the artist → muke

t w o

michael's wide eyes dashed nervously around the room when the blond, who seemed much taller up close, was tapping his fingers against the white table top. the rhythm was quick, and erratic.

'like my heartbeat right now,' michael thought with a shiver, before opening his mouth slightly.

"a-are you talking to me?" and with that michael mentally face-palmed because who else could he be talking to?

"no, i'm talking to the other beautiful, blue-haired boy," the guy, luke, replied with an eye roll.

michael almost turned around in his chair to look behind himself, but he stopped, and swallowed nervously. "i'll ask again: may i sit down?"

"y-yeah," michael's eyes felt like they were opened and he was sucked out of the nervous trench he had been in. this guy was talking to him. he called him beautiful. normally michael would cringe about the girly adjective used to describe himself, but in that moment it seemed fitting, and it felt good to be called beautiful.

the man, luke, pulled out the chair opposite of him, and sat down slowly in the seat. the metal chair creaked under the added weight and because of how used it was. luke propped his elbows on the table casually, and clasped his hands together, rubbing them together even more casually. michael noticed how luke twisted a ring on his pinky finger slowly, and decided that someone needed to say something before this really got awkward.

"what's your name?" luke asked, leaning forward slightly, and chuckling a little bit. michael felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

"m-michael sorry," he laughed awkwardly, and avoided luke's eyes.

silence fell for another minute, and michael decided that he would rather be on a deserted island with no netflix than at that table.

"you really don't say much, do you michael?" luke asked. luke thought that was perfect. people who didn't talk a lot had interesting stories; people like that seemed to believe less people would miss them when they were gone, and in a way, luke thought they were right. justification. justification was the main reason luke did what he did in the first place.

(A/N: I WOULD LIKE TO MENTION THAT I LOVE YALL A LOT AND LUKES PHILOSOPHY IS STUPID AND NOT TRUE K BYE)

"i have a proposition." luke folded his arms slowly, and leaned back in his chair. "i have a passion for one thing, and one thing only. art. i appreciate the inner beauties of people and the pasts that they hold. i like to think about them. and so that's why i like to draw. and i want to draw you."

if michael had been drinking the caramel latte sitting in front of him, he would've spit it out all over the table, that's how shocked he was.

"me? me? you want to draw me? but i'm–" michael began, but was cut off by the blond abruptly.

"don't tell me about how you don't think you look good enough to be drawn. i chose you. i want to draw you. i could've chosen anyone. i could've chose that curly headed guy that's always rushing around with hazel eyes. i could've picked the pink haired girl that always orders the same tea, and only smiles when someone holds the door open for her. but michael, i chose you. shouldn't you feel honored?" luke ended with a question, and michael raised his gaze and for the first time made solid eye contact with luke's beautiful blue eyes. michael remained silent, and looked away. this felt like a joke to him.

"i meant it when i said that you were a beautiful person," luke cleared his throat, stood up, and pushed out his chair. "this is a one time offer." luke sing-songed. michael stared at him with wide eyes, decisions flying through his mind. luke began to whistle, and went to leave the cafe.

and michael couldn't help but give in.

"wait for me!" he pushed out his chair with a loud screech, causing luke to smirk as michael followed behind him out the door.

luke couldn't wait to draw michael.

but what michael didn't understand was that when luke said he liked to draw, he didn't mean it the way he thought he meant it.

luke liked to draw blood.