one

Luke and Marshall were a lot alike. They were the epitome of "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree".

It was more than their matching blonde hair and blue eyes (besides the fact that Marshall had curlier hair and his eyes were a hue darker). It was more than their need for everything to be beyond perfection or their matching navy blue sweater vests.

They've always been first to their bi-monthly book clubs. Luke would lay out the water bottles for the three other parents and three other children. Marshall would pick out the snacks from Luke's snack bag, telling his father exactly which snack which child will like.

Luke would listen intently to his five-year-old, trying to carry out a conversation. One of the childhood development books he read said that it's important to carry out a conversation by the time they're school aged.

Luke worries for Calum's kid, poor Caleb doesn't say more than two words a day.

Michael is holding Valerie's hand as they cross the street from the parking lot to the windy New York park. Calum and Caleb are short behind them, the two pairs always carpooling from the south side of town.

Valerie, an outgoing, green-haired five-year-old automatically clutches onto Caleb, a quiet (almost non-verbal) boy with a shaved head. Val has always been a good leader to the group of kids, she's the loudest, the bossiest (in the best of ways), the overall queen.

Michael hugs Luke, very well knowing the blonde doesn't like being touched. "Hey, Bud. Great to see you. You smell great."

Luke let off a quick, nervous chuckle as Mike parted ways. "Thanks, I think."

Calum nodded at the blonde before sitting next to Michael on their park bench. It was pretty much their bench, everyone on that usual Friday morning knew that it was their bunch.

The three kids went off to the playground fifty meters away.

"How late do you think Ash and Bea are gonna be?" Cal asked, grabbing a juice box (meant for the kids) and accidentally stabbing the straw straight through the pouch.

"I'm betting thirty minutes," Michael responded. He leant back, closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air. "He sent me a text at 4 this morning asking if I have his seen his V09 Violet Copic."

"Why would you have that?" Luke asked, crossing his legs over one another. "And why is he awake at 4am?"

Mike shrugged, "You know how good ol' Ashy is."

The three could hear Ashton's giggle from across the street. He could hear his careless voice count to three before running across the semi-busy street with Beatrix a few inches ahead of him.

The small brunette six-year-old goes running straight to her best friends. Ashton comes by a few seconds later, out of breath and half dead. "I have had a long night." He plops down next to Luke, putting his arm around the lanky 29-year-old.

Ashton is in grey sweats (probably from Target) and a tee shirt with paint stains up along the side in the shape of his hand.

"Yeah, we can all see that," Michael says, even though his eyes remain closed.

"It's not my fault, I think the clocks in my apartment are slow."

Cal let out a laugh, "You're just slow."

Ashton shrugged, knowing it was true. "I made Bea a real breakfast, though. Be proud, praise me."

Luke rolled his eyes, "Are we going to actually talk about books?"

Mike laughed, "I forgot to read it." He crossed his arms over his chest and sat up, opening his green eyes and smiling to nothing in particular.

"Second that," Ashton responded.

"Me three," Calum toed in.

Luke sighed, "I kind of hate all three of you."

Ashton sat up, looking at Luke. "Why are you allowed to say 'hate' in-front of the kids and I'm not?"

"Because I'm an adult."

"We went to school together," Ashton pointed out, "we were literally in the same second grade class. You speak bullshit." He leant back to the bench, resting his arm behind Luke's back.

Luke tried his hardest not to roll his eyes again.

Ash picks up his backpack from the ground, pulling water bottles from his bag and tossing them to Calum and Michael, "Brought you boys some snacks."

"Straight up or vodka?" Michael asked, taking off the plastic lid and smelling the content.

"Only the best vodka I could find," Ashton responds.

"Are you serious?" Luke asks, disgusted.

"They got taxi's over here, they're not driving!" Ashton responded.

Luke judged them, but still managed to take a sip from Michael's drink. Ashton began telling me story that no one was really listening to but no one dared to interrupt him.

Everyone began getting their stuff together and headed home a few hours later. Valerie and Caleb were whispering to each other in the cab, Michael up in the front of the cab talking to their driver.

He turned around, looking at his friend. "Hey, when does your babe come home?"

Calum shrugged, "He's overseas for another few months so I have no contact with him until then."

"That's stupid," Michael sighed. "Be proud of good ol' George though, serving the country and all." He looked at his friend with compassionate eyes. Calum looked exhausted in more than one way. He was taking care of a kid who probably had a few problems all by himself.

Calum hated being alone, he can remember having to go to the bathroom with Calum or walk with him to his classes (even though Cal was an entire grade older than Michael).

Michael and Valerie got out first, saying goodbye to their friends before heading into their apartment. They turned around and waved once more before stepping inside.

Calum wrapped his arm around his son in the backseat of the taxi cab and rested his head on top of the 5-year-old's head. "Did you have fun today?"

Caleb nodded.

"What was your favorite part?"

The tan boy shrugged, not giving his father a response.

Calum tried to hide his sigh, "Alright, Bud."

The spent the rest of their evening in silence.

They started up dinner, Caleb sitting on the counter. His big, brown eyes watched his father move around their kitchen, admiring him with such love. He would shrug when his father asked questions, refusing to answer in complete sentences.

They watched their television set for a bit, flipping between the news and HGTV. Calum would make a comment and Caleb would smile, liking his father's voice.

Cal got Caleb's bath ready, letting him wash himself. He helped him dry off and made a game out of getting his pajamas on.

Caleb looked a lot like Calum, but there were certain features that reminded Cal of George. Caleb had his paternal father's same broad shoulders, wide hips, tall height. He had high, caved-out cheekbones and light brown hair.

It made Calum miss the love of his life more.

Calum tucked his son into bed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Are you gonna sleep in here tonight?"

Caleb shrugged just like he did every night.

"Okay," Cal responded quietly. There house was so quiet.

He turned off the light, knowing Caleb would come crawling into bed with Calum before the night turns to day.

He said another quick goodnight before heading to his own bedroom.

Their master bedroom felt so alone with just Calum. The bed was half made, the closet was half empty, Calum felt a little empty.

He changed out of his jeans and crawled into the right side of bed. He turned on the television softly, trying to drown out a little bit of the static silence.

George was a loud guy, he's always been. He talks loud, talks a lot, never stops. He makes sure his presence is known in the room.

Tonight, Calum can only imagine his lover holding him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

The clock reaches half hour after midnight and Calum is about to call it a night. He turns off the bedroom lights, turns of his computer, turns off the television. He can hear absolutely nothing, it's so quiet that his ears have a slight ring to them.

Caleb runs into the room not long after, gripping onto his father's tee-shirt. Calum doesn't say anything because he knows his son isn't going to respond. Cal simply wraps his arm around him and closes his eyes.

Forever wishing for a better tomorrow.