thinking about you [muke af]

twenty nine

twenty nine

It was the end of June, the sun was beating down on Michael's back. His guitar case seemed heavier and heavier as the days went on. He kicked a few rocks as he walked home. 

He, Calum, and Ashton moved into a small house outside of LA after someone (Michael) accidentally set a fire in the kitchen. They were kicked out of their complex faster than Mike expected. 

The house was a basic after-college type of house. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom. Most of the walls were painted a tan hue and every day the three friends would complain about the boring color. One day, they would paint it. One day.

Michael's bedroom was on the first right after heading up the stairs. Calum convinced him it was time to get a real bed with a real frame. The whole mattress-on-the-ground-thing wasn't cool anymore, apparently. His queen sized bed stood tall against the royal blue walls, the sheets were never made, the fan was always on, pairs of identical skinny jeans littered the floor. 

Across the hall was Calum and Ashton, their door always closed. Mike didn't like the bedroom door closed, he was afraid of the dark. Michael always left the hallway light on, regardless of his roommates' complaints. Ash brought his large queen size bed from his last apartment, placing in the middle of the room. Silk sheets lined the mattress, the soft material felt pleasant against their always naked body bodies. Calum had lenses and Eos bodies laying around the room, there was his 70-200mm lenses just resting next to Ashton's shoes, his 1.8-2.5mm extenders stacked upon his open computer. He was a mess, and Ashton didn't mind. 

Their shared bathroom was a mess. Toothpaste in the sink, remains of hair-dye on the edge. The bath tub had mold between the tiles, splashed blue hair-dye was once again ruining the curtain. 

Downstairs wasn't much different, an open plan gave them the opportunity to never be more than twenty feet away from each other. The kitchen stayed messy, the couch pillows needed fluffing. The television had dust and streaks upon it, the coffee table had a large dent (thanks, Calum + Ashton). 

It was nice living with them for Mike, the walls were thicker now, the air conditioning worked. They had more space to move round, Michael had more places to hide out and write. It was going well for him. 

His first EP was about to be released, recording all day and most of the night was really getting to him. The bags under his eyes were a light shade of purple, growing every hour he didn't sleep. 

Michael turned the corner onto their street, smiling at a family walking the opposite way. He knew it was stupid, but he still imagined having kids with Luke. He imagined Luke's swollen belly, he imagined putting his hands on the stretched skin and feeling the kicking of his future child. 

He knew it was stupid, yet he couldn't stop thinking of it. 

Michael walked up the stairway, his eyes fixated on his dirty Converse. He heard a cough and looked up.

His eyes caught sight of Luke, standing on the doorstep, a smile upon his face, his hands at his sides. "Hey," he said.

He was in a pair of basketball shorts, wrinkles prominent from his long two flights. A plain grey tee shirt was tucked into the side hem, he looked amazing. 

Michael laughed, dropping everything and running up the steps. He almost tripped over the last one, but that only shot him closer to Luke's body. He squeezed the frail blonde, kissing all over his face and neck. 

He attached their lips, not even bothering to ask why he was standing in his California home after a month apart. 

Luke was giggling, his hands pushing Michael away. 

"Why are you here?" Mike finally asked, still leaving pecks upon Luke's face. 

"I don't know, I guess I just really love you," he answered, putting his hands on Mike's cheeks. Luke loved the feeling of his own lips on Michael's, it's a feeling he hasn't felt in too long, and he never wanted to go that long again. "I really, really missed you."

"It's been so lonely."

Luke took a step back, putting his hands in his pockets. "This is probably lame, but, like, I want to get married."

Michael laughed, "You already know I do, too." He turned around, walking back down the steps to grab his thrown gear. He picked up the creaky handle of his acoustic guitar, then slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

He made his way next to Luke, unlocking the front door. He opened their dark blue wooden door, putting his stuff right on the inside before turning back to his boyfriend, holding out his warm hand. 

Luke bit his lip and pulled at the back of his hair. "No, I mean, I really want to get married." He pulled out a black box from the pockets of his shorts. He started to get on a knee, a blush on his cheeks.

"Oh my fucking God."

Luke laughed, "Michael Gordon, I've had the most miserable time of my life without you, and I don't ever want to do that again."

Michael was cliché with his hand over his mouth as he looked at his boyfriend.

"I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with you, will you please take this ring and say you're mine?"

Michael held out his left hand, "I'm yours," he said, "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours."

Luke slid on the silver ring with a smile upon his lips. He stood up once more, not bothering to look at the scrapes on his bare knee from kneeling on the ground (he knew it wouldn't be the only time that day he'd be on his knees). 

Michael kissed him again, and again, and again.

(a/n) the only thing good about today is full frontal and the new twenty one pilot's song