breathing [muke af]

votre sourire

votre sourire

Luke sat in the school’s library a few minutes before 9:30. He had his chilled caffeine lying next to him, his tie loose as he tried to finish reading a few papers from his students. 

They were all too adorable for Luke, the way they talked about their winter vacation, about the exciting adventure of building snowman, or going down south. It made him happy to see their small drawing in messy crayon. 

The dirty glass doors opened and close, Tessa’s father walking in looking unbelievably sleep deprived and stressed out. His black jeans had a rip in the knee, his flannel was barely buttoned and revealed lots of his pale chest. At just the right angle, Luke could easily see his nipples, (no shame). 

Michael looked around for the quiffed blonde, finding him sitting at a table surrounded by his own set of crayons and papers galore. He let out a small laugh, “nice crayons,” he said before sitting in the small, plastic chair. 

Luke looked to his right, seeing the sixty-four pack of crayons he was drawing with earlier, “psh,” he bit his lip. He held out his hand, “nice to see you again, Mr. Clifford.”
Mike held out his left hand, shaking Luke’s surprisingly soft hand. The teacher noticed a lack of wedding ring, which caused him to mentally threw a party. 

He knew it was ridiculous, going after an obviously straight man. But he couldn’t resist. 

“My wife was supposed to be here, but apparently her job is more important than mine,” Mike passive-aggressively said

“I feel you,” or like, I want to. “Anyways, I’m sorry for calling you in, this is kind of awkward. I was just a little worried for Tessa,” Luke let out a nervous chuckle. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, my wife and I are going through some things currently, and I just think it’s hitting Tessa the worse.” Michael was ashamed to admit his failed marriage to a twenty-eight year old. 

“She’s a very intelligent young girl, she’s observant and intellectual. Tessa is a very great addition to our class, and I just hate to see her sad.”

It broke Michael’s heart to hear someone talk about his little girl in such a low tone. He looked down at his lap, biting his lower lip. “I know what you mean.” He ran his hand through his hair, relaxing into the chair and crossing his arms. “There’s really not much we can do right now.”

Luke smiled at Michael, understanding his situation. “I know you’re trying your best, you seem like a really cool guy.”

“I’m an editor for a newspaper, obviously can’t get much cooler than me,” he teased. Michael liked the way Luke smiled, it was one of those full-mouth smiles. His eyes would crinkle and his nose would scrunch up. 

“You walked in on me coloring with crayons, I don’t think you can beat that,” Luke shot back.

“I understand why my daughter is truly infatuated with you,” Michael sighed, uncrossing his arms and leaning his elbow on the table in front of him. He wiggled around, trying to find a comfortable position in the small chairs. “She said you talk to her like a ‘big girl’.”

Luke didn’t understand the Cliffords’, the way they walked into a room, and all attention would be on them. They were so easily able to make the people surrounding them go from miserable to carefree. He couldn’t stop smiling simply because this beautiful man was sitting in front of him, “I mean, not really. I was just trying to get her happy again.”

Michael rubbed the scruff at the bottom of his chin, a spot he always missed while shaving, “so your boyfriend is a dick, hm? If you ever need someone to shove him around a bit, you know who to call.” The thirty year old winked. 

Luke felt the need to faint as he felt his heart rate speed up, “she told you that?”

“Just like you said, she’s a very observant and intellectual five year old.” Michael smiled at Luke. 

Luke has never wanted to f.uck anyone over a library table more than he did at that moment. With his hands shaking, he took a neon blue post-it note from the stack to his right, and wrote down his number, “we—we should hang out.”

(a/n) *breath* 'CAUSE I REMEMBER THE TASTE OF YOUR SKIN TONIGHT, AND THE WAY THAT YOU LOOKED, YOU HAD THOSE EYES, I REMEMBER THE WAY I FELT INSIDE, AND THE NAME OF THE SONGS THAT MADE YOU CRY. YOU WOULD SCREAM, WE WOULD FIGHT, YOU WOULD CALL ME CRAZY. I WOULD LAUGH, YOU WERE MAD BUT YOU'D ALWAYS KISS ME. AND THE SHIRT THAT I HAD THAT YOU ALWAYS BORROWED, WHEN I WOKE UP IT WAS GONE, THERE WAS NO TOMORROW.