blondie [muke af]

thirteen +

thirteen +

dear luke, 

i'm sorry, you're right—you're always right. 

i probably hate myself as much as you hate me right now. i owe you so many apologies, i don't know where to start. 

i love you, luke. i love you, i love you, i love you. i am emotionally and physically and mentally and socially in love with you and everything you do and everything you are. 

i love the little freckles on your back and collar bones because they make you seem so small and cute even though you're a small giant. no one else has ever really seen you the way i see you, they haven't seen the way you fall asleep everywhere, even at my breakfast table. i love the way you try so hard to be, like, a perfect housewife, i guess. 

like, the first time you slept over, and the next morning tried to make those frozen waffles. and fucking hell, luke, you burned them. i don't know how you managed to burn the waffles, but it made me love you. i should have told you that i love you then. 

when we went on that first date, and you showed me what true new york pizza was. you got the sauce on your nose, and the way you scrunched your little nose was beautiful, really. you got mad at me because i booped your nose, but i had to. i love you and your nose. 

i'm sorry i pretended i didn't know who you were, i'm mean to you a lot. it's the way i show my affection—by gently bullying you. i actually remember when dad hired you, is that weird?

dad was sitting at out table with five thousand applicants, and he and i were both going through each and every paper. we were three hours in, and i was getting mad at dad because he couldn't choose who he liked best. i started yelling at him, and threw the papers off the table. 

dad threw his hands up in the air, and went, "pick up one paper," so i did, still trying to stay mad at him. it was yours. 

dad read over your amazing resumé and told me to stalk you. so i went on your social media (don't be creeped out, it was out of love), and i said you sounded cool. 

i should've sent in a follow request way back when, is that all stupid?

i'm sorry, i get side tracked a lot, and i'm writing in pen so i can't erase this. i'm really sorry. 

i love you, luke. no, correct that. i'm in love with you. i want to be eighty years old and still want to fuck you into another planet. i'm sorry i don't tell you this enough, but i am in love with you. 

i want to marry you, but i guess we should be dating for a while first, so it doesn't seem sleazy, right?

-mike

p.s., i'm sorry for making fun of your apartment, it was really cute, like you.

Luke looked up at the man standing in front of him. Michael was rocking back and forth on his heels, not willing to watch Luke's reaction as he finished the note. 

Luke placed the letter behind him, placing it inside of his work bag on the floor of Mike's office. 

Mike came up behind him, placing his two hands on the waist band of Luke's skinny jeans. "Babe?" He asked quietly. Luke was always opinionated, something wasn't right if he wasn't speaking. 

The blonde stood up again, twisting around so he was now facing Michael. The older boy tightened his grip on Luke, copying the smile on his boyfriend's face. He waited on edge for Luke to say something, anything.