November Rain // muke

chapter eight

Michael

The two boys had spent all the time they could together after school, watching their favourite movies and snacking on junk foods his mom has told him a million times to cut down on. He learned that Luke really liked gummies and chocolate, 'but not together because that's freaking disgusting and weird' (Michael genuinely did not know they made chocolate covered gummies until Luke told him), and they share a love for spicy chips and fruit punch.

"I'll see you at school, flower." Michael sighed when his mum sent him a, 'get your ass home, dinner is ready' text.

"You can't stay for dinner?" Luke asked sadly and Michael shook his head, feeling slightly guilty for not being able to stay.

"Sorry sweetheart, when my mama tells me to get my ass somewhere, I gotta get my ass there or I no longer will have one." He laughed and the blonde rolled his eyes.

"Will I be getting the sweater you borrowed back?" He asked and Michael shrugged as he pulled the sleeves down.

"Dunno." The older boy teased as he hugged himself. He kinda liked the clothing item, an all black sweatshirt that had a small embroidered rose right above the heart and the words, 'love kills' across the middle of it in white. It was perfect and he loved it.

Michael felt his phone buzz again and he laughed, just knowing it was his mom. "I really gotta go. I'll give you the sweater tomorrow, promise."

"Wait, no fair, I get to take your sweater too now!" Luke whined and Michael kissed the boy's cheek. "Oh... uh..."

"If you can get me up early enough, fine, you can take one." Michael bargained and Luke nodded, accepting the deal. "Bye, flower."

"Bye Mikey." Luke smiled sweetly as he pushed his hair out of his face. "If I hear you playing guitar at midnight again, we're gonna fight. You'll catch these hands."

"Last fight I had with someone as cute ass you, ended up in a rough make out session. Try me, blondie." Michael cheekily grinned as he walked to Luke's door. "I'm leaving now-"

"Wait, what if I don't wanna make out with you?"

"When did I say you wanted to?" Michael hummed, and he turned around to see Luke's rosey cheeks. "I think I forgot where the front door is... mind jogging my memory?"

Luke nodded quickly and then grabbed his hand before leading him towards the front door. "See you at school." Luke mumbled as he opened the door and Michael ruffled the younger boy's hair.

"See ya', flower, and don't hold your breath on the guitar thing, insomnia is a real bitch, ya' know." Michael chuckled before walking outside, shivering slightly as the cold air hit him. "Fucking hell..."

"Your house is literally just across the street, just run you idiot." Luke laughed and Michael snorted loudly.

"Fuck that. I don't exercise." Michael told him, looking at both ends of the street before quickly walking across.

"I hate you!" Luke shouted as Michael grabbed his house key. He turned around to find Luke's head leaned against his door, eyes on him as he tried unlocking his door without looking.

Michael flipped him off and when he got his door open, he could see Luke was stepping back inside of his own house. He quickly walked inside himself and then shut the door, locking it behind him as he sighed happily to himself. Like those cliché movies where the teenage girl is smiling up to the ceiling and internally screaming.

Yeah, that was Michael right now.

"Look who finally came back." Michael's dad taunted and the teenager laughed as the smell of his mom's famous chicken pot pie filled the house. "Did you get in?"

"What?" Michael asked and his dad rose his eyebrows up and down suggestively. "Oh, oh God dad, that's none of your business. Oh my Jesus Lord... mama!"

"Ah you pansy." His father teased, pushing him slightly before taking a drink of his beer. "It's a joke, not a dick, don't take it so hard."

"You seem to forget that some gay men don't like it up the ass." Michael rolled his eyes as he sat down. "And stop that, it's embarrassing to talk about, especially if I just met Luke. I'm not like you, ya' know." Michael huffed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Hey, I wouldn't be encouraging it either if Luke were a girl because that's how you were made." Daryl recalled and Michael cringed as his father laughed. "But because you're queer and for some God forsaken reason like dick more than anything on this planet, I don't gotta worry about unexpected pregnancies and teenage parenting, so I'm just going to trust you know better than to get herpes."

"I'm just going to ignore you, thanks." Michael pointed at his dad and Daryl laughed as he nodded, taking another drink of his beer. "How many have you had?"

"Three maybe?" Dark answered as Michael's mom came in with a glass dish. "You're amazing, babe."

"Thanks, I know."

That's where I get it from,  Michael thought and chuckled as he pushed his sleeves up, his eyes widening as he realized he forgot literally all of his shit at Luke's house, from his backpack to his jacket and t-shirt.

"So, did you ditch the hobo jacket at Luke's house? I never seen that sweater around." Karen pointed out and Michael laughed as he played with his fingers.

"I'll get it tomorrow before I head to school, don't look so relieved mother." Michael assured her as he looked up at her.

"What? Do you think I'm gonna make you a plate like you're four years old?" Karen asked and Michael nodded. "Did you guys know there's this new trend going around called getting up and doing shit for yourself? You should both try it." Karen told the two guys in front of her and Michael pouted.

"Please mama? Can you get me a bowl and a fork?" He asked and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Please?" He dragged the word out for extra emphasis and she sighed.

"I hate having kids."

"You could have wrapped it." Michael laughed and she flipped him off as she went back to the kitchen. "You could have aborted me, you know... put me up for adoption too. There's no many things you could have done before I became an actual human being."

"If we didn't want you, I'm not sure anyone else would." Daryl chuckled and Michael rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, slightly hurt by the comment though he knew it was a joke.

Were jokes supposed to hurt this much?