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bedesSummary: Sometimes, even when Crow didn’t realize it, his words could bring comfort to Luke, even from far away, involving a problem completely unrelated to him.
Content Warning: Binge-eating
First Chapter | Masterpost (for more information) | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Luke listened intensely in his darkened room, listening closely to the footsteps in the kitchen. They were slightly heavier and slower, so that meant it was just Clark up, now. Luke didn’t know what he was doing; perhaps tidying up? But, no matter what it was, he impatiently awaited for the telltale creaky opening of his parent’s room, and the audible shut.
He naturally felt a smile curl at his lips when the closing and shutting of the door cued him to both of his parents being in bed, but, nonetheless, he waiting for a few more minutes, just in case. Finally, Luke allowed himself off of his bed, his feet meeting the rug. He didn’t have to hold his hands out, like he used to. He knew the layout of his house by heart now.
Slowly, to avoid creaking, Luke opened his door, and slipped out, into the hallway. His bare feet hit the tile floor rhythmically, and he turned into the kitchen.
This was the only part Luke still needed to use his hands for. He ran his hands slowly across the kitchen cabinets and drawers, until he brushed up against cool metal. Figuring out his positioning, Luke stood in front of the fridge, and quietly opened it, and the light inside turned on, flooding the kitchen. Instead of going through the fridge (yet), Luke moved away from it, to shuffle through the silverware drawer, as he thought about the situation at hand.
When he and the professor weren’t going off, solving mysteries, Hershel gave Luke very simple, apprentice-like tasks. Organizing the books. Buying something small, like paperclips, from the market. Moving things. Getting a guest a cup of tea. On exciting days, he’d ask for Luke with help for a puzzle! But... For the most part, menial tasks that anyone could do.
For months and months, now, Luke had been asking and asking for a more difficult job. To prove himself as a useful and worthy apprentice! (Because, in complete honesty... The common question of, “Why do you keep that boy around,” that the professor was met with had started to get to Luke.) So finally, finally... Earlier today, Hershel had conceded, and given him an official-looking letter, telling him to put it in the mailbox of a student that was no more than a block away. The professor explained that it was urgent that it be delivered today, before then reciting the address. When Hershel asked if he needed to write it down, Luke puffed up his chest, proud to have an important task, and exclaimed, “Nope, I’ve got it! Leave it to me, professor!”
Luke twirled the fork in his hand, and internally cringed at the memory, before moving back to the fridge. He leaned into it a bit, standing on his toes to reach a high shelf. Chills surrounded him, and he shivered, despite his long-sleeved sleepshirt. He had to push a few things out of the way; butter, condiments, the like; but eventually found the moist chocolate cake hidden in the back of the fridge. Taking it in both hands, and being careful with the fork, he gently brought it down, and stared at it through the clear plastic, and licked his lips.
He had failed to deliver the letter.
First, he forgot the student’s address. Luke had only considered for a second to go back to the professor to ask again, before completely dismissing the idea, remembering how certain he had been when the professor asked to write it down. So, instead, he figured that he could ask around for a student of Hershel Layton’s, and perhaps he would get lucky... But, as he was walking up someone’s doorstep to knock and ask, their lawn sprinklers turned on. Luke had, of course, bolted, in an attempt to protect the letter, but it was too late. When he opened it, the letters were all smudged, and the paper was frail to the touch.
Luke couldn’t make himself go back to the professor after that; his first semi-important assignment as the professor’s apprentice, which he had been so confident about, and asked Hershel so profoundly for... And he had failed spectacularly. He simply threw the letter away, and walked back to his house, his eyes glued to the ground in shame.
It was stupid. Not only the failure, but how upset he was by it.
So, as he so lovingly enjoyed putting it in his own mind, as he stared at the chocolate cake... He was going to eat until he couldn’t feel feelings.
Just as he went to close the fridge so he could go back to his room and stuff his face in the dark, Luke was met with a moment of pause. Recalling the last time he tried to eat chocolate to deal with his emotions.
A few visits ago, Luke had been talking to Crow about a fight that he and Clark had, sulking. And, almost without realizing it, Luke dug into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, and begun to unwrap it. Before he could bring it to his mouth, though, Crow snatched it away.
Making a ‘tut-tut-tut’ noise with his tongue, Crow waved the chocolate bar in front of Luke. “You can’t fix your problems with chocolate! Trust me...” He took a bite for himself. “I’ve seen people try. Food will make ya feel good in the moment, but talkin’ about stuff is the only way to actually fix the stuff that’s makin’ ya feel bad in the first place. This-“ He motioned with the chocolate again, with a cocked eyebrow. “Is just a quick-fix for crappy emotion stuff.”
Luke furrowed his eyebrows at the memory, and he felt his tummy twist at how... Applicable it was here. To all of his binge-eating.
Eating this cake... Wasn’t going to change that he had failed. Wasn’t going to change that he would have to see the professor tomorrow, and confess that he had messed up. It wasn’t going to change the underlying feeling that Luke had, of being a useless apprentice to the person he cared about so much. But it sure was going to give him a big tummy ache in the morning.
He stared at the cake for a long, long time. Going over every little bit, and salivating. Finally, he sighed softly to himself, and slid it back into the fridge and closing it, as well as putting the fork away.
Luke walked through the hallways feeling colder than before, from the cool refrigerator air. But, he didn’t find himself wanting to go back to get the cake...
The chocolatey, cool, comforting goodness of the cake would have been nice. But, in the end, Luke knew that facing his problem, and getting reassurance from his mentor, would be even sweeter.
I know that this one isn’t particularly shippy, but, sometimes, when you’re sad, you just want to do it to ‘em, and it’s safe to say that I had to. (In other words, let Luke be my self-insert for this chapter, please and thanks.)
