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The first time Michael saw him was at platform nine and three-quarters.
He had just finished putting up his luggage, successfully found an empty compartment and was already curled up on his seat comfortably. He was going back to read his comic book when something caught his eyes. It was nothing, really; just this one family amongst many others. But somehow, Michael’s eyes were glued on them.
The older boys looked around 15-17 with similar blond hair and sun-kissed skin. The younger one was probably the same age as Michael, also with the same blond hair but skin paler than his brothers –though not as pale as Michael (but then again, no one is as pale as Michael). The older boys pecked their mum’s cheek and let their dad pat their shoulder before bounding away.
The younger one stayed with his parents, though. His mum kept fixing his hair, dusting invisible dust off his jumper and peppering kisses all over his face. To his credit, he had tried to duck away, but his mum’s grip must be a steely one.
And then an Asian kid came bounding toward them and his mum’s attention turned toward this boy instead, fretting over him just the same as she fretted over her own son. The blond boy looked relieved once his mum let go of him. And then, when his eyes fleet around the station they landed on Michael.
Even from the distance the blue of his eyes were unmistakable. They were so clear and blue and so earnest, Michael suddenly felt shy and looked away.
He didn’t dare look up until he heard the sound of a whistle. By then the blond boy and his Asian friend were running toward the train; his mum behind them, shouting some inaudible last words and dabbing her face with a tissue.
Michael went back to his comic book after that.
Not long after the train started moving, the door to his compartment slid open.
‘Does anyone sit here? Because everywhere else is full,’
When Michael looked up, he was greeted by the sight of the Asian kid from earlier, the blond boy right behind him –looking at Michael uncertainly.
Michael shook his head and the kid grinned in delight. ‘It’s not a problem if we sit here, right?’ he asked and when Michael shook his head once again, he said. ‘I’m Calum. And this loser’ –he jammed his thumb toward the blond boy ‘–is Luke,’
‘Michael,’ he replied.
‘So, Michael, what do you got there?’ Calum asked, motioning the comic book in Michaels grasp. ‘Wait. The pictures aren’t moving! What’s that? Why aren’t the pictures moving?’
‘It’s muggle stuff, Cal,’ Luke spoke for the first time, his eyes trained on Michael –they were even bluer up close. ‘It’s called comic book. I’ve tried telling you that thousands of times before,’
‘Oh,’ his friend said and then directing his next question to Michael. ‘Are you a muggle born? Which if you are, it’s totally cool’
‘Um, no,’ Michael said. ‘I’m not,’
‘Figures. You got this aura about you,’ Calum said again. ‘But why are you reading muggle stuff?’
‘It’s not forbidden,’ Michael shrugged. ‘And it’s fun,’
‘Captain America,’ Calum said and then snorted. ‘What next? Captain Britain? Captain Canada?’
‘Yeah, actually there’s a comic book character called Captain Britain,’ Luke said.
Calum stared at Luke in disbelief. ‘I was just joking. Muggles are so weird,’
‘I’ve read it,’ Luke said again. ‘It’s so good actually,’
‘You read comic books?’ Michael asked, interested. If there’s anything that peak Michael’s interest, that would be comic books.
‘Yeah. I kept buying them and I got like, tons, back at home,’ Luke said excitedly. ‘My brothers think I’m a weirdo,’
‘You are a weirdo,’ Calum said, flicking Luke’s forehead. The latter just shrugged indifferently.
‘They’re cool,’ Luke said. ‘And just because I like something you don’t understand doesn’t make me a weirdo,’ and then he turned toward Michael with this excited gleam in his eyes. ‘So what do you read?’ he asked Michael.
They spent the next half an hour discussing comic books until Calum, who was already getting really bored cut them off.
‘As much as I love hearing you guys talk about muggle’s comic books,’ he said. ‘I’d rather talk about our own wizardry world. Like for example, where do you reckon we’ll be placed into?’
