Chapter Text
We walked hand in hand. I could barely hear Luke’s deep, heavy breaths over the sound of his heart beating a mile a minute. He kept whispering, “Please, Michael. Put it back. Please.”
He was such a worry wort. I don’t think there has ever been a time where he wasn’t worrying about me and my addiction.
I’ve been shoplifting for about a year and a half. It started out as a fun thrill, then a bad habit, and now it’s just a lifestyle. I am a kleptomaniac.
No one knows except for Luke. It didn’t take him long to figure out, either. I would come home with bags full of stupid shit we didn’t even need. Nail polish, earrings, journals, magazines, books, candles, keychains, candy, hair dye, pencils, pajamas, underwear, t-shirts, jeans, shoes. You name it, I stole it.
Luke hates when I shoplift. He gets a weird, but cute, tiny twitch in his right eye when he sees me walk through our front door with a bag full of unpaid items. But, no matter how much he despises my habit, his one and only exception is a new chapstick every so often.
He loves when I come home with a new flavor. His favorites change by the season. During the fall, he can’t get enough of the pumpkin spice latte flavor. He says it reminds him of our first Halloween together when we spilled hot lattes all over ourselves while dressed in old, ratty white sheets. Those were such shitty ghost costumes. When summer rolls around, he is obsessed with the orange creamsicle flavor. He adores the lingering smell it leaves when I kiss him on the tip of his nose.
If Luke and I aren’t tackling each other in hugs and kisses or calling each other dumb, ugly fucks, then we’re probably arguing over my poor life choices. I honestly don’t know why he hasn’t left me yet. He has put up with my bullshit for almost nine months. I’ve never actually had someone stick around for so long without wanting to beat the fuck out of me because of how idiotic I could be sometimes. I am so thankful to have someone like him.
There has only been one occurance where I truly thought I was going to lose Luke.
It was a cloudy, summer day in downtown Boston. I was out by myself as I walked past an Abercrombie & Fitch and thought about our first date.
I was so excited, yet so nervous about going out with Luke. I had my best friend Calum come over and help me prepare. He was your average preppy, frat boy, so of course, he wanted to dress me up in some expensive douche bag outfit. I didn’t need help picking out clothes or taking advice or anything like that. I just needed help finding the perfect aroma. I wanted to wear something that would remind Luke of our first date forever and ever. I didn’t want him to forget my scent. Now, don’t call me a dumb, fucking gay, but Calum convinced me to douse myself in Abercrombie & Fitch’s Fierce Cologne. I was almost positive that Luke was going to gag when he got the slightest whiff of me, but it was better than smelling like a sweaty thirteen year old boy drowning in cheap Axe spray. Oddly enough, that freak actually enjoyed it. He ate the cologne up. He couldn’t stop talking about about how nice I smelled the entire night. It was so awkward and weird, but I couldn’t stop blushing. He was such a peach.
I ran up stairs, panting, searching up and down the displays for the cologne. It was so fucking dark in that store. It was like a mini scavenger hunt. I had a tiny drop of sweat dripping down into my eyebrow piercing. Of course, my sweat was purple. I had stolen hair dye the day before and I just had it freshly colored.
When I shoplift, I go through the same steps every time. Every thief has their method.
Walk slowly towards what you want. Pick the item up. Check the price tag. Smirk at it. Put the item down. Check the cameras. Check your surroundings. Keep calm. Find the perfect spot where no camera could possibly suspect you. Walk back over to the display. Check your surroundings. Pick the item up. Walk back to your secret spot. Stash it wherever you can. Once you’re set and ready, get the fuck out.
I stuffed the cologne into my long sleeve and immediately dashed out the double doors. I was more than excited to get home and give it to Luke. I knew he would light up as soon as he smelled the old familiar fragrance.
When Luke took his first breath as he walked into the house, his face went from a glowing smile to a crooked frown. He knew. He always knew.
Fierce Cologne is $74 for a 3.4oz bottle, and I worked at a fucking ice cream shop. I didn’t have that type of money.
Luke teared up with his fists clenched. His face was red and blotchy. The disappointment in his eyes pierced right through my skull. My heart sank to stomach.
“What the fuck, Michael? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you a fucking idiot? Wait, never mind, of course you’re a fucking idiot. Why the fuck do you keep doing this? Who the fu-”
His voice cut off mid insult. His hands were buried into his face, bawling his fucking eyes out. He was such a baby sometimes. I didn’t anticipate such a negative, emotional reaction. I tried to comfort him and calm him down, but he wouldn’t stop pushing me away. I didn’t know how to fix the situation, even though I should've since I’ve been dealing with these type of outbreaks for months. It was all my fault. It always was.
Luke packed up all of his shit and left in the middle of the night after I fell asleep on the floor next to his bedroom door. I woke up with a shitty, handwritten note stained with tears:
“Michael,
Call me when you get your shit together. I love you, idiot.
-Luke”
It had been four days.
I was decorated with embarrassment and shame. The thought of his soft, frigid voice made me want to gag. I didn’t want to discuss the fight, and I know Luke didn’t either. I wanted to be fixed. I wanted to be held and told everything was okay.