unsent! ❨ b.jordan! ❩

¹⁶ real life.

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16  CHAPTER SIXTEEN,
BRO. chef boyardee.
REAL LIFE!
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REAL LIFE!
A DAY AGO!

( THE HEADQUARTER'S
OF CHRISTIAN'S HOME )

CHRISTIAN struggles to put on his left sock. He's muttering curse words, his leg bent as he hops around in his bedroom. He can hear the knocking at his front porch, which only makes him curse louder. He finally pulls it on, slips into his white hi-top vans, and bolts towards the door. He pauses for a quick second, and steadies his breathing.

" CHRISTIAN! YOU THERE? It's hot as hell outside man, " Michael yells from behind the door. His Air Force is perched upon Christian's not so welcoming welcome mat. The mat says 'Eat a Dick.'

Michael fans his thin black shirt, because fuck, it was so hot outside.

CHRISTIAN opened the door, and Michael looked at him, an incredulous expression on his face. Christian's eyes squinted. "What?" Michael cleared his throat, and blinked a couple of times. "You're wearing long sleeve."

"I'm wearing long sleeve."

"Why— why are you wearing long sleeve?"

Christian chuckles, taking in Michael's overheated posture. "I'm not hot,"
Michael snorts, "how?"

Christian points to Michael's black fitted shirt. "Black naturally takes in more heat, you know that right?" Michael looks down at his shirt.
"Whatever. You gon' let me inside or am I gonna die out here?"

Christian grins, opening his door wider. Christian backs up to let Michael inside. The shorter, and slightly older man takes in the bright furniture. There's a bunch of Golf Wang posters on the yellow and green walls, a fish tank near the living room, and a Mrs. Pac Man machine near the presumed bathroom.

Christian watches him look around, as he closes the front door. Christian's never had company like this over in some time. Jasper, Eden, Taco, and Rome come over consistently and they all know where everything is located (Taco goes straight for the Cheetos in the cabinet, Eden microwaves the popcorn and then dabs the hot sauce over it, Jasper eats all of the small packs of Welch's fruit snacks and Rome is— well, Rome). 

Christian fiddles with the ring on his finger, "I really hate doing this but in behalf of courtesy, do you want like— a water, or anything? Or, I can cook something?" Michael smiles at the generosity, but laughs at the thought of Christian cooking.

"Top Ramen doesn't count,"

"Top ramen doesn't count," Christian mocks. "You're looking at the black version of Chef Ramsay,"

"More like Boyardee. We all know you just put it in the microwave," Michael teases.

BEFORE THEY KNOW IT, the two of them are in Christian's kitchen, and Christian is pretty much burning oil. Somewhere between those steps of teasing and Christian trying to prove Michael wrong, Michael slips off his shoes near the couch, and his black shirt is now covered in an apron.