‘I’ll be in Gryffindor, for certain,’ Luke said rather glumly. ‘I mean, Mum, Dad, Jack and Ben were all Gryffindors, right? So yeah, that’s where I’m going,’
‘Mali is in Ravenclaw,’ Calum said. ‘But I can’t imagine being in there,’
‘Isn’t that where the smart kids are?’ asked Luke.
‘Yeah. But I don’t think I’m smart enough to get there,’ said Calum. ‘But imagine being in Slytherin, though!’
Michael felt his heart sank when Luke nodded and said. ‘Ben told me that Slytherin is full with bratty, obnoxious kids that can’t think about anyone aside from themselves.’
‘Mum would probably disown me if I got into Slytherin,’ Calum added, shuddering. And then he turned toward Michael. ‘Where do you think you’ll be placed?’
Michael, whose family has been in Slytherin for centuries, just shrugged and tried to act indifferent as he said. ‘I don’t know. I mean no one does, you know? I could be placed anywhere,’
Michael was placed into Slytherin.
The Sorting Hat only took 5 seconds to decide before shouting ‘Slytherin!’ for everyone to hear.
The Slytherin table exploded in applause while other tables booed at them. Michael hopped down the podium to sit on his new appointed table, but not before catching a look of disappointment in Luke’s face.
(Michael told himself that he was probably just imagining things and that the unpleasant feeling in his stomach was caused by fatigue, not disappointment)
None of them interact anymore after that.
It was well known that Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t talk to each other unless they were throwing insults and jinxing each others.
Which was just fine with Michael. He didn’t need those Gryffindor boys anyway –especially not the blond one with the blue eyes and dimpled cheeks (Michael saw him smiled one time and his dimples were on display and he was definitely not staring).
But as much as Michael wanted to believe that, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander toward Luke. During breakfast at the Great Hall (where he looked half-dead with tousled hair and sleepy eyes), at their shared classes (where sometimes he stared at their professors with this endearing dumb face and other times he quietly explain the materials to Calum (who turned out to be not Asian at all, so mind you if he’s not all that smart)) and at the halls during the exchange of lessons where they’d glance at each other, not as subtle as they thought they were.
They quickly befriending a giggly Ravenclaw kid, Ashton something of some sort, and soon those three were inseparable; getting into troubles, stealing food from the kitchen –he was there one time when they walked in, he wasn’t stalking dammit–, doing pranks and God knows what else.
(Michael told himself that all of these were just a mere observation, that there’s no way he has a crush on Luke. He’s too young to have a crush anyway.)
At their second year, both Luke and Calum made it into their Quidditch team, impressively beating other older kids with Calum as the chaser and Luke as the seeker. And despite himself, Michael couldn’t help himself but feel a jolt of excitement every time Luke flew by him at each Quidditch match.
It was probably just his own wishful thinking. But sometimes he felt like Luke’s eyes were on him as much as his eyes were on Luke. Like that one time during Potion, he felt like Luke was watching him, but when he looked at the boy, Luke’s face was already hidden behind the steam that was rising from his cauldron.
(Michael told himself that he’d probably inhaled too much of the Sleeping Draught steam they were making that day and that caused him to hallucinate a little)
Their next interaction happened during their third year.
Michael was walking back from Professor McGonagall’s office for detention (for sleeping in class three times in a row) when he saw three of his Slytherin classmates harassing this kid from Hufflepuff. Judging by his size and the look of pure terror on his face, this kid was a first year. Now usually, Michael would just pretend like he didn’t see it and walk away. But the kid looked so terrified he found himself calling out at those dickheads to stop.
Upon seeing him, the three Slytherins clambered away. Michael might me a loner, but he has been known for his sullen attitude and his ability to perform a perfect Bat Bogey Hex to anyone that dares to cross him. And okay, maybe, maybe his big shot of a father at the ministry had something to do with why everyone steered clear out of his way.
He quickly strode over to the cowering kid and offering his hand at him. The tiny kid took it tentatively and Michael helped him up to his feet.
‘You should know better than to roam these halls by yourself,’ he told the kid. ‘Those dickheads are lurking in every corner,’
The poor kid just blinked up at him, unsure of what just happened.
