Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I pull into the parking spot and heave a loud sigh as I pull the keys out of the ignition and slump down in my seat. I sit there gazing gloomily at the steering wheel in front of me before letting out a desperate groan as I check the time. Two minutes left of freedom. 

I sigh once more as I push my car door open, shoving my phone in the pocket of my skin tight black jeans and hooking my keys onto my belt loop mechanically as I get out. I slam the door closed and drag my black vans across the pavement as I make my way to another day of hell. 

My job isn’t that bad, I guess. It really isn’t. That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy going there, though. 

I grab the door handle and swing the door open forcefully, sliding into the pizza shop with a scowl. The bell above my head dings and everyone glances up, only to go back to what they were doing a second after seeing my grim expression. I roll my eyes, already sick of them. 

Making my way behind the counter and to the back to punch in, all my coworkers ignore me except for the manager, Jeff. That’s usually how it goes. What can I say, I’m a ray of fucking sunshine. 

“Hey, Michael,” he greets as I slide my timecard into the machine. I respond by nodding at him slightly and grunting a little. A trace of disappointment shows on his face but I’m not sure why, because what did he actually expect? I sigh again as I slide my card back into its slot and then run my fingers through my bleached white hair, ruffling it up and then arranging it over my forehead. I don’t even do it to make myself look good or anything. It’s just habit at this point. 

At that moment, the door swings open again, the bell clanging noisily against it as a really tall boy clumsily rushes into the shop. I spare one glance at his perfectly styled blonde quiff before rolling my eyes again and looking away, busying myself with restocking the plasticware. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he scrambles out, the black ring on his lip shining as he talks. “I didn’t even realize I was running late till like a minute ago, I’m really sorry.”

My green eyes shoot to the clock, which reads 2:02, and scoff as I shake my head. He’s barely even late. I really can’t stand this kid. 

“It’s no problem, Luke,” Jeff replies with an easy grin, giving the blonde boy a reassuring look. 

Fucking Luke. This kid started working here like a week ago and he’s somehow made this place even more unbearable than it was before. I knew we were hiring someone new but I couldn’t really care less because I figured they would just become friends with my coworkers and leave me alone, like usual. Only, for some godforsaken reason, Jeff decided to choose me to train him. 

The second my eyes fell on his stupid quiffed hair and bright blue eyes, I hated his guts.  

He’s like 90% legs, so when he stumbles past me to punch in, his movements are very clumsy and he almost trips over his own foot, I’m pretty sure. I roll my eyes and glare down at the plastic knives I’m holding, annoyed by the mere presence of this kid. He fucking trips all the time. He’s like 18 years old or something, you would think he’d learned how to fucking walk by now. 

I wonder how much damage a plastic knife could actually do…?

“Mike, did you hear me?” Jeff’s voice breaks into my thoughts and I turn to look at him. The blank expression on my face is answer enough. “Wanna do ketchup cups?”

I suppress a sigh as I nod once, knowing he didn’t actually care what I wanted. I move to the shelves and grab a couple of the huge containers of ketchup, bringing them over to an empty counter. Then I grab a tall stack of the small plastic cups I’m meant to pour the ketchup in. The containers fill about a million of these fucking cups. I guess I know what I’ll be doing for the foreseeable future. 

“Luke, go with him.”

My eyes shoot up just in time to see Luke nod, like the obedient fucking puppy he is, and then make his way over to me. I glare at him as he approaches. He raises his eyebrows and gives me a light smile. 

“Back at it again, huh,” he says as he settles beside me, taking the plastic lids in his hands, ready to cover after I fill. I don’t respond, moving my eyes to the task at hand and keeping them there. I hear him sigh slightly but then we work in silence for a while. The shop is totally dead and I vaguely wonder why we need so many staff working when it’s not even busy. “Hey, we have the same shoes.”

Annoyance surges through me at this observation, because yeah, I already fucking noticed that. I noticed it on the first day I met him. I also noticed his tight ass black jeans almost identical to mine, save for the large rip in his right knee, and the scattering of bracelets and bands on his wrist, matching mine. I noticed all these things, and it might be the most annoying the ever, next to the fucking kid himself. 

“Wow, we must be the only two people in the whole fucking world to have black vans,” I reply rudely, eyes boring into him and sarcasm dripping from my voice. “We should probably be best fuckin’ friends now, yeah?”

“Jeez, I was just saying,” he mumbles in reply, eyebrows pulling together slightly as he looks down at the table again and nibbles on his dumb lip ring. My eyes hover on him for a moment, moving from his lips to the strand of dark blonde hair that has strayed from his quiff and is hanging over his forehead slightly. My gaze then moves to his nose, which is tiny and kind of pointy and reminds me of someone from fucking Whoville. I almost laugh at the thought when suddenly his eyes shoot up to mine and squint slightly. “What?”

My gaze turns into a glare in seconds before I turn away, muttering, “Shut up.”

At that moment, the bell above the door rings, and we both look over to see a customer walk in. It’s then that I realize two of the other people working had been sent home at some point, leaving only me, Luke, the dishwasher, and Jeff at the shop. I sigh and saunter over to the register, trying my best to remove the grimace from my face. The woman who walked in is probably in her forties or so and she looks a bit frazzled. I watch her for a moment and then brace myself as I decide that she’s probably going to be difficult. 

When we make eye contact, a fake smile stretches across my face and I say, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, uhhhh,” she replies, barely sparing me a glance as she stares up at our menu, trying to decide what to order. It pains me to not roll my eyes at her rudeness. At least I’m making a fucking effort here. “Do you sell pizza by the slice?”

“We don’t, actually,” I reply, my voice friendly and sorrowful and totally fucking fake. She makes a displeased face. 

“Well, I really don’t need a whole pizza,” she tells me, as if I fucking care. I just look at her, not sure what the fuck she wants me to say to that. “You can’t just make a couple slices?”

I continue to look at her, trying to keep my face calm while inside my head is screaming do you know how fucking pizza works? No I can’t just make you a couple fucking slices you dumbass, I would have to make an entire fucking pizza, and I’m pretty sure I just fucking said we don’t sell by the fucking slice.

“No, sorry, ma’am,” I reply successfully. 

She sighs and shakes her head at me as if I’ve done something morally offensive to her. I spare a glance toward Luke to see if he’s witnessing any of this, because next time it will sure as hell be him up here dealing with this shit, and he’s standing there watching me with this dumb smirk on his face. When he sees me looking, he bites his lip slightly but the smirk remains. The strong urge to flip him off arises but I control myself, not wanting this lady to become even more offended by me. I settle for a glare before the lady’s shrill voice is asking for my attention again. 

“How big is your smallest pizza?”

I bite my lip to refrain from screaming at this bitch, because all the sizes are right there in front of her ugly fucking face. 

“Twelve inches,” I reply, my voice losing its false friendliness and becoming a bit stiff. I point to the wall in front of her and continue, “All the sizes are right there.”

She looks to where I’m pointing, still appearing very displeased with everything, and I take a deep breath as I will my skin to stop crawling. 

“Fine then, I guess I’ll get a small pepperoni,” she finally decides, and really I’m just blown away by her manners. We go through the transaction and I shake my head slightly when I don’t even receive a thank you. 

As soon as I finish dealing with her, a family of four walks through the door, and a minute after that, a couple teenaged girls. I inwardly groan when it becomes apparent that our dinner rush is starting. I look at Luke again who’s fucking just standing there, leaning against the counter, eyes glued to me. He straightens up a little when our eyes meet. 

“Oi, maybe you could come up here and actually learn something rather than standing there like an idiot?” I call back to him, and he immediately jumps up and makes his way over to me, biting his damn lip and looking sheepish. I go back to taking orders, feigning politeness the entire time and trying not to squirm at Luke watching my every fucking move. I get that I’m supposed to be training him, but really, does he need to stare? We finally reach a bit of a lull a little less than an hour later, and Luke starts giggling beside me. The sound makes my skin crawl so I shoot him another signature glare and spit, “What?”

“N-nothing, it’s just…” he stutters, faltering under my intense look. He trails off but there’s still a smirk playing at his puffy lips. I raise my eyebrows meaningfully, urging him to go on. “You’re just so polite and friendly to them. It’s like, the polar opposite of how you are to me.”

“Yeah, well, obviously it’s an act,” I reply as I move to push past him, back to our mountain of ketchup cups. 

“What is?” he asks, causing me to stop and turn toward him. “How you are toward me or them?”

I hold his gaze for a moment before scoffing and raising my pierced eyebrow. Who does he think he is, Dr. Fucking Phil or something?

“I’ll give you one guess,” I answer before continuing away from him back into the kitchen area. He, of course, follows right behind me, and I can’t help but notice his stupid pierced lip is still smiling slightly. 

“Well, I’m glad you don’t put on an act around me,” he continues, and since when did it become okay to make conversation with me? I scowl. “I’d rather you be yourself, even if that means a total asshole.”

I glare at him again, and I’m beginning to wonder if maybe that’s just my face now. But seriously, who does this kid think he is? He just called me an asshole straight to my face. My mind travels back to those plastic knives. 

“Oh, how fucking charming,” I drawl instead of resorting to violence in the workplace. “Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?” 

His eyebrows pull together and he makes an amused face at me before asking, “Who?”

I falter for a second, because is he serious? I just made a reference to a cheesy fucking romance author and he doesn’t even know who he is? If I ever got embarrassed, I’d be embarrassed right now. Luckily, I’m too cool for that. Instead of answering him, I roll my eyes and continue with the damn ketchup, muttering something about him being a fucking idiot. 

He finally stops talking for a while and I end up having a heated argument in my head about whether I’m letting my guard down too much. I mean, why the fuck does Luke think it’s okay to like, joke with me? And call me an asshole? Why does he think it’s okay to talk to me? It’s not like I treat him any differently than anyone else. Most people just have the sense to leave me alone after the first or second rude comment. But no, this fucking kid just takes it. It’s almost like he likes it. He’s known me for a week and still wants to talk to me. I really don’t know how to handle this situation. It’s never happened before.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when Luke suddenly jerks next to me and then something smashes on the floor between us. I know what it is without having to look, but I do anyway. My jaw clenches when I see the ketchup splattered all over the floor, my shoe, and halfway up my calf. There are droplets on Luke’s leg as well, but not nearly as much as mine. I stare at the mess with my jaw set before slowly bringing my eyes up to Luke’s dumb, wide, blue ones. His mouth is hanging open and he looks kinda scared. Just how I like it. 

“Shit, dude, I’m really sorry,” he says, wide eyes boring into mine. I muster the intensity of all my glares that day and put it into this one, causing Luke’s eyes to somehow widen even more. “Let me, like-“

“Fuck off,” I growl, deciding now’s a good a time as any to make this kid stop talking to me. He just stares, not moving. “Seriously, fuck off. Go find something else to do.”

“B-but Jeff sa-“ he stutters before being rudely interrupted by yours truly. 

“Does it look like I fucking care?”

He stares at me for another moment, blue orbs wide as can be, before stiffly turning away and walking in a random direction. I’m aware that I’m completely overreacting, but whatever. I needed an excuse to get this kid to hate me, and then he fucking handed one right over. It was his own fault, really. 

I busy myself with wiping the ketchup off my clothes, silently thanking myself for only ever wearing black on the lower half of my body. At least the stains won’t really show. I see that Luke has busied himself with wiping down the tables and picking up empty plates and stuff and I’m glad he at least has the sense to do something helpful. 

I’m nearly done with all the damn ketchup cups, having only about a quarter of one of the containers left. I can see the light. A few more customers come in, preventing me from getting it all over with sooner, which I grumble under my breath about. When I finish with their order, I turn to go complete my task, only to see that fucking Luke is over there doing it. Anger rises up in me, and I’m about to plan my attack when Jeff calls to Luke from the office, asking him to come in for a minute. Luke scurries off and I take my place back with the ketchup, hoping Luke realizes that Jeff just saved his ass. 

I mind my own business for the most part, but a piece of me is really curious about what Jeff needed him for. I keep stealing glances toward the office, where the door isn’t completely closed, but open just enough for me to see Luke standing there, nodding his head occasionally. I’m doing the ketchup cups mechanically, barely even watching my hands because for some reason, I’m too busy watching something else. 

I’ve noticed how nicely Luke’s work shirt fits over his broad shoulders. Like, really nicely. Really broad. He’s not built or anything, but his shoulders are really wide and his arms are actually pretty nice and the shirt is tight around his biceps and chest and it loosens a bit further down his torso which is thin but still, like, nice, and the hem of his shirt is resting just at the top of his belt which is fastened around those goddamn skinny jeans and his legs just go on for miles. His hand, which was hanging limply at his side, suddenly moves up to his hair, and my eyes follow it, watching him gently finger his stupid quiff as he laughs at something Jeff said. His hand drops back down but my eyes stay on his face, because why does he do that all the time? That fucking lip biting thing? It’s really, really unnecessary. 

And then a sudden realization hits me, and it’s that Luke is fucking looking back at me, and I don’t even know when the fuck he started because I didn’t even notice and shit. His bright eyes are piercing into mine and I feel the heat rush to my face as I whip my head forward, trying to act casual, but instead the worst fucking thing in the world happens. As I turn, my instinct is to make it look like I had been working and minding my own business, so I shoot my hand out to grab one of the plastic cups. And instead, I end up knocking over the tower of empty cups, sending them flying all over the place, and making a fucking racket as they each bounce off the floor. There honestly has to be at least fifty of the damn cups, and it’s so loud and it lasts forever until finally they are all still, spread out on the floor around me, and there’s silence. 

The heat that spread on my face when Luke looked at me has multiplied by a million as well as spread down my entire body. I stand there and stare down at the cups around me, trying not to imagine how fucking red my face is and how much it clashes with my bright white hair. 

“Nice going,” the dishwasher, Kyle or something, tosses over his shoulder, and normally I’d make a rude comment back at him, but I’m actually kind of grateful that he broke the silence. He goes back to washing and it’s like time continues again. I don’t fucking dare look back toward the office, instead crouching down and beginning to pick up all the fucking cups. My jaw is clenched painfully and I’m trying to breathe deeply through my nose so that maybe I’ll fucking cool down a little, because my face and neck are still on fire, because that fucking idiot caught me staring at him and then I made a fool of myself. 

Eventually I’ve picked up all the cups and I immediately return to filling the fucking things with ketchup. God, I really hate ketchup. It tastes good, but I really fucking hate it right now. It’s a good five minutes later and my blush has finally died down when someone is next to me again. 

“And I thought I was the clumsy one,” he jokes. He’s smiling some more and when I meet his eyes it doesn’t falter, but widens, and his tongue flicks out over his lip ring and then he sucks it into his mouth, nibbling it a little. 

“Piss off,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away and hoping I’m just imagining a slight warmth returning to my face. 

“Gee, someone’s sensitive,” he replies, a teasing tone to his voice. 

“Yeah, and someone’s an annoying little shit who can’t take a fucking hint,” I snap, glaring at him once more. His smile has definitely faltered now. “I don’t fucking like you, okay? I don’t know how to make it much clearer, but you can stop trying to be my friend or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing all the time. Do us both a favor and save your fucking energy.”

