three

Michael wasn’t paying attention in Dr. Ren’s lecture. The middle-aged women with greasy black hair and a second chin coming in was once again bragging about her supposed three PhD’s. “I think there should be more prefixes for women like me,” she spoke, walking around her small space in the front. 

Michael mimicked her, scrunching up his face to no one in particular. He was doodling in his journal, drawing a cartoon dragon next to the lyrics he was trying to finish up. “Cause when the night gets dark/ And there's no way back/ I’ll call your name/ But it's fading, we're fading,” was written instead of his usual format of thesis statements. In all honesty, he didn’t even have proper binder with him, he’s so close to finishing his degree, he doesn’t care for nonsense lectures about exams he’ll end up cheating in. 

Luke’s metal blue eyes wandered up the rows until it spotted the blue haired boy. He watched as he mouthed every word leaving the professor’s mouth, rolling his eyes over and over again. The older boy had to bite his lip to hold in a laugh. 

He looked over at Ashton, who was sitting in the row across from him helping a lost student. His roommate/best friend was glaring at Luke, not happy with his ‘unprofessional manner’.

The blonde twenty-three year old stood up from his seat, his long legs tripping over the second step of the auditorium. He was almost out of breath by the time he reached the row with the punk rock kitten. Luke slid in between the two rows, accidentally knocking over a girl’s binder and another girl’s water bottle. 

He whispered apologies each time, quickly jumping over piles of books on the floor to finally reach Michael. 

Mike had his eyebrows furrowed, his other hand cautiously closing his journal. He opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted by Luke tripping over his own feet, falling onto his knees and hitting his head on the pull out desk. “Oh my fucking God,” Mike softly chuckled, “You’re such a loser.”

Luke pouted silently as he ushered his body into the red velvet seat next to the boy. “I’m sorry, you looked bored.”

“Welcome to the American Education, we’re supposed to be bored,” Michael scuffed, moving his fingers that were holding the page he was working on and closing the notebook shut. He didn’t like anyone seeing the rough draft of his originals. They were embarrassingly awful.

Michael liked being in the art world because he met people just like him. He met artist who would look at their paintings until they hated them. He met musicians who played their originals until they wanted to smash their instruments. He met writers who wish they could buy back all their first samples of writing. 

He met suicidal comedians, colorblind painters, and writers failing English. 

“I’m not sure how I haven’t been kicked out of this Teachers Assistant program yet,” Luke whispered, trying to not disturb any of the students in case they were actually interested in Dr. Ren being impressed with herself. 

“You distract everyone,” Michael answered. His hands were shaking as he tried to come up with funny things to say to Luke. He really wanted to impress the older lad, he wanted to seem like he was cool when in reality he was the most lame person in the room. 

“It’s ‘cause I’m hot, right?”

“Keep believing that, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Luke asked. He looked over at Michael, a smile written upon his light pink lips.
A blush rose to Mike’s cheeks, “I just meant it as, like, Jesus, I don’t know.”

Luke laughed. He spread his legs and moved his body towards the center of the chair to become more comfortable. He figured he was going to be here for the rest of the lecture. “If I’m buttercup, then what are you?”

“Punk rock,” he recited, hoping to save the awkward moment. 

“You’re not punk rock.”

“F.uck you, yes I am.” Michael placed his notebook on top of his bag, too lazy to actually place it inside. He brought up the small side desk, twisting it until it was back in the slot between the two chairs. Mike crossed his legs, his pasty pale skin sticking out from the hole in his dark denim. 

“Ashton has more punk rock cred. than you,” Luke teased, nodding over in the other boy’s direction. 

Michael snorted, “He wears man buns.”

“He has tattoos and a good taste in music, so,” Luke trailed off, looking back at the front of the auditorium towards their professor. He figured if he continued to watch Michael he’d get caught up and try to kiss him. 

Michael rolled up his sleeves, sticking his tattooed-covered arms in front of Luke’s face. Luke eyes closed as he caught the precious smell of Michael. His cologne was strong—but in a good way. It filled Luke’s nostrils and he knew he’d never forget it. “I’ve got more,” Mike whispered, referring to his many tattoos. 

They were all random doodles, most of them probably having some type of meaning. But, it was mainly a way for Michael to annoy his parents. (“You’re the one who sent me away to college, this is what we do.”)

“Alright, Kitten.” He smirked, biting down on his lip harshly as he watched the younger boy squirm in his seat. “What? Do you like that?”

“Luke, stop,” Mike said. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He, too, knew that if he looked at the pure blonde sitting next to him he’d have to start a make out session in the middle of English 2001. 

Luke closed his mouth, done with their conversation. He watched the professor hand out papers, he probably was supposed to help, but the effort of tripping over all those people was something he could not handle. 

It was nineteen minutes after class ended and Michael was about to explode. He was actually talking to the love of his life for more than five minutes. Mike had a grin plastered on his face and he wasn’t sure it would ever leave. 

The two were standing outside the classroom, sunlight streaming in from the large bay windows. 

“Do you want to, like, hang out some time? Make some pizza bagels, waste our lives away?” Luke asked, rocking back and forth on his dirty Converse. 

Michael didn’t know it was possible for his smile to grow wider, “Yeah,” he answered, “I would like that a lot.” He looked down at his feet, they were much smaller compared to Luke’s, he felt like such a child even if there was only a two year age difference. The taller blonde just seemed much more mature than the music major. 

“I think I’m going to regret this bu—,” Luke was interrupted by Michael’s lips crashing upon his own. 

They both had the same idea, the same chemicals brewing inside their bodies that made them lean in and feel their lips pressing against each other. Luke quickly responded by opening his mouth and taking Mike’s bottom lip under his teeth. 

“I guess we thought the same thing,” Luke laughed, letting a lien of saliva snap between them.

Michael felt like an idiot.