thinking about you [muke af]

five

five

“I need you to be professional,” Dr. Ren scolded Luke. She held her head high and shoulders back yet she still didn’t come close to Luke’s lanky height. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded, shuffling the stolen folder even more so behind his back. Luke was snooping, if there was a word stronger for snooping, he would be it. He was going through all of the small women’s paperwork trying to find the manilla folder for Clifford, Michael G. His fingers were going dry as he went through every small space, the second he saw the lettering, he let out a cheer. That, of course, was the exact moment Dr. Ren herself came waltzing in.

“Mr. Irwin seems to understand the rolls of a teacher’s assistant, it shouldn’t be hard for you either,” she continued, “I am, after all, the one person to fill out the form regarding your participation in only a few months.”

Luke gulped, his cheeks were a rosy red and he really wanted to leave the auditorium. “I understand.”
Dr. Ren took a step back from Luke, her poorly plucked eyebrows inching upwards as she could not think of another word to say. The scared boy stood straight and still, his blue eyes casting over her as she walked over to the white board, spraying it with Expo and erasing the markings from the earlier class. “You can leave.”

Luke nodded, rushing to turn around and squeeze the folder into his laptop case. He zipped up the dark fabric, taking the bag over his shoulder. His dark blue flannel was falling off of his shoulder, his collarbone protruding. 

He was five rows up when he called out a goodbye to the professor, quickly running the rest of the carpet steps. He didn’t want her questioning what he was doing in her side office an hour after their class. 

That morning, Luke watched Michael stumble into the room, half sleep deprived and half hungover. His dark sunglasses were hanging over his nose as his head fell to a resting position. He was out cold before Dr. Ren stepped into the building.
No one said one had to listen in college, one just has to show up. 

Luke made his usual walk back to the loft. The California sun was high in the sky even after in started to near 5 p.m. Luke enjoyed his black skinny jeans and dark tee shirts, he doesn’t think he owns a pair of shorts. He could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck and the space where his knee bends. He hates sweating, it makes him feel disgusting, yet he still refuses to put on some appropriate clothing wear. 

The twenty-three year old has lived in California for five years now, he’s loved almost every moment. 

Luke pulled out his keys as he rounded the corner of the many two-story lofts. The bagel store across the street was closing and he gave a friendly wave to the worker locking up. Luke was always taught to be beyond respectful of workers, they’re just trying to do their job. They don’t deserve the bullshit they’re forced to put up with. 

The second the door opened, cold air flew into his face. He let out a breath of air, taking in the coolness of the building. Luke threw the bag on the ground, unzipping it and grabbing the folder. 

He slid off his tight jeans before taking a seat on the couch. His tight briefs had cartoon ninja turtles along the fabric and he was glad Ashton wouldn’t be home until late.

His roommate was a determined person, Ashton had the position as a TA, as well as earning his masters degree, and a job as a barista. He loved his family and constantly sent back money to them to help them get by. 

Luke respected Ashton. 

The blonde opened the folder, turning his body so his bare feet were up on the couch. The folder had lots of papers in them, mostly assignments marked with a large “LATE” at the top. Luke slightly laughed at the younger boy’s handwriting. It was such a boy handwriting. He didn’t close his letters, and they all resembled noodles on the page. He was unable to read a single sentence.