we don't care [muke af]

thirty

thirty

"Aw, Luke, blue has always been your color," Ms. Hemmings said, holding up a light blue shirt made for his growing belly.

He rolled his eyes at his mother. "You say that about every color." He leant against a clothing rack, his eyes tired and body sore.

"Every color is your color," she responded, reaching over to pinch his cheeks, "You're just too cute."

Luke flinched away from her, not in the mood for his mother's babying. "I wanna dress It in every color because fuck gender roles."

His mother gave him a look.

"I mean, frick?" He asked, laughing at the words coming from his mouth. "Same thing, whatever."

"You're gonna need to start censoring your words once the baby comes along."

"What if I want their first word to be 'fuck'?" Luke's fingers went through the racks, looking at various clothing items in extremely small sizes—since they were made for 0-12 week old babies.

Ms. Hemmings gave her youngest son the look again. "That seems like a bad idea."

"Michael thought it was funny." Luke looked down at the bag on his arm, going through the clothing he already picked out.

"I'm concerned for my grandchild."

Luke cooed, "Aw, you're so old." He went to the next aisle, knowing his mother was soon to follow.

"Do you think Michael's parents are excited?" Ms. Hemmings didn't like how normal everything felt. She didn't expect to be baby clothes shopping for a few years, especially with Luke.

"I think they're mad at Michael, but they liked me." His hands felt over more baby clothes, loving the soft fabric. Everything was simply so much cuter when it was ten times smaller.

"Everyone likes you."

Luke paused in the aisle, turning to face his mother. "Do you like Michael?" He suddenly asked, changing topics.

"Of course, Luke. You know I'm going to support you through everything." She paused, letting out a small sigh. "I do wish that you found someone different or waited a little longer, but I know he makes you smile."

Luke looked down at his feet. "I don't feel that I'm doing the wrong thing, but everyone makes me feel that I'm doing the wrong thing."

"This is your life, though," she said, "Not theirs." Ms. Hemmings walked past her son, picking out more outfits for the baby's first month or so home. "Tell me about Michael, the side I never see."

Luke walked closer to her, his belly sticking out and affecting his balance. He grabbed another rack, balancing himself before speaking. "Well, uh, what do you wanna know?"

"What was he like when he went to school?"

"He was apparently awful. Like, all detentions and failing classes. He majored in education because he was still undecided on third year, and he wanted to recreate the years he missed out on." Luke said, hoping his mother would like it. He left out the parts of Michael being a complete stoner for all four years of high school.

"How did he end up up here?"

Luke shrugged. "He was bored of California."

Ms. Hemmings furrowed her eyebrows, a playful smile upon her colored lips. "How do you get bored of California? Then come here?"

Luke let out a breath of chuckle. "It just happens."

"What're his parents like?"

"Kind of like you and Dad. His mother is very on-top of Michael and was extremely protective of me and It. His dad said, like, three words and it was all making fun of Michael." He followed her to the next aisle, finding another rack to lean against. "You should meet them, you'll like them."

"Do you think you're going to end up with Michael?"

"Yeah," he answered, "For sure." Luke didn't need to think twice about it, he didn't need a second to ponder. He knew he was going to live the rest of his life with Michael, he didn't know what he'd do without him.

She glanced at her son one last time. "As long as you're forever happy."

(a/n) It's Fine I Love Dying Cold And Alone Don't Worry About Me