Just For the Summer {Cashton}

( XV. ) : OCEAN AVENUE

NOTE: I'M (NOT) SORRY FOR BEING MUKE AF PLS ENJOY 


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"Michael, can I... ask you something?"

"Um—yeah. What's up, Luke?"

"Do you like me?"

Michael choked on the sllice of pizza he was currently eating. He gradually glanced up to meet Luke's gaze, unsure of what he meant by this. Was he playing around? It was obvious that he liked hanging out with the lad—they spent almost every living moment together since Luke arrived in the beach.  Slowly, he swallowed the remaining food in his mouth and drummed his nervous fingers against the table. "As a pal, of course mate. I mean, we are hanging out right now."

Maybe Luke was good at reading people more than he thought.

"No—I mean—" the latter sighed, picking at the dinosaur shaped chicken on his plate with his nails. "More than a pal..." It took him a good minute to sort out the thoughts in his head. But he was content with what happened to slip out of his mouth.

That made Michael's heart pound faster than anything else. It made him hard to swallow his own spit, for crying out loud. Game over. He knew, and there was no way he could hide that.

Luke had a mere ten days left before he gets on that plane to Yale for good. They weren't going to see each other face to face, they weren't going to have moments like these anymore, and the it made Michael's mood drop the more he thought of it. But how could he tell him? There were so many different methods he could use, but what's the perfect one? And that only caused him to keep quiet.

"You're such a fucking pussy sometimes, Michael," it was Luke who spoke up during the awkward moment. Anyone could tell from at his face that he's fed up with whatever they were doing. "I knew you didn't like me from the start. It would've been nice if you've spoken up about it before—before I actually thought I had a fucking chance with you. I like you, Michael. I've had this stupid crush on you since you were dared to kiss me in that stupid game! You made my summer actually mean something, and I thought—I thought we were going to be something before I leave."

Now at a loss for words, Michael still couldn't muster up the courage to speak out. Luke, who had enough of this bullshit, only shook his head in disappointment and stood up from his chair. "You know what? Forget it," he threw his hands up in the air and began to force out a laugh. "Why do I even try to get close to you anymore—I'm leaving in ten days anyway!" Running his fingers through his hair, he covered his eyes with one hand and patted the other's shoulder with another. "Blessings to you in the future, Michael Clifford. I'm sick and tired of being pushed away without given any reason, and it'd be the feasible option to leave you alone for good. Forget about whatever this was."

"Luke, wait—"

Just as the blonde was about to walk out of Michael's room and out of his life for good, he turned around. "What do you want now?"

"I don't—"

"Just as I fucking thought. No need to say anything further. Bye, Michael. Have a nice life."

It only took him ten seconds. Ten seconds to storm down the stairs and out the front door with a broken heart.

Michael fucked up—to say the least. And he knew he had to fix this mess somehow. Being out of this boy's life was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Then why didn't he say something before to save it all? Because he was afraid to fall in the same pattern again.

To: Lukey :)
Luke..... Can we please talk

To: Lukey :)
I fucked up and I want you to come back

To: Lukey :)
Please the movie hasn't even finished yet

To: Lukey :)
And your chicken nuggets are getting cold

To: Lukey :)
Please........

To: Lukey :)
:(

The appetite he had before disappeared just like that. The movie didn't catch his eye anymore despite the fact he'd been excited to rewatch it, and the only thought that could cross is mind was how to get Luke back. And tell him about how he truly felt for as long as the other did.

Checking his phone for a reply, he let out a disappointed sigh seeing nothing. He was so used to getting an instantaneous reply all the time, and having almost ten minutes passing without a single word hurts.

-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  

Nine days left. Yellowcard's 'Ocean Avenue' played out loudly once the time struck eleven in the morning, and Michael emitted a small groan at the sound. He shuffled within the bed sheets with eyes still closed—unable to find the will power to open his eyes to the immense sunlight on the other side of the window.

"Luke," he whined. "Can you please turn the fucking alarm off? Give me like, five minutes..."