the last brushstroke destroys the painting [muke af]

ten

ten

Luke didn't expect to see Michael ever again. After their yelling match in Mike's studio, then an entire week of unanswered messages, Luke figured he scared Michael off.

The older man did feel bad, but at the same time he didn't. He felt something positive inside of him when he tore Michael down. The cocky eighteen-year-old doesn't deserve to be on such a polished silver platter in the art world. Or any world.

It was an hour until closing time, and the purple-haired boy waltzed in. He was in his hazy-state of mind, simply floating through life. "Good evening, fine sir."

Luke laughed. "Oh, I didn't know you were alive."

Michael leant against Luke's counter, pulling at Luke's loose knot on his work smock until it came undone. He liked the glare Luke gave him. "Alive and well. I threw my phone out of the window once you left. Watched it crash to the Earth."

The blonde gasped, he could never do that to his own phone. "What the hell? Why?" He re-tied his dirty red smock before taking his previous position with his elbows bent over the counter.

The younger boy turned his back, wandering down the aisles. "I did it for art, Luke, I did it for art."

"That's not art."

"You cannot tell me what is and is not art. I am art, Lucas, I am art."

Luke didn't like him twisting his words. He was worried he made the young boy into an even bigger snob than before. "That's not my name!" He left his counter, following the heavy cologne until he found the culprit.

"What projects are you working on, Buttercup?" Michael was looking between two different sets of Copics, his eyes flickering over which ones he didn't already own. He wondered if Luke has even touched such beautiful markers like the ones in his hand. He looked up at the blonde before his eyes flickered back down at the item.

"Don't call me that, either."

Mike turned the aisle, grabbing a forest green basket. He dumped two sets of Copics in the basket and wandered to the canvases. "What's your favorite size of canvas?"

"I've never used bigger than 12 x 12," he responded. Luke tidied up the smaller canvases, mentally cooing at their cute size. Everything was cuter smaller, except dicks.

Michael looked at him, a surprised expression upon his face. "Never? Damn, you're missing out."

I know. Luke wanted to scream at him, he wanted to yell at him and make him cry. But, he didn't. He nodded his head, letting the prestigious soul talk some more. "Do you need help grabbing a canvas?"

"Can you get me three 30 x 40 canvases? Put them by the counter for me, I'm not done yet." Michael was good at wandering, he wandered through eighteen years of life, and now he was wandering the dusty aisles as Luke sweated dragging the enormous canvases half way across the store.

Luke never knew how heavy those things were. He figured this was the only time in his lifetime he'd be able to hold such things. He wished he could paint across these for hours at end. He wishes to be pretend to be Van Gogh for days as he filled those canvases up with color.

Mike was in the brush aisle, holding skinny brushes up to his eyes. He knew better than to get his oily fingers over the fragile tips. "What type of brushes do you like?"

"Goldenedge are my favorites, by far. They're expensive as fuck, but I doubt you'd care." Luke covered his mouth when he realized the last part actually came out of his mouth.

Michael laughed as he picked up a handful of different sizes. "It's okay, I don't mind." He grabbed a foliage brush, adding it to his pile of random art supplies. They silently made their way to the front of the store, where Luke began the long list of items.

"What project are these for?"

"Something special," Mike responded. "You'll see soon."

Luke climbed over his counter, ringing up the canvases. "I'm honestly petrified when you say that."

"Don't be," Michael chuckled.

Luke liked Mike's laugh. His voice went up an octave and he giggled between his words. His face would blush and his cheekbones round. "Do you wanna catch breakfast tomorrow?"

"That's a little random."

Luke blushed, crawling back into his shell. "It's my birthday, and I don't have much planned." His voice was quiet, his shy persona radiating once more.

Michael eyes widened as he realized he upset him. "Oh! Hell, I'll clear my day! We can do lots!"

The blonde smiled. He can't remember the last time he celebrated his birthday. "Okay, pick me up at 8 for waffles?"

Mike bit his lip. "Let's make it 9."

He rolled his blue eyes as he finished bagging the items. "Okay, Michael."

"Hey, you've slept over at my house. You know I don't wake up that early. I'm making it 9 because you're special."

Luke helped Michael hail a taxi and fit the items in the car. Maybe he kissed Michael's cheek before he closed the door and patted the metal as the car sped away.

When Luke got home, there were the bags. He recognized the 30 x 40 canvases and Goldenedge brushes. Tears brimmed his eyes as he began to unlock his front door. He fucking loved Michael.