thinking about you [muke af]

fifteen

fifteen

Luke’s eyes opened, then closed, then opened once more. Even though it was morning, he still felt tired. His head hurt and he was freezing cold, his hands clammy. 

He rolled on his back, stretching his arms and legs. A tattooed arm was tightly wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer when he moved too much. 

The blonde smiled as he sighed. “Mikey, I need to get up,” he whispered, trying to pull the hairy arm off of him.

Michael let out a groan, pulling him so he was half on top of the younger boy. Mike dipped his nose against Luke’s back, shielding himself from the cold air in his apartment bedroom. 

“Please?” He asked, trying to crawl away from the sleeping college student. 

Michael lingered a kiss to the warm skin before letting go and rolling to face the wall. He took the blankets closer to his naked body as he tried to conduct as much heat as he could. He figured Cal came home late from a run and was burning up, turning up the air conditioning much more than needed. 

Luke rolled out of bed, grabbing a pair of track pants and hoodie from the messy floor. He really wanted to clean up the dirty floors, he didn’t like the feeling of crumbs under his feet or the smell of month-old clothing in the air. 

He stretched out like a cat once more before leaving the room, closing the wooden door behind him. Snores were coming from Calum’s room as he walked through the short hallway. 

Once he left the sleeping corner of the apartment, everything else was remotely quiet. Luke made his way to the kitchen, turning off the air condition. He dug through the pantry, trying to find the bagels he brought over the other day. 

The twenty-three year old doesn’t know what Michael and Calum would do without Luke in their life. He brings them food, does the dishes, does their laundry, takes out their trash, gets the mail. The two younger boys are about to graduate and still can’t figure out how to do simple daily things. 

He found an asiago cheese bagel, placed it on a paper plate, then sat at the small kitchen table. There wasn’t really enough room for the boy to place his breakfast down. He moved a few papers over, stacking them on the side. 

He stood up, grabbing the handle of Michael’s Taylor 514 and placing it on the ground, where it should’ve been in the first place. A few notebooks fell on the ground, their covers opening to random pages. 

Luke bent down, picking them up. 

“Ever since the day that we met/I couldn't get you out of my head/There was always something about you/Every chance that I seem to get/Finds a way to end in regret/There was always something about you,” the intro suddenly stopped short as the led pencil scribbled out the following bridge, a few swear words around the edge showed Michael’s true frustration for writing.

Luke picked up the other notebooks, sitting back down at the kitchen table. He flipped a few pages, smiling at Mike’s messy handwriting. “You're just a little bit out of my limit/It’s been two years now you haven't even seen the best of me/And in my mind now I've been over this a thousand times/And it's almost over/Let’s start over,” each sentence had a possible chord progression on top of it, many words were scribbled out, quickly replaced with others. He was a messy artist and Luke didn’t know how he turned these pieces into actual works of art.
Luke turned another few pages, “Let's get out, let's get out/‘Cause this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down/While I was out, I found myself alone just thinking/If I showed up with a plane ticket/And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it/Would you wanna run away too?/‘Cause all I really want is you.” The date at the top of the page was recent, only a few nights ago. A few nights ago when Luke was pressed up against the wall and Michael teased him for his fluorescent purple American Apparel underwear. “You look so perfect standing there/In my American Apparel underwear/And I know now, that I'm so down.”

Luke ran his fingers up and down the page as it all started coming to him. Ashton was right, these words are for him, these words are about him.
He reread over and over again, is Michael in love with him?

“I need your love to light up this house/I wanna know what you're all about/I wanna feel you feel you tonight/I wanna tell you that it's alright,” the words seemed so innocent, so lost, so pure. “I need your love to guide me back home/When I'm with you, I'm never alone/I need to feel you feel you tonight/I need to tell you that it's alright.” Luke could hear Michael’s voice in his head, singing the melody lines with sure pure dedication. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” A voice radiated from a few feet away. 

Luke jumped, started by the sudden noise. “Um, eating breakfast.”

Michael was wearing a ripped up, dark brown Rolling Stones tee shirt, his grey boxers loose on his pale legs. “What the fuck, Luke?” He came charging over, his fists clenched. He picked up the journal on the table and floor, holding them to his chest. “Why would you read these?!”

“I’m sorry,” he kept his voice small, “I was curious. They’re really amazing.”

Michael had his eyebrows furrowed together, his mouth parted open, “These are like my diaries, I don’t want you reading them!”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He was still clutching the torn apart journals to his chest like a child, “What did you read?”

“Just a few in the back.”

Michael felt like he was about to cry, those were his recents, those were about the tall boy sitting in front of him. He was mortified, he was embarrassed. “Why would you do that?” He took a step back, his green eyes filled with hurt. 

“It was open, and I saw you play the other night, and you were really—.”
“When?”

“Last Friday. There was one song I really liked and I wanted to know if it was about—.”

Michael looked down at his feet as he left the room, he ran down the small hall, closing his bedroom door behind him harshly. The click of the lock was comforting as he leant against the door. Luke knows, his thoughts filled his hazy mind again. He knows you write about him, he’ll be like everyone else now, out the door before you can even say bye. 

(a/n) @astronomicalum has fucking brilliant stories and you all should go read them. fucktoy is my favorite.