La Douleur Exquise // Muke {Completed}

Folie

"It's your own fault you have a cold Michael," Ashton tutted whilst giving Michael the hot tea he'd been craving, and he pulled the blanket that was around his shoulders closer to his body, clasping the tea in both hands and trying not to spill any when he inevitably sneezed.

"Shut up," Michael sniffed, drinking the tea even if his stomach was wanting the exact opposite suddenly. He felt gross and sticky and couldn't breath properly and he the fact he could hardly ever sleep only made him feel worse, his whole body drained of any energy.

He didn't really know what he'd been thinking when he just lay there outside. Some part of him felt like his existence could disappear if he never moved again, that he could disintegrate into the earth like bones in their grave. Except he wasn't dead and Ashton dragged him indoors, but it didn't feel real, but more of a dream. Ashton seemed to be the only one worried about it though.

"I'm sure we can find you a therapist for cheap," he said softly, sitting beside Michael and switching on the TV, not to watch but for background noise alone. Ashton hated silence and always needed some sort of noise, whether that be music or the TV or people talking. He was the opposite to Michael in that retrospect.

Michael shook his head, sipping softly at the tea in his hands,"I don't need a therapist," he muttered, crossing his legs underneath himself just to make himself more small and childlike than before. He just wanted to be left alone.

Ashton smiled softly, but it felt so fake. He looked tested, like Michael was trying him on, but Michael was the last person who needed a therapist, for the most part he was fine,"You could just give it a try, it might help," he added, as if the suggestion was really something Michael would do or think about it. He was adamant now that he wasn't going to and Ashton was starting to piss him off.

Michael wasn't going to show what he was feeling though, because Ashton would probably turn it into another reason to see a therapist. He could keep it inside around Ashton, around everyone if he had to, anything to not have to talk to someone who didn't actually care in a dreary office for half an hour.

"What makes you think I need help anyway," Michael muttered in annoyance, looking down at his lap instead of into Ashton's eyes, which were trying to search Michael for any real emotion. He looked and sounded numb and Michael knew that too, but he wasn't sure how to change it.

Ashton sighed harshly, and Michael could see in the corner of his eye Ashton looking out the window, obviously reflecting on something, but his voice came out rougher than Michael would've liked at that time,"Well Michael, normal people don't lie in the grass in hopes of disappearing, do they?" Ash said sternly, and Michael covered up his sudden shaking with another sneeze.

The comment stung Michael more than he would've liked. Ashton didn't consider him normal, maybe he though Mike was crazy or insane. Michael knew he wasn't insane, he was sure, one bout of wanting to leave the world didn't mean anything. It's not like he actually tried anything. He was perfectly fine.

Michael shook his head, clutching at his mug even tighter, knuckles turning white over the strain and he tried not to let any sobs come out, chewing at his bottom lip harshly and he didn't know when he'd gotten like this or how. It was like one moment he was alright and the next everything was wrong and off and he'd never felt his mood change so easily as it had in the matter of days.

"It was a one time thing, I swear," Michael whimpered, and his voice cracked halfway through and he'd started crying without wanting to, and he willed that Ashton wouldn't see, but of course he knew and realised and he quickly pulled Michael into a hug, stroking his hair and whispering somewhat soothingly.

"You know you can talk to me Michael, I'm your friend, I just want the best for you," he whispered gently whilst Michael cried again this shoulder, everything held inside pouring out through the stupid tears that Michael hated to spill. He hated showing his weaker emotions, his soft side. He wanted people to believe he was fine, he didn't want them to think he was an emotional nutcase.

"I don't...I don't even know," Mike hiccuped, speaking between sobs, broken and distorted and he couldn't even speak properly and he felt so helpless and useless and wrong,"I don't even fucking know why I'm crying," he hissed, before sobs retook his body again.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Michael continued to shake his head, words not even beginning to form in his throat anymore. He couldn't remember when he last slept, everyday had blurred into the next and he wasn't even sure whether he was dreaming or awake half the time anymore and maybe he was insane after all. Maybe he did need help.

Ashton rubbed his hand up and down Michael's back soothingly, and Michael cried for hours for everything he had and didn't have and what he wanted and what he needed and for the people he couldn't help and he realised all his problems were out there because of Luke and maybe if he made Luke happy he'd be happy. Or maybe he was thinking too much in fantasy and not enough in reality.

I feel like this fic deserves more reads but then I may just be cocky in saying that lmao l8r sk8rs