fourteen

"You've never been drunk?" Luke looked up at Michael, trying not to laugh.

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Wait here." Luke let go of their entwined hands, quickly ushering into the liquor store they passed.
Michael waiting outside, not sure why Luke made him wait. He stared up at the night sky, it was barely noticeable. The skyline was so tall, the clouds and stars not visible.

Luke wasn't sure if Michael was even a teenager. Maybe he was just born as the eighteen-year-old bastard he seems to be now. Luke knows Mike never really went to school, he was homeschooled. He knows Michael never really made friends, he knows he never got drunk nor high. He just kind of existed his entire life.

Luke walked out five minutes later, plastic bags crinkling in his hands. He had a smile on his face as he connected their hands again. "I love getting ID'd."

Michael laughed, "Why?"

"Makes me feel young again."

"Is that the only reason you bang me? To feel young again?" Michael joked. He swung their hands back and forth, giggling at nothing in particular.

"Obviously." Luke turned the corner, stepping up to Michael's complex building. His doorman nodded at the two as he let them through.

Mike dragged into the elevator, pressing his body up against the glass back. He kissed the sides of Luke's mouth, nuzzling their noses together. "I'm so happy when I'm with you," he said.

Luke kissed him, dropping his bags on the floor to press his hands to Michael's cheeks. Their lips connected in such a slow, heated moment, it was everything Luke needed at the moment. It was everything Michael ever needed.

Michael wouldn't mind losing everything as long as he had the blonde boy at his side. "We got twenty five more floors, wanna fuck?" Mike looked up at the numbers ticking.

Luke kissed his bobbing Adam's apple before pushing him away. "No, I'm not an Ed Sheeran song."

Mike lifted up Luke's hand, kissing each knuckle. "Baby, I could get you coming in no time." He placed Luke's index finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the callused skin.

His blue eyes watched the younger boy, he swallowed a lump in his throat before retracting his finger. "Nope, I wanna get you drunk, not horny."

Michael pouted out his lower lip. He stepped back before leaning against the glass wall next to Luke. "Do you wanna get tattoos?"

"You're sober and already coming up with crazy ideas."

Michael rolled his eyes before lifting up his shirt, revealing many tattoos. "I learned how to do stick-and-pokes, look at them." He stepped closer until his stomach pressed against Luke's hand, "Look."

Luke laughed, pushing him away. "I see, they look great, babe."

"Come on, let me do one on you."

The blonde smiled and chewed harder on the gum in his mouth. He always had to have gum in his mouth, it made him feel less awkward in most social situations. As smokers go through a pack of cigarettes a day, Luke probably goes through a pack of gum every day. "Maybe."

"I need a sober yes," Michael said. The elevator ringed, letting them exist onto Michael's floor.

The way his complex worked was fairly different than Luke's, mostly because the square footage was ten times more. Each floor had two lofts, one to the left, one to the right.

Michael brought out his key, unlocking his door.

"Okay, fine. Nothing big, nothing stupid, and nothing too visible." Luke walked past Michael as he held open the door. he started flicking on lights, knowing Mike's apartment far too well.

He laid his jacket on the back of the couch, then kicked off his shoes against the wall. He took out the Reyak, holding it up to show Mike. "This will get you shit faced within a shot."

Michael took out a needle and ink, soaking it in chemicals. "Oh, great, awesome. Will I die?"

Luke laid on the couch, starting to unbutton his tight jeans. "I'll make sure you don't die. Just, if I get drunk as fuck, don't drink the whole bottle. You will most likely die." He lifted up his hips, starting to slide them off of his body.

Michael patted his legs, making him scoot over with a huff. "There are glasses in the cabinet if you want me to—."

"We just went to a liquor store on East 55th, a.k.a. the sketchiest place ever. We're not drinking out of your prestigious wine glasses." Luke opened the cap, swinging his head back and twitching at the taste. "So spicy."