Luke’s face has completely fallen, and though his eyes are still bright, they’re no longer glimmering with carefree jokes and teasing. He raises his eyebrows and swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he lowers his gaze to the counter and turns his body away from me, shoulders slouching. I watch his face for another moment, seeing a slight pink dust across his cheeks and noticing that he’s just staring blankly at one spot on the counter. 

I rip my eyes away, filling the last few remaining cups as a familiar feeling of self-hatred squeezes in my chest. I clench my jaw even tighter than before. Why do I always fucking do this? That was so uncalled for and it clearly hurt Luke. Of fucking course it did, that’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? 

I can’t get Luke’s pained expression out of my mind as a million apologies run through my brain. The words are there, but the idea of actually speaking them is so far-fetched to me that I don’t even consider it. I empty the last of the ketchup into the cups and immediately push away from the table, stomping down the hallway in the back and into the small bathroom, slamming the door once I get inside. 

I let out a huge burst of air that I didn’t realize I had been holding and clutch the edges of the sink, holding myself up and glaring at myself in the small mirror. My bleached hair is sticking up everywhere, how it always is. My cheeks are slightly flushed, standing out against my pale features but making my dark pink lips even more noticeable. My cold, green eyes are fucking blank. I can’t see any emotion in them. I sigh harshly and squeeze them shut, so tightly that I begin to see stars. When I open them, I stare down into the sink, not wanting to look at myself anymore. I breathe deeply a few times before splashing some cold water on my face and wiping it with a paper towel. 

I check my phone for the time and realize with relief that there’s only an hour till close and I can spend the whole time cleaning and closing up. I won’t look at or talk to anyone, like usual. Nothing has changed. 

This all goes according to plan until just after I lock the door. Luke and I successfully avoided each other the entire time, and I just have to wrap up a case of condiments and I’m fucking out of there. I’m in the clear. As I’m wrapping, I can’t help but overhear a conversation in the small kitchen area. 

“Sorry man, I can’t bring you home tonight.”

It’s the dishwasher. He’s been giving Luke a ride every night since he started working here because for some reason he doesn’t have a car. 

“No, no, that’s totally fine,” Luke insists, voice friendly as ever. “I, um…”

He trails off, and I assume looks to Jeff in question, but he’s quickly shut down. 

“No can do, Luke, I live in the complete opposite direction.”

There’s a pause. I continue wrapping the condiments like I haven’t heard any of this conversation.

“Oi, Michael, don’t you live in Westford?”

My shoulders tense immediately. He’s not serious, is he? Does he really expect me to give this kid a ride? I thought he knew me better than that. 

“No,” I reply shortly, lifting the tray of condiments and putting it in the large refrigerator. 

“Yeah, you do, mate,” Jeff argues, and I shoot him a glare as I stride over to the timecards. 

“I moved.”

“C’mon, don’t be a dick for once in your life and give the kid a ride.”

“No, really, it’s okay,” Luke chimes in, talking to Jeff rather than myself. I swipe my timecard and head for the door, wanting nothing more than to be home in my bed playing video games. 

“Do you have someone you can call to pick you up?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah, I uh…I can find somebody,” he insists, very unconvincingly. I roll my eyes. “No problem.”

“Michael, just give the kid a ride,” Jeff repeats, louder this time since I’m about to walk out the door. “Or you’re fired.”

I spin around, my eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Like hell, you can’t do that,” I reply harshly, eyes flashing. I finally spare a glance at Luke for the first time since I flipped at him. He’s just standing there looking at the floor, somehow making his 6’2 stature appear small. I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Jeff replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the manager.

I stare at him, dumbfounded, before replying, “You can’t be serious.”

He just stands there, arms crossed, staring back at me. There’s a long, tense moment of silence, and finally I scoff and shake my head. 

“Fucking hell, come on then,” I give in, turning around and pushing through the door without another word. I take long strides toward my car and it takes at least a minute until Luke scrambles out after me, jogging to catch up. 

I drop down in my seat and turn on the ignition, immediately pulling my iPod out of the glove box and plugging it in as Luke opens the passenger door and tentatively slides into the seat. I want this to be as quick as possible, so I play whatever music I had last been listening to and then pull out of the parking lot. 

I’m not gonna lie, I had been expecting a bunch of thank you’s and sucking up and shit from Luke, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, after a minute, he reaches and turns up the volume. The action almost sets me off and I definitely glare at his hand because no one fucking touches my stereo, but then I realize that at least he didn’t turn it down, or change the song or something, so I let it slide. I briefly wonder if he turned it up because he likes this band too, but decide he probably only did it because he doesn’t want to talk to me. We drive in silence for a while until I see Luke pulling out his phone in my peripheral and I glance over to see that he’s getting a call. I reach out and turn the music down before he can and he sends me a brief look of recognition before answering the phone. 

“‘Lo?”

I can vaguely hear a voice on the other end. I note that it’s definitely female, and I’m pretty sure she’s yelling, or at least talking really loudly. I can just barely understand what she’s saying. 

“Mum, mum, stop,” Luke says, sitting up from his slouched position. “I can’t understand you.”

The voice starts again and I keep my eyes trained on the road ahead of me, attempting to appear detached from the situation. Only it’s kinda hard when I can obviously hear his side of the conversation. 

“Who?”

His free hand has found its way to his hair, and he tugs thoughtlessly at the blonde tufts. 

“Um, not really. It’s been like two weeks, mum.”

I try to guess what his mother is talking to him about, but I honestly have no idea. All I wanna do is turn down the stereo a little bit more so I can maybe hear what she’s saying.

“I dunno, I’ll- …yeah, okay. I’ll…find someone.”

She says something else and Luke sighs deeply, his eyes falling shut. 

“Yeah, I know, mum.”

His hand has moved from his hair down to his knee, where he’s picking distractedly at the rip in his black jeans. 

“Okay. Listen, I gotta go….okay. Night.”

He drops his hand to his lap and ends the call, sighing again with agitation. Then he leans forward and turns the music up again, like nothing ever happened. My grip on the steering wheel tightens. He continues to pick at his jeans. 

I want to ask. I want to ask so bad, but I can’t. 

After a few minutes pass, we’re entering Westford and I turn down the volume again. 

“Where do you live?”

“Um,” he mumbles, still not looking at me. He hasn’t looked at me since my fucking explosion. I want him to. “Could you just…drop me off at Target?”

My eyebrows furrow. 

“I said I would take you home, not stop and wait for you to get your fucking grocery shopping done,” I reply, annoyed at myself when my response comes out harsher than I intended. 

“You don’t have to wait, I said drop me off,” he replies, apparently unfazed by my rudeness. 

My eyebrows furrow further and I give him a look. 

“Why?”

“Can you just- …please?” he responds, his voice a lot softer, sounding like a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, and now he’s looking at me. Fuck, I wish he wasn’t. He looks so fucking worn out. I turn away and watch the road for another minute, forehead creased in thought. 

“Tell me why,” I push. 

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Michael-“

“I said I’d take you home, so that’s where I’m taking you.”

“Well I can’t fucking go home, okay?” he snaps, eyes burning into the side of my head. I glance to meet his gaze but he looks away immediately, crossing his arms and slumping down in his seat, turning his gaze out the window. 

“Why not?” I ask carefully, keeping my voice neutral. 

He’s silent for a moment and I don’t think he’s gonna answer, but then he says, “Because my mum is drunk off her ass and fucking some guy, so I’d rather not spend the night listening to that, yeah?”

There’s silence again as I process this and then do an attempt at piecing together the one-sided conversation I heard. Guess it adds up. I try to think of something comforting to say, but we all know that’s not really my forte. 

“So, what, you were gonna find a nice, cozy spot in Target to spend the night?”

He snorts and shakes his head slightly, but there’s no humor behind it. He just stares out his window stonily. 

“She told me to call up one of my friends and spend the night with them. Like, alright mum, here, lemme just browse my long list of friends I’ve made since we moved here two weeks ago and see which one wants to hang out with me all night.”

This time I snort because his sarcasm is kind of amusing. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can second guess them. There’s a pause. 

“Ask you what?”

“To spend the night.”

Another pause. I can feel him looking at me, his eyes searching my face. I do my best to keep it blank.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

At this, I smirk and shrug slightly. He scoffs and drops his head back against the seat. 

“Just take me to Target,” he mumbles. 

“I’m already on the way to my house.”

His head whips back up and he’s staring at me again. This time I turn and meet his searching eyes. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging again, not wanting to make a big deal of it or anything. 

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m tired and I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Look, I’m not gonna abandon you at fucking Target when you have nowhere to stay and not one friend in the entire world, Luke,” I tell him, being sure not to be too nice. 

“Okay, well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but-“

“Is it?” I interrupt, raising an eyebrow at Luke, who finally smiles. Finally. 

“Fuck off,” he breathes through his grin before biting down on his lip and turning to look out the window again. A triumphant smile is tugging at my pink lips and a strange feeling is welling up in my chest. I clear my throat and pull the smile off my face, returning my eyes to the road and turning onto my street. What the fuck was that?

When I pull into my driveway a not very strange or unusual feeling of doom washes over me. What am I actually doing right now? My heart starts beating a little bit faster at the thought of bringing Luke into my house. I never have people over and I’m not really sure why I decided to start with a kid who pisses me off so much. This is a really terrible idea and I briefly consider changing my mind and bringing him to Target instead. 

But I guess even I can’t be that cruel. 

We get out of my car without a word and Luke is at my heels, following me up the walkway to my door. I shove the key in the lock and push the door open without sparing a glance at the boy behind me. The inside of my house is dark and considering the time, I’m sure my mum is fast asleep. At least I don’t have to make any awkward introductions or anything. 

Luke immediately starts footing his shoes off and I give him a look because of course he’s that damn polite. He freezes at my look, his foot halfway out of his shoe, as if debating whether or not he should slide it back on. I just snort and turn away from him, muttering, “Come on, idiot,” as I bound up the stairs two at a time. He follows quickly after me, his shoes off, making virtually no noise as I lead him to my room. 

When we enter, I flip on the light, slide my shoes off, and drop down onto the bed with a satisfied huff. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I start checking my notifications and whatnot, just like any other night. I scroll for a minute before lifting my gaze to see Luke hovering awkwardly by the doorway, bright eyes wondering around my room, taking in the various posters on the walls and other items scattered around. He’s chewing on his lip mercilessly and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. The fact that he’s nervous, too, instantly makes me feel better and I sit up, tossing my phone to the side. 

“Get the door, yeah?” I say, motioning for him to close the door. He does so quickly, a little to eager to obey me. He probably doesn’t want me to flip out on him again for virtually no reason. Smart kid. “You know, you can like, come in.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh and grins slightly, taking a few more steps into my room, still looking awkward as hell. I watch him for a moment before hopping off my bed and going over to my closet and pulling a random shirt out. I can feel his eyes on me as I pull my work shirt off. It’s not until its off that a wave of self-consciousness washes over me, and suddenly I’m all too aware of my ghost-like complexion and soft, girly stomach. I make sure to keep my back to him as I pull on the new shirt quickly, a loose white shirt with the Weezer logo across the front in red. 

“Do you want a shirt?”

Luke’s eyes widen slightly when I turn to look at him, though I’m not sure why. He looks away from me, down at the floor and then over at the wall, his cheeks a faint pink. 

“Uh, okay,” he accepts, taking a step toward me but still not making eye contact. I give him a weird look that goes unnoticed before pulling another shirt out of my closet and tossing it to him. I walk past him without a word and to my tv and gaming console, busying myself with turning them both on so that I don’t look at Luke while he changes and have a repeat of the fucking plastic cup event earlier. I hear him laugh slightly so I glance over, relieved that he’s already slipped the new shirt on. 

“I love Green Day,” he says, motioning to the shirt I gave him. 

My eyebrow quirks at his statement and I look him over, a weird feeling forming in my stomach at the sight of him in my clothes. “You do?”

“They’re like, one of my favorite bands,” he tells me, and I watch him for another minute, almost convinced that he’s only fucking with me. “Why do you look so skeptical?”

I shrug awkwardly and turn away from him finally, grabbing my controller and launching myself onto the bed again, landing in the middle and then scooting myself up toward the headboard.

“Wanna play FIFA?” I ask and his face immediately brightens before a smirk appears on his lips and he gives me a look. 

“Yeah, as long as you don’t take it too hard when I beat you and kick me out or something,” he replies bravely, all traces of nervousness suddenly gone at the mention of the game. My eyebrows raise and I’m excited by the challenge. 

I move over on the bed a little to make room for him and nod over to the shelf next to the tv, saying, “You won’t have to worry about that. Grab a controller.”

Luke smiles and grabs the controller before dropping down next to me on the bed, pulling his feet up and sitting cross-legged, leaning forward on his elbows. He’s sitting pretty close to me, but it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose or anything. There’s not that much room and our legs are pretty long. 

“I’m really concerned you might, like, punch me or something if I win,” he says, smile still on his lips as I go through the menu screen and set up the game. 

I snort and reply, “Luke, really, don’t worry. That’s not gonna happen.”

“We’ll see,” he hums, clearly feeling superior in his FIFA skills. I just grin because I’m almost a hundred percent sure I’ll win. I’ve never lost to anybody. 

Three games later and Luke is glaring at the screen, eyebrows pulled tightly together and lips in a defeated scowl. His controller is held loosely in his hands and his knee is pressed up against my thigh. He doesn’t seem to notice but the warmth of his leg is kind of distracting me. Not distracting enough for me to lose or anything, though. 

“Do you wanna play another, or…” I trail off, a bit of a teasing tone in my voice. 

“Yes,” he responds immediately, sounding serious and determined. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, just tightens his grip on the controller and leans forward again, ready for another game. I laugh quietly and shake my head as I begin the match. Within like ten seconds of it starting, I score on an amazing shot, if I do say so myself, and Luke throws his controller down on the bed, exclaiming, “What?! How did you even do that? That wasn’t even…” he trails off into a frustrated growl before quickly picking the controller back up and continuing to play, leaning his elbows on his knees and in turn getting even closer to me. I snicker beside him, eyes focused on the screen. “You must be cheating.”

“How could I be cheating?” I question with a grin, knowing he only said it because he’s frustrated about losing so much. 

“You just are,” he insists, eyes never leaving the screen. His body jerks with all of his movements and I can see every time he gets excited, thinking he’s gonna score, and then deflates when I steal the ball from him or block his shot. It’s really quite amusing. I make a particularly good steal and then I’m sprinting down the field, already knowing I’m about to get another goal, and Luke must know it too because he starts saying, “No, no, no, no, not this time, nooo, fucking run you piece of shit, no…”

And then, just as I’m about to shoot, he leans into me roughly, his bony arm digging into mine and pushing it off my leg, completely throwing off my shot. 

“Luke!” I protest, trying to pull away from him, but he keeps pushing against me, his shoulder moving in front of mine and trying to hold me back with his body as he gets possession of the ball and passes it down the field. I let go of my controller with my left hand and grasp his large shoulder, trying to push him off while shouting between laughter, “Fucking stop!”

