Masterpieces {Book 2}

Tell me you'd like boys like me better (in the dark lying on top of you)

Credit; SAME AUTHOR AS TRAPPED UNDER YOUR SPELL THIS GOTTA BE GOOD

i haven't read this yet but i was pumped to post it so don't be surprised if I'm commenting along side Yall later on my own fic

Summary:

The one where Luke is an awkward, emo, nerdy loner, Calum is a hot, popular, soccer dude and High School is painfully cliché.

Or, a fic based on From Under The Cork Tree aka Fall Out Boy's sophomore album aka the Greatest Album of All Time.

Enjoy :)

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Luke hikes the strap of his backpack higher up onto his shoulder as the final warning bell sounds, loud and shrill in the now empty hallway. His converse squeak softly against the dulling marble of the floor. There's a CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign kicked off to the side of the hallway, covered and surrounded with muddy shoe marks.

Reaching into the pocket of his dark gray hoodie, Luke pulls out his phone and the plugged in earphones, shoves the latter into his ears and opens the music app on his phone, where Take This To Your Grave is already waiting to be played. He presses the play button and slips the phone back into his pocket, the familiarity of Patrick's voice belting through the earphones setting a calm in his restless bones as he makes his way towards the exit of the building.

Luke's mind is wandering with the music when the bathroom door swings open in front of him. Luke stops, but in his effort to not bang into the door he ends up skidding on the slippery floor and falls flat on his behind.

To make matters worse, Luke looks up and finds himself staring into the face of Calum Hood, only the boy he's been obsessively dreaming about since he first knew how to obsessively dream about people, three years ago as a scrawny freshman (and probably longer if he's being honest with himself). Of course, Calum is no longer a scrawny freshman, not with the way his soccer-toned thighs fill out his black jeans and the sleeves of his black t-shirt are clinging to his tanned, tattooed arms. No, he's definitely grown into himself.

It's while Luke is still admiring Calum's arms that he realizes the boy is talking to him.

"Shit, you okay man?" Calum asks, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. It does nothing to soothe Luke's wounded ego, nor his aching tailbone. This is not how he wanted their first out-of-classroom encounter to happen.

Luke notices Calum's current companion and best friend, Michael Clifford, howling with laughter. Luke hates Michael. He has since freshman year. It's partly because when they were in middle school, Michael was like Luke - a loner who couldn't quite find his place within the social hierarchy. In fact, Michael's only friend was Calum. But since starting high school, Calum's soccer team induced popularity has somehow extended to Michael as well. Luke can't help but be slightly jealous. But if he's going to be honest with himself, the real reason he hates Michael is because of how close he is with Calum. The two are rarely seen without each other and there's been a fair bit of discussion about the nature of their relationship.

And now Michael is laughing at him. As if it isn't humiliating enough to be on the floor in front of Calum, he has to be reminded of just how much of a loser he is.

"M'fine," Luke mumbles and makes to finally get off the floor.

"Here," Calum thrusts his hand under Luke's nose. It takes a second for Luke to realize that Calum is offering to help him up. It takes another second for Luke process that he is actually about to touch Calum. As in, actual skin-on-skin contact. He's waited four years for this moment, and now that it's come, it's when his hands are all sticky and disgusting from the dirty hallway floor.