to quiver, his nose running from the tears. He closed his eyes again, and imagined the needle going into his ear. Imagined the pain. Yeah, it was going to hurt, but this was what he wanted. He was going to do it, and it was going to hurt, and then it would be over.
"Come on," he whispered to himself, and then, with a swift motion, he grabbed the needle and the cork, and stabbed. He let his mind go completely blank, so that the pain, when it finally arrived, shocked him with its intensity, and burnt away everything else. Then it was all over.
The relief rushed through him only a moment later, and the pain was negligible compared to it. He'd done it! Ow, ow, ow, he'd done it!
He sat down on the side of the tub again, nearly slipping off of it, and let the relief and pain course through him. Immediately, he began to laugh, thick-sounding through the tears and shudders of adrenaline and relief.
It was a quick job to pull the needle out and put in the earring—the pain didn't bother him at all now that the initial puncture was over. And besides, he was coursing with adrenaline. He'd chosen a small black stud, and it looked
perfect.
He almost didn't recognise the person in the mirror. Except he did. It looked more like him than ever before. He couldn't stop smiling and posing vainly in the mirror. He wished he had a phone so that he could take selfies. He wondered what Brody would think. Probably that it was gay, but didn't Brody have his ears pierced? Luke was pretty sure he did, and that he had been jealous. Earrings were fine on Brody, of course, but on Luke they were gay. Well yes. Yes, they were. And he liked it that way.
Laughter bubbled up again as he cleaned the piercing and hopped into the shower. He'd sweated a lot with the combined activities of the night. What would his aunts think? He was surprised to find that he didn't care at all. He really only wanted to know what Cooper would think.
*~*~*
The apartment was still silent and empty when he awoke. He lay in bed, comfortable except for the throbbing in his earlobe, and dreaded the events of the day. With his high from last night gone, he was grimly reminded that coming out had in no way made all his problems go away. In fact it had made them worse. He had work tonight, and Brody had said his aunts were going to come by and talk to him. Maybe he shouldn't go. Except he desperately needed the money. What would he do if Cooper never came back? He couldn't just squat here forever.
Wait, it was Friday. And Cooper always came by the flower shop on Friday nights. Always. So if he came by tonight, Luke would know he was okay. And if he didn't come by ... well, it didn't necessarily mean anything, but there was a chance he would see him tonight!
So he'd have to go. And if his aunts came by, he'd just have to talk to them. He wished the prospect didn't make him feel so queasy. His stomach in knots, Luke pulled himself out of bed and went to make himself some sort of breakfast.
The day went by in strange lurches of dread and lags of hope. Unsurprisingly, time passed much quicker when he was thinking about seeing his aunts, so he tried to focus on that despite the burning nausea it caused. What would they say? How would he respond? He didn't want to argue with them at work, but he might have to. And what about Cooper?
No, don't think about Cooper.
He remembered that Cooper usually came by a little after five, and he couldn't help but count down the minutes until he would potentially be seeing him again. Luke tried to think of what he would say to him, but his mind, full of arguments and rebuttals for his aunts, came up blank. The minutes ticked by, achingly slow.
*~*~*
He arrived at work fifteen minutes early, shocking Beth. She immediately put him to work in the back, putting away the day's order. Luke tried to work quietly, keeping his ears peeled for the chime of a customer entering the store and sneaking over to peer into the front every time one did.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Beth asked him, annoyed, after about the fifth time.
Luke blanched. "Um, yeah, my aunts said they were gonna stop by."
"Well, I'll let you know if they do, okay? Back to work."