Michael sighed. ‘Just go back to your dorm, punk. And don’t go anywhere by yourself,’
He watched as the kid quickly nodded and stuttered a nervous ‘thank you,’ before he quickly walked away. Michael was about to do the same, but then something caught his eyes. By the time he got a proper look, all he could see was the tail of someone’s robe before it disappeared around the corner.
But the clear blue eyes he saw earlier were unmistakable.
(Michael told himself that it probably wasn’t Luke and that there’s no way he could remember exactly what shade of blue Luke eyes were)
During the second semester of their fourth year, much to every girl’s dismay, Calum declared himself as gay and roaming the halls holding hands with Ashton; kissing his lips whenever they parted ways (which was really really rare), making out under the Quidditch bleachers (which Michael accidentally heard from a couple of girls in his Charm class, he was not a gossip), and even as far as giving each other handjobs in the broom closet (again, he accidentally heard this from those gossiping girls and this information was probably wrong –who knows, girls are so over-exaggerating).
But even if only half of these stuffs were true, no wonder Luke looked nauseous every time Michael looked at him (which was totally not often). Those other two were practically glued to each other by their mouths.
(Michael told himself that no, he totally didn’t want to hold Luke’s hand when the boy wandered alone in the halls while his two friends were off doing God knows what and no, it was definitely not fondness he felt when he saw Luke made a gagging motion or rolled his eyes at his friends antics)
The next semester, Michael dyed his hair.
He didn’t mean to permanently dyed it, only for the summer just to annoy his dad (which worked perfectly, since his dad was always seething everytime he saw Michael), but then he became attached with the color and thus, he came back with a black hair with some green tufts at the front.
It was the talk of the school (not that Michael was particularly listening –in case you didn’t notice, he only listened to what people had to say when it has something to do with a certain blonde, blue eyed guy and some of his friends *cough*). Michael was considerably cute with his old mop of dirty blond hair, but once he dyed it black it was like an endgame. Everywhere he went, girls were pining over him; trying to talk to him while twirling their hair, batting their eyelashes at him and giggling at everything that came out of his mouth. Which was so annoying, he considered dyeing his hair back to its natural state.
Until one day in library.
It was their O.W.L year and even Michael found himself knee-deep in homeworks. He had a particularly nasty essay for his Study of Ancient Runes class (he still didn’t know why the fuck did he choose this subject) that was due in two days. Since he couldn’t locate his Rune Dictionary anywhere, Michael was forced to take a trip down to the library to finish this essay.
He was browsing through the aisle to find the goddamn dictionary (it’s a common knowledge that you wouldn’t get any help from Madam Pince, so he didn’t even bother asking her) when he was met by the sight of half-asleep Luke Hemmings on the table by the window.
He had his cheeks propped up by his hands, a large text book was opened in front of him with bunched up parchments scattered on the table. His eyes were closed and mouth half-opened and he looked utterly adorable (he hated himself for using this word because honestly, this sounded so girly and Michael dyed his hair black, goddamit. He’s punk rock). Michael wished he could just snap a picture but of course he couldn't because electronic devices didn’t work here (fuck you magical veils of protection).
Suddenly, Luke’s head lurched forward and his eyes snapped open right before he face-palmed the table. And when he looked up, the first thing he saw was Michael –who was just downright staring at him.
Before Michael could make any move –like hmm, maybe bashed his head to the floor because fuck, Luke just caught Michael staring at him sleeping like a pedophile– Luke suddenly said. ‘I got so much homework this week,’
Michael tilted his head to the side and frowned at him (he wasn’t sure if Luke was talking to him because they haven’t talked at all in the past four years). Luke’s face reddened, but then words were pouring out of his mouth before he could stop himself. ‘Yeah and McGonagall gave us this really hard essay and um, it’s due tomorrow and usually Ashton helped me but he’s been so preoccupied by fighting with Calum these days he barely help me. And um, did you know they're fighting right now? Yeah, well, um, Calum accidentally blurted out that the Ravenclaw keeper has a really, um, really nice ass and um, Ashton got jealous and he refused to help me do my essay because he knew I’ll end up letting Cal copy my essay –which if you think about it, I probably wouldn’t and Ashton completely refuse to help Cal in any way. So yeah, um, I don’t know why I'm telling you this, um, feel free to stop me anytime. Um,’
Michael just blinked up at him.
