friends [muke af]

ensuite

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Michael stood outside a small coffee shop on the corner of fourth and Broadway, he shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around Clémence’s shoulders, “I told you to dress better.”

“Shut up,” she snickered, looking up at her father. He smiled, she’s grown up so much since they last stood in this spot. Her skin was pale, her eyes were blue. She had a childish face, just like Michael, so no matter how punk rock she tried to make herself look, she always ended up looking like a sweetheart. 

C grabbed her father’s hand, her many gold rings scratching his fingers. She dragged him into the shop, looking around for a blonde quiff. 

The shop smelled like coffee beans and teenage girls. Luke has been sat in his booth facing the door for thirty minutes now. Ten minutes in he remembered something —Michael is always late. 

“Lukey!” A voice yelled in his direction. 

He looked up, not recognizing the women. He looked at her black vans and cut up tee shirt and it all clicked, “holy shit.” Luke stood up, meeting the running girl half way there. He wrapped his arms around the five foot girl, her blue hair smelling fresh of hair dye, “you’re so old, oh my God.” 

The two let go, Clémence wiping the tears from her face. 

Luke and Michael’s eyes met for the first time in nine years, and Michael swears, his heart stopped beating, his breath stopping flowing, his body couldn’t move. 

He never imagined it as a movie scene, where everything else in the crowded coffee shop blurs out except for the thirty year old standing in black skinny jeans. “Hi.”

Michael didn’t respond, instead, he threw himself into Luke’s arms, repeating an apology over and over again. 

x x x

“I wouldn’t recognize you unless you came up and said ‘hey, it’s Michael,’” Luke said as he sipped his chai tea like the true diva he is, “isn’t that sad?”

“No, don’t be silly,” Michael teased, stirring around his simple coffee. He sat across from Clémence and Luke. The fourteen year old (“almost fifteen!”) was still attached to Luke, her arms dangling over his broad shoulders. 

Mike kept looking up, the once white eyes have gotten so dark, they were a shade of blue, like the ocean before it crashed to shore.

“I kept all the photos you sent me, when I was in the hospital,” Luke said, leaning his heavy head on top of the blue haired girl. He couldn’t believe the small blonde who used to sit in his lap has her light pink lip pierced and her hair set to blue. He wanted to ask about Rosie’s opinion so dearly, but neither of the Clifford duo has brought her up. 

“Oh geez, those were all shitty iPhone quality photos,” he laughed, finally taking a sip of his burning drink instead of just feeling it warm up his clammy hands. Michael stared at Luke over his drink, the blonde staring back. “Do you recognize that jacket though?” Mike nodded in his daughter’s direction (who finally sat up).

“Is that..?” Luke paused, standing up to pull out his leather Coach wallet. 

“So prestigious,” Clémence joked, looking at his designer brand accessory. 

Luke pulled out scattered, crumbled photos. His favorite one scrunched up with smudges of his tears (he would never admit it). 

He held up the photo of their first date, Michael was holding his hand, the camera angle from the table (Mike was in his artsy phase), Luke had a jean jacket over his shoulder, his clear eyes looking carelessly around the pizza place. 

Luke looked over at C, who was begging to see the photo. The two men smiled at the memory, “I can’t believe you kept this,” Mike smiled, rubbing the frayed edges of the photograph, “you crazy b.astard.”

He took it back, holding it in front of Clémence. She secretly wanted Luke and Michael to end up together, her happiest childhood memories were the very few months in that four hundred square foot apartment space. She remembers Luke’s arms around her when she was scared of the dark, she remembers holding both of their hands as they lifted the small girl in the air. She wants to recreate those memories, except make them never end this time. 

“What have you two been up to the last few years?” Luke asked, leaning back and wrapping a friendly arm over Clémence’s petite shoulders. 

“We have a house down in California now, a few blocks from my parents,” Michael said proudly, “I am manager at a library now.”

Luke let out a bellowing laughter, biting his lip to hold it in after many surrounding tables glared at the trio, “are you fucking serious?” He whisper-yelled.

“I went to college and got a master in Library Sciences, fuck you,” he swore, a proud smirk on his face. 

“I’m so in love with you,” slipped out from the thirty year old’s mouth, quickly covering it up with, “I mean, that’s amazing.”

Michael chuckled, “what about you, Blondie?”

“Well, I got my PhD, did my thesis on childhood development, I moved back up here to New York after a year living with my parents, and now I work at a firm downtown.” Luke sipped his tea, playing with a metal ring on his finger, “what about you, C?”

“I hate school, my friends suck, and Dad won’t let me drop out.”

“Aw, Daddy,” Luke teased, “such a bummer.”
“If you start this up again, Luke, I swear on my mother, I will slap you into next week,” Michael threatened, “and take off your purity ring, we all know we fucked in every room possible.”

“Mike!”
“Dad!”

(a/n) STOP YELLING AT ME FOR MAKING THIS JUMP NINE YEARS IM SOrry it has a meaning

clémence is going to become a bigger character than she was in the boy with the white eyes, and i can't have a five year old as a big character thank u

i hope u enjoy this chapter, i swear i'm going to try to write and post at least twice a week if you guys want.

x, soph