the artist → muke

o n e

michael's life was a big mess ever since he graduated high school the spring before, moved to new york city, and started attending nyu. he thought it was stupid he even attend college, especially since it was not only costly, but he was also an a class idiot. he took no offense to being called an idiot. he knew it was true, and his lack of classroom knowledge was shadowed by his street knowledge and his colorful hair.

   new york was a big, bustling place. michael's keenness allowed him to avoid pick-pockets, and his odd introverted-extroverted demeanor allowed him to avoid anyone that wasn't worth talking to. and that's why michael loved coffee shops.

   everyone came and went into coffee shops, and he'd just watch them. every day there were new people, but there were also the regular customers. a man by the name of ashton came in every day and ordered plain old black coffee, and he was usually sprinting out the doors the second his hands wrapped around the warm beverage. there was a girl named rena who always came in and ordered tea every time (which michael couldn't fathom as a coffee lover).

   and finally, there was this blond guy who came in every day. michael didn't know his name, for he never ordered anything. he'd come in, sit at a table in the far corner of the coffee shop, and sketch. or write. michael couldn't tell which it was, and he usually avoided staring at the man. why? because michael thought he was beautiful, and his biggest fear was that the man would catch his gaze, and spark a conversation.

   it wasn't that michael didn't want to get to know him, because michael did want to get to know him. michael wanted to talk for hours with the mysterious blond. the thing that deterred michael from speaking a word was his fear of saying the wrong thing. michael was afraid he'd scare the boy away, and never see him again.

   of course, this fear was stupid and irrational. michael never realized, but the blond had seen him everyday as well. he had noticed the aquamarine haired boy who always had a latte in front of him along with an iPhone 6 and an unopened walking dead comic book. he'd studied the greyish-greenish eyes of the boy who sat doing the same thing he did: people-watching. the blond knew that the blue haired boy must've been doing it for reasons of his own, but he knew that he had to talk to this boy.

   and so he finally decided to do it.

the blond pushed back his metal chair, it's legs screeching against the floor, and he smirked. he loved strident sounds. he noticed the blue haired boy's eyes flash an emotion for a second, and in that moment he decided that he had to draw him. he had to draw this blue haired man.

   quick footsteps across the stone floor carried the blond to the boy he would soon know as michael clifford in seconds, and his hands found the table, grasping the edge of it with his hands.

   "hello, my name is luke hemmings. may i sit down?"