"Just because I own something, doesn't mean it's prestigious," Mike defended. He brought a cloth of cleaning substitute on Luke's knee cap, making sure the skin was clean.

"Look at your prestigious couch and your prestigious jeans and tee shirt. I'm so upset over your prestigious hair dye and prestigious needle," Luke said, giggling between each words.

He titled his head back again, groaning as it burned his throat.

Michael rolled his eyes, "I think this tee shirt is actually yours."

Luke sat up, taking his leg off of Michael's thigh. "Take a drink, I did this for you, not me."

Mike held the glass bottle carefully in his hand. He brought it to his lips, sipping as it burnt its way all the way into his bloodstream. His eyes watered and he practically coughed it back up. He stuck his tongue out, trying to get the air to cool off his burning mouth.

Luke took the bottle, placing it aside. He sat up, scooting closer to Michael. He placed his own tongue on Michael's, pressing their bodies closer together.

Mike put the cloth down, wrapping his hands above Luke's bum. He tilted his head up, kissing around Luke's chin and down his neck.

The older man rolled over, back into his seat. He took his third, fourth, then fifth sip before putting his left leg over Mike's thigh. "Let's do this."

Michael sanitized him again before dipping the needle into the jar of black ink. "This shouldn't hurt."

"What if it does?" Luke asked. He stared up at the ceiling, his arms cradling the vodka in his hands like a child. He could feel Michael's hands stretching the skin, the small pricks tapping at the area.

"I cry while getting blood drawn, but I have twenty sick-and-poke and over one hundred real tattoos. It doesn't hurt," he finally answered. Michael stayed focus on Luke's skin, too worried to mess up. Luke was a masterpiece, and he didn't want to be the one to mess him up.

Luke brought the Reyka to Michael's mouth when he took a breath. "You know you want it."

Michael took the bottle, chugging back another small sip. He cringing and seethed with pain. He made a disgusted face in Luke's direction, "How do you like that?"

He shrugged, "Makes me feel nothing."

Mike patted his knee. He kissed the skin, then told Luke to give it a look.

Luke bent his knee. The small letter M was in the very center. "If you look at it this way, it's W, but the right way, it's M."

"Good analysis."

"I love it." Luke put the drink in Michael's hand again before pouncing into his lap. His knees bent on either side of his hips, he leaned in to peck at the younger man's mouth.

Michael tried to bring Luke's knee up, not wanting to smear it before he had a chance to wrap it. "I think I love you."

Luke stopped. He sat back, looking straight into Michael's eyes, and he apologized. "I'm sorry."

"What? Don't be sorry." He took a band-aid from the bag in which he kept the needles and ink. He covered the small M, just to avoid possible accidents.

"Don't love me, don't ever love a monster like me." Luke looked down at their entwined bodies, his hands reaching towards the bottle.

Michael moved it further back. "Hey, don't say that. You're—You're my everything."

Luke shook his head. "It's okay though. It's okay not to be okay, right?"

Mike gave in, handing him the bottle once more. He placed his hands on Luke's soft skin, brushing his flat hair out of his eyes. "I hate that saying, you know? People tell you it's okay not to be okay, then they go and tell you to be normal. It's okay to be you, Luke, but I don't want you to be sad."

He leant his head against Michael's. "No sadness, not now. I'm more drunk than you right now. Drink up." He placed the bottle in the small space between their lips.

Mike didn't want to get drunk anymore. He just wanted to spend time with Luke. He wanted to kiss Luke, love Luke, spend the rest of his life with Luke. He knew Luke didn't like himself, but he never realized Luke actually hated himself.

His smaller hands grabbed the bottle, sipping the tiniest drop of spicy liquid. Luke clapped his hands, his eyes lighting up. His eyes always lit up when something went his way.

Michael didn't think that he would ever be here with the worker for the art store in his lap, a drink being shared between them. He never thought the boy who didn't really want to talk would be placing slobbery, loving kisses over Michael's face.

Michael never knew he could care about someone so much.