He doesn’t respond, simply resisting my shoves and leaning more heavily into me so that he’s basically on top of me. His blue eyes still don’t leave the screen as he’s completely focused, tongue sticking out from between his teeth and cheeks dimpled. I finally stop resisting and let him continue, watching him with a smile as he makes the goal and his face lights up. 

“Woo!” he hollers, finally getting off me to throw his arms up victoriously. He turns to look at me and all I can do is shake my head but the dumb smile on my face let’s him know that I’m not mad. 

“And you said I was cheating,” I point out, my green eyes meeting his blue ones easily.  

“That wasn’t cheating,” he denies, grinning cutely. I mean, grinning. Just grinning. “That’s all part of the game, bro. Not my fault if you can’t handle it.”

“You’re acting like you just won,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “You realize the game pretty much just started, yeah?”

He frowns and glances back over to the screen, where the players are waiting to be controlled. Then he turns his head back to me and makes this cute face like he’s asking permission to stop playing, and yeah I said fucking cute because it is, okay? Anyone with eyes would see that it is. Like, stupidly cute. I feel my face heat up a little. 

“I’m hungry,” he says as he flops down against my pillows, his long legs still crossed and knee still resting against my leg. I realize that I am, too, and look down at him. It’s weird seeing him on my bed like this. 

“Me too,” I agree. “Let’s order pizza.”

“We’ve been at a pizza shop all day,” he reminds me, giving me a funny look. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He eyebrows furrow and a laugh falls out of his mouth. 

“Aren’t you sick of pizza?”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I reply. 

He laughs some more and gazes up at me, his teeth falling over his plump bottom lip and biting down, pulling his lip ring into his mouth. His eyes are really bright and I might have gotten lost in them if his lips weren’t so distracting. 

“You’re weird.”

His words pull me out of my daze and I focus on his face again, frowning slightly. 

“Gee, thanks,” I reply sarcastically, moving away from him a little and looking across the room.

“No, like, you’re probably the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” he continues, and was that supposed to make me feel better or something? My eyebrows pull together and my frown turns into more of a scowl. 

“Yeah, thanks, I got it the first time,”  I murmur, pushing myself up off the bed and walking to the tv to turn off the game console. Luke sits up behind me. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he tells me, sounding a little surprised at my reaction. 

“Course not,” I mutter sarcastically, fiddling with the wires by the tv because I suddenly don’t feel like being around Luke anymore. Not that I ever wanted to in the first place. 

“Michael, I didn’t,” he insists, moving to sit on the edge of my bed, watching me cautiously. “I just meant, like, you’re really unpredictable. Whenever I say something to you I don’t know whether you’re gonna laugh or like, try to murder me with your eyes.”

I shoot him a look with squinted eyes, not quite a glare but just about. 

“Assume the latter,” I tell him and he makes a face.

“Well, I was doing that, but then you invited me to stay over so now I really don’t know what to expect from you,” he explains, a slight frustration in his tone. 

“Nothing,” I answer simply. “You shouldn’t expect anything from me. It’s not like this is gonna become a habit or anything.”

He holds my gaze for an extended moment and then his eyebrows pull together and he bites his stupid fucking lip. 

“Why not?”

What the fuck does he mean, why not?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, we just played FIFA together for like two hours, and it seemed like you were having fun, and I was, too, even though I couldn’t even score on you, and like, we like the same music, and have the same job, and like, I dunno. Just, why not make it a habit? Or at least more than a one time thing? Why are you so set on hating me?”

We hold each other’s gaze for a long time, my head reeling with thoughts as I stand unmoving in the middle of my room. He’s keeping his composure as he stares back wordlessly from my bed but I can tell he’s nervous about my response. 

Right, my response…what the fuck do I say to that? He actually genuinely wants to be my friend. I really don’t get it. 

I guess he has a point, though. It was fun playing FIFA with him. And we probably would get on pretty well if I just let my walls down. The thing is, my walls are made of fucking steel, and they get stronger with each year that passes, and they’ve been there for a good ten years at this point. It’s not that easy to just suddenly let someone in. 

Especially someone who’s so fucking annoying. 

He’s still staring at me, blue eyes a bit scared but also hopeful, and for once he’s not nibbling on his fucking lip ring, just watching me, face totally open. Before I know it, a smile is forcing its way onto my lips and his eyebrow quirks. 

I roll my eyes and look away as I quietly mutter, “Shut up, Luke,” the small smile still playing at my lips. I turn and drop down onto the bed next to him, pulling out my phone. “What kinda pizza do you like?”

There’s a short silence so I look over to him and he’s fucking beaming at me for some reason, smiling so big I think his lips are gonna tear down the middle. His eyes are like, sparkling. I snort and roll my eyes again because I pretty much brushed off his entire speech, but apparently my response was enough for him.

“Pepperoni’s good.”

“I like Hawaiian,” I tell him. He scrunches up his dumb, pointy Whoville nose in response. I snort again and say, “I’ll do half,” before calling up the only pizza place open at this hour and placing the delivery order. Luke sits next to me picking at the hole in his jeans. When I hang up he rises and strolls over to my acoustic guitar, sliding his fingers over the strings gently as he admires it before looking up at me. 

“You play?”

I nod and shrug at the same time, trying to be nonchalant even though music is one of the biggest parts of my life. He gives me a crooked grin and returns his attention to the guitar, eyes shining. 

“Can I?” he asks, looking up at me hopefully again. I shrug, allowing it. He smiles and grabs the neck of my guitar, lifting it and then coming to sit down on my bed again. I move over so he has room and he rests it on his leg, holding it so naturally that I don’t even bother asking if he plays as well. It’s clear that he does. He strums a few chords and then plucks a short tune, unfamiliar to me but nice. 

“What’s that?” I ask, watching his fingers as they begin to dance along the strings again, doing the same tune but adding more strumming this time. He shrugs awkwardly with the position of the guitar in his arms and looks up at me again. A lump forms in my throat when our eyes meet and I try to swallow it as I look away. 

“Just something random I made up,” he tells me. 

“You write music?” I ask, trying my best to focus on the guitar strings rather than the boy strumming them. 

“A little,” he replies before covering the strings to mute them, and then completely changing gears, strumming out the intro to an All Time Low song, causing the lump in my throat to return even worse and my eyes to snap up to his face. “I mostly just do a lot of covers, though.”

I stare at him, wondering not for the first time if this is just some huge joke and this kid is fucking with me. All Time Low is one of my favorite bands in the world. What are the odds he would choose one of their songs to play? When I don’t respond, he continues to play for another moment before muting the strings again and looking up at me. 

“What about you?”

I shrug again, feeling weird for some reason, and then reply in sort of a mumble, “I like writing stuff sometimes.”

“Do you ever write lyrics?”

“Yeah,” I nod, feeling my cheeks heat up a little. I’ve never talked about my music or lyrics with anyone. Ever. 

“That’s awesome,” he replies, sounding almost envious and strumming another chord thoughtlessly. “I try sometimes but I don’t think I’m any good. I prefer just writing riffs and stuff.”

“Yeah, I like doing that, too.”

“Have you written any like, actual complete songs?”

I shrug again as my eyes automatically flick over to the worn black journal on my desk across the room. I avert my eyes quickly, not wanting him to catch on. 

“Can I hear one?” he asks, taking my shrug as a yes, apparently. 

“No,” I reply automatically, looking at him long enough to see his face fall and then looking away again. It kinda makes me feel bad so I say, “I don’t really show anyone my stuff.” 

“Why not?”

I shrug for the millionth time before feeling awkward sitting there empty handed, so I grab the neck of my guitar and pull it over to me, Luke letting go immediately and letting me take it, his eyes surprised and expectant. I stare down at the strings as I  begin to strum a song I’ve been working on, but I don’t dare sing any of the lyrics. I play through what I have written so far, ignoring the feeling of Luke’s eyes on me the whole time, and then stop, letting silence fill the air before I finally lift my eyes. 

“Wow,” Luke breathes, eyes huge and bright and gazing at me. He looks like he’s in awe or something. I half grin awkwardly at him and quirk my pierced eyebrow. “You’re fuckin’ good.”

“Not really,” I deny, looking down again as I feel my cheeks heat up. Why the hell does that keep happening?

“Shut up,” he replies, nudging against my leg slightly. “That was awesome. Can you play it again?”

I consider being difficult, but realize that this is the first person I’ve ever shown my music too, and he wants to hear more. Why would I ever pass that up? I nod and reposition my hands again, playing through the familiar song easily. When it’s over, I hear Luke let out a long breath. 

“I love it,” he tells me earnestly. “Really, it’s great.”

I grin and toss a glance over at him, not really sure how to take such a nice compliment. He’s looking at me like I’m, like…special, or something. It’s all very strange. 

“Thanks,” I reply awkwardly. “I’ve been working on it for a while. There’s something about it that isn’t quite right but I can’t figure out what it is.”

“I know the feeling,” he replies. “That’s why I usually end up ditching anything I try to write and just learn a new cover instead.” I grin and begin playing the same All Time Low song he played before and his jaw drops and eyes widen even more, excitement breaking out on his face. “No way! I fucking love that song!”

“Me too,” I agree with a wide smile, his excitement seemingly contagious. I’m somewhat warming up to the idea that we have the same taste in music. I guess it’s not too unbelievable, really. “Too bad we don’t have another guitar. I bet we could put something really cool together.”

“I’ll bring mine next time!” he bursts excitedly, before realizing his words and pausing. “I, uh, I - I mean, uh…”

I can’t help but snort because he’s so awkward. I should be annoyed at his assumption that we’d ever hang out again, that there’d be a next time, but I just can’t bring myself to be. Because honestly, at this point, why wouldn’t we? The question rings in my mind and I realize that the only reason we wouldn’t continue to hang out is me. Me being rude and afraid to open up. 

“Luke…” I begin with a sigh, and he’s watching me with a sudden seriousness etched into his features. He’s clearly expecting me to say something important. Ha. He had been right when he said I’m unpredictable. “You’re a loser.”

His face falls slightly but he quickly recovers, holding back a grin and rolling his eyes as he shoves me lightly in the shoulder. 

“Well, you’re mean.”

“I’m not mean,” I disagree, causing a look of disbelief to spread across Luke’s face.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asks. We watch each other, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead and mine pulled together, ready to argue, but he continues, “Says the guy who told me to stop wasting my time because you straight up don’t like me and that I’m an annoying piece of shit.”

My chest tightens unpleasantly at the reminder and I feel my face flinch as I look down at my guitar, feeling kind of ashamed. Damn, he fucking called me out, hard. 

“Shit, I guess I am mean,” I conclude after a stretch of tense silence, realizing there’s really no argument to defend myself at this point. 

“Yeah,” he agrees lightly, making me feel even worse despite the fact that his tone is friendly. “It’s alright, though. Luckily I can take it. It’s not that bad when I remind myself that you’re all talk.”

My eyebrows pull together again and I raise my head quickly to give him a look, asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

At that moment, there’s a knock on the front door and I’m reminded that we ordered pizza. Luke smirks evilly at me and shrugs his shoulder before standing and going to my door. I put my guitar on the bed and follow him downstairs, where he insists on paying for the pizza since I gave him a place to stay, and it’s not very hard to convince me. We bring the pizza back up to my room, the smell of it making my stomach growl. I place my guitar back on the stand and then turn to face Luke, who’s hovering over the pizza box, ready to dive in. 

“D’wanna watch a movie or something?” I ask because I think I’ve had enough conversation with Luke for one night. We’re getting dangerously close to the friend level. A voice pops into my thoughts, telling me that eating pizza and watching a movie together is like, literally what friendship is, but I shake my head slightly and ignore it. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he replies, dropping down onto my bed, still eyeing the pizza box. He’s definitely waiting for me to take the plunge, probably because he thinks I’ll get mad at him or something if he goes first. I smirk slightly to myself as I turn off the overhead light, replacing it with the lamp on the table by my bed and then dropping down beside him.

“You can eat, you know,” I tell him. “It’s technically your pizza, after all.”

He smiles sheepishly before grabbing the box and swinging the top open, eyeing the pizza before choosing a slice of pepperoni and shoving a huge bite into his mouth. He lets out a pretty graphic moan at the taste and my face heats up, but that’s probably just because of the warmth of the fresh pizza, or something. Yeah. 

I tear my eyes away from him to choose a movie, scrolling through Netflix but not really seeing any of the choices. We eventually decide on a random horror movie that neither of us have seen, both expecting it to be really shitty, automatically making it funny. I set up my pillows behind us so we can lean back against the headboard as we eat and watch. We’re sitting pretty close to each other, not close enough to be touching but I can feel the warmth of his body from across the space. I do my best to focus on watching the movie instead of his movements in my peripheral vision, but it’s difficult at times. 

The pizza is gone in no time and a wave of tiredness washes over us both. I can tell it hits Luke too because he’s slowly been slouching lower and lower and now we’re basically both lying down at this point. He reaches up and pushes one of the pillows under his neck so he can see the tv better and when he puts his arm back down it presses against mine slightly. My stomach flips a little bit and I want to punch myself in the face. 

Suddenly he flinches really hard and a small squeak escapes his throat. My eyes widen and I look over to him just in time to see his face flush and teeth chomp down on his lip. 

“Shit,” he curses embarrassedly. “That scared me.”

My mind races for a second before I realize that he was talking about something that happened in the movie. Something that I completely missed because I was too busy getting flustered over his fucking arm brushing against mine. I really, really want to punch myself in the face. 

“Loser,” I mutter before returning my attention to the movie. I begin to actually watch it, completely ignoring the way Luke’s warm arm feels against my skin. Some dumb blonde chick is running clumsily up the stairs of some old house, her huge tits bouncing gloriously with each step. I roll my eyes. 

“Do you think she’s hot?” Luke suddenly asks from beside me. My immediate reaction is to say no, but I stop myself, reconsidering. In all technicalities, the girl is hot. Long, blonde hair, big tits with a thin waist, plump lips. Any guy would wanna fuck her, right? Luke would probably think I’m weird if I don’t think she’s hot. Then again, since when do I care if people think I’m weird or not?

“Not my type,” I reply, satisfied with that answer. My heartbeat quickens slightly when I ask, “You?”

“What’s your type?” he asks, ignoring my question. I can feel him looking at me. 

“I dunno,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the screen. The girl is hiding behind a door now, breathing really heavily but trying to be quiet. “Her tits are kind of outrageous.”

Luke lets out a loud laugh and says, “Yeah. She’s too fake for my taste. Bleached blonde hair and all that.”

“Hey,” I reply, mock offended. “My hair’s bleached.”

“Yeah, but at least yours looks good,” he replies smoothly, and I finally turn to look at him. Just as I expected, I’m met with his bright blue eyes observing me. 

“Yeah?”

“I actually really like your hair,” he tells me, grinning fondly. “It sort of like, clashes with your li-“

He cuts himself off and his face flushes again as he looks away from me suddenly. My eyebrows furrow and I watch him, waiting for him to continue. Instead, he swallows awkwardly and avoids my eyes. 

“What?” I ask, wanting to know how that sentence was gonna end. “Clashes with what?”

