blondie [muke af]

eighteen

eighteen

"Don't be fucking stupid, and we won't have this problem!" Michael yelled into the phone, rolling his eyes. 

He recited a few numbers into the phone before swirling around in his chair to face the window. Grey snow was covering the city, signs that spring was soon coming. 

"I hate to break it to you, but we own you and more importantly your business. If you have a problem with that, I will gladly see you in court." Michael slammed the landline onto its cradle, running a hand through his messy hair.

Luke laid in bed with a running nose and a pounding headache. He wasn't able to hold down food and he was convinced he was dying. Luke's lips were chapped from the constant mouth-breathing he was forced to do. 

He curled up, pulling his many sheets closer to his body. He wasn't able to focus on anything, his eyes swirling with the constant beat in his head. He let out a moan even though no one was around to hear it. 

Michael was over at Luke's that morning with food from Panera and lots of Advil. 

He felt bad for the little blonde, he looked so weak and frail. Michael knew Luke hated being sick. He hated the way it made him feel. He hated sitting in bed all day with nothing to do, Luke liked being busy. 

Plus, Luke hated doctors.

Mike was refiling his CD collection when the phone went off. The sudden sound surprised him, causing him to jump from his criss-cross seating underneath his desk and hit his head, hard. 

He made a face—today wasn't going alright. 

Michael rubbed the top of his head and sat back in his seat, scooting closer to his desk and picking up the phone. "Michael Clifford of C & C Incorporations," he sighed, reciting the line he's been saying for years. 

"Hi, Mr. Clifford, this is Dr. Christopher of West Hills Primary," a deep voice filled the phone. 

Michael sighed once more, knowing it was about Cy. "What'd he do now?"

"Cyril got into a very physical fight with a few kids this morning, and as I'm sure you're aware, that's his fifth one this year," Dr. Christopher was flipping through papers, looking up at the glaring fifteen-year-old in front of him a few times. "We have a very serious zero tolerance policy, and we've already let it slide a few times for Mr. Cyril."

They didn't let it slide, Michael brought in one of the most powerful lawyers and scared the school. "Okay, I'll come find someone to pick him up."

"You and I need to talk about possible expulsion, Mr. Clifford," he spoke sternly, like he was scolding Michael instead of Cy. 

This things happens a lot with Michael. Adults will underestimate Michael for no real reason. Michael is old enough to have a child, Cyril just happens to not be his child. 

They'll doubt his fatherly instincts. 

Michael cares a shit load for Cyril. More than some parents care for their own children, for sure. 

"We're pulling him out soon enough anyways, Mr. Christopher," Michael mimicked the older man's prestigious tone.

"It's Dr. Christopher."

"Dude, I don't care. Someone will be there in half an hour." For the sixth time that afternoon, Michael slammed the phone down, letting out a scream into his hands. 

To/ Lukey

hey, cy got into some stuff at school, i need you to pick him up

Luke was always up for an adventure, even when his head felt like it was exploding from his eardrums.