we don't care [muke af]

nineteen

nineteen

Ms. Hemmings put the bowl of pasta in front of Luke's nose as he shook his head. She lifted up the red sauce, repeating the same action. They did this with every plate on the table until he gagged at the meatballs. He covered his mouth and held his stomach as she quickly took it away.

"Okay! The baby does not like meatballs!" She announced. Luke wiped at his watering eyes and gave her a pale smile.

"Sorry," he apologized as he sat down. Luke covered his lap with a napkin, waiting for Michael and his father to join them at the dinner table.

"No worries, I was the same way with Michael. Pretty much couldn't eat anything." She sat down, starting to serve herself.

Michael came down the stairs next, his sweatpants low on his hips. He hasn't changed in a sold two days and it was starting to get gross. He sat down next to Luke, reaching over and taking a plate for himself. "Did you poison Luke again?"

"We are slowly figuring out what your child does and doesn't like. Can you please give me a break?" Ms. Clifford harshly shot back.

Mike rolled his eyes. He rested his phone on the table and continued to reach over Luke to grab several dishes. He was about to serve Luke before the eighteen-year-old swatted his hand away with a glare.

Michael's father came down last, silently joining.

"What'd you guys do today?"

"Slept," Michael said.

Luke nodded, agreeing with his boyfriend.

"You're in California. Literally fifty feet from the beach. Are you serious?"

"I'm pale and he's pregnant," Michael said between bites of dinner.

Luke laughed, already almost done with his first plate. His appetite was in overdrive as he wanted to eat anything and everything. He would gladly eat the entire pot of pasta in front of him if it weren't for three other people sitting at the same table.

Mike's phone vibrated, and Luke looked down on habit. "What the fuck? Is that my mom?"

Michael looked down his eyebrows furrowed. "Why is your mom calling me? How does she know I'm with you?" He looked up at Luke, then down at the screen once more, letting it ring again.

"Maybe she doesn't," the blonde answered.

"Dude, it's been like two days. Shit."

"You better pick that up," Ms. Clifford threatened.

"Mom, it's his mom," Michael restated.

"She's worried. Michael, I swear to—."

Michael picked up his phone and quickly scraped his chair against the floor. He got up from the table, unlocking their sliding glass door and going to the backyard. He was ten feet into the dead grass before he answered. "Hello?"

Luke's heart was beating as his body froze. He watched Michael from the glass door, his back turned to the house.

"Luke, keep eating. You need the protein."

Luke reached down, spinning himself a spoon of pasta. He almost missed his mouth from watching Michael's mouth move instead of watching what he was doing.

"Hi, Ms. Hemmings. How are you?"

"Is he with you?" She asked quickly.

Michael could hear the panic and concern below her tone. He knew someone was sitting across from her, telling her to stay calm. "Yes, Liz. He's with me."