vingt deux

Michael wasn't feeling okay the following morning. He woke up with a deep breath, and suddenly the mortifying moments came flooding into his brain. Michael was already socially awkward and hated every word that came from his mouth, so rejection made it all much worse.

He kicked his sheets off of his body, sighing. He really wished he could stay in bed all day, just let the world wipe his sadness away.

He threw on shorts and a tee shirt, knowing his parents would scold him for walking downstairs (almost) naked. Michael didn't bother fixing his mess of his hair as he made his way down the stairs he knew so well.

He held the cold banister, the polished wood smooth under the palm of his hand. He jumped the last few steps, turning to get to the kitchen. His mother was making breakfast, the smell of fried eggs filling his system.

His father sat at the table, his—most likely—second cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Both parents gave him a quick good morning before turning back to the stove and the newspaper.

He sat across from his father, opening up his phone and scrolling through missed notifications.

"Is that Luke boy coming over today?" Mr. Clifford asked.

Michael's mind ran crazy as he tried to think of an excuse. "Uh, no, he's busy."

"Such a nice boy," his mother concluded. She placed two plates in front of her favorite men before sitting down herself.

"Actually, no, he's not busy." Michael out down his fork and knife. "I think he's mad at me."

Michael and his parents had the type of relationship most wished for. They were open—about Mike's sexuality, about Mike's life, about everything. His parents didn't mind being his friend first, his parent second.

"Did something happen?" His mother asked. She sipped at her morning glass of tea, her eyes watching Michael.

"I—I kind of told him I liked him, and I don't think he's into dudes." Michael traced his fingers over the ceramic plate, not wanting to look at his parents glances.

"Well, you know what I say," his mother started, "You can't say someone is a certain sexuality unless they say it first. But, Honey, that boy is most likely not straight."

Mike shrugged his shoulders as he cut a small piece of the omelette in front of him.

"I've walked in on you two spooning more than once. Straight boys don't cuddle their friends like that."

"What, when?" Michael furrowed his eyebrows as he quickly looked up at his mother. Their matching green eyes met.

"Baby, I put away your clothes every morning."

He didn't understand for a few seconds. Then it hit him, it hit him hard. She has walked in almost every morning Luke slept over to see Luke's arms wrapped around Michael's chest, their bodies as close as possible. "Oh, my God."

She nodded. "He makes you happy, I'm not gonna stop it."

Michael looked at his father whom was still reading the front page, not really caring for their conversation.

His father was constantly like that. He let his wife and son do whatever pleases them. he never raised his voice, he rarely said no. He felt his goal in life was to make the people he loves happy, and he'd gladly go to the ends of the earth to do so.

"Oh, God." Michael buried his face in his hands, covering the red once again lining his plush cheeks.

"You're going to hate me—but just give it time. Luke will come around, don't stress him out."

Michael loved his parents a lot, but there were things he couldn't tell them.

He couldn't tell them about their kiss. The way Luke's lips felt so soft, so smooth against his own. It was as if the world stayed still for those few seconds, and Mike just needed more of that.

He couldn't admit the way his heavy mind ran scenarios of the two throughout the day. He constantly thought about that one day he will be able to wake up next to Luke on a lazy Sunday morning and realize that everything is okay. He can't wait until the day he can roll over every single morning and see the blonde boy half-asleep.

He didn't want his parents to know about the dirty thoughts in his head. He didn't want them to know how good Luke looked shirtless, even though he wasn't toned, he was still beyond perfection in Michael's eyes. He didn't want them to know how the thought of their sweaty bodies entwined constantly drove Michael into sexual insanity.

He would never be able to put into words how good Luke made Michael feel. The way 'pretty' would fall from Luke's lips and make Michael's knees shake.

Luke made Michael happy, it was as simple as that.