“Uh, n- your uh, eyes,” he stutters out, making a face at himself like his answer was dumb before finally looking at me again. His cheeks are still flushed and I kind of love watching him get all flustered. If only I knew what caused it. “Makes them pop.”

I snort because I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or what but it does make my body heat up a little and then before I even think about the words, I’m saying, “Look who’s talking.” He gives me a surprised look and now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.

“Huh?”

I hold his gaze for a minute before rolling my eyes and saying, “Your eyes are blue as shit. They’re like fuckin’ lasers or something.”

This makes him laugh really hard and it’s this like, small giggle that quickly gets louder and then ends with this loud, high pitched laugh, and it’s really kind of impossible for me to keep the fondness off my face after witnessing that. 

“I thought shit was brown?” he questions through his laughter, making me laugh as well.

“You know what I mean.”

“And lasers?” he continues, still smiling widely. “Really? That doesn’t sound appealing at all.”

“Are you kidding? Lasers are badass.”

He snorts and shakes his head at me fondly and it looks like he’s about to say something else but then there’s a loud, very sudden sound effect blaring from the tv and this time Luke isn’t the only one who jumps. 

“Jesus,” I complain, looking at the tv again. The bad guy is currently dragging the girl by the ankle across a muddy yard in the pouring rain. She’s screaming and flailing, trying to get away. The guy just drags her along without a problem, likely bringing her to some shack in the middle of the woods to have his way with her. They zoom in on his face, riddled with nasty scars and a creepy grin. “Personally, I think if anyone in this movie’s hot, it’s that guy.”

This pulls another one of those high pitched laughs from Luke, and he sort of rolls toward me to shove my shoulder with his, and then ends up staying there and leaning against my left side a lot heavier than before. My stomach flips again and I clench my jaw, wishing my body would stop doing dumb things. 

“Oh, so that’s what you’re into?” he asks. His voice sounds closer than before and I can hear the smile in it and I wanna turn my head to look at him but I’m also kind of afraid to. I grin tightly and keep my eyes on the screen.

“Yeah, the scars really do it for me,” I play along, doing my best to ignore how hot the skin of Luke’s arm is against mine. I flick my eyes over to see them pressed together and notice that Luke’s hand is really close to mine and I get the urge to lace my fingers through his, to feel his palm against my own. My stomach flips again at the thought and then I can’t take it anymore so I pull my arm away completely, bending it and resting it behind my head, my hand ruffling my hair quickly before stopping to cradle the back of my head. Luke readjusts his position as well and moves away from me a bit, back to the distance we started at. I breathe deeply in relief. 

I’m expecting him to respond and continue the conversation, but the only sound that follows is the unending screams from the girl on the screen and a clap of thunder in the background. Confused, I finally turn to look up at him expectantly. He’s staring at me, but not at my face. Instead, his eyes are glued lower, where my shirt has risen up and there’s a slice of pale, white skin just above the red band of my boxers peeking over my tight jeans. My hipbone is jutting out and you can just barely see a small patch of dark blonde hair trailing down under my jeans. I watch him with wide eyes until suddenly he snaps out of it and his eyes shoot back up to my face, and then I get the pleasure of seeing his face flush the darkest I’ve seen so far. I can’t help the smug smile that falls across my lips and I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, loving the way he squirms under my gaze. 

His blue eyes are wide and terrified as he rushes out, “I gotta pee,” before quickly sitting up and scooting down to the foot of the bed, where he stands and rushes out my bedroom door without another glance back. I watch the empty doorway for a minute before a laugh escapes my throat. Okay, so that was weird. I should probably feel uncomfortable about it but instead I’m feeling awfully smug and a lot better about the plastic cup incident earlier. Because yeah, he had caught me staring, but at least I wasn’t staring at his fucking happy trail or anything. 

I feel myself heat up when I really start to think about it, because alright, was he like, checking me out? What does it mean if he had been? And why aren’t I more bothered about it?

I’m trying to decide between making fun of him relentlessly or acting like it never happened when he returns to my room, closing the door behind him and returning to the bed with his gaze lowered and cheeks still a faint pink. I don’t take my eyes off him, just waiting for him to look at me cause I know he can feel my stare. When he doesn’t lift his eyes and instead just settles back into his spot, only a lot further from me and basically pressed against the wall, I decide to cut him a break and finally look away, turning back to the movie. I have no idea what’s happening in it and I don’t really care. At this point the only thing on my mind is Luke. 

The silence is becoming somewhat awkward in my opinion because I feel like something has to be said about what just happened. A few minutes have already passed and no one has said a word. I finally decide to spare another glance at him just to see what he’s doing, turning my head slightly so I can see his face properly as I peek out of the corner of my eye. I see him staring determinedly at the tv for a split second but then he immediately does this loud sigh thing and rolls his eyes dramatically before letting them land on me, his face reddening again.

“Just say it, alright?” he groans in defeat, watching me wearily. 

The same withering smile automatically returns to my face but I try to contain it, furrowing my eyebrows and innocently asking, “Say what?”

He heaves another exaggerated sigh and then mumbles, “I wasn’t like, checking you out or anything. I just got distracted.”

I smile wider because although his words are saying one thing, the blush on his face is saying something much different. If he hadn’t been checking me out, he would’ve just brushed the moment off instead of freaking out and running to the bathroom, which he didn’t even know the location of. I snort.

“Yeah, distracted by my hot bod,” I tease, earning an annoyed smile and another eye roll from Luke, who smacks me in the arm.

“You wish,” he counters, voice still an embarrassed mumble that I find quite endearing. However, his tone is completely different when he says, “Besides, we’re even now, anyways.” 

I freeze, the smile slowly falling off my lips as I absorb his words and a small nervousness forms in the pit of my stomach. He raises a knowing eyebrow at me and I squint my eyes at him, just daring him to bring up the incident. He smirks, waiting for my response. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, keeping my face neutral. He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me and I pray that he drops it. He doesn’t, of course.

“Oh really?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “Was that someone else who knocked over an entire stack of cups ‘cause he got caught staring?”

“What, staring at you?” I scoff, and I’m not sure why I’m bothering to deny it when Luke clearly knows the truth, but I continue anyways. “Gross. Why would I ever wanna do that?”

“Shut up,” he complains, annoyed that I won’t admit it. “You know you were.”

“Yeah, okay Luke,” I reply sarcastically, finally looking away from him and turning to the tv again. “In your dreams.”

He sighs in annoyance and I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. 

“You suck,” he tells me. 

I can’t resist so I smirk evilly and say, “Again, in your dreams.”

“Ew!” he replies comically, his face flushing all over again, and I laugh. “You’re gross.”

My smile widens and I shrug, not bothering to deny that. 

“You’re the one dreaming about my dick,” I reply crudely, seeing his eyes bug out of his head when I glance over and discovering the extreme joy I have for making Luke blush and squirm. I happily relish in the fact that it’s really easy to do so. 

“No, I’m not!” he denies, his voice getting all high pitched and defensive. He covers his face with his hands, impossibly trying to hide his blush and muttering through his fingers, “God. I think I hate you.”

I smirk at this and reply, “It’s about time,” before rolling off my bed and running my hands through my hair messily and saying, “I’m tired.”

Luke rubs his face once more before sitting up on the bed and nodding, yawning as if on cue, and saying, “Me too.”

“Do you work tomorrow?” I ask as I undo my jeans, pulling them down and hobbling around as I try to pull them off my legs. It’s quite a struggle, but it’s one I’m used to. 

“No…” he replies, as if I should know that already. “You realize we have the same schedule, right?”

I lift my head to look at him curiously and ask, “We do?”

“Yeah,” he confirms as he stands from the bed, running his fingers through his quiff. “That’s why you’re training me.”

“Oh,” I reply, realizing that that makes sense. “Right. When do you think your mum’s booty call is gonna be out of the house?” I see Luke’s face flinch and he looks down at his feet, making me realize it’s a sensitive topic and instantly making me feel bad. “I mean, uh, when do you want me to bring you home tomorrow?”

He looks up again and gives me a weak half smile, showing his appreciation for my rewording of the question. 

“Any time you want,” he replies and moves away from the bed as I move back toward it, pulling the covers down and sitting on the edge in just my shirt and Spiderman boxers. “It’s up to you.”

I shrug and pick my phone up, keeping my eyes on the screen as he removes his jeans. 

“Well I like sleeping late, so,” I tell him, stealing a quick glance at him to see his long, pale legs standing there as he folds his jeans and places them on my desk chair. My eyes linger on his ass for a second before returning to my phone screen. I’m really not surprised to see that he has pretty much the definition of a bubble butt. 

“That’s fine,” he replies, turning to me again. “Me too.”

I nod and avoid looking at him again, because now he’s facing me, and he’s only wearing these tight black boxers and my fucking Green Day shirt and I don’t wanna see him like that. 

I do, but I don’t.

“So, could I have, like, a pillow and a blanket?” he asks, and I finally look up at him, my eyebrows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, even though his question is pretty straightforward. He simply motions toward the floor in response, and my eyebrows furrow further. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, idiot.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking quite unsure himself as he nibbles on his lip ring. 

I shrug and look at him like he’s being dumb, which he is, and say, “Obviously. The bed’s big enough for like three people.”

He regards the bed skeptically and yeah okay, maybe I exaggerated its size a little bit, but then he smiles slightly and says, “Okay,” before approaching the bed and crawling over to his side again, collapsing down. “Nice boxers, by the way.”

I laugh a little and put my phone down, looking over to the tv and saying, “This move blows.”

“Yeah,” he agrees as he pulls at the covers and pushes his legs under them, sliding down into a lying position and pulling the blankets up over his shoulder. He turns on his side so he’s facing me and nestles his head into the pillow, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly. For a second I can’t pull my eyes away, because honestly he just looks so fucking cute like that, but then I focus on getting settled under the covers myself, lying on my back and rubbing my eyes a little. “Mmm. Your bed’s comfy.”

I peek over at him just as he squints his eyes open, a relaxed smile spread across his lips. 

“Smells good, too,” he adds before snuggling in again, taking a deep breath. I give him a weird look that goes unseen because he eyes are squeezed shut again. 

“Weirdo,” I mutter fondly. He lets out a breathy laugh. “Should I turn the movie off?”

“No, just leave it,” he replies, his voice filled with tiredness now. I comply and then reach up to turn my lamp off, leaving the only light in the room that of the tv screen. I glance at Luke and watch the bright shades of colors flash across his face for a moment before turning away and settling into the bed, closing my eyes. I can hear Luke’s steady breathing and I wonder if he’s already fallen asleep. 

“Night, Luke,” I say quietly, just to see. 

He reaches out and touches my shoulder lightly, rubbing his thumb against it twice before pulling his arm back into himself and murmuring sleepily, “Night, Mikey.”

The nickname makes my face flush and I’m thankful that he wasn’t able to see it. My shoulder is burning where he touched me. I let out a deep breathe, closing my heavy eyelids again and waiting for sleep to come. 

Some time later, I wake up blearily and slowly take in my surroundings. I’m lying on my stomach, my arms looped tightly around my pillow. My tv is brightly blaring the Netflix home screen and the clock next to it reads 5:12. I groan slightly, wondering why I woke up so early, when something flinches on the other side of the bed. I squint over to see Luke lying there and the night’s events come back to me. Luke’s wide back is facing me and he looks all curled in on himself. I figure he just moved in his sleep and go to snuggle back into my pillow when I hear a sniffle come from his direction. I open my eyes again and my eyebrows furrow as I listen more intently. I can hear Luke breathing these short breaths out of his mouth and then sniff again, quieter this time. I notice that his body is all tensed up and come to the confusing realization that he’s crying. 

I lift my head more and hold myself up on my elbow, leaning closer to him.

“Luke?” I ask, my voice deep and scratchy with sleep. He goes completely still, the sound of his unsteady breathing cut off. I wait for a moment then ask, “Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” he mumbles back, his voice muffled in the pillows. I don’t respond, assuming he knows how obvious it is that he is, and then he repeats more clearly, “I’m not.”

I swallow and move a little bit closer to him, already feeling the heat radiating off his body. 

“Are you sure?” I ask, wondering if I should just let him be. He nods eagerly, his head rubbing loudly against the pillow. I watch him for minute until he breaks the silence with another sniffle. I frown, not liking the idea of him being sad. My eyes are still heavy with sleep but I wouldn’t feel right leaving him like this, even if that’s what he wants. “Right. Well, um, why are your allergies acting up, then?”

He lets out a shaky laugh and I watch as he finally moves, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes and wipe his nose, sniffling loudly this time. It’s not like he has to hide it anymore; I clearly know he’s crying. When he doesn’t respond, I hesitantly reach out and close my hand over his shoulder. He stiffens immediately, but then after a moment he relaxes into the touch and I hear him sigh. 

“I’m fine,” he says, still trying to convince me, his voice a bit nasally. 

“Turn around, then,” I reply, pulling his shoulder gently. He ignores me for a moment but then finally rubs his face again before turning onto his back. My hand follows his shoulder and then adjusts to rest just above his chest, my eyes flicking over his face. It takes a minute for him to actually look over to me and when he does his expression is shy and sheepish. His eyes are wet and the skin around them is all red, making the shimmering blue pop even more, and his eyelashes are separated into little damp triangles and my heart aches a little. I give him a small smile. 

“C’mere,” I murmur sleepily, fingers clutching into his shirt and pulling toward me gently. His eyebrows pull together and he looks confused by my request and doesn’t move, so instead I push myself closer to him with my elbow and let go of his shirt to toss my arm over his chest as I drop myself down against his side, his arm smushed between us. He stiffens again but I nuzzle my cheek into his chest, the top of my head rubbing into his neck as I close my tired eyes and snuggle against him. 

We stay like this for a second until Luke shifts slightly and then hesitantly says, “Michael…” and I can feel the vibrations of his voice against my cheek.

“Mm,” I grunt in response, sleep already finding its way back to me. 

There’s silence and then he shifts beneath me again and the thought occurs to me that cuddling with him was a terrible idea that my sleepy brain disguised as a good one until he murmurs, “Let me…” trailing off and then pulling at his arm that’s trapped under my body. I lift myself up so he can pull his arm out and then quickly fill up the empty space, moving closer to his warm body. He reluctantly wraps his arm around my back, letting his large hand rest on my side just under my arm. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest and I smile dazedly. 

“You okay?” I ask softly, still wanting to know what he was crying about, but deciding I can find out another time. 

I hear him nod again and then he answers in just above a whisper, “Yeah, I’m good.” I squeeze him a little and he does the same in response before whispering, “Thank you.”

In response, I raise my chin up so that my face is in the crook of his neck, rubbing my nose against his throat. The skin there is really hot and slightly scratchy from his stubble and smells faintly of sweat and cologne and I really like the feeling of it. A lot. My nose rubs along the underside of his jaw and I feel him swallow as my lips ghost over his Adam’s apple and I want to taste it. My breath is hot against his neck and I feel a shudder run through his body. 

“M-Michael,” he breathes, a bit of a question at the end but not quite.

“Mm?” I ask in a sleepy daze, focused only on the heat of his neck against my face. The hand that isn’t resting on my side suddenly grips around my wrist, snapping me out of it. I open my eyes and pause what I’m doing. 

