Wrong Number (Cake Hoodings)

87 *

{ e i g h t y s e v e n }

By lunchtime Luke is a nervous wreck. 

He's spent the entire day alone, spending their first break in English and pretending to finish his work, trying to leave classes early not to run into anyone in the hallway. Michael and he being on bad terms, Luke realizes how much he depends on Michael to defend him, and scare people away from him. 

He can't stay in science for 40 minutes, and he's actually kind of hungry, so with a heavy feeling in his chest he dawdles to the canteen and stands in line, looking around briefly to see everyone mulling, eating and talking with their friends. 

His eyes pick out Calum and the rest of the jocks, him sticking out like a sore thumb wearing one of Luke's band shirts and some skinny jeans. He's smiling though, laughing along at something one of the cheerleaders has said to him. 

Luke picks out some pasta that's got a cheese sauce and glances around, walking to the first free table he see's and sitting with his back towards the wall. He puts an earphone in and eats slowly as he scrolls through instagram, liking pictures that aesthetically please him. 

Halfway through lunch Michael sits down across from him, looking over towards the jocks and glaring at them. Luke gives him a look (that goes unnoticed) but continues to scroll, pushing the remainder of his pasta towards Michael in the form of a peace offering. 

Michael glares at the jocks again before taking it, reaching over the table to grab Luke's fork. "I'm still mad, you know. At him mostly." Michael says, turning to look at the jocks one more time. He see's something that makes him smile and then turns to Luke, smirking before it drops. "I don't like seeing you like this, and you know it." 

"Like what?"

"On your own. Targeted." He glances at the jocks again and Luke just confusedly gives him a look. "They were going to come over here, Luke. They've been talking about it for like the past five minutes, I was sat a table over." 

"Oh." Luke mumbles, cheeks going red as he continues to mindlessly scroll through his feed. He's barely even seeing the posts. "That's why you've sat me with then? Because you think I can't handle myself against Calum's friends." 

"Because I'd rather them leave you alone than you have to go through that." Michael deadpans, and Luke suddenly have a wave of guilt rush over him. Why does Michael always have to have his best interests at heart, it's frustrating sometimes. "Which is what one would think your boyfriend would agree too, but no, he just sat there, nodding along as they planned to do all this fucking shit to you." Luke looks down. "Real good catch you've got there. A+." 

"Stop it." Luke says quietly. Michael sighs, shuffling around the table before dropping in the seat next to his. 

He takes Luke's earphone out and tucks it into the top of Luke's t-shirt before leaning his chin on the boys shoulder, breathing heavy all over his neck. Luke leans away from him but Michael just whines and pokes him. 

"M sorry. You know I'm an idiot." Michael whispers next to his ear. "I just... I miss when you were happy all the time, because lately you just... aren't. And I don't know how to fix it even though I know what the problem is." 

Luke leans his head on top of Michael's and presses the home button on his home screen, a picture of him and Michael staring back at him when they went to the beach one day. Michael is sunburnt and taller than him, a red arm thrown around his waist and the other on his own bare hip. Luke is looking at him and grinning, because his Mom hadn't told him she was taking a photo but somehow Michael knew, maybe Liz clued him in. It was so long ago that he can't remember the minor details. 

"I hate when we fight." Luke admits. "I don't wanna lose you, Mike." 

"Think you can get rid of me? You're literally the only person in this world that I can tolerate Hemmings. Consider me your leech." 

"Good." Luke mumbles, hitting Michael's leg softly. "You're my best friend, you know." 

"Really?!" Michael gasps, pulling away from him suddenly. Luke lulls but catches himself, sitting upright and laughing at Michael's terrible, horrendous acting skills. "This is brand new information!" 

"Shut up," Luke whines after laughing, pushing Michael away. "I love you, 'kay. Let's not fight."

Michael stares at him for a little bit. "Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I love you too." He shakes his head, his eyes catching something. "Hey up." He says to Luke, heading nodding towards Coach Hood as he walks towards the table of jocks. Luke's blood runs cold. 

He half expects him to start yelling something about Calum's sexuality, or about Luke, or God forbid about the sex things Calum had told him, and by the terrified look on Calum's face the kiwi boy expects the same thing. 

Instead of yelling though, Coach Hood just leans down to his son, whispering something brief in his ear before Calum nods and stands up, saying something to his friends with a smile of his face before following his dad's footsteps. 

Luke looks around the canteen, expecting everyone to be whispering, staring, mumbling about what the hell is happening right now, but this isn't some high school sit com, nobody cares if a teacher wants to speak to a student in private. Nobody even knows what's happening because everybody is lost in their own drama; Luke can do nothing but watch with Michael as Calum follows his father out of the canteen. 

Looking back once not at Luke, but instead at the group of jocks and cheerleaders in the back of the room. 

The room hasn't changed a bit, but everything feels different.