‘Um, well this has been sufficiently awkward,’ Luke said, his face getting redder and redder at each passing minutes. And suddenly, without warning, he blurted out. ‘I really love your hair. It suits you; you look really good with that color,’
At that moment, Luke looked like he was wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him because, crap, did he really just say that?
Michael blinked a couple more times before a smile slowly blossomed on his face –which he quickly disguised back into his usual apathetic face. He cleared his throat before saying. ‘I could help you with your Transfiguration essay, I've finished mine,’
‘Really?’ Luke said. ‘You'd –you would do that?’
‘Sure,’ Michael shrugged.
‘Great,’ Luke said. ‘Um, let’s make some um, space for you, yeah? Let me get rid of this um, these stupid papers first,’
That night, Michael stayed up late helping Luke do his Transfiguration essay and forgetting his own essay in the process.
(Michael told himself when he didn’t dye his hair back to blond it’s because he’s in love with the color and not because Luke said it looked really good on Michael)
When they got back to school this fall, Luke looked like he has been hit with a troll-sized club of puberty. His shoulder somehow got even broader and he was seven inches taller than he was before. His hair was no longer in the endearing floppy style it usually was, but up in an I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-my-hair-is-totally-awesome quiff and the first time Michael saw it, he wanted to cry. And oh, has Michael mentioned the lip ring? No? Well…
The fucking lip ring.
It was a metal hoop around his bottom lip and Luke could not stop playing with it. Like literally, everytime Michael looked at him (which like he had said before, totally not often) he’d either gently tugging at it with his fingers, biting on it or just lightly grazing his tongue over it. And it drove Michael fucking crazy.
Michael felt like Luke did it purposely to tease him to hell. He literally couldn’t think whenever Luke was within his vision range. Ever since Michael helped him did his Transfiguration essay, Luke had talked to him more often, ignoring other Gryffindor kids’s frown because Michael is a Slytherin what the hell, and Michael had always loved their little, pointless conversation.
But ever since Luke got his lip pierced, he couldn’t even utter one single coherent sentence and always ended up dropping something, whether it was his books or bag, anything that was on his grasp, he’d drop them. The last time it was his wand and it let out this jet stream of water that accidentally drenched Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, which earned him a painfully long detention with Filch, cleaning up all the stalls in the fourth floor bathroom without magic –which was so unfair, remembering the fact that Michael has made all the water dissolved with a flick of his wand (and okay, maybe Mrs. Norris was sick for days because of that, but it’s not like Michael did it on purpose. And anyway, no one missed her).
By the time December rolled around, Michael was a total mess and he was so ready for Christmas to roll around so the castle would be empty and Luke Hemmings wouldn’t be able to roam around the halls creating chaos in Michael’s tummy.
Usually, it was just Michael and these three other kids he didn’t know, give or take a few more people that stayed in the castle for Christmas. But this year The Fate, or whatever it was that has been planning Michael’s entire sixteen years of life, decided to give his Christmas a little twist because it turned out that Luke was staying in the castle, too.
God fucking dammit.
When he got down to the Great Hall on Christmas morning, his hair was combed and his breath smelled like peppermint (Michael told himself that it’s because today was Christmas and not because of the fact that Luke was going to be there). The usual four long tables was replaced by a single table for ten that held a hundred fat roast turkeys, mountains of roasted and boiled potatoes, tureens of buttered peas, platters of fat chipolatas, and silver bots of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce. Michael’s stomach rumbled at the smell and he speed-walked to the table. His steps faltered, however, once he caught sight of Luke.
