break the heartbreaker : luke

muke

6:39am

ding dong!

ding dong!

ding dong!

"what the hell?" i murmur to myself, feeling more and more annoyed at the sound of my doorbell ringing consecutively.

i get up from the carpet, the sound of the doorbell still ringing around the house. petunia follows closely behind me as i walk out from my room.

"i'm coming!" i shout, just wanting the person to stop pressing the damn doorbell.

i make my way towards the front door at a normal pace, since it seems as though the person ringing the bell now has no intention of running away. i'm near the door already, but the bell keeps ringing.

i unlock then swing the door open, and am immediately greeted by a sight i was least expecting to see.

michael clifford is in front of my door, his forehead resting flat on my doorbell. an explanation as to why it's ringing constantly.

"michael?" i exclaim, my eyebrows furrowing, "what are you doing here at 6 in the morning? and could you please lift your head away from the doorbell now?"

he finally lifts his head up slowly, slow enough to look like he's in slow motion. he turns his head towards me, and the second i get a full view of his face, everything starts to make sense.

it's 6am on a saturday. michael is here, with his forehead pressed against my doorbell.

there can only be one reason for this.

"hiii." he says, smiling at me. and it's not a normal smile, no. it's the smile of someone who's drunk.

"mate," i groan, "what are you doing here?"

not saying a word, michael starts walking, pushing past me and through the front door, letting himself in.

"good mowning, piggy," he coos as he bends down to pet petunia, "you're the cutest piggy in town, aren't ya?"

i close my front door, sighing to myself because i already know the things that are about to happen.

this happens almost every month, with michael ringing my doorbell on an early saturday morning after a friday night party. and the same things always happen.

i'm going to lose time.

"c'mon, stand up," i say, grabbing him by the arm, "let's go."

"huh?" he says, slowly standing up, "go where? petunia needs more affection!"

"to the bathroom," i answer simply as i start dragging michael towards the bathroom, "you're about to puke."

"wh-what?" he slurs, his feet staggering as he has a hard time keeping his balance, "oh, wait, yeah, i need to puke. how did you know?"

we reach the bathroom, i open the door quickly, and michael immediately runs towards the toilet.

i close the bathroom door, but still hear faint sounds of michael's hurls.

out of all the saturday's. he chose this saturday to do this again? right when i have possibly one of the most important deadlines of my life?

the hurling sounds haven't stopped yet, so i decide to make use of the time to prepare for the next phases of drunk michael.

i head towards my kitchen and prepare a glass of ice cold water for him, as well as a single slice of bread. for some unknown reason, michael always has to eat a slice of bread when he's drunk.