start a fight [muke af]

xviii

xviii

Luke cringed as the tattoo artist began doing his job. He looked over at his mother sitting peacefully in the corner.

The young blonde sighed and closed his eyes. He was getting a tattoo, finally. It wasn't big, wasn't considered manly at all, but he liked it—a small crescent moon between his thumb and index finger. There was no reason for it. He just liked moons.

He knew he'd probably get made fun of by the inmates. They were built up with neck tattoos and back tattoos and more ink than skin. Luke didn't really want that on his own body.

He thought it looked amazing on other people, but it simply didn't fit his own personality.

Luke's face scrunched up as he got closer to a vein.

He supposed it was a good time for thinking.

Luke wondered where he'd be in a year. He'd be twenty (and a half), still working at a prison. Is that what he wants? He wasn't sure what he wanted.

Luke has never been in a relationship. All genders just seemed to be attracted to everyone except for him. He never really wanted to be in a relationship until he finished high school. Suddenly his friends were talking about marrying their high school partners, and Luke was left with question marks over his head.

He didn't know who he was attracted to, and, frankly, he didn't care much either. His whole personal life is him answering 'I don't care'. He doesn't like thinking, so he choses not to.

Luke looked down, seeing the tattooist was already doing fine touch ups. It wasn't a tattoo that would take more than half an hour.

He closed his eyes again, counting his breaths.

The thought of Michael crossed his mind. He started to wonder how Michael took tattoos. Did he go into them drunk? That seems like a Michael thing, even though Luke read many articles saying that one should not go into tattooing drunk—it would only make the irritation worse.

He wondered how Michael was feeling at that exact moment. He hoped he was feeling okay, that the thoughts his fake smile hid weren't hurting him too badly. Luke found a liking to Michael and he didn't know why.

Mike was tough, always willing to fight. He was loud and intimidating—two things Luke was not. Luke thought Michael was kind of pretty, he liked his tattoos and his smile and his hands. He likes the way his eyes glow and the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs.

Luke was brought back to Earth when he realized he was smiling. He was smiling about an inmate.

He sat up when the tattooist gave him the okay. Luke looked at the small crescent moon now inked upon his skin forever. He loved it. He didn't care what anyone else thought, he loved it.

Luke couldn't get Michael off his mind for the rest of the night. 

(a/n) sorry i am a disappointment