AN: This is dedicated to my beautiful muse Taffeh A. Llama, because I wouldn't have written this fic without her. I never would have gotten the idea for a rum romance if it wasn't for her...

Yeah, we like Taffeh, even though she gives us feels. Taffeh is good.

This is the third in my Shattered Glass AU series. It's the prequel to Bright Eyes, which is the prequel to Midnight Kisses, but all three can stand alone. So you don't even have to read Bright Eyes or Midnight Kisses to read and understand this one!

If you want music to set the mood for this fic, listen to Heartbeat Slowing Down by All-American Rejects while you're reading this. It started playing while I was writing the fic, and I lost it, because it was just so perf, and it fit in with what I was trying to write exactly.

Warnings: Language, slash... Probably no need for a trigger warning, but I'll put one in here, anyways. Possible trigger warning. There.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. If it was, Luke would still be alive, everyone would be gay, and nothing would hurt. Cheers to wishful thinking!

Enjoy!

~halestorm

The glass shattered over the concrete reflects the sunlight, and Luke stares down at it as he thinks about the thick white scars that mar the wrists of the scrawny Italian in in the motel room, waiting on Luke to return.

Luke doesn't have a drop of alcohol in his system. Unfortunately. He and Nico have always gotten along better when they're drunk.

Luke tucks the gun he used to bust in the car window into the waistband of his jeans and reaches in the gaping window to unlock the door and pulls it open. He hoists his duffle bag into the passenger seat and climbs into the car after it, reaching beneath the steering wheel.

In a matter of seconds, the car purrs to life, and Luke sits back in his seat, pleased with the effectiveness of the hotwiring. He pulls the door closed, and pulls out of the motel parking lot.

Luke's forgone driving his truck. He leaves it in the parking lot, in case Nico needs t.

He drives and drives until he reaches a grimy bar, and when he goes inside, he orders whiskey and rolls up his sleeves, preparing to drown himself in his favorite acid.

It's kind of a long story, how he got here.

It's Christmas in Connecticut, and Luke is in a bar. To be fair, he's working at the bar, not getting drunk, but still. The last thing his mother would want for him is to be surrounded by drunken strangers on Christmas Eve.

Of course, if May Castellan understood the need for money her family had, she wouldn't complain. Not that she's complaining now, Luke thinks bitterly. His mother doesn't complain about much anymore. No, now all she does is rave about how Luke was conceived via a one nightstand she had with a god-Hermes, to be exact.

For all Luke knows about his dad, May could be right. Luke's never met his dad, and frankly, he never wants to. His dad must've been a dick if he didn't stick around to raise Luke.

It doesn't matter, anyways. May is clinically insane, and Luke knows it.

Luke wipes down the counter, scanning the drunken men and women. These people are the ones who have no reason to celebrate Christmas, or no family to celebrate with. When he thinks about it, Luke guesses he does belong with them. When May lost her mind, Luke lost the only family he had.

"Excuse me," calls a voice from the other end of the bar, and Luke sets down his rag, turning to face the customer.

The kid seated on the barstool is quite obviously not old enough to drink (which isn't surprising, considering this bar doubles as a restaurant). He's skinny, with long, stringy black hair, haunted, dark brown eyes, pale skin, and sunken cheekbones.

He's also gorgeous, but Luke tries to shake that thought, because the kid is probably underage.

"What can I get for you?" Luke asks, walking over to the boy, wiping his palms on his jeans. The boy taps his fingers against the countertop and looks around the bar.

"Eggnog," he mutters, "if you have any."

A smirk quirks Luke's mouth. "Eggnog?"

The boy gives him a half-hearted glare. "I'm twenty. Not old enough to legally order alcohol."

Luke laughs and asks, "When's your birthday?"

(And Luke isn't leaning forward flirtatiously and giving the boy his most charming smile because he's just found out that the boy is legal. He's totally just being friendly.)

"January 9th," the boy says, frowning at Luke suspiciously. Luke smirks.

"It's December 24th, kid. You're almost twenty-one. What's your liquor of choice?"

The boy continues staring at Luke, clearly trying to puzzle him out, but then he just smiles-a small, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Rum," he says, setting his elbows up on the counter. As Luke turns away to fetch the boy's drink, he adds, "I'm Nico, by the way."

"I'm Luke," is Luke's ready reply, and when he hands Nico his rum, he doesn't bother pretending he isn't checking Nico out.

Nico's face turns red all over, and Luke can't help but think that it's utterly adorable. Five years age difference really isn't that bad, Luke reasons to himself.

When he and Nico end up in bed together later that night, after Nico is just drunk enough to have a hang over the next morning, Luke forgets all about what's considered right and wrong. It doesn't matter, anyways.

He doesn't have anyone left to judge him.

In February, May's heart fails. The doctor's aren't able to get it going again.

Luke coerces Nico into leaving Connecticut with him. They pack their bags into the trunk of Luke's truck, and they hit the road.

They never once look back, and Luke convinces himself that one day, he and Nico will be intimate when Nico isn't drowning in three bottles of rum.

