we don't care [muke af]

twenty

twenty

Michael nudged Luke. "You should get to bed," he said to the half-asleep boy.

"Not tired," he lied with a yawn.

Mike laughed as he stood up. "Okay." He reached down, locking one arm below Luke's knees, another below his head. He picked the small boy up, taking him carefully out of the living room. "I'll be right back," he told his mother.

Michael carried Luke up the stairs of his childhood home, opening the guest room door with his foot and placing the sleeping boy on the bed. He laid his head on the pillow softly, making sure his neck was protected.

"I'm gonna get you ready for bed, okay?"

Luke hazily nodded, his eyes resting closed.

Michael unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them from his long legs. He threw them on the ground with the pile of dirty clothes. He brushed a hand through Luke's hair, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"I'll be up in a little bit," he promised, keeping his voice low.

"Love you," the blonde boy mumbled.

Michael smiled. "Love you more."

He carefully closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. He knew Luke hated the door completely closed. He liked the hallway light on, leaving the tiniest crack of light illuminating their bedroom.

Luke wouldn't admit he was afraid of the dark, though.

Mike stepped back into the living room, sitting on the couch with his mother. He leant his head on the couch cushions, spreading his feet out until they laid in his mother's lap. She placed her hands on top of his feet, ticking the spot she knew would crack him up.

He flinched away with a giggle.

"How're you doing? I barely saw you today." She asked. Ms. Clifford leant over, grabbing the television remote. She turned down the HGTV they were watching before turning her body to face her son.

"Doing alright," he responded.

"I never really asked you about how you felt with the whole Luke and baby situation."

Michael shrugged. "It is what it is."

"Can you, for once in your life, have an actual opinion?" She asked, an undertone of annoyance.

Michael flowed through his life. He accepted what was thrown at it. If he couldn't change it, then he accepted it. If he could change it, then he did.

"I'm scared," he admitted, "I could get sent to prison, Mom." Michael rested a hand on his throbbing head, he rubbed the sides, brushing his hair out of the way. His eyes were closed as he continued, "I want him and the baby, I want everything to work out, but it's the thought that it might not that scares me."

"You know his parents well, correct?"

He nodded.

"How did his mother sound on the phone?"

Michael scratched at his nose before tucking his hands against his torso. "She sounded just as confused at me.

"Angry?"

"Not angry."

"Then you don't have much to worry about." Ms. Clifford readjusted her body as she looked straight at her son. "What you've done was wrong, but you know that. You're making it work out as well as you can."

Michael shrugged. He felt like a child being scolded by his mother.

"You know Luke well, what does he really think?"

"Luke was always kind of confused about his life. He was originally planning on taking a gap year before college because he had no idea what general direction he even wanted to go. I think it takes a lump off of his shoulder that he can, like," Mike paused, trying to find the right words, "He can, like, be a stay-at-home mother now."

Mike's mother held in her laugh at the thought of stay-at-home Luke. "He will have to find something to do when your child gets older. I was miserable once you went to school and it was just me and those awful gossip-y mothers."

"But, that gives him six or seven years until he has to really figure out everything."

Ms. Clifford gathered her thoughts, she looked down at her hands, trying to come up with a solution for her son. "I think you two should stay here for a bit. Stay in contact with his mother—don't you dare leave her out of this. Give Luke time to think about your next step."

He put his hands in his hair, pulling at the scalp. "What is my next step?"

"You're gonna be there and support Luke. You're gonna emotionally, physically, and financially support Luke. Anything he needs, you've gotta be there for him with a silver platter."

"What is he supposed to do when I go back to work?"

"Help him find a hobby, get him some pregnancy books."

Michael laughed. "Really?"

"Yes! Also, bring him home meals. He'll have some type of craving every day, so get ready to stop at the grocery store every single day."

Michael looked up at his mother and smiled. He wasn't used to talking to her like an adult. "What were you and Dad like when you were pregnant with me?"

"I was put on bed rest early on because they weren't sure you would make it to the third trimester. Your father did everything for me. He took a break every lunch from work to bring me something to eat and something new to read. You loved dairy for some unknown reason. I gained at least forty pounds because of you."

Mike laughed again, a blush rising to his cheeks. "Luke almost died of hunger on the first flight here," Michael said, "I'm not used to him actually have an appetite."

"He's real tiny, make sure to fatten him up a bit."

"I think he likes being tiny, though."

"I think you need to read a few pregnancy books, too. Here, I think I have some."

"Mom, no."

She got up, heading to a bookshelf. "No, no, you need to."

"I'm done talking about pregnancy with you."

"It needs to be done, Michael!" She pulled out a few books, stacking them in her arms.

"You're my mother."

She dumped the hard books in Michael's lap. "I'm also a soon-to-be grandmother."