the babysitter ; muke

five

It was a week before Mrs. Clifford called Luke in for another round of babysitting. Luke had actually been eager for the call from Mrs. Clifford. In all honestly, Luke was bored. Work bored him, and his friends hadn't cared to invite him to hang out with them this whole week, which was unusual. Luke usually had to decline their offers after drinking two days in a row because he couldn't handle the we're-going-to-get-drunk-every-night-this-week outlook they had. He had work, and some days he just needed to chill on his couch with a cup of hot chocolate and Teen Titans on the t.v. all day.

The first night Luke had babysat, or teensat, if you will, the two guys had got on so well that Mrs. Clifford and Mr. Clifford insisted on it being a regular thing. Luke had agreed, because he enjoyed Michael's company. He was more outgoing and more immature than his regular friends, and Luke needed someone he could bond over every single show on Cartoon Network with.

Sure, Michael's room was the definition of a mess, and sure Michael did not know how to clean up after himself, but Michael understood Luke in ways his grown up friends didn't. All they wanted to do was get drunk every hour of the day, and didn't get Luke's constant whines about just wanting to go home and watch t.v.

They were all so sophisticated, and would probably diss Luke for being friends with the 16 year old he was only supposed to babysit. Luke was a kid at heart. He still cried, and he still yelped if he got a cut on his finger. He still wanted to call his mother over every single thing that upset him, and still borrowed money from her for rent. His older friends just didn't get that side of him.

With a sigh, Luke examined his appearance in the mirror. He didn't want to be late, but the drive wasn't too far so he'd be okay. He wanted to look presentable for the Cliffords, so they wouldn't want to hire anyone else.

He was wearing a white button down, tucked into a pair of khakis, and white converse over his black socks. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and his hair wasn't exactly perfect, but not messy either. He thought he looked fine, and grabbed his keys before leaving.

Luke's schedule had always worked. And now, even with the babysitting, it still worked. Luke had nightshift at Kroger, which was open 24 hours. He worked from 12am to 8am, and got paid pretty decent. He couldn't complain. When he went out with his friends, they usually went out around 7pm, and came home shit-face drunk not even an hour and a half later.

But that was perfect for Luke, he had enough time to take a nap and sober up before work. Sure, he was hungover and didn't want to get out of bed, but he did nonetheless and got through a whole 8 hours of his own Hell, the only fault being his for giving in to his friends.

This week he hadn't had to worry about his friends tearing him up before work; they didn't bother contacting him in any way. And Luke was the type of person to wait for things to happen to him, not make them happen himself. He never texted his friends first, never called them first. If they wanted to hang out, it would be them calling for him, he didn't want to sound desperate. Plus, he'd normally be too busy watching Cartoon Network to care, but this week he wasn't.

Luke bounded out to his car, after locking his front door, of course. He sped off to the Clifford home, already excited for the day with Michael.

When he reached the home, parking his car on the side of the road so the Clifford's could get out of their driveway, they had already been waiting for him on the porch, seemingly as eager as him but for different reasoning.