synthetic ➳ muke

three

"No, Calum, you just don't understand" Luke huffs, plopping down onto the leather sofa.

The raven haired boy, Calum, is sat across the room on another black chair, lazily smoking a joint.

"What is there to understand? Either you are obsessive or you are a stalker, which is it?" the elder questions, blowing smoke rings into the already cloudy air.

Luke regrets telling his friend about his new found interest, the boy from Crescendo Park, because Calum cannot seem to wrap his head around it.

"I am not stalking him, I've only seen him once. Just today."

But Calum shakes his head in disbelief and rises from his spot on the round chair, mumbling something about being famished and exiting into the kitchen. Luke is visibly distressed, his head hurts and his thoughts are racing uncontrollably.

An hour prior, Luke had returned from college campus and instantly powered on his laptop and searched for his USB cord. He had spent his remaining class periods thinking about how to edit the photographs, wanting the fiery red locks to stand out amongst the nature background. And so, he uploaded the ten photos onto his MacBook and transferred them into his favorite photo editing software.

Calum had shown up uninvited, but that was not something out of the ordinary. The pair have known one another since childhood and were lucky to be accepted into the same college. Of course, Calum chose to live on campus in the dorm rooms, and Luke knew it was simply for the thrill. Calum was a reckless person, always wanting to live on the wild side of life, and dorm rooms meant college parties - something Calum had dreamed of for years.

"Luke, I would like you to know that you are out of potato chips," Calum states as he enters the lounge.

Luke's brow furrows in confusion, "But I've just bought a family size bag yesterday!"

The brunette shrugs his shoulders, " I know, but now you're out. I told you I was hungry."

Luke rolls his eyes, not bothering to argue with his friend over something so simple. He could easily do without chips until his parents sent the next check. That was something Luke liked about his current situation, he didn't have to pay for anything out of pocket. His parents were well off, both working high class jobs and having so much money that they didn't know what to do with it. And so, they paid for Luke to attend college, cover his monthly rent fee and utilities, as well as give him spending money. But, Luke had gone a bit overboard with his last check and was now low on money, something he surely was not accustomed to.

"Yes!" Luke cheered quietly as he had finally perfected yet another photograph.

He is sure to save the remastered version before setting the device on the glass coffee table. He stretches out his long, sore limbs and heaves a heavy sigh.

"School is fucking with my head," he says, rubbing at his temples, "I need ibuprofen."

Before he can stand to find the medication, a clear plastic baggie is tossed into his lap and Calum is smiling widely.

"Who needs prescription drugs to soothe a head ache? I am disappointed in you, Luke," Calum tsks as he makes his way to Luke's plethora of CD's placed alphabetically in a black display case.

A wide smile spreads across Luke's lips. He opens the baggie and breaths in the strong scent, it isn't too potent, which is why this is his favorite blend. There is a glass bowl resting on the table and Luke opts to use it rather than rolling a joint, which would take a bit more effort. He rests his back against the arm of the sofa, his legs stretched long across the cool surface.

As Luke packs the bowl, Calum is just pressing play on the disc player, the sound of Arctic Monkeys flows through the speakers.

"I love the sound of this bass," Calum states, being a bass player himself he is very impressed.

Luke nods in agreement as he hits the bowl, breathing in the smoke, his body instantly relaxing. Calum picks up Luke's laptop from the table and clicks on one of the photographs he had shot that day. He is impressed by Luke's work, he had always supported his friend, but these were quite phenomenal.

"He's cute as fuck," he states aloud, clicking onto the next photo.

His statement catches Luke's attention, who is still casually smoking. He adverts his gaze across the room to see what the brunette is on about and realizes he has the laptop.

"Haven't I told you not to touch my things?" the blond grumbles, "And yes, he is cute. I'm thinking about blowing them up and putting them on the wall over there, with the others."

Luke had many of his photos on display in his flat. They had been resized a bit bigger for better viewing and were carefully hung on the red brick wall. They were mostly nature shots, some of animals, very few of people. He wasn't one for portraits, thinking that posed photographs weren't as creative.

"Let's just not speak of him anymore today, yeah?" Luke says, finishing the bowl, a bit of residue getting into his mouth.

Although Luke suggests not speaking of the boy, his thoughts are still cloudy with the image of him.