Luke doesn't want to be anyone's drunken fuck. He wants a proper relationship, with tender kisses and holding hands in public and sharing everything about each other. He wants Nico to tell him about his past when they're sober.

Luke wants more than just drunk sex. But he's willing to wait for Nico to be as ready as he is.

He's willing to wait, because Nico matters. But Luke still hasn't figured out how to tell him that.

In March, they find themselves somewhere in Florida.

Luke and Nico are barely scraping by, living in sleazy motel rooms and drinking cheap alcohol (rum for Nico, whiskey for Luke).

They're running off of their savings, and Luke knows that eventually, the money will run out, and they'll have to settle down somewhere and get decent jobs. For now, though, he's content as is.

It's late, almost two in the morning, and Luke and Nico are lying in the sand on the beach. The waves are lapping at their bare feet, the moon reflecting on the water, and Luke can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

Nico is draining the last drops of his bottle of rum and frowning dismally down at the empty bottle.

"Why is the rum gone?" Nico mutters, and Luke almost wishes he hadn't let Nico watch The Pirates of the Caribbean.

"It ran out because you drank it all, babe," Luke says, smiling softly. He leans forward and pulls the bottle out of Nico's hands, kissing Nico on the corner of the mouth.

Nico grunts. "'m not drunk enough yet," he mumbles.

Luke raises a brow. "You've had three bottles of rum. Exactly how bad do you want that hang over to be tomorrow morning?"

"I don't care about the hang over," Nico slurs, reaching for Luke's whiskey flask, and Luke frowns but lets him take it. "I just want to forget already."

"Forget what?" Luke asks, slowly, subdued, and he eyes the cuts on Nico's wrists. He's not nearly as drunk as Nico-he barely drank half the bottle of whiskey before Nico snatched it away.

"Bianca," Nico mutters, glaring into the whiskey flask. "Hazel. The hospital."

"What happened?" Luke pries gingerly. "With Bianca, Hazel, and the…hospital."

When Nico gets drunk, he tends to reference shit that's happened to him. He's always vague, though, and he's never mentioned a hospital before. Not before tonight.

"'fter I watched Bianca die, Hazel sent me to the 'ospital," Nico slurs. "She didn't like the cuts, so she sent me away. She sent me to the hospital, and they were supposed to fix me."

Nico drags his fingers over the heavy, thick scars on his arms. Luke follows the paths his fingers travel.

"Who are Hazel and Bianca?" Luke rests his hand over Nico's, tangling their fingers together. Nico closes his eyes.

"My sisters," he breathes. "My dad slept with Hazel's mom. I met her after Bianca died." Nico takes a large swallow from the whiskey bottle and wrinkles his nose.

"How'd Bianca die?" Luke questions, and it feels so wrong to press Nico for details when he's this inebriated, but he doesn't know how else to get to know Nico, and that's all he wants. He wants to know Nico inside and out, but Nico only opens up when he's drunk.

"Hit and run," Nico answers, and knocks back another swig of whiskey before speaking again. "I saw it happen. It was my eighteenth birth'ay."

Luke closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. His mom died in February, but Nico's sisterdied on his birthday. It's so fucked up.

"Shit," Luke breathes. "Shit, Nico."

"We need more rum," Nico announces, frowning as he hands Luke the bottle of whiskey, seeming to have forgotten the topic. "Whiskey sucks."

Luke's hands shake as he drives out of the hospital parking lot. He's been having migraines all week, and today, Nico finally convinced him to go get himself checked out.

Luke wishes he'd stayed home.

It's mid-April and they're in New York. The first time he was here, he was fourteen, and he met a girl named Thalia, who later became his best friend.

Luke's going to see Thalia, now. He doesn't know who else to go to.

It's Thalia's younger brother, Jason, who pulls open the door. The kid has blond hair, blue eyes, and a scar above his mouth from where he tried to eat a stapler when he was little. Thalia always joked that he and Luke were identical, even though the scar across Luke's cheek was given to him when he was seventeen, by a member of a gang known as the Dragons.

Luke's only seen Jason a handful of times since Jason graduated from high school, but they used to be close.

"Hey, man!" Jason says, eyes widening. He pulls Luke into a quick hug. "I didn't know you were in New York! Last I heard, you were California."

"Yeah." Luke nods. "I drove in from Sacramento a couple of nights ago. Is Thalia here?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jason steps back, holding open the door for Luke to walk in. "She's in the kitchen. I was just leaving, actually."

"Plans with your girlfriend? Reyna, wasn't it?"

Jason shakes his head. "Nah, we broke up. I'm dating Piper now-you remember her, right? We've been best friends since middle school."

Luke raises his eyebrows, sliding his hands into his pockets, and lets the conversation lull him into a comfortable state. As long as he doesn't think about the hospital, he's okay.

"You and Piper, huh? I totally called it."

Jason laughs. "Yeah, I know. I'm going to meet up with her, Leo, Reyna, and Frank. We make lunch at this homeless shelter every Saturday."

