sixteen
Luke was sweating. A lot.
He was thankful for his long-sleeved black shirt not showing his sweat stains underneath his arms. He crossed his legs under the restaurant table, his baby pink skirt flowing off his freshly-shaved legs.
He felt good about himself tonight. He felt confident, he felt happy.
He looked over at his boyfriend carelessly munching on his dinner and he couldn't stop a pit in Luke's stomach dropping. Luke was scared of Michael proposing tonight. It was the perfect venue, the perfect moment, but not the perfect day.
Mike looked up at his the blonde, the flower in his hair falling off his hair-sprayed locks. He reached over, trying to fix it a little bit. Luke flinched, his mind was lost in the moment and didn't come back until a hand was on his ear.
Michael scrunched his eyebrows and sat back down. He rolled the sleeves of his button-down back towards his elbow before speaking up, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, of course. Just, just a little cold," Luke stuttered out a lie. He was the opposite of cold. His cheeks were a steamy red and he couldn't stop biting his lip. He felt embarrassed and he didn't know why.
He did know why - his fear of Michael proposing. Luke just thought that that was a stupid reason to feel anything except happy.
Michael leaned around his chair, grabbing his grey cardigan. "Here ya' go, Darling."
Luke smiled, but shook his head. "Actually, I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute." He quickly got up, his black booties clicking against the stone floors. He tried to navigate himself around the dim, candle-lit room without bumping into anyone.
The twenty-nine-year-old sighed deeply once he reached the bathroom. He grabbed the corners of the sink, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Why was he so scared?
Michael took out his phone, turning down the brightness in order to not disturb the couples around them.
To / Cy
you still good?
He placed his phone on the table, taking another bite of his dinner. Mike couldn't figure out why his lover was acting so off. He barely talked, barely ate. Michael didn't like seeing him like this.
Like Mike always says, Luke never shuts up. It was odd to hear him so silent.
From / Cy
duuh, go back to loverboy. i'm headed to bed now, so you can bring him home if you want.
Luke wanted to splash water on his face, but his makeup was far too expensive and took far too much time to redo.
He took a few deep breaths before leaving the restroom. Luke was good at motivating himself, getting himself the needed confidence to take on the day.
He began to feel more and more insecure, though, as the wealthy couples looked him up and down. He wasn't sure if it was because he was wearing a skirt, or if it was because his skirt was from H&M.
Luke watched as their eyes followed him back to seat across from Michael, all of the quiet gasping and whispering quickly following. They knew who Michael was, they knew what he could do, they knew the power he held.
"Feeling better?" Mike asked, reaching his hand across to table, waiting for Luke to place his underneath.
Luke let out a small smile, placing his hand tightly in Michael's. "A little bit. Do you think we could go home soon? I don't really feel comfortable."
"Did someone say something?" Michael's face turned from an endearing look to a solemn, angry one.
"No, no no no, I just kind of want to go home and watch stupid horror films," he responded, rubbing his thumb over the other boy's pale thumb. He traced the small anchor inked into his skin.
"You know, I will gladly beat anyone up—."
"I know, Mikey, I know."
Michael smiled, his eyes glowing with pure love for the younger boy. He leaned back in his seat, disconnecting their hands. "We'll go soon."
Luke has gotten good at calming Michael down, any rage disappearing.
They spent the next half hour coming up with stories about the people around them.
According to Luke, they were sitting near a secret Russian spy, a man and his mistress, and a teacher who took his student out, hoping to not see anyone he knew.
Luke and Michael headed home a bit later, Luke falling asleep on the couch and Michael being forced to carry him up.
The next morning, Michael walked into the kitchen. A stain-filled tee shirt and loose boxers upon his body. "Good morning," Michael said between a yawn.
"Your gross breakfast is already in the toaster," Luke sighed. He flipped through the newspaper in front of him, scanning the articles and photos.
Mike laughed, "It's not gross. How can a Poptart be gross? What kind of human are you?" He jumped onto the counter between the stove and toaster, looking at his boyfriend.
Luke was already dressed. His three-quarter sleeved dress fitting his curves, a denim jacket two sizes too big over his shoulders making him look smaller.
"It's just sugar, that's all. I have a figure to keep, and that's not gonna help." Luke flickered his blue eyes up at Michael, a smile plastered across both of their faces.
"Yeah? I don't," he responded, his face shining bright like the sun. He jumped down from the counter as his breakfast popped up. His bare feet hit against the heated floors as he walked across the kitchen.
Michael grabbed his breakfast before joining Luke at the elongated island. "You're so dressed up today."
Luke pulled at the fabric of his jacket, scrunching his eyebrows and looking back at Mike. "How is this dressed up?"
Michael shrugged. "You already have, like, makeup on and stuff. It's like nine in the morning." Crumbs fell from his mouth as he spoke.
"I have work to get to. I should probably be there by now," Luke scuffed. He closed up the newspaer in front of him, tucking it under his arm and standing up.
"You know, I can easily support you—."
Luke cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, I know that. You've made that very clear," Luke threw his hands in the air, gesturing at the spacious house, "but, I'm not gonna use you like that. I don't want a sugar daddy."
"Lukey, you never let me do anything for you," Michael whined, folding his arms over his chest like a child.
"I'm your boyfriend of six months, I don't want you to do anything for me," the blonde said confidently. He looked at the black watch on his small wrist, 8:47. He needs to get going.
"It's actually been six months and five weeks," Michael corrected. He pushed his plate further on the countertop and leant his head on his elbow.
Luke rolled his eyes, leaning over to kiss Mike's cheek. "I've gotta get going."
"I literally control your schedule, what would you do if I started giving you, like, two hour weeks?"
Luke continued walking towards the breakfast table that they never really ate at. He picked up his nude heels and matching bag from the chair, sitting down to wobble into them, "I would kill you one thousand times if you dare do anything like that, or just file a law suit."
"I even control your pay," Michael continued to tease, "I could double your pay for working less. Then, you don't even need to work. I could pay you for sucking me off."
"That's prostitution."
"Not the point." Michael slapped Luke's bum as he walked past. "Are you coming back here after work?"
"Probably, wanna meet me for lunch? Bring Cy, too," Luke called from the hallway. He quickly stepped into the bathroom, making sure his winged eyeliner was as perfect as it was an hour ago.
"Why the hell are you working on a Saturday, by the way?" Michael tried not to yell too loudly, in fear of waking his sleeping brother.
"Because my boss fucking sucks."
"Does he at least swallow?" Michael smirked.
"I'm leaving!"