MICHAEL⥄
*
honestly, peaches and michael were the most unlikely pair one could think of, but it just worked. they always bumped into each other, given that they worked next door from one another, and before they knew it, they were often gossiping and chatting during their breaks—or taking special breaks just to gossip with one another. michael lived for it, honestly.
casablanca’s definitely not a place you’ll find michael at regularly, but it had been the one peaches suggested, and he offered no resistance. so now here he was, sipping on a cosmopolitan with his friend. “what is it?” he asked. “uh, never too old, i don’t think. if you’re dead, you’re too old. if you’re not yet, you’re good. you’re not asking for yourself, right? cause you’re like, what, twenty-ff…?”
✧
peaches shot michael a look when he tried guessing her age, even she wouldn’t exaggerate that much and say she was in her twenties, but leave it to this shit head to have the audacity to pull that card out of his ass. “do not even. flattery is amazing, ass kissing is a totally different thing. and it’s only good in the bedroom.” she said and shrugged her shoulders. after all, the two of them gossiped and chatted so much that she figured talking like herself wasn’t out of the norm. and that meant bringing up bedroom talk sometimes, but didn’t all adults do that from time to time? “i’m just afraid of it hurting. i know it’s supposed to because well, it’s needles repeatedly poking into your skin, but ugh, the outcome of it all is always so beautiful and makes me jealous that i’m a big wuss.”
