Stories I Never Finished

Cursed Addiction

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Sparkling green eyes watched with a soft sense of joy as the door to the vast open living area of the shared home was pushed open and three males walked inside.

The night was young, late in its hours but youthful in its touch of glittering stars and silent alleyways, yet its unmatched glory was rudely blocked out by thick white curtains closed across the house's windows, furniture shades of peach and white with clashes of blood red dotted throughout the home.

The young male watched silently, sitting on a counter whose block marked an open barrier between the back of the living area and the open-plan kitchen settled behind it, wide in its stretch of appliances lined within marble white and soft greys.
His legs kicked gently back and forth, quiet little hits being made by his pristine white sneakers against the counter as his eyes followed the figure of the young brunet who had left the home only moments earlier—with keys in his hands and a grumble on his matte white painted lips, he had been angered by the idea of having to step out in his pyjamas after a phone call.

Though the soft male didn't understand why, Calum's pyjamas looked more like a sports get-up; cropped top, baggy pants, both of a sheer perfect white shade, gleaming in the light with strips of reflective grey.

Michael kept quiet, more interested in observing his friends as Calum slumped down onto the curved white couch and tossed his keys carelessly onto the same large glass table he kicked his feet up on; his white heels left on the floor by the table.

Ashton seemed to be amused by something, and judging by the cashless hands decorated with Luke's rings Michael supposed the stylish craze of a male still owed Calum money.

Luke shut the door behind himself, the last to enter the home and the last to grab Michael's attention, causing excitement to brew within the smaller of the two as green eyes intently watched the gritty blond walk further into the room, waiting patiently for the madman to come and speak with him.

"Honestly, Cal. Your omnisexual ass would've killed to see this bitch." Ashton rambled, passing Michael with a genuine smile and a pat on the head as he entered the kitchen; his words still spilling as he moved. "She was be-ute-taful."

Michael's shoulders tensed, excitement bubbling like a pot of boiled water as he watched Luke finally make his way over; seemingly headed for the quiet male dressed in a soft peach colour from his baggy hoodie to his cozy track-pants.

"She didn't have much of an ass but she was sooo sweet." Ashton continued, rummaging around in their fridge.

"Uh huh..." Calum leaned forward, snatching the television remote and holding it up toward the large plasma screen hoisted up on the wall over a fireplace.

Michael pouted with hurt disappointment, receiving nothing more than a passing glance from Luke as the taller man brushed by him and stepped into the kitchen; disappearing behind Michael's back to grab something without so much as a hello.
The soft male sighed, fingers fidgeting together—picking at eroding soft peach nail polish—as his shoulders slouched and his eyes threatened to fill with tears.
It had been all day and Luke hadn't been around for Michael to stare contently at, and now he was too busy to give even a little greeting. Michael could understand, Luke was probably tired and would prefer to grab something to eat and go to bed, but still. Michael wanted to sleep beside him, and he couldn't if Luke wasn't happy with him.

"She was a chubby girl, and I know how much you love the ones with squishy cheeks." Ashton continued, letting out a light hearted laugh as he shoved a TV dinner into the microwave; leaving the fridge for Luke to go through.