"Yeah?" Luke asks, and when Jason nods, Luke smiles at him and ruffles his hair. "That's cool, Jase. I won't hold you up any longer. Go have fun."

Jason nods. "Hey, maybe we can all go out for dinner tonight? It's been a while since you've been around. We should catch up."

Luke feels something drop in his stomach. He's always hated disappointing Jason.

"Yeah," he says, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. "Yeah, we'll work something out."

Jason bids him goodbye and leaves, and Luke trudges into the kitchen, where Thalia is bopping her head to Green Day as she slouches over the kitchen table, her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea, an endless pile of homework sprawled out on the table before her.

She looks up when Luke walks in, and her whole face lights up.

Thalia is gorgeous, in a way that's simultaneously delicate and punk-rock. She has short, black hair that's all choppy, messy, and streaked with blue and silver, and her blue eyes spark with ferocity. Her pale skin is peppered with freckles, a silver ring in her nose, and she's tall and skinny, with few curves to her body.

Luke is gay, but if he wasn't, he and Thalia would've started dating a long, long time ago. Both know it, too.

"Luke!" Thalia says, and sets her tea on the table as she stands to greet him. "I didn't know you were back in New York."

Luke manages a smile. "I'm just stopping by for a few days."

Thalia's eyes scan his face, and her smile drops away.

"Hey," she says gently, her fingertips gliding over Luke's cheekbones. "What's wrong?"

And Luke breaks.

"You remember, when we were in high school, and we got into drugs?" he asks, his voice cracking, and Thalia's brow furrows.

"Uh-huh," she says, folding her arms over her chest protectively.

"And how we used to share needles with the other drug addicts we knew?" Luke prods, and his voice is harsh to his own ears. Thalia's eyes clear and widen, and Luke can see the exact moment when she realizes what Luke's getting at.

"You just found out that you're HIV positive," she breathes, her voice cracking a little.

Luke nods in affirmation, slumping into one of the seats at the table. He rests his chin in his hand.

"That's not even the worst part," he mutters. "I've been sleeping with this guy, Nico, my-" And Luke stops because he doesn't know what Nico is to him, but he knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Or he did, before he found out he only had six months left. He doesn't want Nico to see him when he starts getting really sick.

He plows on. "My boyfriend. We slept together. Unprotected. I… I thought I was fine. If I'd known, Thalia, I never would have… I never should have in the first place…" Luke heaves a frustrated sigh. "If I gave him AIDS, Thalia, I will never forgive myself."

Thalia's eyes are soft as she studies him, a rare occurrence for the twenty-three year old.

"Luke," she says quietly, "I'm sure this guy, Nico-I'm sure he'll understand. If you didn't know you were HIV positive, he'll understand, right?"

Luke gives her a half-hearted glare. "I don't know. I don't want him to find out."

Thalia's features morph into a scowl. "You have to tell him, Luke. If he's possibly infected, he should know, too."

Luke looks down at the table and heaves a sigh. "Yeah," he mutters. "Yeah, I know."

"Why do you only kiss me when you're drunk?" Luke snaps.

Nico isn't drunk yet. In fact, he's completely sober. He's at the stove making dinner-spaghetti, it looks like. Homemade sauce and everything. Luke wonders where he got the ingredients.

"It's easier that way," Nico grumbles, not meeting Luke's eye.

When Luke walked into the kitchen earlier, he moved in for a swift kiss, and Nico announced his sobriety before ducking away from Luke. Hence, the present conversation.

"I don't get it." Luke slumps back against the counter, studying Nico's lithe form as the younger man moves.

"I don't like fucking you when I'm sober," Nico deadpans. "What's not to get?"

Luke closes his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face. I'm in love with you, he wants to say. I want to know you in sobriety as well as I know you in inebriation. I want to kiss the scars on your wrist and listen as you tell me the story behind each and every one of them. I want to nip at the bumps of your spine, and know that when you gasp my name, you're doing it because you love me, too, not just because you're drunk and it feels good.

I want to know you intimately, in every form of the word, and I want to do it with the knowledge that you'll remember it all the next morning.

"Never mind," Luke grunts. "It's not important, anyways."

It's not important anymore, Luke thinks bitterly. Nothing is important anymore. I'm just going to die soon, anyways.

Six months. The doctors gave him six months when they told him he was HIV positive earlier today. Only six months to live.

There's a hell of a lot of things you can do in six months.

"Hey, Luke?" Nico calls as Luke is walking out of the kitchen. Luke pauses, waiting. "We're out of rum. Can you go pick some up?"

Luke heaves a harsh sigh. "We're always running out of rum," he mutters under his breath. Louder, to Nico; "Yeah. I'll go get it now."

Instead, he goes to their bedroom and packs everything he owns into an orange duffle bag.

He passes back through the hallway, not answering Nico's call of goodbye. He hesitates in front of the door. Maybe he should leave a note, explaining why he's leaving. Explaining that Nico needs to get checked for AIDS. Explaining that he's sorry, that this isn't how he wanted this to end-that he never wanted this to end.

Luke pushes the door open and walks out, and he doesn't look back.