friends [muke af]

entré

entré 

Michael had his hands buried deep in his pockets, listening to the sound of the city and the soft chat of Clémence and Luke. Their stomachs were filled with greasy pizza as they walked the few blocks to their hotel. 

The night was rather quiet, only a soft buzz of people walking home with their cheeks turned red and their jackets buttoned tight. Luke had a black beanie keeping his hair flat and his head warm, his own hands were in the pockets of his trench coat as he debated the best Blink-182 album with a fourteen year old. 

“Neighborhoods was, by far, the best one. Don’t you dare tell me you don’t love Wishing Well,” C shook her head as they walked down the sidewalk next to each other. Their feet were in sync with one another. 

“Cheshire Cat is the beginning to it all. Debut albums have to be number one, no shame,” Luke corrected her.

“You weren’t even born when it was released!”

“Neither were you!”
Michael rolled his eyes as he listed to their conversation. He stayed a few steps behind, not wanting to deal with the bickering punk rocks. “Icon will always be superior,” he concluded as he opened the glass doors of their tall hotel building.

Clémence rolled her eyes dramatically as she stepped into the warm hotel building, she pulled her colored hair into a pony tail, wrapping her arms around Luke, “I don’t want you to leave yet.”

He laughed, looking down at her, “I have a life to live.” 

“You can’t treat him like a puppy dog,” Michael finally spoke up.

“Daddy, can we please keep him?” The younger girl teased, taking steps towards the elevator, dragging the 6’4” man with her.

“I mean, if you wanna come up and just hang out, you can,” Mike offered, looking down at his dirty boots.

Luke chuckled, “maybe for a little while.”

Michael stepped in front of the two, clicking the glowing up arrow on the elevator. He was trying to remember just how messy the room was. The two Clifford’s have tendencies to make complete and utter messes wherever their feet land.

“I’ve been watching this new comedy on HBO called Girls and I made Dad watch it last night,” Clémence told Luke as they stepped into the elevator, “he loved it.”

“I did not, there’s a f.ucking scene every few minutes, I’m not watching that ever again,” Michael added. His dark eyes were still glued to his shoes, his hands keeping warm in his pockets. He was radiating an uncomfortable vibe.

Luke laughed, “I’m up for anything as long as it’s with you.”

Michael looked back up at Luke, for so long, that lanky boy was Michael’s reason to live. He was the source pulling him back from the edge, he was the light in the darkness of his mind. 

Luke smiled at Mike, and he smiled back. 

Back in the hotel room, the three were curled up in a bed, watching HBO off of Clémence’s MacBook. She had her father to her right, her honorary father to her left as they fast forward through the first six minutes of sex scenes.

“It’s just awkward watching with you two,” she said, turning up the volume.

“You’re the one controlling the computer, we could have watched Freaks & Geeks but nope,” Luke sighed, propping his body up on his side. 

Michael recognizes the scene that he was missing for so many years. Their first trip to California, where Luke ended up with two bruised knees after playing tag in the early hours of the morning. 

Every minute of his life he’s wished to share this moment with someone, and he’s almost there. He’s so close to his missing puzzle piece and he doesn’t even know it. 

Mike leaned back on the pillow, trying not to be the first to fall asleep. 

C was a good daughter for most of the time, but she was also a kid, and so was Michael (at heart). If he were to fall asleep, she would most likely write ‘gay af’ on his forehead in the most permanent marker she could possibly find. That was just who she was, and Mike loved—and sometimes hated—her for that. 

Luke let out small chuckles in the right moments of the show, he wasn’t really paying attention to the show, he was paying attention to the moment. 

From the hum of the radiator turning on and off to the breathing of the fourteen year old next to him. He watched as Michael’s eyes fell closed every few seconds, but quickly jolted awake since he was determined to not fall asleep first. 

He let his eyes wander over the very messy hotel room, a few jackets lay on the floor, Michael’s phone buzzing every few minutes with new notifications. Luke felt so at home in this dim lit hotel room than he has ever felt in his spiritually empty apartment building. 

But, regardless of the inappropriate show and snores off of Mike’s mouth, the two shared a bed for the first time in a long time. And when Luke woke up with a pale white arm draped around his covered torso, he was beyond heaven. 

(a/n) i'm getting more and more reads each chapter and i'm so scared you all will hate it and leave i love you all so much. thank you for reading this pure shit. 

anyways, there a few translations of the boy with the white eyes, so if you wanna check that out, that's kinda cool yo. (it's really f.ucking cool).

x, soph