He shouldn't let Luke walk away like this, Reid thinks, and he very nearly starts to reach for Luke's arm as he passes but as quickly as he lifts his hand, he lets it drops heavily back down to his side. He can't stop himself from saying his name, though, just his name, an urgency in his tone.
"Luke."
But even then, he's at a loss as to what he'd expected himself to say. There they both stand, eyes barely meeting each other's with a strange tension between them that Reid hasn't felt before and doesn't necessarily like, and he wishes he hadn't said anything about the poems at all because that's exactly what seems to have made things a bit awkward. That Luke hadn't had much to say on the subject isn't surprising, he hadn't the last time Reid had mentioned getting one in the mail either, and maybe that should have been the first sign to keep his mouth shut the second time around. Why should it matter to Luke that he apparently has a secret admirer he doesn't want? The only person Reid has been able to picture himself in any kind of embrace with in Darrow is standing right in front of him, and he can't do anything about it. Luke hasn't even given him any reason to think that he should, and Reid has to wonder why Darrow can bring him here in the first place but won't let him rewind time.
Five minutes ago, they'd both been smiling so genuinely at each other and Luke had looked so pleased by the Ferris wheel; now, they're standing in silence, and Reid remembers that he's supposed to be saying something so he struggles to find a believable cover to what he'd been about to say. Or not say, rather.
"The cake," he continues, and he doesn't know what he has to say about the cake, but the train of thought is a work in progress. "It's kind of silly. I remembered what you said about Simon and Clary giving you one with a clown on it, and I decided to follow in their footsteps in a small way. I know you'd much rather be spending it with them, but I-- I'm glad that you're willing to let me help you celebrate."
Everyone deserves to feel celebrated once in awhile, and he lets a bit of the tension drain from his shoulders because in spite of the fact that Luke is separated from his loved ones, from his daughter, Reid thinks that the fonder memories are the most important, especially on a day like this. He thinks of Gideon, of Emily and Alex, and Reid knows that it's thinking of them in a light that's better than the one that had cast shadows on their choices to walk away that will always keep them close to his heart. He needs them there, the three of them and the rest of the team, because they're the ones who'd helped him become the person he is now. They'd helped him become the friend he wants to be for Luke. The friend he hopes he is.
If anything more ever comes of it, Reid won't know where to begin with his thankfulness, but he doesn't want to push. Clearly, Luke hadn't been the one to send the poems, and that's okay. A random admirer is something Reid is okay with, as long as the infatuation doesn't lead to more than just a couple handwritten notes dropped in his mailbox, but that person could never hold a candle to the way Luke has been making him feel over the course of the last few weeks. That, in itself, is terrifying to him because he's never experienced something like this before. His feelings for people have always developed after he'd known the other shared them, and he can see now why it tends to make some people sick to their stomachs with anxiety every now and then.
Caring is stressful.
"Anyway, I'm keeping us from something delicious and sweet." He smiles widely, stepping past Luke and heading toward the kitchen with a glance over his shoulder. "If you're lucky, I might even sing you the first line of the birthday song."
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"Luke."
But even then, he's at a loss as to what he'd expected himself to say. There they both stand, eyes barely meeting each other's with a strange tension between them that Reid hasn't felt before and doesn't necessarily like, and he wishes he hadn't said anything about the poems at all because that's exactly what seems to have made things a bit awkward. That Luke hadn't had much to say on the subject isn't surprising, he hadn't the last time Reid had mentioned getting one in the mail either, and maybe that should have been the first sign to keep his mouth shut the second time around. Why should it matter to Luke that he apparently has a secret admirer he doesn't want? The only person Reid has been able to picture himself in any kind of embrace with in Darrow is standing right in front of him, and he can't do anything about it. Luke hasn't even given him any reason to think that he should, and Reid has to wonder why Darrow can bring him here in the first place but won't let him rewind time.
Five minutes ago, they'd both been smiling so genuinely at each other and Luke had looked so pleased by the Ferris wheel; now, they're standing in silence, and Reid remembers that he's supposed to be saying something so he struggles to find a believable cover to what he'd been about to say. Or not say, rather.
"The cake," he continues, and he doesn't know what he has to say about the cake, but the train of thought is a work in progress. "It's kind of silly. I remembered what you said about Simon and Clary giving you one with a clown on it, and I decided to follow in their footsteps in a small way. I know you'd much rather be spending it with them, but I-- I'm glad that you're willing to let me help you celebrate."
Everyone deserves to feel celebrated once in awhile, and he lets a bit of the tension drain from his shoulders because in spite of the fact that Luke is separated from his loved ones, from his daughter, Reid thinks that the fonder memories are the most important, especially on a day like this. He thinks of Gideon, of Emily and Alex, and Reid knows that it's thinking of them in a light that's better than the one that had cast shadows on their choices to walk away that will always keep them close to his heart. He needs them there, the three of them and the rest of the team, because they're the ones who'd helped him become the person he is now. They'd helped him become the friend he wants to be for Luke. The friend he hopes he is.
If anything more ever comes of it, Reid won't know where to begin with his thankfulness, but he doesn't want to push. Clearly, Luke hadn't been the one to send the poems, and that's okay. A random admirer is something Reid is okay with, as long as the infatuation doesn't lead to more than just a couple handwritten notes dropped in his mailbox, but that person could never hold a candle to the way Luke has been making him feel over the course of the last few weeks. That, in itself, is terrifying to him because he's never experienced something like this before. His feelings for people have always developed after he'd known the other shared them, and he can see now why it tends to make some people sick to their stomachs with anxiety every now and then.
Caring is stressful.
"Anyway, I'm keeping us from something delicious and sweet." He smiles widely, stepping past Luke and heading toward the kitchen with a glance over his shoulder. "If you're lucky, I might even sing you the first line of the birthday song."