Luke and Calum were never really "boyfriends." Well, they were, but they never called it that. They did the regular things-- they kissed, they made out, Luke knew each crevice of Calum's body. They were just-- close. They knew each other like the back of their own hands, they knew their expressions, their movements, their feelings even behind masks or disguise. They knew each other. Their elbows touched and maybe they would touch each other's hands for support if they needed it. They didn't need physical affection. They were emotionally affectionate already.

Luke didn't really know how it happened. They were best friends first, like Michael, and like Ashton, but nothing was a mystery. Luke sometimes didn't know how to read Michael. He was a grenade ready to explode. He knew how to calm him down, but whatever happened in his head was a mystery. And Ashton was way too quiet to know much about. He liked his secrets. He liked living in his thoughts. Calum, to him, was an open book. His expressions were easy and his smiles were genuine. Luke liked that about him. He never hid behind a disguise.

The three of them felt incomplete now without Calum there. He was always the light of them all. Not necessarily the joker or the optimistic one, but for whatever the reason, his presence tended to lighten the mood. Michael wasn't always so stormy when he was around. Ashton tended to talk more. Luke just felt a little happier. It was effortless, how Calum managed to do it. Luke wasn't sure if Calum even noticed he did.

They waited until morning before they met at Luke's house to go over the photographs. They all crowded around Michael on the couch to look at the photos of the files. Luke printed them out while Michael talked.

"Basic biography stuff for the first couple of pages," Michael said. He thumbed through some more. His red hair fell into his eyes. "Witness accounts. Just teachers talking about how he was a good student and all."

Luke took the last page from the printer and carried them all back to the couch. He spread it over the coffee table and furrowed his eyebrows to stare at them. Michael put down his phone and looked at the pages instead. The three of them look over different papers for a while, trying to find anything useful, occasionally pointing something vaguely interesting out.

Ashton said quietly, "Suspects."

He was right. Luke took the piece of paper Ashton held and looked it over, his eyebrows knitting together. Ashton pulled on his hoodie and leaned in to look.

"Wesley Davis?" Michael asked, his eyebrows raised. "Why Wesley Davis?"

Wesley was a guy in their grade, one who didn't particularly stay out of bad decisions. He had been suspended from school nearly ten times and squeezed his way out of expulsion about three. He smoked in the bathroom at school and nobody ratted him out, and Luke thought he remembered someone saying he dealt drugs.

"Did Wesley even know Calum?" Luke asked. Michael shrugged.

"Probably not, I didn't think. Wesley and I used to hang out. Calum didn't seem like the type of guy that Wes would like," Michael said. Ashton looked at Michael.

"Why did you hang out with Wesley?"

"He used to buy me cigarettes," Michael said. He continued looking over the suspects list. He pointed a black fingernail at another name.

"We were surprised at Wes. What about this one?" said Michael. Luke glanced at it, and his mouth formed an "oh" shape but no sound came out.

"Mr. Elsberry?" Ashton asked. "He's just the math teacher. Why would he be a suspect?"

Michael flipped through some more pages hurriedly. He seemed to find one and he looked at it carefully. "Uh. Oh, it says that he was absent that day of Calum's murder. And apparently grass from the hiking area Calum was in was found on his shoe." Michael was silent for a moment, just staring at the paper. Luke tried to think about Mr. Elsberry's face, so familiar and definitely not one he would have pegged as a suspect.

"Why would he have been in the woods the same time Calum was killed?" Luke asked. Both Michael and Ashton just stared back at him.

"Well," Michael said after looking back to the list. "I think we have a bigger problem than Mr. Elsberry."

"What?" Luke asked, trying to get a look at the list. Michael angled the paper towards him so he could see. At the bottom of the list stood a different name. One very familiar and very confusing. All three boys fell completely silent.

"Me," Ashton finally whispered.

Ashton Irwin was printed at the bottom of the list. His name looked wrong and unusual beside everyone else's, like it was typed after hesitation. Ashton looked even paler than usual. The bruise on his eye looked darker than his clothing. Michael looked at him and his face started to turn red.