“Um,” he begins, his voice soft but shaky again, but for a different reason, I’m pretty sure. “You’re, uh…are you okay?”

I lift my head up to look at him and our eyes meet, and there’s something in his that I can’t quite distinguish. 

“Yeah,” I answer simply, meeting his gaze comfortably.

“Okay,” he replies slowly. “I was just…you know. Making sure.”

I grin at him and reply softly, “I’m not the one waking up crying at five in the morning.”

It sounds mean but I say it in a way that he knows I’m not making fun of him or anything, just pointing out the truth. He sighs slightly and looks down, but I continue to watch him. His lips have turned down into a small frown. 

“Everything’s just dumb,” he explains eventually, and I want to roll my eyes at his vagueness, but I refrain, instead waiting for him to continue. I can still feel his heart pounding beneath me and I thoughtlessly begin rubbing my thumb against his side where my hand’s resting. He loosens his grip around my wrist like he just remembered he was holding it and settles for resting his hand over it instead. I feel very content. Like, maybe more content than I’ve ever felt in my life. “With my mum and stuff.”

I frown when I realize that’s what this is about and look at him sympathetically. 

“Where’s your dad?” I ask quietly, not wanting to push my limits but being vastly curious. 

“Had an affair,” he tells me tonelessly, his eyes fixed on something across the room. “That’s why we moved.”

I frown deeper and move to rest my chin on his chest, still looking at his face when I sigh, “M’sorry.” He shrugs beneath me. 

“S’not that, really,” he continues, meeting my eye again fleetingly before looking back across the room. I continue rubbing circles against his side, waiting for him to go on. “My mum’s not taking it very well, I guess. Even before we moved she was seeing different guys like every weekend. And drinking. A lot.”

“That’s rough,” I reply. “I know how you feel.”

“You do?” he asks, his eyes returning to mine, and I nod. 

“My mum’s three years sober this March,” I tell him, and it’s not till the words pass my lips that I realize I’ve never told anyone that before. 

“Oh,” he replies, eyes searching my face, and this time I look away, turning my head so that my cheek is resting against his hard chest again. “That’s really great, Mike. That she’s sober, and all.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “M’really proud of her.”

There’s a short silence and then I continue, “Your mum will be okay, too, Luke. Promise.”

“Yeah?” he asks, a hopeful tone to his voice, like my promise actually means something to him. I nod against his chest. 

“It’s just hard right now,” I continue, readjusting and moving my arm lower so it’s resting over his stomach. I gently hook my fingers around his hip and sigh. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replies, voice sad. I nuzzle my cheek against his chest again, trying to be comforting. 

“If you want, we could like, figure something out,” I offer, suddenly sounding awkward. “Like, together,” I clarify even more awkwardly.

“Really?” he asks, sounding slightly surprised, and I lift my head to meet his eyes. They’re still just as bright blue as ever. 

“Yeah, really,” I confirm, slightly offended by his shock but realizing it’s completely warranted. 

“That would be…” he trails off, watching me with suddenly soft eyes. “Thanks, Mikey.”

My face flushes again at the nickname for some reason and this time he sees it because the morning light is coming in through my window. He smiles cutely at me before squeezing me gently again, and I return the smile just as my stomach becomes this swirling mess of anxious feelings. Only, this time it’s not the bad anxious feelings that I’m used to. They’re different, and better, and they only get stronger the longer Luke and I make eye contact. The feeling gets so intense that I feel like I might pass out so I quickly lower my head into the crook of his neck again, hiding my face. He rubs his hand up and down my side a few times and I push my body impossibly closer to him, reveling in the human contact. 

Let me just say, if yesterday someone told me this is where I would be right now, and this is how I’d be feeling, I would have thought they were insane. This is Luke. Fucking Luke. The annoying fucking blonde quiffed kid from work with giraffe legs and a dumb black lip ring. And here I am, cuddling him, nuzzled up in the crook of his neck with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

How the fuck did we end up here? 

I decide not to question it too much as sleep begins clouding my mind once again, my eyelids heavy and deep breathing synced up with Luke’s beneath me. It doesn’t take long after that for us to fall asleep together, each of us with a faint smile still lingering on our lips. 

I don’t open my eyes again for a long time after that. I told you I like to sleep late. When I wake up, my forehead is pressed against the back of Luke’s neck, my face shoved in between his sharp shoulder blades and my hair matted flat against my forehead. My left arm is curled up tightly against my body, feeling numb, the the other is thrown over Luke’s waist, my hand resting on top of his bicep in front of him. Our legs are both bent the same way so that we fit together perfectly and it only takes ten seconds for me to blush at the realization that we’re both wearing only boxers.

At this realization, I jerk away from him without thinking about it, which was dumb because it wakes him up. He groans sleepily, pushing his face into the pillow and turning to lie on his stomach. I watch him with wide eyes from my side of the bed. Everything comes rushing back to me and I start to panic. How did any of that even happen? I sit up and run my fingers through my white hair, pulling my eyes away from Luke, who appears to have fallen back to sleep, and looking down at my lap wildly. 

I’m relieved he didn’t wake up yet because I have no idea how to act around him now. We spent the last nearly eight hours cuddling each other in my bed. Like, what? Yesterday I pretty much told the kid I hated him, and here we are less than 24 hours later, cuddling? Memories of my lips hovering over his hot neck come rushing back to me and I groan, dropping my head into my hands. What had I been thinking?

I toss the covers off my legs and get out of bed, stretching my arms up and rubbing my eyes sleepily. Glancing at the lump of Luke under my blankets once more, I sigh and leave my room to take a shower. I feel sweaty and gross, probably from the amount of times stupid Luke made me heat up last night. And also because his body is really hot, too. Like, temperature wise. I roll my eyes at myself and turn the shower on, undressing and looking at myself briefly in the mirror before hopping in. 

Automatically, I begin trying to think of ways to get out of this. To prove to Luke that we aren’t friends and we never will be. I could tell him I was sleep talking or something. Anything to convince him that it wasn’t real and I don’t like him. But then that voice from before comes back into my mind, asking me why. Why would I ruin my chances of actually having a friend? Especially one who makes me feel so comfortable that I forget to keep up with my tough exterior when I’m around him for too long. One who made me feel unexplainably content last night just by putting his arm around me. One who will play FIFA with me for hours and buy me pizza and play music with me and ask me about my music and wants to hear it and wants to learn more about me and takes all my shit and…

And that’s when I realize.

I like Luke. I like him a lot and I’m happier when I’m around him and he’s funny. He’s funny and easy to talk to and likes the same things I like. He’s smart and interesting and I’ve never met anyone like him before. 

A huge lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down but it won’t go away. My stomach is tingling in this weird way and I try to take deep breaths but it’s kinda hard. Because as if it wasn’t difficult enough to accept the fact that I do wanna be friends with him, I know these things I’m feeling isn’t what typical friendship is. It’s nearly impossible for me to admit to myself that there’s something more there, but it’s also impossible to deny it. 

I like Luke. 

I let out a shaky breath and squeeze my eyes shut, vaguely wishing this was all a bad dream. That I never had to drive him home and therefore he’d remain the annoying kid at work. But we’re past that now and I begrudgingly accept that as I turn the shower off, stepping out and rubbing a towel through my hair. I pull on some fresh boxers and toss my towel around my neck, heading back to my room. 

When I enter, I’m surprised to see Luke sitting on his knees in the middle of my bed, legs spread apart with a controller in his hands as he focuses on the tv screen. His mouth is hanging open slightly and his tongue is peaking out of the corner in concentration. He looks at me when I open the door, about to say something when his voice gets caught in his throat and he quickly averts his eyes back to the tv, face flushing slightly before saying to the screen, “I got bored. Hope you don’t mind.”

My eyes wander over him for a moment, his hair sticking up on one side of his head and lying flat on the other, his quiff still standing high but more messy than usual. His broad shoulders are slouched slightly and I can see the tendons in his arms flinch as he plays the game, and then I’m looking at his thighs, thick and bare and spread open and I can’t stop fucking looking. When I feel myself begin to heat up again I tear my eyes away, flicking them back up to Luke’s face to make sure he didn’t catch me staring, and I’m relieved to see that he’s still looking determinedly at the tv, blushing. It occurs to me that my near nakedness has caused this and I smirk smugly, continuing into the room and passing in front of the tv where FIFA is displayed brightly. 

“Nah, you need all the practice you can get,” I reply smoothly, pulling the towel off my shoulders and rubbing it over my hair again, watching Luke, evilly hoping for him to look at me and get flustered again. He does, but it’s only a quick glance, and then his eyes are back on the tv again. He leans forward all into the game and then scores a goal, but instead of cheering he scoffs and furrows his brows.

“See, when I play by myself I’m fucking good,” he complains. “You make it look like I suck.”

He brings his eyes back over to me. This time his gaze lingers and I fucking love it. I love the idea of him getting flustered by looking at me and I watch as his blue eyes dance down my bare torso, stopping at my stomach and then flicking down to my feet quickly before dragging them back up to my face. His cheeks are still flushed and it makes his eyes look even bluer and now he’s pulling his lip ring into his mouth again, watching my face as he chews on it. 

I clear my throat, snapping myself out of my own daze as I shake my head slightly and reply, “You’re not that bad. I’m just better.”

He makes a face at me before returning his attention to the game and muttering, “I’ll beat you some day.”

I snort and decide maybe it’s time to put some clothes on. I don’t feel like putting jeans on or doing anything, really, so I pull on some gym shorts and a muscle tee before ruffling my hair, trying to arrange it across my forehead even though it’s still damp. I collapse across the bed behind him, lying on my back and throwing an arm over my face, feeling lazy. I feel him turn and look back at me quickly before turning back around and then asking, “D’wanna play?”

“No, you play,” I murmur before peaking out over my arm to see Luke again. My eyes travel over his wide back before moving up into his messy blonde hair, the random tufts sticking out making me grin fondly. Before I know it, I reach up and run my fingers through the back of his hair, saying in the same quiet voice as before, “Your hair’s a mess.”

He instinctually leans into my touch as I rub my fingers along his scalp, his soft hair brushing against them making my smile widen slightly. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” he counters without turning around and without a mention of my fingers in his hair. 

“Yeah, but it’s meant to be messy,” I reply, my grin audible in my voice. “Yours is supposed to be perfectly styled in your fashionable quiff.”

He turns his head around quickly and shoots me a look, the motion causing my hand to fall from his hair. 

“Hey,” he scolds, face serious. “Don’t make fun of my quiff.”

“Oh, sorry,” I apologize fakely, amusement shining in my eyes. “Is it a sensitive topic?”

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, returning his attention to the game. 

I snort and flick him in the back, muttering, “Yeah, right.”

He continues playing until the game ends, body jerking along with his movements and random words falling out of his mouth like “go, go, go,” or “yeah nice try” as I lie behind him and switch between watching the tv and the side of his head. The game finishes and he heaves a loud breath before tossing his controller down and dropping backward so that his back falls across my lower stomach, making me grunt. 

“Oof,” I moan, pulling my arm out from under him to shove him lightly in the shoulder. His turns his head to look at me, a smile playing at his lips as he tongues his lip ring. 

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he apologizes, making no move to get off me. I laugh once and ignore the flipping in my stomach as his bright blue orbs watch me. After what seems like some hesitation, he opens his mouth to say something and my stomach tightens in anticipation but then something starts vibrating on my bedside table. He closes his mouth and turns his head to look before sitting up off of me and reaching to grab his phone. I sit up on my elbows and watch him, trying to hide my disappointment at the interruption. 

“Hullo?” he answers, moving to sit cross-legged again, but his lower back is pressed against my thigh this time. 

“I’m, uh -“ he pauses, glancing at me quickly before continuing, “At a friends.”

My stomach flips again because he called me his friend and I can’t help the smirk on my face because he looked so nervous to say it, like I’d get mad. If only he knew the realization I had in the shower earlier. To show that I’m not mad, and also to be annoying, I lift my left leg up and over his head before dropping it down on his lap, encasing him between my legs. A toothy smile is on his face immediately as he gives me a look, his free hand falling onto my calf, his eyes on me as he tries to focus on his conversation. 

“Uh, I dunno,” he replies, eyes still on my face. I raise my eyebrows and cross my eyes at him, causing him to snort and look down at my leg. “In a little while, I guess.”

“Just someone from work,” he says, still smiling as he stares down at my leg, fiddling with the bottom of my shorts thoughtlessly. 

“It’s okay, mum,” he says now, his smile fading noticeably. I watch his face closely, taking in every detail down to his short, blonde eyelashes and slightly chapped lips, turned down on the ends. “I know.”

The image of his face early this morning comes back to me, his red and watery eyes and sheepish expression. His cheeks were wet and I wanted to rub my thumbs across them, wiping away any trace of his tears. His frown and swollen, red lips - likely from his endless biting. I wanted…I wanted to kiss the sadness away from them. I still do.

“Okay, bye,” he says finally. “Love you, too. Bye.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone to the side, groaning as he falls to his side, which happens to be on top of me. My eyes widen slightly at his casual movement, taking in the fact that he’s lying between my legs, turning his body so his chest is pressed against my stomach and his hands come to rest next to my sides. I try to ignore the fact that his hip is pressed into my crotch and instead watch as he pushes his cheek into my chest, settling in. My arms lie unmoving next to me, not sure what to do.

“Don’t wanna go back,” he murmurs against me, making me frown.

“Why not?”

He shrugs as well as he can in our current position before muttering, “Just don’t.”

My hand finds its way back to his blonde tufts and I rub my fingers against his scalp. He sighs contentedly and I feel his body relax against me. I’m staring at the top of his head, my fingers raking through his hair and my mind racing, trying to figure out when this became something that we did together. I swallow thickly. Suddenly he lifts his head up and clasps his hands over my lower chest, resting his chin on them and looking at me. He searches my face and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had the same question running through his mind. 

“I hate being home now,” he tells me, and then he’s readjusting himself because his lower half was still twisted at and awkward angle and he’s turning so that instead of his hip against my crotch, its nearly his crotch, and his unintentional rubbing makes my lower stomach tighten and heat up and no this can’t be happening. 

My face flushes and I snap into action, quickly maneuvering myself out from underneath him using some fuckin’ superhero skills. I slide away from him and off the bed completely, clasping my hands awkwardly in front of me because I’m sporting half a fucking chub right in front of fucking Luke. Because of fucking Luke. My body is on fire. 

He’s left stranded on the bed, looking at me wildly, confusion all over his face. Probably confused not only about why I just freaked out and jumped away from him, but also how I fucking did it so fast. His eyebrows are furrowed and eyes wide, his face a mixture of confusion, shock, and amusement, before asking, “What the hell?”

“Uh,” I begin, my voice sounding tight and slightly panicked. “We should like, go out and eat, then. I’m starving.”

