the babysitter ; muke

ten

Michael and his parents were arguing. He couldn't even pinpoint what it was this time, this argument had been so dragged out. Not taking out the trash? Not cleaning his room? The same things he had to deal with that he really couldn't care any less about?

They were stressing him out. Michael was on the verge of pulling his hair out; he wished Luke were there with him. Maybe he should call him, let Luke talk him out of his stress. Out of wanting to go out and get wasted.

Michael stormed his way up to his room, despite his parents shouts of protest, and slammed the door shut with extreme emphasis. He carefully, despite the rush of anger he was in, unplugged his cell from the charger, not wanting to break the plug for the only thing with worth that he owned.

He nearly tripped over the heaps of clothes on the floor as he took himself to his bed and collapsed onto it.

Michael dialed Luke's number; they'd exchanged their numbers the first time Luke had came over, they just never texted or anything like that.

On the fourth ring, Michael almost hung up, thinking Luke wasn't going to answer, before he heard a panting voice on the other end.

"Huh?" Michael heard, not even recognizing Luke at all.

"Um, Luke? That you, bud?" Michael asked, ready to hang up for the second time, and they hadn't even been on the phone for longer than 20 seconds.

"That's me," Luke said, with a little more of his regular voice back, seemingly gaining recognition of who was on the other line, nonetheless still sounding like he was trying to catch his breath.

"Are you okay? Why are you out of breath?"

"I just jacked off for the first time in nine years, I feel like an old man with COPD that just tried to run a lap around a park," Luke giggled, voice still raspy. It was at that time Michael knew Luke was intoxicated. He shook his head with an amused grin, one that invaded all of his features and brightened up his face, thinking of the blonde haired boy to be an idiot. This phone conversation already had him feeling better.

"Nine years, that's pretty impressive, Luke. You wouldnt by chance be drunk, would you? I'm not sure sober Luke would tell me something as personal as this, " Michael flipped his body over, eyes latching onto a rough patch of the ceiling above him as he focused on a foggy snort from the other line.

"No, I'm just at home chilling on the couch." Michael knew Luke was lying; he was most definitely drunk whether his stubborn alcohol-clouded mind would allow him to admit it to Michael or not.

"If you're at home, and not drunk, would you mind coming to sneak me out? I could use it right now," Michael proposed, yet he was for sure Luke was drunk. He knew Luke would have an excuse as to why he couldn't be there, then he'd just have to admit he was drunk.

Just as he supposed, Luke cleared his throat rather forcefully. But then, "Yeah, I'll come get you. Give me ten," and Luke hung up. It sounded as if he fumbled for a minute, trying to figure out the "speaker" button from the "end call".

Michael knew he shouldn't let Luke try and come get him; he knew he was drunk. What if Luke ended up having an accident, due to Michael's request to get Luke to admit he's drunk?

Then again, Michael was desperate to leave the house. Desperate to get away; Luke could help him more than any alcohol could, that's why Michael decided to call Luke instead of falling into his habit he'd laid off of for over a week. Luke helped Michael by simply answering his phone call.

wtf these last two chapters were long af i hope u guys dont mind