thinking about you [muke af]

seventeen

seventeen

Luke got out of his car, clicking the clicker twice to make sure his doors were locked. He didn't live in a bad neighborhood, but it's been six years and his windows have been smashed twice. What'd they take? A pack of gum. If that doesn't show Luke's luck, then he doesn't know what will.

He opened the door to his apartment, a cold breeze of air conditioning meeting him. Ashton was standing in the living room, his arms crossed. "You're late."

"Why're you home? Don't you have work?" Luke asked. He started to place his binder and computer on the kitchen table, shrugging off the plaid button down tied around his waist.

"It's Thursday, I never work on Thursday," he said, following Luke into the kitchen, "We have to talk."

"Are you pregnant?" Luke joked, taking a wet washcloth and scrubbing something off of the counters.

"You're messing with Michael, and you've been lying to me about it," he stated. Ashton leant against the counter, watching Luke's back freeze and his hands stopped scrubbing.

Luke coughed, moving around the room to place the wash cloth in the dirty laundry basket in the closet. "Yeah, to both of those."
"Then you read his personal things, and ignore him. You're such a shitty human being, I've never been this upset with you."

"Wow, Ash, don't hold back." Luke sat down on their couch, kicking off his shoes and sliding off his tight jeans and letting out a relaxed groan. "How do you know all of this?"

"Calum told me about his roommate who literally came home today in almost tears. He's a sensitive boy, you can't do this to him!" Ashton was practically yelling, and Luke was pretty sure the lady below them would, once again, file complaints. Only a few months left, Old Lady, only a few months left.

"Oh, you mean the boy you're screwing?"

A blush ran to Ashton's cheeks, "I'm straight, I'm not f—."

"Sure, okay." Luke rolled his eyes. He moved his body so his feet were resting over the couch, his hands under his head.

"We're not talking about me! I don't care if you're dating him. I don't care if you're just friends who f.uck, but I don't want you being a douche bag to him!"

Luke has his eyes closed and his breath shallow. "I'm not being a douche bag to him. I just don't know what to say to him."

"Get your perky ass over there and tell him you're sorry!" The older boy was still yelling and Luke never liked being yelled at. He was like an eight year old, any moment now he'd go hide under the table or something.

Luke stood up, sliding a pair of plastic flip flops on his callused feet.

"You're not even gonna put on pants—?"

"Bye, Ashton."

Michael laid on the couch, mindlessly watching House Hunters while going over notes from an earlier class. He couldn't read his handwriting, and he had no idea why he highlighted the entire page.

The doorbell rang and Michael quickly put his finger to the tip of his nose, looking at Calum who was one second behind him.

"Dammit!" Calum swore, pushing his computer off of his lap, "I hate you so much."

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Michael started singing. He got a slap to the back of the head. He continued to lay flat like a pancake on the couch in his muscle tee and a pair of basketball shorts.