He’s still looking at me like I’m crazy as he lifts himself up into a sitting position, watching me cautiously. I just stare back, praying he won’t ask me any questions and wishing I could rewind time and at least put on jeans instead of these goddamn gym shorts that show everything. His eyes are searching over me and I watch as they travel lower, taking in my awkward stance. I try to make it look casual but fail immensely and then his eyes linger on my hands and his expression changes completely. The confusion falls off it and his eyebrows raise a little and his expression softens although his eyes are still almost comically wide. They shoot back up to my face and I deflate, waiting for him to start laughing in my face, but he doesn’t. Instead, his face flushes a bright red as well and he averts his eyes, looking anywhere but at me. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he replies, trying too sound way too casual. “Me too.”

I nod stiffly and say, “Cool,” before spinning around, grabbing my jeans off the floor, and all but running out the door to my bathroom. My heart is pounding and a thin layer of sweat has formed on my back and I’m so fucking embarrassed. Because he knows. He clearly knows what just happened and oh my god. Why didn’t he laugh at me or make fun of me? Why did he look embarrassed? 

I splash cold water over my face and eventually my dick goes soft again. I change into my skinny jeans, jumping around until they pull up over my hips and then flattening my shirt out and looking at myself in the mirror. My cheeks only hold a faint blush now and I’m relieved. I ruffle my hair, spraying it a little bit with hairspray and arranging it how I usually do before taking a deep breath and heading back to my room. 

Luke is dressed, wearing his jeans from yesterday and another one of my shirts. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down at his phone determinedly. I don’t bother saying anything about his shirt, instead walking past him to grab my phone and wallet, shoving them into my pockets. The silence in the room is tangible as I turn to face him and he lowers his phone to look up at me. He’s trying hard to keep his face casual and I guess I am, too, and we hold each other’s gaze for a long, agonizing moment until finally a small, awkward grin tugs at his lips. At the sight of it I immediately start grinning too, pulling a full on smile out of Luke and then earning an embarrassed laugh out of my throat and a quick shake of my head. 

“Let’s go,” I say, taking a step towards the door and Luke snorts, nodding and standing up. A blush is spread across his cheeks again and I realize I probably have one too, but I can’t bring myself to care. I don’t really feel that embarrassed anymore because of that small, wordless interaction. Because he knows but it’s okay, he doesn’t mind, and it’s actually kinda funny. The grin is still lingering on my face when I turn the key in the ignition and pull my seatbelt on. “Where should we go?”

Luke shrugs, smiling happily in the passenger seat beside me, replying, “Wherever.”

I roll my eyes and reply, “That’s not very helpful,” as I plug in my iPod and begin scrolling through the bands. Suddenly Luke’s making grabby hands at me and I lift my eyes to look at him.

“Let me choose,” he requests eagerly. 

“Choose the restaurant first,” I counter, earning a pout from him as he slouches in his seat. He holds my gaze, waiting for me to cave, which doesn’t take long. I roll my eyes again and hold the iPod out to him, muttering, “Fine.”

He smiles widely again, taking the iPod from me and glueing his eyes to the screen, scrolling through all my music. I pull out of my driveway, heading toward the main part of town where most of our options are. About three minutes into the silent drive, I shoot Luke a look, who’s still taking in all the choices. 

“Just pick something already,” I urge, and he pouts again without lifting his eyes. I roll my eyes once more because why does he have to be so cute? It’s not fair. 

After another minute, Foo Fighters begin playing through my speakers and I smile. Instead of complimenting his choice or anything, I begin tapping the steering wheel along to the beat and then I see Luke playing air guitar next to me. I laugh and we both start singing along and it doesn’t take long for the both of us to be going all out, putting on our own private performance in the confines of my car. I’ve never had the chance to do anything like this before and it’s fun. Really, really fun. 

Eventually we find ourselves at a random burger joint and Luke’s following behind me as I choose a booth to sit at. He slides in across from me and grabs a menu, eyes immediately searching through it. 

“I’m starving,” he says as he reads through his menu, oblivious to my staring at him. It’s just really hard not to, you know? The way his blue eyes are shining and his hair is messy and kinda flat and his bottom lip is sucked into his mouth as he scans the menu in concentration. After a minute, he glances up and meets my eye, smirking a little and asking, “What?”

I grin back and shake my head but I don’t look away this time like I normally do when he catches me looking at him. His eyebrows quirk slightly as he meets my unfaltering gaze, holding it for a moment before blushing slightly and looking back down at his menu, muttering, “Weirdo.”

I smile some more and finally look away from him long enough to choose what I want to eat. We place our order and then sit there, no more menus to distract us from each other. Luke smiles at me. 

“Thanks for taking us here,” he says. “I really didn’t feel like going home.”

I’m reminded of our half conversation earlier before it got interrupted. 

“Why don’t you like being home?”

He shrugs and looks down before answering, “S’just not the same anymore. My mum’s either all mopey and depressed or trying way too hard to act like nothing has changed. Or she’s drunk.”

I watch him sympathetically for a moment before saying, “You should tell her you’re worried about her.”

His now sad eyes return to mine and he sighs, replying, “I know I need to say something, but it’s scary. I feel like she’s gonna get mad at me for some reason.”

“I don’t think she will,” I reply. “She just needs a reality check. She probably doesn’t realize how much it’s affecting you. If you tell her you’re worried, it will hopefully open her eyes a bit.”

“You think so?” he asks softly, sounding hopeful.

I nod and continue, “Your her son, Luke. The last thing she wants to do is hurt you.”

He keeps his eyes on my face, big and soft and filled with emotion. I can see them flicking back and forth between my green ones, and I look back at him, waiting. 

“You’re…” he finally croaks out, stopping to swallow and shake his head slightly. He clears his throat as he looks down at his lap and I wait desperately for him to finish his sentence. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he continues, his voice stronger this time, and slight disappointment flicks across my features because I really don’t think that’s what he was gonna say. “Thanks.”

I nod and look away from him, my gaze landing out the window. I feel his eyes fall on me again but I pretend to be distracted by the cars driving by. 

“Tell me about your mom,” he says suddenly, causing my eyes to flick back to him briefly, before leaving his face and moving about the room awkwardly. I swallow, my Adam’s apple bouncing as I consider his request. 

“Uh, what d’you wanna know?” 

He shrugs a shoulder and replies, “Anything you wanna tell me.”

We hold each other’s gaze for another moment until I look away again, thinking. I know he wants me to tell him about the bad parts; why she’s been sober for almost three years. It’s understandable since he’s probably going through something similar. Our food arrives, interrupting my thoughts, and we thank the waitress before she scurries off again. I glance at Luke’s face and catch the faint disappointment in his expression, probably assuming that our conversation was dropped. 

I shrug a shoulder and pick up my burger before saying, “Well, her name’s Karen.”

His eyes shoot to me again and he smiles, relieved that I’m not ignoring his request even though I gave him the most unexciting information ever. I take a large bite of my burger as I think some more about what to tell Luke. 

“Her birthday’s in August,” I continue after I swallow, earning a snort from Luke but his smile is still as wide as ever and he’s watching me intently, ready to listen to anything I have to say. “She only has one kid because the first one she had was awesome enough and she didn’t need any more.”

Luke laughs at this, his eyes shining as he replies, “Makes sense,” between bites of his burger. 

It takes a minute for me to continue and I stare down at my food as I do, saying, “She took it really hard when my dad died…didn’t do much besides drink a lot.” I want to see Luke’s expression but I’m too afraid to lift my eyes, so instead I sigh and continue, “I confronted her and she tried to stop - she tried to stop multiple times, until the last time, I guess, which was March, two years ago. Almost three.”

I finally lift my eyes to find Luke watching me, this terribly sad and sympathetic look in his eyes that almost makes me roll my eyes. It’s sad, yeah, but I don’t need him pitying me or anything. I sigh again and shrug, adding, “It’s no big deal."

He looks down at his food at my words, probably realizing that his pitying look was making me uncomfortable. When he looks up again his expression is more normal, which I appreciate. He takes another bite of his burger, which I also appreciate because I don’t want my sob story to like, ruin his appetite or anything, and then asks, “How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” I answer and his face crumbles a little bit before he pulls it together again. 

“I’m sorry, Michael,” he says, meeting my eye. “That’s really rough. You shouldn’t have to deal with something like that so young.”

I shrug again but offer him a smile before eating some more of my food. I know he still has another question to ask, and I’m just waiting for it, because undoubtedly he wants to know how my dad died. I’m just curious to see if he’s actually brave enough to ask. 

“Hell, I’m 18 and I cry about it in the middle of the night,” he says, his voice light and joking. “You probably didn’t even do that when you were 13.”

I snort and smirk at him, replying, “Maybe once or twice.”

He smiles widely in response before shoving the last bite of his burger through his lips, his cheeks full of food as he chews it down. I watch fondly as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and then slurps down about half of his soda. I laugh to myself and shake my head slightly before finishing the last of my burger as well. 

“That was so good,” he says before burping loudly. I laugh again and can feel the fondness on my face as I look at him, not bothering to try to hide it anymore. He meets my eye and smiles again before saying, “I want ice cream.”

I give him a look like he’s crazy and ask, “Are you serious?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and nods, replying, “Yeah, why?”

“Why don’t you weigh 300 pounds?” 

He laughs loudly at this, rubbing his stomach and saying, “I actually do. All the fat just goes to my butt, though.”

I snort at this and hope my face doesn’t flush too much when I remember the image of his round ass in those damn boxers earlier. 

“Shut up,” I murmur, pulling some money out of my wallet and tossing it on the table. Luke sees it and goes to reach for his wallet as well, but I’m already sliding out of the booth. “Let’s go.”

He hesitates but then joins me, getting up and following me out of the restaurant with a small smile on his face. About twenty minutes and five songs worth of air guitar later, we find ourselves at the mall, sitting at a small table in the food court as Luke’s licks happily at his cone, looking down at it with adoration. I’m doing the same, except I’m looking at Luke. I kind of do that a lot, don’t I?

“Happy?” I ask teasingly as I swallow a slurp of my milkshake. Luke, of course, opted for a cone, so now I have to sit here and watch his dumb tongue lick away at his ice cream and dart over his pink lips whenever it drips down a little. 

“Very,” he replies with a smile, meeting my eyes. The table we’re sitting at is so small that our knees bump together beneath it. Luke’s eyes jump up to something behind me, following it until he’s looking right above me expectantly. I furrow my eyebrows and turn around to see a petite girl with shoulder length blonde hair and large, brown eyes standing behind me along with a tall girl who I don’t recognize. I grimace automatically. 

“Hi, Michael,” the blonde greets, her voice just as whiny and annoying as I remember. 

I turn back around and lean back in my chair, grunting a short, “Hi,” as I fix my eyes to my milkshake in front of me. She moves from behind me so that she’s standing right next to our table, watching me with a raised eyebrow. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend?” she asks, her voice making my skin crawl. My eyes flick up to Luke, who’s sitting there with his eyebrows raised, looking innocent. 

I roll my eyes and then look at her uninterested, saying, “No.” 

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up higher at my response and the corners of his mouth turn down in a way that makes me think he’s trying to hold back a grin. I wanna smile at that, but I don’t. She scoffs and gives me a dirty look before turning her body toward Luke, a large smile suddenly on her face as she holds her hand out to him, palm down. 

“I’m Erin,” she says, her voice laced with this fake sweetness that makes me roll my eyes. 

“Luke,” he answers, awkwardly reaching out and grabbing her hand. Seeing them touch makes my stomach flip unpleasantly. My eyebrows pull together and I frown. 

“Why don’t I know you?” she asks him, still holding his hand until he kind of pulls it away from her, placing it in his lap. He glances at me again before returning his eyes to her, shrugging.

“I just moved here recently.”

I watch as a smirk creeps onto Erin’s face and her eyes start to trail all over Luke and the feeling in my stomach is getting worse. Can she fucking stop looking at him like that? The only relief I have is the fact that Luke is in no way reciprocating her predatory gaze, instead looking vastly uncomfortable. My lips turn slightly upward as I watch him. 

“Right, well, it was truly horrible seeing you again, Erin, so if you could kindly fuck off now,” I finally say in a falsely pleasant tone that makes a look of rage spread across Erin’s features. Luke’s eyes are wide and he looks like he’s in pain from holding back his laughter and I just stare at Erin unflinchingly. 

She glares at me and spits, “Fuck off, Michael, I was just being friendly.”

“I don’t think Luke wants to be your friend, do you, Luke?” I ask, turning my attention to him. He doesn’t look like he wants to laugh anymore, but somehow looks even more uncomfortable. He knocks my knee roughly under the table and I smirk because he doesn’t want to be rude and that’s kinda cute.

“Uhh,” he hesitates, not knowing what to say.

“Luke doesn’t like girls who flirt with a guy right in front of their ex that they cheated on, so I’m sorry to say but it looks like you’re shit outta luck,” I continue mercilessly, relishing in the look of fury and embarrassment on Erin’s face. Her friend is just standing in the background, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god, you are such an asshole,” she hisses, her voice shaking slightly. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time on you.”

I shrug casually and reply, “It’s okay, everyone makes mistakes. You should know.”

She glares daggers at me for another moment before turning and stomping away, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her friend gives me a weak glare before chasing after her. I roll my eyes and take a long slurp of my shake. I can feel Luke staring at me.

“Wow,” he says in awe. “That was brutal.”

I shrug and meet his eyes, stating, “She’s a bitch.”

“How long were you guys together?” 

“Like a year or something,” I mutter, slightly embarrassed at the fact I dated someone so horrible for so long. 

“Damn,” he replies. “She cheated on you?”

“Yep,” I confirm, acting nonchalant even though I was in a really bad place for a long time after that. I’m totally over it now, obviously, but at the time I kind of thought my world was ending. I shrug again and move on from that subject, saying, “She totally wanted to fuck you.”

Luke chokes on his ice cream a little and gives me a look for being so blunt, then replying, “No, thanks.”

There’s instantly a smirk on my face and I ask, “No?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy for even questioning it and says, “Her voice made me want to stab myself in the ears.”

This makes me laugh really hard, so hard that I feel ice cream almost spurt out of my nose, leaving an uncomfortable feeling behind, but I don’t care. 

“Right?” I reply through my laughter, my voice higher than usual from my amusement. “I honestly don’t know how I put up with that for so long.”

“It’s pretty bad,” he agrees, smiling widely at me before popping the last of his cone into his mouth and licking his lips. “Also, I wouldn’t fuck your ex. Especially if she cheated on you.”

This makes me smile and I look up at him, asking, “What if she wasn’t my ex?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Like, what if she was just some random girl?”

He gives me a long look and then asks, “You wanna know if I’d fuck your ex, if she wasn’t your ex?”

I nod, for some reason really wanting to know. Did he think Erin was hot? What kind of girls is he into?

“And if her voice wasn’t equivalent to that of a dying dolphin?”

I snort and nod again, desperately awaiting his answer. 

“No,” he finally answers after a million years.

A weight is lifted off my chest at his response and it’s not even a second later that the words are tumbling out of my mouth, asking, “Why not?” My heart is beating a little bit quicker suddenly and I’m not really sure what’s wrong with me. 

He shrugs and gives me a brief questioning look before replying, “Not my type.”

I realize this conversation is very similar to the one we had last night, but now the tables are turned. I decide to keep up with the similarities and ask, “What’s your type, then?” I silently pray that he doesn’t follow my lead and change the subject by making some dumb joke.

