twenty

Michael has been thinking.

Michael has been thinking about Luke.

Every thought occupying Michael's young mind has been about the twenty-eight year old artist with light blonde hair and enchanting blue eyes. Every single thought.

He pulled another shirt from his closet, rolling it up tight and shoving it in his luggage bag.

He needed to make Luke happy the same way Luke made Michael happy. Michael didn't know how to do that, though. Mike doesn't know how his existence can bring such bright rays of sunshine. Luke can walk into a room, and the sun bows down to him.

Michael stayed up late—like, not going to sleep at all late—the last few nights. He researched every single fact about Van Gogh. He could practically write a thesis on the dead artist.

Luke loved Van Gogh. Michael wanted to make Luke Van Gogh, without the whole dying part.

That's why, with a packed car, Michael appeared at Luke's doorstep an hour after he got home from work.

Luke answered this time. The television was blaring behind him, three men were sat on the couch. All eyes were on the man at the door.

"Mike! Hey, buddy!" Skunk-haired Jack yelled out.

Michael stepped into their apartment, quickly pecking Luke's cheek. "Hey, how are you all doing tonight?"

"Drunk," Jack answered, "Did you change your hair color?"

"Nope, still purple." Michael walked to the back of their couch, resting his hands on the soft shoulders.

Luke came behind him, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Did we have a date tonight?" He was in his painting shorts, paint stains all along his legs. He was shirtless, a few handprints over his chest where he must have itched the skin without realizing the massive amounts of pain he spilled.

There was a blue dot on the tip of his nose. Michael knew this meant when the front door rang, they played nose goes. Luke obviously lost.

"No, we're going on an adventure," Mike said. "Pack up about a week worth of clothes."

"Michael, I'm not going on an adventure. I have, like, work and stuff." Luke crossed his arms over his body, refusing to budge.

"Luke, he's taking you on an adventure, go." The roommate next to Jack scolded the blonde.

"Listen to Alex," Jack said, "Get the fuck out of my house."

"This is not your house!" Luke said, "This isn't even a house!"
Michael put his hands flat on Luke's ribs, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. Luke stumbled over his feet before grumbling to his bedroom. "He'll be fine once we leave."

"Where are you takin' my boy?" Ashton asked. He sat on the recliner in the corner, cradling vegan ice cream.

"Out west," Michael responded. "We're gonna drive all through tonight. Stop somewhere around six. Then try to get to South Dakota the next day, then Montana the next."

"Wow, he's gonna love that." Jack leaned back on the couch, putting his feet upon Alex's lap.

"Is that sarcasm?" Michael made room for himself on the couch, squeezed close next to Alex. He kind of wanted to buy them a new, bigger couch. His mother didn't have to know he was spending money on people he didn't know.

"No!" Jack quickly answered, "Luke has always had this dream about going on a long road trip. You're making his dream into reality. Go you."

Mike smiled.

Jack poked his toe at Alex's jaw, "Why don't you love me like that?"

Alex scrunched up his face at Jack's ill-smelling feet. "Because you suck."

"You'd know," Jack muttered.

Alex gave him a look that made the other two in the room nervously chuckle. Michael didn't understand why Luke spent so much time in his bedroom. His roommates were hilarious, they made living in such a cramp space so much better.

Luke came out of the bedroom area minutes later. He was freshly changed, a new pair of sweat pants and a tank top laid loose on his body. "If you kill me and bury my body somewhere, this is my last goodbye. Goodbye, roomies. You all kind of suck."

Ashton rolled his eyes. "Bye, bitch."

Luke handed Michael his bag, watching the young lad throw it over his shoulder. "Ready?" He asked, standing up from his seat.

Luke nodded. "Promise you're not a mass murderer."

"I promise I'm not a mass murderer," Michael responded. He kissed Luke's forehead, sealing the deal.

Luke said goodbye to his roommates, reminding them to lock the doors and windows and turn off the icicle lights when they go to bed and make sure to do dishes. He followed Michael to his car, sitting in the passenger seat.

Michael shoved Luke's bag into the back seat before getting into the driver's seat. He set the destination of Indianapolis on his phone, placing it in front of them.

"Where are we going?" Luke took off his shoes, revealing his floral print socks. He placed them up on the dashboard, reclining in his seat.

It was far past his bedtime. It was an exhausting day at work, and only an hour before midnight.

"Lots of places," Mike said. He reversed out of their complex, heading to the highway quickly. "Go to sleep, we'll be there soon."

Luke closed his eyes slowly. The hum of the highway and The Fray on the radio kept him in a sleepy daze. He wasn't sure what this feeling in his chest was. Was he happy? Was he in love? Was he alive? He hoped it would all last, because he can't remember a time he has felt so good.