Water the Flowers (In My Lungs) - Muke

Nicknames & Calum's Bedhead

When Luke awoke, he was warm.

Which was peculiar, because Luke tended to be more cold than warm.

His eyes fluttered open and he glanced upwards.

"You stayed." Luke muttered.

He was currently wrapped in Calum's arms.

"I couldn't, in good conscience, leave you after you started spewing nonsense." Calum jeered.

He had bed head and Luke found it hard not to smile at it.

Luke found himself mentally adding it to the list of things he'd miss- in no particular order:

1. Calum's bedhead

"Sorry, I guess I was just more tired than I thought." Luke muttered, his voice still asleep.

"Don't say shit like that", Calum huffed, "Of course I'm not going to forget you."

"I just meant- if something happened to me-" Luke started.

"Nothing is gonna happen to you, not if I have anything to say about it." Calum exclaimed.

Calum just squeezed Luke tighter.

"I know." Luke muttered.

Luke just hoped he'd die a quiet and peaceful death, alone.

He could only hope to leave silently.

It would hurt the people he loved less- and that's all that mattered now.

There was a knock on the door.

"We leave in ten." Ashton called from the other side of the door.

Calum climbed out of Luke's bed, leaving him cold.

He kissed Luke's forehead before heading out of the room to go get ready in his own.

Luke laid there for a few moments before rolling out of bed.

He took a step before falling into a coughing fit.

Luke leaned against the wall, holding on tightly.

His other hand was on his throat as if it would make it easier to breathe.

He pushed it down, swallowing back the petal that threatened to come up.

A knock on the door sounded and Luke figured it was just Calum coming back for something.

He took a deep breath before opening the door.

His face fell immediately.

Michael stood on the other side of the door, much more cleaned up than Luke was.

"Can we talk?"

Luke wanted to say no.

He wanted to shut the door in Michael's face.

But he was dying.

He wanted to leave off on good terms, happier terms.

So he stepped aside, letting Michael stroll in.

He shut the door leaving them in silence. Just the two of them.

If things were different, Luke would probably be embarrassed about the chaos that was his room.

But things weren't different.

"You're my best friend, Lu..."

Luke's eyes met Michael's bright green ones.

"...I know we haven't been close as of late, but you're still my best friend. I don't want to push you away anymore. I want to be able to talk to you and hear how you're doing. I want to tell you what's going on in my life", Michael went on, "It feels like we're strangers and it hurts so bad and I'm so sorry."

"We're okay, Michael."

Michael blinked, tears pooling in his eyes.

Luke wanted to crumble so bad. His throat burned and those petals were fighting their way up.

He just needed Michael to leave and soon.

"Really?" Michael quizzed stepping closer to him.

They were only a few feet apart then.

"Yeah." Luke assured.

Michael just smiled and closed the gap, pulling Luke into the biggest hug.

He was so warm.

Luke wished he'd just die right then and there.

"I love you so much, bug." Michael muttered into his hair.

Luke, with his face buried in Michael's chest, inhaling his homey scent added another thing to his list:

2. His nickname

His friends had been calling him Bug for as long as Luke could remember.

Because he was small and the youngest.

He was always, Bug.

Even when he grew taller and older.
He would always be Bug to the boys.

Once the nickname had been distasteful, but now- Luke was just glad he had something sentimental and unique for people to tell in stories about him.

Michael smiled at him.

"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

Luke nodded and he strolled out of Luke's room.

Once Luke was sure he was long gone, he keeled over and coughed up the monsoon of flower petals.

Each one covered in as much blood as the last.

Luke stood back up, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

He kicked the flowers under his bed, deciding to deal with them later.

Or maybe he'd just die and it would be someone else's problem.