He hesitates, eyes moving over my face for a drawn out moment before smirking and shrugging at the same time, saying, “I like when girls have colored hair, that’s like, messy, but meant to be, you know?”

I nod slightly and wait for him to continue, eyebrows furrowing a little at the way he’s smirking. 

“And pierced eyebrows,” he adds, smirk strengthening. “Pierced eyebrows are hot.”

My face flushes and I roll my eyes when I realize what he’s doing. He laughs a little when he sees my expression. I try to hold back my smile and look annoyed instead as I stand from the table, grabbing my empty cup and leaving him there to go throw it away. He giggles and jumps up from his chair, stumbling after me to catch up.

“And when they wear all black,” he continues, reaching my side and mirroring my stroll, clearly enjoying his little joke far too much. “And I really like when they have like, black tattoos wrapping around their arms.”

“Shut up,” I reply, still trying to appear annoyed but the smile tugging at my lips is not helping. “You’re so dumb.”

Luke laughs and his shoulder bumps against mine as we walk. 

“You’re the one who asked,” he replies and I roll my eyes. 

“Yeah, blame me for actually expecting a real answer,” I reply sarcastically, making Luke smirk. 

“Well, you didn’t give me a real answer last night, so you don’t deserve one now,” he argues and I guess he has a point.

Instead of admitting that, I make my face serious and turn to him to say, “Yes I did, Luke.”

He falters slightly and gives me a questioning look. 

“I thought about that guy when I jerked off in the shower today,” I tell him, earning a loud cackle and a rather rough shove in the shoulder from Luke, causing me to stumble off to the side and have to steady myself. 

“You’re fuckin’ gross,” he mutters, shaking his head at me, his lips curled upward in an annoyed grin. We continue walking through the mall aimlessly, making occasional mindless conversation and overall just enjoying each other’s company. Weird, huh?

After a while I check the time to see that it’s already nearing 7:00. How did that happen? 

“Wow, uh, I guess I should get you back, huh?” I say, trying to ignore the way Luke’s face falls slightly. He only let’s his disappointment show for a moment before he forces a smile onto his face, nodding at me and shrugging. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies casually, but I know he doesn’t want to go back yet. I look down at my feet as we head toward the mall exit. In the car, I put on Green Day, which makes Luke smile, but he’s clearly not in the best mood anymore. We drive to his house in silence save for the music, Luke tapping the beat on his thighs as he looks out the window. My stomach feels funny and my body is kinda hot. When I pull into his driveway, I put the car in park and look over to Luke. He gives me a tight smile as he undoes his seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. 

“Well, thanks again, Michael,” he says, his voice lacking the usual pep it has. “For, you know, everything.”

I nod stiffly and swallow, not wanting to say bye to him yet. He watches me for a minute, his hand still gripping the handle, probably waiting for me to say something. Like, bye, maybe. But I don’t, and then he drops his sad eyes from mine and pulls the handle, opening the door and turning to jump out. 

“Uh, Luke,” I finally say, and he turns around quickly to face me. I swallow again and he watches me, same as before but his eyes are less sad and more hopeful. 

“Yeah, Mike?” he urges when I don’t say anything. I tear my eyes away from him and stare at my steering wheel, my mind racing and face hot. 

I take a deep breath and say, “Maybe you should, like, just go grab your guitar? And then, uh, we could go back to mine?”

He stares at me some more forcing me to look at him again, and then when our eyes meet, relief and excitement and happiness break out on his face and he chomps down on his lip, already nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, sending me one more large smile before hopping out of my car and jogging up to his door. I heave out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and don’t bother trying to hide the dumb smile taking over my face. My fingers dance excitedly along the steering wheel as I wait for Luke to come back. 

Back at my house, my nerves are running out of control but I try to act natural as I watch Luke fumble with his guitar case as we approach my front door. I push the door open and step aside so that Luke can get in, careful not to knock the case against the doorframe or anything. I close the door and move to go upstairs when I hear a small clatter in the kitchen and my mom yells, “Mikey, hon? That you?”

I freeze, one foot on the first step as I briefly consider hoofing it up the steps and hiding in my room. I really don’t wanna do this whole introduction thing mostly because it’s awkward, but also kinda because my mom can read me like a book. It’s too late, I realize when I hear her padding through the kitchen toward us. I sigh and brace myself. She turns around the corner, about to say something when her eyes land on Luke and widen, her mouth hanging open, her words lost on her tongue. 

“Oh!” she exclaims after gathering herself. She glances at me in surprise, then back to Luke. “You have company?”

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, looking down at my feet, hoping she doesn’t make it too obvious how rare an occurrence this is. “This is Luke. From work.”

He smiles at her and fumbles with his guitar case some more, trying to switch it into his left hand but not having enough room so he settles for placing it on the ground so he can reach his hand out to my mom.

“Hi,” he greets, holding his hand out to shake hers. A huge smile spreads across her face, her eyes still wide as she sends me an approving look and then returns her attention to Luke, grabbing his hand. 

“So nice to meet you!” she says to him excitedly, shaking his hand quickly. “I’m Karen. We’ve got another musician on our hands, I see.”

Luke laughs a little and glances at me, but I’m too busy trying to hide my face from my mom. If I so much as look at Luke, I know I’ll have some kind of fond expression on my dumb face, and I don’t want my mom jumping to any conclusions, no matter how accurate they may be. 

“Oh, I dunno about that,” he replies modestly, rubbing the back of his neck. “More like some kid who likes to mess around on guitar and hopes it doesn’t sound too awful.”

My mom chuckles at his response and says, “Well, if you stick around this one long enough I’m sure you’ll end up in the Hall of Fame with him, huh Mikey?”

I briefly lift my head to smile tightly and mumble, “Yeah, sure mum.”

“Alright, well I’ll leave you boys to it,” she finally says, giving Luke another wide smile. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

I’m already halfway up the stairs when Luke says, “Thanks, Karen,” before grabbing his guitar and following behind me. I collapse onto my bed and Luke gently leans his guitar case against the wall before sitting near me and saying, “She’s great.”

“Mhm,” I mumble from beneath the arm I tossed over my face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, nudging my leg and looking down at me. I peek out under my eye and see him watching me and for some reason just seeing his dumb face makes my stomach flutter. 

“Nothing,” I reply, sitting up and looking at him for a second before standing and grabbing my guitar. “Get your guitar out. I wanna play.”

He nods eagerly and does so, returning to the bed after to sit cross-legged near the bottom of it, guitar in his lap. I join him on the bed, sitting closer to the top and begin strumming random chords. 

“Hey, uh, last night, or this morning, when I couldn’t sleep,” he begins, sounding kind of awkward and nervous for some reason. I lift my eyes to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “Uh, that song you played yesterday? How you said something wasn’t right?” He stops again and I nod, curious as to what he’s getting at. “Well, uh, I was thinking about it, and I thought we could try something?”

I stare at him, processing his request, and before I know it I’m nodding. 

“Yeah,” I reply seriously. “Yeah, definitely. What did you have in mind?”

Relief washes over his face and he gives me a quick smile before scooting closer to me, our knees pressing together as he positions his fingers. 

“So, this is what you were playing, right?” he asks, and begins strumming something very similar to my song. “Something like this?”

He continues to play, occasionally playing a chord that doesn’t sound right and repositioning, trying again. I stare at him without responding, watching his face riddled with concentration, his lip hanging down as he looks down at his hands dancing along the strings. I watch his fingers in awe, a weird feeling forming in my chest as I hear him play my song. After a minute of this, he looks up at me and says with a laugh, “I’ve been itching to play this ever since I heard it yesterday. Last night all I wanted to do was get your guitar and try playing it. Am I doing okay?”

I nod stiffly, a bit dumbfounded, and then I snap out of it, saying, “Yeah, really good. You just need to…” I trail off slightly and lean forward, reaching across him and lightly grabbing one of his fingers to move it up a string. “Move this finger. And then, at the next part, you need to move your whole hand down a fret.” He nods, playing it again using these revisions. “Right there, I strum down-down-up, not up-down-up,” I instruct and he nods again, readjusting his version easily and following my instructions. Eventually he gets it down exactly and plays through it a couple times. “Wow. You’re a fast learner.”

He shrugs modestly and looks at me, our faces a lot closer than I realized, and I sit back again instead of leaning over him, my face flushing slightly. I feel a little better when I see that his does too. He looks down at his guitar and says, “Okay, well, I was thinking that instead of-“ he plays part of my song and then continues, “You could do something like this,” and then he starts playing again. I listen and watch his fingers, noting the changes he makes and pulling my eyebrows together in concentration. He looks up at me nervously, waiting for a reaction. 

“Play it again,” I request, handling my guitar and putting my fingers in position as I watch him strum through the part again. I attempt playing it his way, succeeding on the first try and he nods, smiling up at me.

“What do you think?”

I nod slightly, playing again, this time from the beginning and then incorporating his changes into it. It sounds really good. I nod again, more eager this time, and look at him. 

“I like that a lot,” I answer honestly, and his face is an image of pure happiness. He looks so fucking glad to have helped me and that I liked his idea and my heart starts pounding at the sight of him. I bite my lip and look down at the strings again, playing it through another time, but adding yet another change, a funky little note tossed in that I never would have thought to do if it weren’t for Luke.

“Whoa,” he reacts to it, eyebrows high. “That was cool! Definitely keep that.” 

“I dunno, what if…” I trail off, my brain in overdrive which is what always happens when I get inspired to write a song. Which honestly, doesn’t happen all that often. “What if we like, wrote a separate guitar part, and had something like that in it?”

He watches me with wide eyes before saying, “Like, a part for someone else to play?” And it’s a dumb question, because obviously that’s what I meant, and obviously I meant him, not just someone else, but I nod anyways. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t really feel right when I play it, but it could definitely fit into the song, so,” I explain, shrugging at the end. He’s nodding enthusiastically at me.

“Yeah, I could, like-“ he cuts off and begins playing, adding in the note change and switching some other stuff around too. And we continue like this, for what might be hours, feeding off each other’s ideas. I even grab my journal from my desk, flipping past all my scribbles of lyrics and other songs, not even afraid of Luke seeing them, to a blank page that doesn’t take long to be filled in with both of our messy scrawls of ideas. It’s really amazing how it all happens so naturally and there’s this excitement buzzing in my chest the whole time and I could really, really get used to this. 

By the time midnight rolls around, Luke puts his guitar to the side and says, “I’m surprised my fingers haven’t started bleeding yet.”

I snort and copy him, lying my guitar against the bed and lying back, my head falling beside the pillows. Luke stands up and stretches and my eyes hover over the strip of smooth skin peeking out over his waistband as his shirt rides up. His arms drop and my eyes shoot away, determined not to get caught staring again. 

“That was fun, though,” he says as he turns toward me, bending his leg and resting it against the edge of the bed before sitting down on it. I nod and smile at him. 

“Yeah,” I agree, watching as he runs his fingers through his hair. “That was awesome.”

“Um,” he begins, eyes moving down my spread out body and then back up to my face. “I guess I’m crashing here again?”

I move to rest my hands behind my head as I smirk at him and say, “Unless you feel like walking home.”

He grins and looks away from me, down at his lap where he’s picking at the hole in the knee of his jeans. A loud silence fills the room but it’s not awkward. I try not to look at him, but before I know it I find myself observing the way he’s softly nibbling on his lip ring, eyes unfocused as they stare at his knee. I swallow and I want to say something, but I don’t know what, so I look away. 

We stay like this for another couple of minutes until I finally return my gaze to Luke and find him eyeing me. Only, he’s not looking at my face. Nope. He’s looking at the exposed part of my torso, visible because of the deep shoulders of my muscle tee. I watch as his eyes trail over the expanse of my smooth, white skin, the ridges of my ribcage and the ripples of my back muscles, and then move down over my long legs, my jeans skin tight against them. He’s staring at me, so focused that he doesn’t realize I’m looking at him. He’s gnawing on his lower lip and I don’t think he’s blinked once since I’ve been watching. My stomach flips and I don’t think I can take much more of this so I clear my throat, causing his bright eyes to snap up to meet mine. His body freezes. 

I raise my eyebrow at him and he just stares, eyes ready to burst out of his head, and I decide to lighten the mood for him by joking around and saying, “Like what you see?”

His face flushes darker than I’ve ever seen and he lowers his gaze to his lap, clearly mortified at being caught staring at my body yet again. I kinda feel bad because I’ve probably stared at him just as much, he just doesn’t notice. I don’t want him to be embarrassed and the only way I can think to make him feel better is by teasing him, not that that really makes any sense at all. I guess I just wanna show him that I don’t mind. At all. 

“Seriously, Luke,” I begin as I sit up and push myself off the bed, grabbing my guitar to place it back on its stand. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you had the hots for me.”

There’s another short silence and I think he’s not gonna respond again, but then he says, “What do you know?” and I turn around to face him, my eyebrows pulling together. He’s still sitting on the bed the same way, except now he’s looking at me fiercely. 

“Huh?”

“You said if you didn’t know any better,” he replies, standing from the bed and taking a step toward me. My stomach flips at the way he’s looking at me and I kind of liked it better when he was embarrassed. “So, what do you know, then?”

I swallow and continue looking at him, not having the slightest clue as to what to say. He’s staring at me but it’s different this time. I feel my body heat up under his gaze and I shrug slightly, racking my brain for an answer. What was the question again?

“I, uh,” I stutter out dumbly. He approaches me even further, stopping only about a foot away, so close that I can smell him. His eyes are blue and his face is serious and my heart is pounding. He can hear it, I’m sure.

“Maybe I do,” he continues, his voice deep and low and I need to remind myself how to breathe. I blink, trying to remember what he’s talking about. He does what? His eyes finally leave mine, only to travel down my body, slowly and hotly, making me heat up even more. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t go away no matter how hard I try. He reaches his arm out and I think I might actually pass out if he touches me, but instead he hooks his finger through the armhole of my tank, hanging low by my waist. My breath hitches in my throat. “I mean, look at you. Who wouldn’t?”

I just stare at him because I’m pretty sure this isn’t actually happening. There’s no way, right?

“Say something,” he demands, his voice less intimidating now and more impatient as he tugs lightly at my shirt. 

My eyes widen slightly and I begin to shake my head because my brain is empty, but then I realize there’s one thing still in there, so that’s what I say.

“Luke.”

And that’s what does it. His loose grip on my shirt becomes a full on grasp and he pulls, making me stumble into him, our chests bumping together roughly, and suddenly his hot lips are on my neck. The hand that isn’t wrapped up in my shirt comes to grip onto one side of my neck as he leaves messy, desperate kisses on the other side. The cool metal of his lip ring contrasts so strongly with the heat of his mouth that it makes me whimper slightly. He pulls his face away from my neck to look at me, his red mouth hanging open and eyes searching mine, waiting for a reaction, probably.  

Before I let myself think about it too much, or at all, really, I lean forward and eagerly press my lips against his, so hard that his head is pushed backward but a second later he’s pressing back firmly against my lips, his fingers digging into my neck and pulling desperately at my shirt, trying to pull me closer. My left hand moves to his hair, pushing my fingers through it before settling my grasp on the back of his head, holding it in place so I can kiss him better. He moans into my mouth when my other hand wraps around his body, resting at the small of his back and pulling him harder against me. 