"Of course. The always pin one down on the friends. And they go for Ashton because he's quiet and he's got bruises," Michael said furiously. "They think he's fucking dangerous." He slammed his fist on the coffee table. A vase with flowers shook violently. "They think he fucking killed Calum."

Ashton started to shake a little bit. "I didn't do it. I didn't do it." His voice was deep and trembling.

Luke touched Ashton's shoulder. He could feel Ashton's body tense. "We know. They're just idiots who want to put the blame on someone. We know you didn't do it."

"I didn't do it."

Michael's fists were clenched. His knuckles turned white.

Ashton repeated, "I didn't do it."

Michael turned and started to put a hand on Ashton's knee but Ashton leaped up. Papers scattered across the table. Luke dropped the suspect list.

"Ashton!" Michael called, but he was already out the front door. The door slammed shut behind him. Michael buried his face in his hands. "Shit." He sat for a minute, and then he said again, "Shit."

"Yeah," Luke agreed. He folded the list and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he nudged Michael's ribs with his elbow. "Come on. I have an idea."

Michael looked up at Luke from where he still sat on the couch. "How are we going to keep Ashton out of jail, Luke? His family isn't going to step up for him. All he's got is me and you, and I'm a trainwreck, and you never attend class. We're not reliable enough."

"We'll figure it out," Luke snapped. "Get the fuck up. Ashton's not going to jail."

Michael still looked furious, but he stood up anyway. He pulled his black jacket tighter around himself. "You've never been in a cell before, Luke. You don't understand. They have no sympathy even if you didn't do it. They just want you locked up."

Luke stared at him for a moment before looking away. He grabbed his backpack from the piano bench and threw it over his shoulder. "Just come on, will you? I'm going to find Wesley Davis and I need you with me."

"Why?" asked Michael. His converse slipped slightly on the hardwood floors as he followed.

"To buy cigarettes."

---

They ended up at the train station, per recommendation of Michael. It was a dusty, hellhole of a place. Michael never went considering he was rich enough to fly a helicopter wherever he wanted to go if he dare pleased. Luke had been plenty of times, since he was in fact not rich, and public transportation was a cheap and easy way to get where he needed to go.

They bought their tickets-- Michael insisted on buying Luke's, but Luke inevitably refused-- and they got on their train. Luke held onto the pole in the middle of the train. Michael was squashed between an old lady with a walker and an exceedingly tall man in a suit. Luke almost laughed at how uncomfortable he looked.

"So," Michael said, shifting awkwardly. He grasped the metal railing. "Wes will probably be at this old car dealership that was abandoned decades ago. He likes to hang out behind the building."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Stop calling him Wes. For God's sake."

"Why?"

"It makes it sound like you're friends," Luke said. He knew perfectly well that Michael and Wes were not friends, but he hated the idea of then spending time together anyway. Michael just scoffed.

"I'd rather drop dead than hang with Wes again," Michael said, without heat. "Relax. It's just what I've always called him."

Luke didn't answer. He stared through the windows of the train at the graffiti decorating the walls in a blurry flash of color. He stuck his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin. One elbow remained hooked around the pole for balance.

"Do you really think Wes killed Calum?" Michael asked. The woman beside him widened her eyes. Michael ignored her.

"Who knows," Luke said. "I just want to see if he asks sketchy around us. He's a drug dealer, for fucks sake, isn't he? I wouldn't be surprised."

"He gave me stuff for free occasionally," Michael said. The woman widened her eyes even more. "Really isn't that bad of a guy."

Luke tilted his chin away from Michael. "We'll see."

The train started to slow. A woman overhead started speaking in a very monochromatic voice. Michael nearly fell into the tall guy in the suit when the train jolted to a stop.

