Some Day We Might (Muke)

Chapter Eight

How many drinks have I had? Two…four? Fuck, does it even matter? It's so…I'm soooo…wait, I forgot what I was thinking.

I gulp down another of…something—I don't even know what it was. I don't care. I'm like—I'm so drunk that it's not even fucking funny. But it's totally funny because everything is funny right now. Why is everything so funny? I shouldn't be happy right now. I'm a mess.

I can't remember the name of this pub. It's like, Jenkin's, or Johnson's, or some stupid name that starts with a "J". All I know is they have alcohol and that's good enough for me. But drinking is no fun when you're alone. Oh, wait this isn't for fun…this is—to numb? No….to—to forget? I'll go with both so I can double the drinks.

A guy with broad shoulders and a blonde quiff catches my eye. Luke! I walk over to him and tap his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing here, Luke?" I laugh. "You're only, er, seventeen or whatever…how did you even get in?" He turns around and gives me a weird look. I step back. "Waaait….you're not Luke. Where the hell is Luuuuuke?" I pout and stumble over to some other people. 

I just want Luke. I really need him right now. I need to see him and those pretty blue eyes and his stupidly attractive face.

- - - -

I stumble out of the cab and make my way up to the doorstep. I lean against the doorframe and ring the doorbell five times. I almost fall inside when the door opens.

"Michael…?"

I smile. "Luuuuuke!"

He furrows his brow. "Are you drunk?"

"Pfft, no…I'm classy not trashy." I laugh.

He laughs with me—or at me? I don't know. "Okaaaay…" He shakes his head. "Come inside before anyone sees what a mess you are." He hooks his arm under mine and takes me inside. 

"You smell like an angel." I say.

"And you smell like you drank a whole liquor store." He pats my shoulder. "You're so lucky my mum isn't here right now." He sits me down on the couch. I lay down and look up at him before closing my eyes. 

"I'm so…" I pause for a long time. "So so many things, that's what I am."

Luke moves my feet so he can sit down. "Are you okay?"

"I think so…? Am I?" I rub my hands over my face.

"I'll wait until you're sober to ask you that…" He laughs. 

I sigh. "I love our band so much. I love you guys—I love you."

He chuckles quietly. "I love you too, Michael."

I smile, but let out a short laugh. "No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"Nooo."

"I think it's you who doesn't love me." he says. 

I sit straight up. "No! I do love you. I love you like…" I extend my arms. "This much."

He starts to poke fun at me. He shrugs. "I dunno, Mikey, I have a hard time believing you."

I think of ways I can convince him, and my drunken mind tells me my idea is a really good one. I surge forward and kiss him, smashing our lips together. "This much!" I say. He pulls back, looking really shocked and slightly confused. Oh no, he hates me. Wait, why did I even do that…? My eyes go wide. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't—oh, that was bad—I shouldn't have—fuck." I close my eyes and put my hand over my face. "Do you hate me?"