“Fuck, Luke,” I breathe against his lips, my body on fire and dick already half hard as I begin pushing him backward toward the bed. 

“Mmm,” he mumbles in agreement in between kisses just before the back of his legs hit the bed and he falls backward. I follow him down, kissing him some more before pulling away and grabbing his waist, pulling him up further on the bed so that he’s lying properly, his head on the pillows. His hands are grabbing at my shirt, trying to pull me back down, and his legs have spread open easily, allowing me to place myself between them before kissing him some more. Our lips move together artfully, his lower lip pressing between mine before I run my tongue along it, causing him to open up and let our tongues collide. I lick into his mouth and he arches up into me. We’re both breathing so heavily, our hot breath mixing together as I capture his bottom lip between my teeth and pull on it, earning another groan from Luke. 

I press one more kiss against his swollen lips before pulling away, moving down to his neck, hot and scratchy, just like before. I lick it immediately, the taste of sweat on my tongue and I think my eyes roll back in my head. I begin leaving hot, open mouthed kisses along his throat, nipping and licking occasionally until I’m at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, and then I bite down. He hisses pleasantly, his fingers digging into my lower back so hard that I can feel his nails. I lick over the spot that I bit soothingly before moving lower, pulling the neck of his shirt down and kissing across his chest as one of his hands comes to grip my hair tightly. I moan, always being a sucker for hair pulling, and lean up to kiss his mouth again, which is returned eagerly. 

The hand that isn’t in my hair begins tugging at my shirt, pulling it up my back, trying to get it off. I sit up between his legs and he whines at my absence, earning a smirk from me as I pull my shirt over my head and toss it somewhere to the side. His hands are immediately on my chest, rubbing up and down it before hooking behind my neck and pulling me back down into another kiss. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot, Michael,” he tells me as his hands roam my bare back, stopping just above my waistband and rubbing my hips. 

“Shut up,” I breathe before pushing my hands under his shirt and feeling the hot skin of his stomach. He arches into me again and this time I can feel the hard bulge in his jeans pressing against my own, making my fully hard dick twitch. I grind against him roughly and he lets out a loud moan, causing me to reach up and clamp my hand over his mouth. He whines underneath it and presses his dick up against me again and I rock back against it, biting down on my lip to hold back a moan of my own. He whimpers under my hand and presses his head back into the pillows, exposing his neck. I stare for a moment before I sit up again and pull at his shirt, impatiently saying, “Take this off.”

He nods quickly and I let my hand fall from his mouth as he lifts himself up on his elbow, reaching to the back of his shirt and attempting to pull it off, struggling a little until I can’t wait any longer and decide to help him. My eyes wander over his bare chest and then I’m kissing it again, tasting his smooth skin, and his hand are tugging at my hair, and I think this is heaven. 

I kiss all the way down past his belly button and then pause, glancing up at him. He squirms beneath me and watches me under hooded eyes, then whines lowly, “Please, Michael.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. I move up his body to kiss his mouth some more because I can’t really get enough of that and he continues to grind against me. One of my hands rubs through his hair as I kiss him and the other moves down his body, stopping over the front of his jeans, where I palm his dick. He arches up into me and moans desperately into my mouth, making my dick twitch again. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard in my life. 

I rub him through his jeans and he pushes against me as he sucks on my lips and scrapes his fingers across my back, undoubtedly leaving marks. After a minute I don’t think I can wait any longer so I sit up again and reach for the waistband of his jeans. His arms fall beside him and he reaches up to grip his hair, looking up at me with his swollen lips parted and eyes dark from being so dilated. He looks so wrecked and I haven’t even properly touched his dick yet.

“Fuck,” I curse, just ‘cause he’s so hot, and then focus on undoing the button of his jeans. He writhes excitedly beneath me as I pull down his zipper and then hook my fingers around his waistband, tugging his jeans down roughly. I lean back to pull them off from the ankles, knowing that’s the best way to go about dealing with such tight jeans. When they’re off I face forward again and pause to take in the sight before me. 

Luke is spread out in front of me, his thick, bare thighs resting on top of my clothed ones. I can see his hard dick pushing at the thin material of his boxers and I let out an unsteady breath when I see the wet spot of precum staining it. He’s breathing heavily, his flushed chest rising and falling quickly, and I spot the red spot on his neck where I bit him. I finally reach his face, which is watching me with desperation, eyebrows pulled together impatiently and fingers tugging at his hair. 

“Michael, please,” he repeats, his voice begging, but I ignore him because I really wanna see that spot of precum again. My eyes travel back down his body to stare at the outline of his cock and he whines again before pushing himself up into a sitting position and grabbing my face to kiss me again. I kiss him back eagerly, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him flush against me. I can feel his hard on pressing into my lower stomach and I groan because all his weight is pretty much on my dick and he’s writhing against me it feels so fucking good. 

“Fuck, Luke,” I say again, ignoring the fact that my vocabulary has dwindled drastically since this began. “Needy, huh?”

“Yes,” he breathes hotly against my lips before moving down to suck at my neck. “Yeah, yes,” he repeats mindlessly between licking at different parts of my throat, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly. “Need you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, bending my head to kiss his bare shoulder. “What do you need, Luke?”

He moans against my skin in response, bucking his hips against me as my hands move down to cup his ass, squeezing it and causing his fingers to dig deeper into my shoulders. 

“Tell me,” I demand, wanting to hear his voice.

He pulls away from my neck to look at me again and his face looks so fucking sexy I can barely handle it. He leans in to kiss my lips again before murmuring, “Need you to touch me.”

The sound of his voice saying that makes me even more turned on if that’s even possible and I take a shaky breath to steady myself before asking, “Yeah? Touch you where?”

He groans in frustration before reaching to grab my hand, firmly pressing it against his hard cock and leaning back again to look me in the eye as he says, “Right there.”

Honestly, I’m surprised I don’t cum in my pants at that. Instead, I drop my head onto his shoulder and moan against his skin as I begin rubbing his dick. His breath is hot in my ear as he murmurs, “Yeah, Michael. So good.”

I buck up against him as well as I can in this position, and then I feel him hesitate and suddenly he’s crawling off my lap. Confused, I watch him and then breathe shakily when he reaches for the waistband of my jeans, undoing the button and zipper and pulling at them impatiently even though there’s no way to get them off with the way I’m sitting. 

“Fucking- take these- ugh,” he grunts, finally giving up and looking up at me needily. “Get these off.”

I smirk and lean in to kiss him chastely, murmuring, “Anything for you,” before dropping onto my back and pulling my jeans down. Luke, impatient as ever, helps me out by pulling them off my ankles and tossing them across the room carelessly. Then, in an instant, he’s on top of me, straddling my waist and kissing me deeply. The kiss is less desperate than before, his lips moving slowly against mine, making my heart skip a beat. His hands find their way into my hair, fingers rubbing my scalp deliciously before tugging on my bleached tufts gently. The feeling of his bare skin against mine is making my head fuzzy and I’m overwhelmed by every flick of his tongue against mine.

Luke sits up slightly and looks at me, a string of saliva still attaching our lips. I return his hooded gaze, waiting for his next move. I don’t have to wait too long because soon he moves himself lower on my hips so that his ass is right above my dick, which is straining desperately against my boxers, and begins rubbing against it slowly, causing me to chomp down on my swollen lower lip, a, “Fffffff-“ coming out of my mouth as I push my head back into the pillows. My hands are suddenly on his ass, fingers digging deep as I guide him to rock against me. He lets out a strangled moan before dropping his forehead against my shoulder as he continues to rub against my dick, his lower lip undoubtedly being bitten mercilessly. 

I’m not sure when Luke became the one in charge and even though I usually prefer being in control, I can’t say that I mind. The only problem is that I really wanna hear his voice some more but with him doing all this stuff to me I really just can’t think long enough to form a question. He’s grinding against me slowly, too slow, almost teasingly, and I finally pull myself together long enough to decide he’s had his fun. 

I move my hands from his ass to his waist and then roll us over expertly so that I’m on top, between his legs again. Only, it’s better this time because our clothes are off. I waste no time reaching down to cup his dick again, my body shuddering slightly when I feel how impossibly hard it is. I wrap my fingers around the length as well as I can over the material of his boxers and he moans, “Mmm, yeah, fuck Michael.”

My eyes snap open at the sound of his voice and I’m reminded why I wanted to take charge in the first place. I continue stroking his dick as I ask, “Yeah, Luke? Does that feel good?”

He nods deliriously, eyes squeezed shut and teeth tugging at his lip before he replies, “So good.”

“What else do you want me to do?” I ask, partly to hear his wrecked, breathy voice some more, but also because I really wanna know. How far does he actually wanna go with this?

He whines slightly before saying, “More,” which I guess is a good enough answer. I sit up and wrap my fingers around the waistband of his boxers, wasting no time to think before tugging them down and off his long legs. His thick cock springs up, bouncing once against his tight stomach and leaving a spot of precum there. I eagerly take in the image of his dick, the tip as pink as his puffy lips he’s always chewing on, and quickly store it in the back of my mind for future use. I wrap my fingers around his length, rubbing my thumb over the slit which causes him to arch his hips up forcefully, pushing his cock through my fist. I use my other hand to grip his hip firmly, pushing him down against the mattress before spitting in the palm of my other hand, earning an unexpected moan from Luke, and then beginning to stroke his cock rhythmically. He moans again and hisses, “Yes.”

I focus on stroking him, my eyes glued to his pink tip pushing through my fist, wet with precum and my saliva, and then I’m moaning, too. One of Luke’s hands is in his hair again, tugging mercilessly, and the other is fisting the sheets desperately. Before I can help it, I bend down and take the flushed tip of Luke’s dick into my mouth, following the motions of my hand as I continue stroking up and down his shaft. His hips arch up immediately but I push him down again roughly, bobbing my head and hollowing my cheeks each time I go up. 

“Oh my god, fu- Michael, fuck,” he’s moaning above me, his fingers raking through my hair and tugging slightly, guiding my head up and down as I suck his cock. “Fuck, you’re so good, Mi- ohh my god, mmm, so good.”

My dick is twitching under my boxers at the sound of his voice, at the taste of his cock on my tongue. I want to touch myself, but one hand is on Luke’s dick making him feel good while the other is busy holding his hips down so he doesn’t gag me, so I deal. 

“M-Michael,” he breathes heavily, fingers tugging harder at my hair. “M’gonna cum, gonna cum,” he warns me, trying to pull me off his dick, but I pull his hand away from me and pin it against the mattress beside him as I continue to suck harder. I lift my eyes to look up at him as my lips move up and down his cock, and he’s watching me, his red mouth hanging open and eyebrows pulled tightly together and blue eyes gazing down at me intently. “Oh my god…”

I hum in response and that’s what does it. I feel his dick twitch just seconds before hot strands of cum are shooting down my throat as I urge them out with my pointer, middle finger and thumb on his cock. I swallow it all and bob my head another couple times, making sure to get all of it, then I’m pulling off his dick, sitting up and immediately reaching for my dripping cock. 

Luke is still sprawled out, enjoying his post-orgasm bliss as I begin stroking myself quickly, my eyes wandering over him. He opens his eyes to look at me, and when he sees that I’m touching myself he immediately begins sitting up to help me, but I press my free hand against his chest and push him back down against the mattress, sitting up a little and leaning over him as I begin to stroke harder. 

“I’m gonna last like five seconds, don’t…” I trail off, my orgasm already tightening in my lower stomach. He reaches up and grabs my hair roughly, tugging me down against his lips. I kiss him fiercely as I cum, our hot breath mixed together as my body twitches uncontrollably, my cum shooting all over Luke’s stomach. When I finish, I collapse onto him, my legs burning from kneeling in that position for so long, my stomach falling against my sticky mess all over Luke. We’re both breathing heavily as I move my head down into the crook of Luke’s neck, breathing in his sweaty, warm scent. 

We stay like this for a few minutes until I feel like I’m crushing Luke, so I roll off of him and lie on my back beside him, looking up at the ceiling dazedly. He immediately turns and pushes against my side, tossing his arm across my sticky chest, making me smile. 

“Hold on,” I say quietly before pulling away and reaching for one of our shirts beside the bed, grabbing it and rubbing it across my stomach and then Luke’s, wiping what I can of the cum off our skin, far too lazy to actually get up and get something to clean us properly. When I’m done, he cuddles against me again, his sweaty forehead pressing against my side. I pull the blanket over us and wrap my arm around him as I raise the other one to rest behind my head, breathing deeply and closing my eyes. 

“Did that really just happen?” Luke asks after a minute, his mouth moving against my skin, causing me to snort lightly and tighten my arm around him. 

“I think so,” I reply slowly. “Either that or it was the hottest wet dream of my life.”

Luke laughs breathily and cuddles closer to me, pausing for a minute before asking, “You wanted that?”

I roll my eyes and say, “Obviously, Luke,” too tired to be sarcastic. I feel him smile against my skin. 

We’re quiet for another minute or so and I think he’s done asking questions when I feel him breathe in again, hesitate for a moment and then kind of mumble, “So, you’ve uh, done that before, then?”

I tense up a little and open my eyes, peaking down at the top of his head before replying with an awkward, “No.”

He lifts his head at this and meets my eyes, searching my face and saying, “No, seriously.”

I shake my head slightly and give him a questioning look before confirming, “Really. I haven’t.”

He stares at me in disbelief for a long moment, making my face heat up under his gaze.

“How were you…” he trails off before continuing, “You were like, really good, Michael.”

My face flushes a little more and I look away, an embarrassed grin on my face. 

“Yeah, well…” I begin nervously before meeting his eyes again and saying, “I’ve watched a lot of videos.”

His eyebrows raise at this and I smirk, adding, “A lot of videos.”

He snorts cutely and tucks his face into the crook of my neck, kissing it a few times before nuzzling his forehead against it and settling in. 

“Well, that was by far the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he tells me, causing my smile to widen and my blush to darken.

“You make it sound like you’ve had millions,” I reply.

“I have,” he says, earning a pinch to his side which causes him to giggle and push me away. “Nah, more like, like four. Maybe five.”

“Well, everyone’s missing out, then,” I tell him. “You have a really nice dick.”

As if it sensed me talking about it, I feel his dick twitch against me and my eyes widen because fuck, that’s hot. Luke pushes me again and shoves his face further into my neck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles embarrassedly. 

I smirk tiredly and tighten my arm around him, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I’m feeling pretty good. I just sucked my first dick, finally, and it was Luke’s, and he said it was good. And hopefully, if I’m lucky, he’ll let me do it again sometime. 

“Hey, Mikey?” he asks softly, voice filled with sleep.

“Mm?”

“Before you fall asleep…” he murmurs, his warm breathing dancing over my skin. “Can you admit that you were checking me out at work yesterday?”

I let out a breathy laugh and shake my head at him slightly. Really? That’s what he wants from me? I squeeze my arm around him and he nuzzles in closer to me before I sigh contentedly and answer him. 

“Never.”