Pompeii ➳ muke

six

Luke remains quiet throughout the remainder of the ride until the car is driving up a winding roadway, which so happens to be Michael's driveway. The driver parks and exits the vehicle, coming around to open the door for his passengers.

Luke steps out first, streching his long legs with a sigh. He's confused, really, about the entire situation. He still doesn't understand why Michael cannot be photographed or near the paparazzi. He's famous, isn't that what he's meant to do?

Michael thanks the driver before making his way to the door, unlocks it, and then enters the home without even acknowledging Luke. The smaller boy follows behind, shuffling quickly through the door and closing it behind him.

"Mister Clifford, welcome home!" Annette greets, startling Luke to the point that he jumps.

Michael greets her as well, pulling off his boots and tossing them near the shoe rack.
"You have a guest. Oh, how rude of me! Sir, welcome!"

Luke's eyes widen at the greeting. He hasn't a single idea as to who this woman is or why she is so friendly. And so, he simply offers her a smile in return and shifts awkwardly on his feet.

"Annette, get us some drinks, yeah?" Michael suggests, the woman nodding in agreement and hurrying off, "Wait, are you even legal? Shit. How old are you?"

Luke bites his lip, considering lying to the other boy for a moment.

He shakes his head, "I'm only eighteen."

This makes Michael smile, his pearly white teeth on show. And in turn, Luke smiles too.

X X

An hour later, after Michael has had a few drinks and Luke has ingested enough caffeine to send him on a sugar rush, the elder is leading him up the stairs. They pass by several closed doors before Michael finally opens one - it leads to the master bedroom. They enter and Luke stops to admire the simpleness of it all. The bed is a four poster with a canopy top, the duvet and pillow cases are a lovely white. A few pieces of extravagant art adorn the crème coloured walls. Luke surely did not expect something like this. Especially not from Michael, an international rock star.

"It's not much," Michael says with a shrug, moving to open a glass door in which opens to a balcony.

Luke follows him, his eyes still scanning the decorative room. He's still unsure as to why he is in Michael's home and why he feels so comfortable in the first place.

On the balcony, Michael removes a pack of cigerettes from his back pocket and places one inbetween his pink lips. He lights it and Luke scrunches his nose in distaste. He doesn't smoke, he never has, and surely has no intentions of doing so.

"That's going to kill you," Luke states, leaning against the door frame.

Michael rolls his eyes dramatically, "So? We are all going to die anyways. I'll just die sooner."

The blond huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Michael has an attitude and Luke does not like it. He doesn't even like the boy. If he had just denied Calum's insistent pleading for Luke to attend Arcadia's show, this would not be happening. He would be home, snuggled up in his fuzzy socks and having a cup of tea.

"I want to go home now," Luke says, turning on his heel and entering the home, "Cal hasn't answered and I have no idea where I am."

He doesn't wait for a response, just walks through the bedroom and out into the hallway before Michael manages to catch up.

"I'll take you home, okay? Just let me take you," the elder insists, trailing behind the blond.

Luke agrees, feeling defeated as he realizes he doesn't know how to get home from here and does not feel safe taking public transport so late at night.

Michael leads him to the garage, in which two sleek sports cars are parked. They are different brands, all black in color, and Luke is mesmerized by the sight.

"These are yours?" Luke questions, slowly walking into the room, admiring the sleek vehicles.

Michael nods, "Yeah, just pick one. They both work the same."

Luke fights a smile, not wanting Michael to think that he's happy here because he's not. He decides on a black Audi and climbs into the passenger seat, clips his seat belt and crosses his arms. Michael starts the car and presses the button on the automatic door opener, the door springing to life and raising upwards.

Michael maneuvers the car through the streets, following Luke's directions once he knows where he actually is. They ride in silence, except the occasional given direction. Luke thinks he's finally free. He thinks he will be able to go home and sleep and wake up in the morning without ever having to see this boy again.

But, like most times, Luke is wrong.

He's so wrong. He doesn't find himself at home, rather, he finds himself practically in a car chase when three black vans pull up behind Michael's car. And Michael is swearing, cursing the paparazzi and damning them all to hell. Luke's scared, really. He's not used to speeding cars or the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Just sit back, okay? Hold on to something," Michael instructs, briefly glancing over at the startled blonde.

The elder quickly turns the car down a side road, the tires squealing against the pavement. It isn't until miles farther that Michael finally pulls over. They are on a dimly lit road, the houses lining the streets are extraordinary in size.

"Where are we?" Luke questions, "I said I wanted to go home!"

Michael's heart feels as if it's shattering, breaking apart into millions of tiny pieces.

He sighs, "I'm trying, Luke, please understand. My career is at stake here."

The blond laughs, scoffing at the thought, "Do you honestly think I give a damn about your career? Because I don't. You have everything you've ever wanted, one photo won't change that."

And Michael wishes that Luke could just understand the situation. The whole thing is a mess.

"My band mate, Noah, he lives here. We can just go in for a little while. Just until the paps aren't looking for me."

Luke glares at the artificial blond before unbuckling his seat belt and exiting the car. Michael follows quickly, expecting Luke to turn up the drive, but he doesn't. He walks down the street, passes Noah's house and continues on.

"Where are you going?" Michael calls after him.

Luke doesn't even bother to turn around, "Home and I suggest you let me!"