blondie [muke af]

two

two 

Luke stood a few feet from the brick wall in dark denim and a heavy grey sweater. 

He was thankful for Friday's, simply for his casual wear. His blonde hair was styled down into a messy fringe, a matching grey beanie covering the back of his head (he was never good at straightening what he couldn't see). 

His arms were crossed as he stood next to a few co-workers, all of them watching the television sets above their heads flicker with series of media stories. Their PR ward was waiting for E! to post their story on Michael, their CEO. E! Online already had the article written up and their team of technology resources were trying to find any error, simply itching to get a law suit. 

"He's not that bad of a guy," Ella pointed out, her dark brown hair falling across her shoulders, "I mean, he's a total dick with anger issues, but he's not that bad of a guy."

Luke looked over at her, rolling his eyes then pulling her into a side hug. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Are you still infatuated with Mike?"

"Psh, no," he lied.

"Does he even know you name?" Ella asked, squirming away from Luke's touch. 

"Psh, no," he repeated, smiling down at the short women.

The five members of the small team continued to stare at the flashing screen, listening to a story about a musician none of them knew or cared about. They chatted softly in their own conversations, scrolling through their phones multi-tasking. 

Luke bent down for five seconds to tie his black Vans. At that very second, the story they've been waiting for popped up. He quickly stood back up, pressing harshly on the remote to turn the volume up.

"Alleged rumors about CEO Michael Clifford breaking up with latest fling, Ashton Irwin,"  the lady spoke out, "This one seems bad as the thirty-two year old artist filed for a restraining order last night according to insiders."

"Ella, go get a statement," Luke demanded, going back to his computer, "Jon, go Twitter stalk and get some numbers for me." He swirled in his chair, pushing over the container of pretzel Goldfish he was shamefully snacking on. "And Lisa, will you please turn down those channels?"

Luke liked working in communications because he could spend the entire day on the internet, it was practically his calling after spending years and years  and years on fashion blogs. He liked it, really, he just didn't like the parts when he was in charge of taking down a story. 

The lanky blonde ignored the headache pounding in system as he pulled up a few more tabs, more news sites were posting about their boss, and he didn't even know if the story is true or not. How come the sites know more than Luke? 

"Lawyers say they haven't gotten notice," Ella said as she stepped back into the room, she kicked off her heels, throwing them carelessly in the corner, "Technology Resource has no notice either."

"Jon!" Luke called, not seeing the dark haired man anywhere. "Where did he go?"

"He's not here today," Lisa said, looking up from her computer screen for less than a second to look at Luke. 

"Have I been talking to myself all day?" Luke looked up at his team, waiting for a response. "Oh, my God. I need sleep."

Luke liked sleep, but he also liked being awake. 

Michael sat in his large office, his back facing the locked door. His perfectly clear window had a stunning view of New York City, the skyscrapers covered in a thin layer of grey clouds. People were rushing hundreds of feet below him, he watched them clear out of his site. 

He remembers being a kid and coming up here with his father, sitting by the window with his nose pressed up tight against the glass. Every single time, his hot-head of a father would scold him, telling him to stop smearing other people's hard work. 

But here he is today, doing exactly what his father told him not to do in more than one way. 

He sat up straighter, buttoned his jacket tighter, and removed his hand from the window. He smeared the glass, not thinking twice about it. His dark black hair continued to fall into his face as he looked into his cold hands, he felt although he didn't have enough energy in his body to go on with the day. 

It was 9 a.m. 

A knock rang through the office. "Mr. Clifford?" A voice called through the door. 

"One minute," he croaked back. Michael didn't realize how many tears he had shed until he had to wipe them away. His green eyes met his reflection as he stood up, trying to coax him into accepting the day. 

His shiny dress shoes clicked against the dark wood floors, he clicked the lock on the handle, opening it to reveal a blonde boy, a good head taller than Michael. He was in a bulky, feminine sweater. 

"Hi, I'm Luke."

"Okay."

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, his young face dropping, "I'm in charge of you PR firm, we have a few reports for you this morning we—."

"Yeah, I saw them last night," Michael interrupted, backing into his spacious office once more. The walls were bare and dusty, rarely anyone goes in the room except Michael. Luke stood in the doorway, only a few inches in the room.

"I gave you that report last week, Sir," he shook with every word, afraid to offend the older man. Luke had confidence sometimes, but right now was not one of those times. 

"Congrats, I read them last night." Mike sat back at his desk, typing in the series of numbers into his desktop computer. The twenty-four inch screen lit to life with a picture of him and his brother many years ago. 

"Do you want me to just leave this—?"

"Come into the room. Dammit, Lennon."

Luke took more small steps into the room. He looked down at his nails, chipping with a black color. He hoped Mike didn't notice them as he placed the manilla folder on the crowded desk. He spoke up, "We need a statement from you as soon as possible, so if you could look over it—."

"Okay," the older lad interrupted once more. He didn't look up when he spoke. 

"You know, it's not nice to call people other names and interrupt them in the span of three minutes," Luke responded, standing up straighter and crossing his arms over his chest. 

The air in the room was sucked away as Michael finally looked up as Luke, chuckling. "Okay, Blondie, you can leave now." The dark haired CEO opened up his email, letting it refresh from the last twelve hours as Luke stayed still, trying to stop admiring the man in front of him. 

The crinkles by his eyes made him look older, but his baby cheekbones brought him back to a child. His skin was so pale, yet so rough. He was a mystery to Luke.

Luke opened his mouth to say something, but closed it once more.

He turned on the heels of his feet, holding his head down in a sudden shame as he shut the door behind him loudly. "Nice job," he whispered to himself, "nice fucking job."