Muke Fluff

Fudgical

“What does my hair look like today, then, Hemmings?” There’s a happy smirk on Michaels’ face as he leans against Luke’s side where he’s in his customary position by the school gate.

It’s been a month since the Harry incident, and Michael has kept the brown in, almost like he’s testing Luke; tempting him to tell him to dye it a different color, going back on his word to love his no matter what he looks like. He never does though. Every morning, he asks him the same question, and every morning his runaway mouth comes up with something new. But today, Luke is speechless. He’s had a haircut, and it’s fiercely spiked and styled to perfection. The blonde-brown combo is gone, replaced with every color of the rainbow like Picasso himself did the deed. He can feel his jaw hanging open and his ears heating up. He tongues his lip ring and wets his lips.

“Well?” he says, nudging him with his elbow. A weird cracking noise he’s never made before bubbles out of his throat as he tries to answer his. Michael blinks at him expectantly. “Luke?”

Luke cups his face and kisses him so hard his teeth knock into his piercing. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against Michaels. “I love you.”

He giggles and blushes, self-consciously. “I love you too, but my hair?”

“Beautiful,” Luke says, still with his hands on his face. “Your hair is beautiful, it always is. Change it, don’t change it. I missed you, I love you. I don’t care what your parents say, or what anyone says Michael.”

He’s babbling, and Michael’s laughing, his hair is shining in the sunlight, casting red and blue and green shadows over their faces. In the distance, the final warning bell for homeroom rings. Michael takes Luke’s hand like he’s never letting it go. “We’re gonna be late!”

Luke runs a hand through his boyfriend’s beautiful rainbow colored hair, bringing him in for one more kiss. “Beautiful,” he reminds him. “Simply, beautiful.”