The two boys pushed their way out of the train once it stopped completely. Michael led the way, as Luke had never been to this part of town before. When they climbed the stairs out of the station, a burst of chilly wind blew back their hair. Luke tightened the jacket around his shoulders against the cold. Michael didn't even flinch. Luke wondered if he could even feel the chill through the fire in his veins.

"There. See?" Michael pointed to an old-looking building that sat at the end of the street. The parking lot was virtually empty apart from broken down cars and vehicles that never sold. The windows of the building had been smashed in, and paint had been peeled off the sides of the walls. Michael swung open the dusty gates easily and walked in with familiarity in his step. Luke always tried not to think about what Michael did with his life before they were friends, but he always suspected it wasn't good.

They walked together across the parking lot. Michael gazed at some of the cars, while Luke looked at the price tags displayed on the inside windows. Even the prices hadn't changed since the building was abandoned. It was like they walked into a world where time stood still.

Michael banged his hand against the side of a very worn down Porche. As if the metal wasn't loud and clear, Michael yelled, "Davis!"

A moment or two passed. And then a slight figure moved from behind a row of cars, and Luke recognized him from school. Wesley's blonde hair hung in curls over his ears. His baby blue eyes blinked at them before flashing a smile full of white teeth. In his hand was a cigarette. The other stretched welcomingly towards them.

"Clifford!" Wesley said as a greeting. "It's been a while. Old enough to buy your own cigarettes, I'm sure?"

"Of course," Michael laughed easily, although Luke noticed how the skin in the corners of his eyes tightened at the sound of his last name. Wesley smiled obliviously, as anyone other than Luke or Ashton or Calum would have. "I wanted to catch up. Maybe buy some stuff."

"Buy some stuff!" echoed Wesley. He shook his head and blonde curls danced around his forehead. "No, no. For you, my man, I'll give you some for free. Although, I can't say the same for the twink behind you."

Luke scowled. Michael's gaze turned a little cold, but by the time Wesley turned back to him, the look had disappeared. "He's not getting anything. Just here for kicks."

"Got it," Wesley said. He winked at Luke. "Don't be offended, Hemmings. It's all just fun."

Luke just tilted his chin up and stuck his hands in his pockets, allowing an easy smile on his face. Wesley turned towards the Porsche that Michael had knocked his fists against and opened the front door. He grabbed a black bag from inside.

Wesley dug around in the bag for a few minutes while Michael glanced backwards at Luke. Luke watched him and nodded.

"So, Wesley," said Luke.

"Wes."

"What?"

"Call me Wes," repeated Wesley mildly. He smiled. Luke raised his eyebrows without saying anything, vaguely impressed by the guy's ability to charm so easily. Had Luke not been here to interrogate him upon Calum's death, he may have fallen for it.

"Right, so, Wesley," Luke continued. Something slipped in Wesley's smile. Michael shot Luke a warning look. "I didn't know you and Michael were friends back in the day."

Wesley smiled brilliantly at Michael. Michael's returning smile was half-hearted. "We go way back, man. Michael used to help me steal stuff. We helped each other out."

That explains how he knew to break into the police department, Luke thought.

"Listen, I'm real sorry to hear about your friend," Wesley said. He pulled a small black package out of the bag and handed it to Michael. "Here, man." Michael took it. Turning back to Luke, Wesley said, "It's a shame. I always thought he was a good guy."

"Yeah, well." Luke stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Clearly someone else didn't."

Wesley tossed the bag back in the car and leaned against the door, crossing his arms. "Have you got any idea who it could be?"

"No idea," Luke mumbled. He lowered his eyes towards his shoes and scuffed them on the pavement. "What were you up to? You know, the night Calum..."

If Wesley heard the genuine interest in Luke's voice, he didn't say anything. "I was here. Doing some deals."

Luke didn't say anything. The silence grew until it became uncomfortable, and Wesley kept talking to fill the void.

"You know, Calum came here a few weeks before he was shot. Bought some stuff from me," Wesley said. Luke's head lifted sharply. Michael's eyes narrowed subtly.

