what do we do now? [muke af]

two

two

Luke sat down in his therapist's chair, kicking off his Vans and putting his feet up on the leather. He rested his heavy head on the soft pillows. Every time he blinked, his eyes begged to stay close. Luke hasn't slept in a while.

"How are you?"

The blonde shrugged. "I guess I'm good."

His therapist, Dan, shuffled around Luke's file. There were many post it notes and pads of paper about Luke and all of his deepest thoughts in the secluded file. Luke was Dan's first patient, almost thirteen years ago.

When Luke and Michael married, Luke had no idea about anything Michael did with the mafias nor gangs. He just thought Mike was a freelancer, doing whatever to earn enough money.

Their one year anniversary was when Michael decided he was unable to hide it anymore. He wasn't able to sneak around his husband, he didn't want to sneak around his husband. Luke was—and still is—the love of Michael's life. There are not enough metaphors nor poetry to describe everything Luke means to Michael.

"Did you end up going to see Michael?"

He nodded. "I'm so weak."

"You're not weak, you're just in love." Dan crossed his legs, getting comfortable in the seat across from Luke. "How's everything at the new job going?"

"They know the Clifford name," he responded. Luke was a secretary at a hair salon, it was filled with gossiping women and lots of coffee. Lots, and lots, and lots of coffee. "It's just so hard, you know? And it keeps getting harder."

"How so?"

"I quit the last job—the coffee shop—because everyone stopped talking to me. I was disgraceful, apparently. Like, something my husband did ten years ago forces them to shun me."

Luke could hear him flipping through some notes, his pen writing down across the lines a few more times. "I know you thought about divorce early into Michael's sentence. What are your thoughts on that now?"

"I should have done that ten years ago, but I couldn't do that to Tab. Even though Michael isn't around right now, I have hopes he will be one day very soon." Tab was, by far, Luke's reason to get out of bed. Tab was Luke's reason to keep going when everything turned bad. Having Tab was the best thing Luke and Michael ever did.

"That's a valid reason, Luke."

"I just feel so screwed up. I hide so much from her because I don't want her ending up like her father."

"You're allowed to be scared."

Luke sighed once more. He crossed his arms over this body, holding himself close. "I didn't want any of this to happen, I don't understand why the world hates me so much." He turned his head, facing his therapist.

Dan gave him a warming smile. "You've been so strong for so long. You can hold on a few more months. If worse comes to worst, then a few more years."
Luke nodded as he stared back up at the ceiling once more. "I left everything for Michael. My family, my hometown, my high school degree. Then, he left me."

Michael and Luke were beyond high school lovebirds. Luke was fourteen, and Michael was sixteen. They sat in the same History class, the blue-haired and lip-pierced Mike almost scared Luke shitless.

But, Luke found the warmth in the older boy, and they fell in love. It was simple as that. Luke fell so hard for Michael, and Michael fell even harder for Luke.

Everyone in Luke's life was concerned. Michael dropped acid and tattooed his own body. Luke wrote poetry and painted. They were completely different and it was easy to see.

Luke's family wanted their baby nowhere near such a bad influence, such a horrendous boy. Luke dropped out at eighteen—only one year before graduation—and fled with Michael.

They ran away and they were okay with that. They were happy for so long, everything was going right for so long.

Now, Luke wakes up alone and goes to bed alone, too.