The blond boy was hunched over a bowl of soggy cereal (seriously? There’s a fucking feast in front of him and he chose a bowl of cereal, Michael just. Just) and judging by the tousled hair and the jumper that he wore backward, Luke was still 85 percent asleep.
There was an empty seat next to Luke but Michael didn’t know whether he wanted to spend his Christmas feast with clammy hands and pounding heart, but his choice was either that or to sit next to a couple of Ravenclaw girls that have already looking at him hopefully. He chose the former.
‘You do know that your jumper is backward right?’ Michael said as he plopped down next to Luke.
‘Huh?’ Luke mumbled. ‘What?’
‘Your jumper,’ Michael said, there’s an undertone fondness lacing on his voice. ‘It’s backward,’
Luke glanced at Michael for a second before glancing down at his clothes. Michael had expected him to blush or something, but Luke merely sighed.
‘I'm too sleepy to even feel embarrassed,’ he mumbled. ‘‘s too early for human emotions,’
‘It’s almost nine,’ Michael retorted, grabbing a plate of chipolatas.
‘Exactly my point,’
It took another bowl of soggy cereal and a plate of roasted potatoes for Luke to regain his ‘human emotions’. By then the desserts were already served, with the usual flaming Christmas pudding as the special treat.
‘Careful with that,’ Michael warned Luke. ‘It might has sickles in it,’
Luke arched an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘I almost broke a tooth a couple of years back,’ Michael shrugged. ‘Trust me; you’d want to be careful with that,’
Luke laughed.
The rest of the feast was fun; it was probably the most fun he had in years. Luke managed to convince Michael to pull the Wizard Cracker with him and the thing explode with the sound of a canon going off, engulfing them with thick blue smoke. They found some silly looking hats inside it and when Luke went to grab one, some real life mice jumped out of the cracker into Luke and he let out an honest-to-god girly squeal that brought waters to Michael’s eyes even twenty minutes later, when they decided to take a stroll around the castle.
‘It’s not funny anymore, Michael, stop it,’ Luke pouted which brought Michael into another fit of laughter. ‘Seriously,’
‘Alright, alright I’ll stop,’ Michael said once he regain his breath. ‘Sorry, but you’re just too cute,’
‘I'm not cute,’ Luke complained. ‘I have a lipring, dammit. I’m punk rock,’
Michael smiled fondly at him. ‘Pop-rock?’ he suggested with a teasing voice.
‘Ugh, just stop it,’ Luke grumbled. ‘You’re so annoying, Mikey,’
Michael’s tummy did a somersault at the nickname and he tried so hard not to blush (but failed miserably because he already felt the heat creeping on his cheeks. Oh well, he’d just have to blame the cold for it). When it got too cold but they were too stubborn to go back inside, Michael whipped his wand and conjured bluebell flames before putting the flames in a jar that he got out of nowhere. They passed the jar to each others as they walked across the Clock Tower Courtyard before finally stopping at the Covered Bridge.
‘I’ve always liked it here,’ Luke said.
‘Yeah? Why?’
‘It’s just so pretty, you know,’ he said. ‘And serene. Plus, there are no hidden nooks here so the possibility of running into Calum and Ashton making out is very minimal,’
Michael chuckled and then after a heartbeat or two, he asked. ‘Don’t you get tired? I mean, they're practically stitched together by their mouth,’
Luke smiled a little and sighed. ‘Yeah, I guess sometimes it gets tiring. It just… Back then it was always me and Calum. And then Ashton came along, which was awesome because Calum is just too much sometimes. But I don’t know. As time passed, it became more Calum and Ashton and less Calum, Ashton and Luke. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I'm not happy for them, because I do. God, do I ever. But it’s just. I'm just. Just,’
‘You get lonely sometimes,’ Michael said softly.
