the boy with the white eyes [muke af]

deux ce est mieux

deux, ce est mieux

Clémence was sat on Luke's lap. He had one arm around the dusty cushions of his own couch, another entwined in the small girl's pig tails. Michael should be coming to pick up his daughter any minute now, but as always, he is late.

"Hey, Lukey," her voice pierced the otherwise silent house. Calum was in his room, music blasting through his earbuds. "I have a question."

"What is it, pumpkin?" Luke let go of her hair as he felt her leave his lap. Clémence sat down next to him, crossing one leg underneath the other.

"Do you like my daddy?"

"He's very likable."

She let out a giggle, then pushed his arm, "no, I mean like-like."

Luke brought his arm from the cushions and around her shoulder, "I think I do. Isn't that fun? Two daddies are more fun than one."

Clémence thought about it as she leaned more into Luke, "I guess, but my friend, Milo, she said having two daddies is weird."

"She just sucks the fun out of life," Luke chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Are you going to live with us like Steve lives with Mommy?"

The tall, blonde boy was getting more and more nervous as the minutes ticked on. He didn't think getting interrogated by a five year old ("almost six!!") would be so scary. "I don't think so, at least not yet."

"I like you more than Steve."

"That's good, I bet I'm a lot cooler than him."

Clémence was always so giggly and cheerful around Luke. She stood up on the couch, stepping in-between Luke's legs and placing her hands on his head, "are you ever going to get your eyes back?" She stared into the never ending hue of light blue.

"I don't know, baby, I don't know."

She slumped down on his lap, "you deserve your eyes, Lukey." Her head rested against his chest, feeling the slow inhale and exhale of his breathing.

He smiled, wrapping both arms around the small girl. Luke doesn't understand how such a small girl could have such large thoughts. She sees the world in a different sense of life, just like her father.

Minutes passed before the click of the door and the smell of Taco Bell filled the apartment, "honey, I'm home!" Michael called out, "I have burritos and tacos, too."

Clémence hopped off the lanky boy's lap, running towards Mike, grabbing the bags of food instead of hugging her father. "I've been starving, Daddy, starving!"
"I fed her, I swear," Luke defended, slowly standing up.

"They fed me walnuts," the small girl sat in her seat at the long, wooden table. She is at Luke and Calum's so often, she has her own plates, bowls, silverware, even her own seat in their kitchen.

"They were actually pistachios," he corrected.

Michael grabbed Luke's wrists once he was within reach, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, then leading him to the table. "It's the thought that counts." He called for Calum, who came running around the corner with the mention of food.

"How was work?" Luke asked once everyone was situated at the dinner table, quietly munching on the fast food.

"It was fucking stupid," he swore between bites, thinking about the madness of being short staffed.

"Swear jar!" Clémence yelled.

"That's not fair, why can't I swear?"

"Mommy said it was bad for me to hear," the small girl raised her nose in the air, happy she could contribute to the conversation. (She hated when they talked about big words like taxes and mortgage loans.)

"Well, guess who's not here right now?" Michael wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Clémence looked at her father, "I'm going to tell her."

The two college students were laughing at the imitating kindergartener, even after Michael's glares. The twenty-seven year old was smiling like a child anyways, he was so in love with his daughter's threats.

He loved having dinners like this, he felt like a true family in a way. He's lived in New York for almost an entire decade now, and he's never felt like this, never felt like he belonged. He silently thanks Clémence for crying at two in the morning on that one summer day months ago, because she introduced him into something great. "How were your days?" Mike ignored Clémence, asking the others.

"Blind."
"Boring."

"Stupid."

Luke, Calum, nor Clémence cared enough to further explain.

x x x

Michael was lounging in his bed a few minutes before midnight, his light washed blanket was hanging lowly on his waist, his soft crewneck sliding up his torso as he rested his hand behind his head. His phone in his hand was the only source of illumination in the dark bedroom.

"Daddy," a small voice whispered.

Mike looked towards his door to see a small toddler standing at the frame. Curse horror movies and his sudden instinct to fight off the demon child standing in the dark hallway. He slowed his reaction, only jumping a little bit, and responding with, "what's wrong? Why aren't you asleep?"

Little feet skidded across his bedroom floor, jumping on the end of his bed, and climbed her way next to him. Her arms held a small sheep stuffed animal, holding it close to her chest. Clémence leant her body against Michael, her head on his arm, "I've been thinking."
"That's always scary." He laid his phone back onto his nightstand, turning over so he was facing his daughter. His pale arm was still left laying on the sheets, Clémence's head laying softly against it.

"Daddy, I'm serious."

He smiled, "alright, baby girl, is it about your conversation with Luke today?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Well, he was a little concerned. He wanted me to talk to you about what's happening. He said you're old enough to understand."

Clémence smiled a toothy grin, she always liked to be older than she is. One day, she'll be collapsed on the ground crying, wishing she was a five year old with light blonde hair again.

"Lukey and I do indeed like each other very much. And when two people like each other a lot, sometimes it doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl. I don't have a preference."

"What does that mean?" She asked in breathy voices like all toddlers speak.

"It means I like boys and girls."

"Is Mommy like that?"
"No, sweetie, Mommy only wants to marry boys."

Clémence looked up at Michael, then back at her stuffed animal. "Are you going to marry Lukey, Daddy?"
"I don't know, C, only time will tell, yeah?"

She nodded her head, accepting that answer, "I like Lukey, I want you to have a big wedding, like, one on the beach. I've always wanted to go to the beach."
"You're so hyped up tonight," he laughed, "what did Luke feed you?"

"Walnuts."

"They were actually pistachios."