bad habit | muke

two

"luke? what's all this shit?"

michael kicks a cardboard box that reads CDs on the side and luke trudges downstairs, holding another cardboard, heavy box.

"i'm leaving you."

he speaks and michael looks at him in shock, the cigarette threatening to fall away from his chapped bottom lip, that was slightly aghast.

"what? why? i thought you loved me?"

michael questions as tears fight against his eyelids.

"because of the fucking cigarettes, michael, it's sickening."

luke curses frustratedly, running a hand through his hair.

"they're what you loved about me in the first place, you thought chainsmokers were hot!"

michael exclaims and luke shakes his head.

"i can't bare them now, and it's your fault."