we don't care [muke af]

eight

eight

Michael couldn't find a comfortable spot in his bed. Even with the fan running on full blast, he was still burning up. It was just one of those nights. He reached over his bedside table, grabbing his phone to check the time.

He had to be awake for work in less than three hours.

His mind was running wild. Every time he tried to close his eyes and let his thoughts cease to exist, something would pop up. It was always about Luke. Ever since that blonde boy walked into his life, all of Michael's thoughts were about Luke.

Luke was fifteen when they met. He was scrawny and shy. His skinny jeans were baggy and he was afraid to raise his hand in class.

Michael made him feel okay. Michael joked around with him, Michael made sure he was always comfortable. Michael slowly opened up his shy persona until he wasn't scared of talking anymore. Talking wasn't so hard for Luke anymore.

When he turned sixteen the summer between tenth and eleventh, something happened. He was loud and he was happy and his jeans finally fit him. Mike was still pretty sure they were women's jeans, but they are whatever Luke says they are.

Every Friday in eleventh grade, Luke would come in after school and simply bond with his favorite teacher. He'd be there for a solid hour after school and he didn't mind. He didn't mind being in that hell hold as long as he was with Mike.

And that's how it happened.
Right there in that ugly classroom labeled 216 was where they fell in love. Michael sometimes wishes that the feeling in his gut wasn't love. It was, though. It was infatuation.

Michael was Luke's first everything. His first boyfriend, his first kiss. He lost his virginity to Michael—even though the idea of virginity is simply a social construct that doesn't actually exist.

Mike knew everything he was doing was wrong, but he did try to hold back at times. He understood very well that Luke was very young. Michael had to take into consideration that Luke mentally wasn't even close to Michael's mentality.

Michael rolled over in his bed, pulling the sheets close to his body. His spell of warmth was gone and now he was cold. The fan remote was across the room and he wasn't willing to stand up and turn it off.

Luke liked the room warm, Michael liked the room cold. Luke liked the showers warm, Michael liked the showers cold. Luke liked going outside and exploring, Michael preferred to stay inside.

They were opposites.

Michael was still thinking about Luke when the clock struck 5 AM.

Mike had to take Luke to the doctor and make sure there was actually something in there before he started planning their future. But, Michael wanted the baby. He really wants that baby. He'd rather Luke be happy, though.

When they laid in bed almost two weeks ago simply talking about their future, none of this was a worry. When Luke said he didn't want kids ever, it broke a little section of Michael's heart. He wanted kids pretty badly.

If Luke were to abort it, then okay. Michael would be fine with that. Having a child may or may not ruin Luke's entire life. Michael didn't want to ruin Luke's life. It'd give Luke an excuse to not go to college, but it was a pretty damn risky excuse.

Michael just really wanted Luke to be happy, that's all. He felt like he was ruining his life because somehow he knocked the younger boy up. He still hasn't figured that out. They always use protection for many reasons. It was more than just not trusting Mike's pull out game.

His alarm went off at 6 AM, and he still hadn't fallen asleep. He rolled from the sheets, not quite ready to start his day.

He made his way downstairs, his cup of coffee already brewing for him. He hated the taste of coffee, but loved the smell. He forced himself to drink a cup—or two—every morning. He wouldn't be able to stay awake without it.

He sat at his kitchen table a few minutes later with his breakfast and very large cup of coffee, trying to figure out his next step in life.

Michael needed to call his mother.

When he was away at college, anytime he had to call his mother it was about something bad. It was him breaking his nose. Or him setting a dishwasher on fire. Or him accidentally falling down four flights of stairs.

So, as an adult, calling his mother should be a little bit different. It's not. It is not at all.

"Baby! You're awake so early." Her voice was chirpy, as always. She was always pleased to talk to her only child.

"Hi, Mom."

"Why're you up? You're never awake before noon."

"Mom, I have, like, a job." He tore off a piece of his morning pastry, slowly chewing on it to rid the bad feeling in his stomach. "I have to monitor detention and all that this week, too."
"Remember when all you did in school was get detentions?"

"Yes."

"Who knew you'd become a teacher? Not me, that's for sure. Do you still have that eyebrow piercing?"

"No, I had to take it out for the job."

She nodded, even though Mike couldn't see. "So why'd you call your poor ol' mummy?"

"I've done something bad," he said quietly as if the tone of his voice would make the situation better.

"Michael, you're thirty." Suddenly the line went silent as she connected the dots. "Is it about that boy you're seeing? The young one?"

"Yes."

"Michael Gordon, don't you dare say what I think."

He sat back in his seat, losing all appetite for anything. "I'm sorry."

"Say it."

"I don't want to."

"Michael."

Mother's always said their children's names when they were mad at them. Their name seemed to become a swear word when they were angry.

"I got him pregnant."

"Oh, Jesus. I'm about to have a heart attack."

Michael laid his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do."

"He's a child!"

"I know that, Karen, thank you," he spit out her first name, knowing he could play that game, too.

"This is borderline illegal. You realize that, right?"

"Yes, that's why I called you."

"What am I supposed to do? I told you an entire year ago to wait for him to be at least of age!" Her words were sharp and the chirpy tone underneath was long gone.

Michael picked up his cup of coffee, taking a gulp of the hot liquid.

"You could get arrested for this, you could lose your job! This is serious!"
"He's eighteen in two months."

"You better hope and pray his parents aren't about to call the police on you."

"Thanks for the total support and words of wisdom, Mom." Michael rubbed at his eyes, trying to stop the stress from getting to him. He had to be strong for Luke. He had to carry both of them.

"This isn't anything small, this is serious."

"You've made that clear. I called you in hopes of guidance, not lecture."

Ms. Clifford rolled her eyes at her son. She expected him to be more mature once in the real world. "Why in the Lord's name would I praise you for knocking up a minor?"

"I'm hanging up on you."
"Next time I hear from you, you better have this worked out." She hung up on him.