"Calum?" Luke echoed.

"Yeah," Wesley said. He dragged a car key across the Porsche's door and a thin line appeared in the paint. He didn't seem to care. "I thought it was kind of unusual, you know. Didn't peg him for that kind of guy. He took it and left without paying, said he would once he got the cash from his next paycheck. I didn't doubt it, so I let him go. But he got shot just a few weeks after."

Luke and Michael blinked at him. Michael said, "Shit."

"I know, right?" said Wesley. Luke watched him for a few moments before speaking again.

"Were you mad you never got paid?"

Wesley scoffed. "Jesus, I'm not that evil. The guy got murdered. I'm not gonna piss in his shoes all because a bullet went through his leg before he could pay for a bit of weed."

Luke gathered his composure back. "My apologies. I wasn't trying put any blame on you." A lie, but one that nobody but perhaps Michael and Ashton could see through. Wesley slipped a grin back on his face.

"No worries, no worries," he said. He took a deep breath. "Anyway, again. Sorry about the kid. Fucked up world we live in."

"Got that right," Michael mumbled.

Wesley grinned. "Come back more, Clifford. Bring your rich car next time. I would flaunt that shit over the city if I were you."

Luke saw the outline of a fist in Michael's pocket. Luke made a move to leave, reaching out and taking Michael's elbow in his hand. Michael was a grenade, built to explode and demolish everything in his path. He's ticking, seconds away, and one more snide look from Wesley might make him burst.

Luke pulled Michael away from Wesley and the two started heading back towards the train station. He heard Wesley whistling delightedly behind them, heading back to wherever he was before they showed up. Michael seethed. Luke could see it in the tense outline of his shoulders.

"I can't believe I liked that bastard," Michael said, nothing but heat in his words. "I can't believe I got thrown in jail for him."

Luke gathered his thoughts before speaking. When he did, it was too few words for anyone other than Michael to understand. "We hadn't met."

But because he was Michael, he understood perfectly. Everything Luke said in the three words and hadn't said, he understood. "Yeah. We hadn't met."

Luke and Michael bought themselves another ticket at the train station. They pushed through confused strangers and got on the subway and held onto the railing together. Luke looked at the pocket that Michael had stuffed the package in.

"You going to keep your gift?" Luke asked. Michael lifted his green eyes to look at Luke. He merely shrugged.

"I guess. I don't usually smoke much of it anymore, though," Michael said, although Luke already knew. The train jostled them this way and that. It was much less busy than it was before. They could see the train stretched out before them.

For a few minutes, Luke let himself be jostled as he stood and stared at the writing printed on the walls. He was so focused reading the tiny ads that he started when he felt Michael poking his rib cage urgently.

"Luke, you asshole," Michael said. "Look and tell me if you see anything wrong, or I'm finally going insane."

Luke followed where his finger pointed, and when he saw its subject, he stilled. His hand felt frozen on the railing. Everything suddenly seemed very loud and very vibrant and very confusing. Michael looked at Luke with watchful eyes.

"You see him, too?" Michael said. Luke nodded once. He stared at the boy Michael pointed to. His blood felt cold. His head was a mess. His thoughts swam in flooded water. His lungs felt ready to burst and Luke had to remind himself to breathe again.

Because the boy who Michael pointed to looked uncanningly exactly like the late Calum Hood.

The boy was hunched over in one of the seats, a white hoodie over his head of black curls. He had the same dark skin. The same brown eyes and thick eyebrows. The same full, pouty lips. Luke remembered those lips. Remembered kissing them behind closed doors, the secret intertwining of their fingers, the quick kisses on top of heads when the other boys weren't looking.

It was Calum. It wasn't, but it was. It couldn't be, but at the same time, it had to be.

"It's Calum," Luke breathed out. Michael looked at him, and his gaze was sharp as a knife. "It's fucking Calum Hood."

---
A/N: hmmmm ??? wonder how this could be

nobody reads this story but it's my fave so who cares right? lmao

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