thinking about you [muke af]

one

one

“Come on, you can talk to me,” Luke whispered in a soothing voice. He was down on his knees, kneeling next to Michael’s bed. His warm hands were holding the younger boy’s dry hands. 

Michael didn’t want to be crying, he really did not want to be crying. He was an ugly crier, and he knew it. He knew his abnormally pale skin was a vermillion shade of blotchy red. His face was scrunched up as his green eyes let tears roll down the curve of his face. 

He shook his head. The twenty-one year old was embarrassed, his stupid teacher’s assistant having to come consul him after he told off the professor. “I can’t go back to class; ever.”

Luke let out a small laugh, looking down at the ground before looking back up at Michael. “Yes, you can. I promise you, no one is going to think less of you just because you yelled at Dr. Ren.”

Michael closed his eyes, feeling the hot liquid on his high cheekbones, “I hate her so much, and her stupid daughter. I hate this school.”

The blonde rubbed his fingers up and down Michael’s knuckles in a friendly manner. He didn’t like to see people sad, he didn’t like sadness. “Hate is a strong wo—.”

“Yeah, Luke! That’s why I used it!”

Luke let out a louder laugh, letting go of Michael’s hands. He figured it was semi-inappropriate to follow a student back to their apartment then try to comfort them. He stood up, his tall frame towering over the crying boy.

Michael opened his crystal eyes, looking up at the beauty of a man in front of him. Lucas Hemmings was a gift from above. His jaw line was so sharp, it could cut diamonds. He had blonde hairs sticking out around his chin, something Mike knew the blonde wished for. 

Michael, too, was born a blonde, and it’s still a miracle when one could actually see the stubble he tries so hard to grow. Now, Michael has light blue hair, a pastel shade most likely damaging the original texture. 

Luke wiped his hands on his black denim, taking a seat next to Michael. The bed smelled kind of gross, was obviously in need of a really good wash. “You have less than one semester left, then you’ll be out of this prestigious place and onto—,” he paused, “What’s your major?”

“Music Engineering with a minor in Business and an interest in Songwriting,” the twenty-one year old recited, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his black and white flannel. 

The feeling of Luke only inches away from him made Michael feel a certain type of way. Geez, he was in love with the twenty-three year old. If he wasn’t already embarrassed, he  would gladly admit his dying attraction. 

Okay, maybe not gladly. 

“Look at you! Speaking all smart, you’ve got this. You’re going to make a mark on the world one day soon, you’ve just gotta get through Dr. Ren’s English 2001 class first.” Luke was facing Michael, his steel blue eyes staring at Mike’s profile. He found the little bump in his nose cute, he wondered if it was genetics or did he somehow break his nose one too many times. 

It was Michael’s turn to smile. He sniffled once more, looking down at his hands. He felt extremely self-conscious next to Hemmings. His eyes casted over to Luke’s hands that rested neatly in between the lankly legs, then he looked back at his. Luke’s hands could do things that could send the younger boy straight to the burning pits of hell. “I didn’t even want to go to college. I’m just doing this so my parents won’t cut me off.”

Luke subconsciously moved his right hand to the inside of Michael’s thigh, rubbing a soothing circle over tight jeans. “Me either, I completely understand you, Mikey. But we’ve gotta do what we’ve gotta do.”

Michael wasn’t breathing. His eyes were practically bulging out of their eye sockets as he looked at the vein-y hand right above his knee. Could Luke hear his thoughts?
“Are you feeling better?”

Michael turned to look at Luke, a forced smile casted upon his lips, “Yeah,” he lied. 

“I should get going then.” He left a single pat on Mike’s inside thigh before standing up. He offered Mike a smile upon his dark pink lips, lifting up his satchel and re-buttoning the top few buttons on his shirt, “I’ll see you soon in Ren’s class on Thursday, alright?”

Michael didn’t respond, but Luke let himself out.