It had only been a few minutes since Michael ran off, but to Luke it seemed like hours. Hesitantly, he opened the front door, bracing himself for what stands behind it. To his surprise, the house seemed empty. Seemed. Letting out a short breath, he froze as he heard footsteps. His body stiffened, as if telling himself, if you hold still enough, they won't see you. Unfortunately for him, he was in clear sight.
"Luke you fucking dickhead where have you been?!" He flinched at his father's words. "Get in the fucking kitchen and cook dinner dumbass. Fucking piece of shit and don't eat any you fatass."
"Y-yes sir." Luke managed out, looking at the ground. He was about to walk into the kitchen when he felt a sudden sting on his face.
"You fucking look at me when you talk to me. Understand?" Looking up to meet his father's eyes, he showed no emotion, no pain, no fear. Being all to used to this, he knew if he showed any sign of cowardice, it'd be worse.
"Yes sir, I understand." And with that, Luke was in the kitchen preparing his mom's favourite dish, chicken parmesan. He knew the recipe like the back of his hand, seeing as his dad would always force him to cook dinner. He found himself glancing at the clock every 5 or so minutes, just hoping that one of his family members would get home so he wouldn't deal with his dad alone. He never took a liking to Luke. You'd expect the youngest to be the spoiled brat, but it was the other way around in his family.
While letting the chicken cook, he started setting the table. All he wanted was to go upstairs and blare his music till the while world was left def. He sighed in relief as he heard the door open. Not daring to go out of the kitchen to see who it was, he listened intently as he heard quiet talking from the living room.
"Hey Jack, how was work?"
"Great, but exhausting. Is dinner ready?"
"Go and see, I had Luke check on it for me."
He got shaken from his thoughts as he found himself being pulled into a hug from his older brother.
"What's for dinner Lukey?" Jack asked.
"Don't call me that Jacky. And chicken parmesan." Luke responded going over to check on the dish.
"Mmm smells delicious. Dad's such a great cook isn't he?" Hesitantly, Luke answered.
"Y-yeah, the greatest. Hey when's mom getting home?" Jack shrugged.
"I gotta go out and get some groceries, were running low, I'll be back in 20 minutes. See ya Lukey!" Jack said stepping out.
"Don't call me that!" Luke sighed. While finishing up the food, Luke heard footsteps behind him.
"What did I tell you abou- who's jacket is that?" His father asked.
"Its uhm-"
"You're boyfriend's isn't it? You little faggot." His father hissed.
"I don't ha-" Luke was cut off as a fist met his eye.
"I didn't ask if you did or not. Now hurry up and finish dumbass."
******
Michael was almost home and it took him say 12 minutes of walking to realize he forgot his jacket.
"Fuck..." He muttered under his breath.he walked up to his front door and opened it, sighing in relief as the warm air hit his cold body.
"Michael Gordon Clifford where have you been? And why aren't you wearing a sweater?!" Michael's mother bombarded him with questions like any other worried mother would.
"I walked a... friend home, he uh seemed lost, so I helped him find his way." Michael answered.
"Would it have killed you to call? Oh well, just run along to the kitchen, dinner's ready." She answered walking behind him.
It was now late at night and both Luke and Michael layed on their beds, neither wanting to go to sleep. Looking up at the ceiling, they found themselves thinking about each other. With a sigh, the muttered,
"We're from two different worlds."
