Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter nineteen - ice packs

chapter nineteen — ice packs

<Lukas' POV>

TWO YEARS AGO.

MICHAEL'S HAIR WAS STILL DAMP AND HIS HE SMELLED LIKE STRAWBERRIES. I let my chin fall on top of his head, arms loosely wrapped around his thin waist. One of his hands loitered around the base of my jersey, the cold metal of his rings pressing up against the skin by my navel. He was like that, constantly fiddling with either my clothes or his. I was pushed up against the wall, the hallway decidedly desolate as Michael refused to let go, his face uncomfortably smushed against my chest.

"Michael," I hummed into his hair, worried that the slightest breath would make the bleached strands break off, "I have practice"

He didn't reply, his hands bunching up my shirt tightly. I sighed, pulling him a little closer. Holding him a little tighter. It was rare to have moments like these: completely undisturbed and unafraid of someone finding us. Someone exposing us.

"Michael, I ha—"

"—I know," Michael pushed off of me slowly, his bangs hanging in curtains over his eyes. He had the most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen. They were darker than chocolate, almost black.

"Sorry"

He turned away from me stubbornly, relenting when I pushed his chin up. He needed a haircut, but I liked it when his eyes peeked out from behind his bleached strands. He looked curious. Shy. Cute.

"Wanna come over this weekend?" My hand cradled his chin softly, thumb tracing the small bruise by his jaw.

He smiled against my lips shyly, arms looping around my neck. We reveled in each other for a few seconds, and I could feel his heart hammer against my chest.

"Yeah," He fought his smile, "Yeah, I'd like that"

I kissed him once more, our smiles making our teeth nick each other's lips. I pushed on his dimples with my fingers making him suck his cheeks in. He looked like a little fish. Fish-Michael rolled his eyes, his full smile slipping out as I down to steal another kiss.

"See you"

He nodded, his head tilting to rest against the wall as I jogged over to the locker room. I could hear Marco screaming already, half of it gibberish. There was a cloud of Axe covering the door, a few seniors holding their practice jerseys up over their noses like a filter. I copied them, my eyes watering.

Who the hell decided to gas us out?

I hadn't smelled this much crappy aerosol since middle school.

I reached my stuff, grabbing for my water bottle. The triplets had gotten to it before practice, the once-smooth surface spotted with glitter and My Little Pony stickers. I wasn't even sure where they'd got them from since Mom banned stickers in our house for this exact reason. Knowing my sisters, the triplet especially, they probably had a contraband black market ring in our own house for shit like that: stickers, makeup, gossip, torture techniques, etc..

"Ay, Schmitt" Marco's hand hit my back hard, the sound echoing down our locker aisle, "Didn't know you were a brony, bruh"

"I'm not a brony," I swatted him away, relieved when DJ magically appeared to restrain the idiot, "What even is that?"

DJ shook his head in warning, hand clapping over Marco's mouth before he could retort. DJ was going through another growth spurt, heads taller than he'd been in middle school. It was the same with me, but I'd grown over the summer practices. It seemed like the fall was DJ's trigger.