‘Yeah,’ Luke said, smiling somberly at Michael. ‘I don’t even think Calum tells me half of the stuff he used to tell me. Nowadays, his first instinct is to tell Ashton first,’
‘Hey, now–’
‘Must be nice,’ Luke said. ‘–to have someone to share something like that. To talk. To touch. To cuddle. Do you know they cuddle a lot? Cuddles are nice,’
‘You could find someone, you know,’ Michael said. ‘At least three fourth of the girl population in this school want to cuddle you,’
‘It’s not like –I'm not, it’s not –I'm not,’ Luke stammered, cheeks redden. ‘I'm not, I mean, I don’t like –like, I'm not into girls?’
‘Oh,’ Michael said, feeling giddy all of the sudden. ‘Well then, I'm pretty sure we can find some boys that want to cuddle with you,’
‘Well,’ Luke started, smiling shyly at Michael. ‘-there’s this one boy, actually,’
‘Really?’ Michael said.
‘Yeah,’ Luke said. ‘He likes to act all tough on the outside but I know for a certain that he’s a softie on the inside,’
‘Hm? Interesting,’
‘He’s a cutie, too,’ Luke continued. ‘You should’ve seen him; all green eyes, pale skin and pouty lips,’
Michael’s breath got caught on his throat. ‘Sounds like a keeper,’
‘I know right?’ Luke smiled. ‘And he’s smart, too. I'm pretty sure he’s in the top of our classes. Like one time, he helped me did my essay and I got an E for it and it’s for McGonagall,’
‘Definitely a keeper then,’
‘Mhm…’ Luke said. ‘And he likes muggle’s comic books, too. Like, how awesome it that?’
‘Pretty awesome, yeah,’ Michael said, fighting the blush off his face to no avail.
‘He’s a loner, you know? For some reason people steered clear off him and I just don’t understand. When I saw him I just want to hold his hand, and walk around the school together with him, peck his nose –I don’t know, he’s just so. Just so –just. And you know, I kind of want to find our own nooks together,’ Luke added, chuckling softly. ‘And I want to kiss him. I really really want to kiss him,’
‘Maybe –maybe you should,’ Michael said, his heart felt like it has crawled to his throat. ‘Kiss him, I mean. And do all of the stuff you wanted to do with him,’
‘You think so?’ Luke said, blue eyes boring into Michael’s green ones.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You should,’
Luke didn’t say anything, just kind of stared at Michael which unnerved him. But then he gazed upward and said softly. ‘Mistletoe,’
Michael followed his gaze and yeah, he’s right, there’s mistletoe right there on the top of their heads; the white berries poking out of the green leaves.
When Michael looked back at Luke, the latter was already looking at him expectantly. And the next thing he know, he had his fingers on Luke’s hair, the other boy’s hands on his hips bringing them closer; their mouths slotting against each others. Their lips were dry and chapped from the winter cold but it’s nice. It’s Luke and Michael has been thinking about it for a long time and no matter how much time he told himself that he didn’t want it, he did want it. He wanted Luke and Luke is nice, Luke felt nice. Luke tasted like the chocolate gateau they shared earlier because he claimed that he was too full but still want to eat the damn cake, and it was nice. It was nice and it was Luke and Michael felt like his brain was turning into mush because it’s Luke goddamit and he couldn’t think of anything beside omgomgomgmgomg and it’s Luke and Michael just like. Just. Fuck. It’s Luke.
When they pulled back they were panting and Luke’s cheeks were flushed but he was smiling so wide and Michael just kind of stared at him and fuck, he liked this boy so much he might as well just dig his own grave.
‘That was nice,’ Luke grinned.
Michael rolled his eyes. ‘You're such a dork,’
‘But you like me, right?’ he waggled his eyebrows at him.
‘Says who?’
‘You just kissed me, after all,’ Luke pointed out.
‘You mean you kissed me,’
‘Whatever,’ Luke said and then they lapsed into a comfortable silence, just staring at the scenery in front of them. But then Luke looked at Michael with mischief glinting in his eyes. ‘Want to go find our own nooks now?’
(Michael told himself later when Luke and he were all tangled limbs and bruised neck and swollen lips in the Gryffindor tower that yeah, yeah, maybe he can get used to this)