Content Warning: Binge-eating
First Chapter | Masterpost (for more information) | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Luke listened intensely in his darkened room, listening closely to the footsteps in the kitchen. They were slightly heavier and slower, so that meant it was just Clark up, now. Luke didn’t know what he was doing; perhaps tidying up? But, no matter what it was, he impatiently awaited for the telltale creaky opening of his parent’s room, and the audible shut.
He naturally felt a smile curl at his lips when the closing and shutting of the door cued him to both of his parents being in bed, but, nonetheless, he waiting for a few more minutes, just in case. Finally, Luke allowed himself off of his bed, his feet meeting the rug. He didn’t have to hold his hands out, like he used to. He knew the layout of his house by heart now.
Slowly, to avoid creaking, Luke opened his door, and slipped out, into the hallway. His bare feet hit the tile floor rhythmically, and he turned into the kitchen.
This was the only part Luke still needed to use his hands for. He ran his hands slowly across the kitchen cabinets and drawers, until he brushed up against cool metal. Figuring out his positioning, Luke stood in front of the fridge, and quietly opened it, and the light inside turned on, flooding the kitchen. Instead of going through the fridge (yet), Luke moved away from it, to shuffle through the silverware drawer, as he thought about the situation at hand.
When he and the professor weren’t going off, solving mysteries, Hershel gave Luke very simple, apprentice-like tasks. Organizing the books. Buying something small, like paperclips, from the market. Moving things. Getting a guest a cup of tea. On exciting days, he’d ask for Luke with help for a puzzle! But... For the most part, menial tasks that anyone could do.
For months and months, now, Luke had been asking and asking for a more difficult job. To prove himself as a useful and worthy apprentice! (Because, in complete honesty... The common question of, “Why do you keep that boy around,” that the professor was met with had started to get to Luke.) So finally, finally... Earlier today, Hershel had conceded, and given him an official-looking letter, telling him to put it in the mailbox of a student that was no more than a block away. The professor explained that it was urgent that it be delivered today, before then reciting the address. When Hershel asked if he needed to write it down, Luke puffed up his chest, proud to have an important task, and exclaimed, “Nope, I’ve got it! Leave it to me, professor!”
Luke twirled the fork in his hand, and internally cringed at the memory, before moving back to the fridge. He leaned into it a bit, standing on his toes to reach a high shelf. Chills surrounded him, and he shivered, despite his long-sleeved sleepshirt. He had to push a few things out of the way; butter, condiments, the like; but eventually found the moist chocolate cake hidden in the back of the fridge. Taking it in both hands, and being careful with the fork, he gently brought it down, and stared at it through the clear plastic, and licked his lips.
He had failed to deliver the letter.
First, he forgot the student’s address. Luke had only considered for a second to go back to the professor to ask again, before completely dismissing the idea, remembering how certain he had been when the professor asked to write it down. So, instead, he figured that he could ask around for a student of Hershel Layton’s, and perhaps he would get lucky... But, as he was walking up someone’s doorstep to knock and ask, their lawn sprinklers turned on. Luke had, of course, bolted, in an attempt to protect the letter, but it was too late. When he opened it, the letters were all smudged, and the paper was frail to the touch.
Luke couldn’t make himself go back to the professor after that; his first semi-important assignment as the professor’s apprentice, which he had been so confident about, and asked Hershel so profoundly for... And he had failed spectacularly. He simply threw the letter away, and walked back to his house, his eyes glued to the ground in shame.
It was stupid. Not only the failure, but how upset he was by it.
So, as he so lovingly enjoyed putting it in his own mind, as he stared at the chocolate cake... He was going to eat until he couldn’t feel feelings.
Just as he went to close the fridge so he could go back to his room and stuff his face in the dark, Luke was met with a moment of pause. Recalling the last time he tried to eat chocolate to deal with his emotions.
A few visits ago, Luke had been talking to Crow about a fight that he and Clark had, sulking. And, almost without realizing it, Luke dug into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, and begun to unwrap it. Before he could bring it to his mouth, though, Crow snatched it away.
Making a ‘tut-tut-tut’ noise with his tongue, Crow waved the chocolate bar in front of Luke. “You can’t fix your problems with chocolate! Trust me...” He took a bite for himself. “I’ve seen people try. Food will make ya feel good in the moment, but talkin’ about stuff is the only way to actually fix the stuff that’s makin’ ya feel bad in the first place. This-“ He motioned with the chocolate again, with a cocked eyebrow. “Is just a quick-fix for crappy emotion stuff.”
Luke furrowed his eyebrows at the memory, and he felt his tummy twist at how... Applicable it was here. To all of his binge-eating.
Eating this cake... Wasn’t going to change that he had failed. Wasn’t going to change that he would have to see the professor tomorrow, and confess that he had messed up. It wasn’t going to change the underlying feeling that Luke had, of being a useless apprentice to the person he cared about so much. But it sure was going to give him a big tummy ache in the morning.
He stared at the cake for a long, long time. Going over every little bit, and salivating. Finally, he sighed softly to himself, and slid it back into the fridge and closing it, as well as putting the fork away.
Luke walked through the hallways feeling colder than before, from the cool refrigerator air. But, he didn’t find himself wanting to go back to get the cake...
The chocolatey, cool, comforting goodness of the cake would have been nice. But, in the end, Luke knew that facing his problem, and getting reassurance from his mentor, would be even sweeter.
I know that this one isn’t particularly shippy, but, sometimes, when you’re sad, you just want to do it to ‘em, and it’s safe to say that I had to. (In other words, let Luke be my self-insert for this chapter, please and thanks.)
