Cutie ⇔ Muke ✓

[22] Mr. Cocks

LUKE

I don't know what it was that made me take a liking to Michael so quickly. Well, to fall in love with him, if I want to take the term into honesty. I don't know if it was his cute little ears or his quivering tail that made me want to press my lips against his neck. I don't know if it was his glittering laugh or his silent mind, unspoken thoughts that move in synch with mine. I don't know if it was the way he looked at me, like I was the only one he wanted to look at for the rest of his life.

In some ways, I think it was the protectiveness of it. The feeling of knowing somebody needed me. Michael needed me. He wanted my warmth, he craved it. He needed it for the safety of his being. I loved pulling him into my chest at night, twisting my ankles with his and allowing his small figure to tuck around mine under the blankets. I loved feeling his soft, content sighs against my arm, where it would rest under his chin, and watch the smile form on his lips. I never felt needed in my life, not that I was supposed to do. I'm the youngest of my family, and I wasn't ever needed for much. While Calum is an amazing friend, he isn't one to make you feel like you have a purpose for breathing. Michael was that purpose.

In my mother's mind, forcing me into a job would seemingly make me feel like living was an option again, but instead I am standing in this itchy black uniform with plates perilously balanced on my palms, struggling not to drop them in the lap of a young woman in an expensive ball gown.

It didn't take long to realize that Calum and I are not born to be waiters, and it didn't exactly take that long for Mr. Cox to realize that as well. I can practically see the regret of hiring us fill his eyes whenever he sees me trip over my own feet. Though, judging by the lack of employees in the restaurant, he has no choice but to keep us.

We had been working for three hours before he allowed us a lunch break, so Calum and I empty our hands and make our way quickly out the door, stumbling over each other in order to get out of the dreaded restaurant as fast as possible. Calum sits down outside of the restaurant and begins to eat the sandwich he packed for himself. I lower myself down next to him, leaning up against the brick walls and feeling the rough texture rub scabs into my scalp. I shut my eyes, curling my legs up to my chest and ignoring the stares of the people around us who glance over at the two boys dressed in black waiter outfits.

"Are you not going to eat?" Calum asks. I turn to my left, my eyes falling over his pronounced jawline and tan skin. His brown eyes blink at me worriedly as he chews his lunch, pulling his feet in to avoid tripping the crowd.

"I'm not hungry." I say, and Calum narrows his eyes at me in response. I reach quietly into my pocket, trying to find the cigarette pack I had shoved into my pocket when my boss wasn't looking. I find it after a moment of searching, and I swiftly light it and take it between my teeth.

"What are you-- Luke!" Calum scolds, grimacing at the smoke leaving my lips. I pull the cigarette from my mouth and glance over at him.

"What?"

"You really need to stop that. It's--disgusting. And dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt." His voice is soft, but I dismiss his words. I already have this knowledge printed onto my brain, and I burn away the words with nicotine. I turn away from the tan boy and focus on my breathing, feeling the gritty taste under my tongue, coating the back of my throat like paint.

I'm glad it's not quiet today, what with the busy roads and stampede of heels clicking against the sidewalk. Silence has a way of grabbing onto your mind with long tendrils for fingers, digging deep into your brain and curling around all your thoughts and emotions. I don't handle the silence well. I say that I like it, I like the isolation from the fury of the earth, but the isolation doesn't like me. It destroys me, breaking down the cells in my blood into there is nothing left but a hollow skull.