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michael wasn’t even that drunk. he’d only had like, three rounds of vodka shots and some weird orange blend that calum had brought, and he could totally stand up straight.
so what if he was leaning his head against the shoulder of this blue-eyed new-for-michael boy, since when was resting a goddamn crime?
and so what if michael maybe ran his hands through the boy(-leon?-)’s hair and let him pull michael into his lap. so what if michael smiled against his shoulder and let the boy (-lenny???-) touch his sides maybe a little bit too eagerly.
michael trusts his new blue-eyed boy and he trusts ashton to keep an eye on calum (and maybe one on himself as well) and everything is just really nice.
michael whispers to his boy that michael has lime hair but it hasn’t always been. it was another colour just a week ago.
his boy nods and smiles and rubs their noses together, “michael. michael with the lime hair.”
another three rounds of shots (+ one extra just because michael likes the way it burns all the way down his throat and just. fuck. it’s the best kind of burn.) later and michael is holding –luke!!!—‘s hand and he thinks they’re walking to the bus, but he doesn’t know for sure.
he doesn’t really care either because luke is being really sweet, carrying michael’s shoes because he took them off at one point and not letting go of his hand even when michael stops to look at the oh-so-pretty flowers that grow next to the road. at one point luke stops because he’s got to pee though, but michael doesn’t think that counts.
by the time the bus arrives michael has tried (and failed) smoking a cigarette – something he always said he’d never do – and he’s discovered that luke’s neck is covered in pretty little marks that michael might be responsible for.
luke shrugs it off and tells him: “I wanted you to make them so it’s okay”, and pays for the bus as michael stumbles past him and collapses on nearest seat.
and when luke drags him back up to walk further back in the bus and sits him down and kisses him softly, he can feel ashton’s eyes on him (again). his stare is burning but it doesn’t quite match the lingering one sitting in his stomach together with the shots.
luke’s touch is also burning and michael thinks that he might just have found a new favorite kind of burn.
luke has really pretty eyes and michael feels. so. heavy. and it’s like the third or fourth (or maybe tenth) time he’s said it to luke but he feels like he doesn’t quite understand, so he repeats himself again:
“leon. (no, fuck,) LUKE. luke, you know I’m not that pretty, right?”
luke sighs and hums and smothers michael’s sides, “you are tho. you’re so pretty.”
“I’m not. I’m not, I’m- really big and, really gross and you’re gonna regret this in the morning.”
luke stops moving against him and michael thinks that yeah, okay, maybe he does understand and goodbye luke.
but luke reaches up and turns the lights on and, “michael. michael with the lime hair. you need to look at me”, so michael does.
“look me in the eye. michael you are so. damn. pretty. like, seriously. I can’t believe how I got here. I’m in bed with the hottest guy at the party and you’re so amazing and stop saying those things about yourself because they’re not true”, and everything comes crashing down and michael feels like dying. right there. on the spot.
just flopping down drop dead on luke’s chest because wow. luke’s so nice and michael wants to cry, but he’s not a fucking complete wimp so he settles for kissing luke’s neck.
the next morning there’s an entire artwork on luke hemmings’ neck. it’s purple and red and a bit blue and with small, small dots in it and it’s so pretty.
it hurt’s a little, luke notices. burns. kind of.
but he remembers michael with the lime hair and his shaking body and wow, it’s better than shots. it’s the best kind of burn.