-- Michael's pov --
"Can we change the subject?" I asked, I didn't want to get into this.
"No," he said which surprised me.
"Why," I asked.
"I want to know," he said crossing his arms, "I want to know everything about you."
"And I want to get to know everything about you," I said, "What happened to your father? I don't know that."
"He's in jail," he said, "What happened to your mom?"
"Why is he in jail?" I asked avoiding the subject of my mother.
"He made bad choices after my parents divorced," he said not sounding upset, "He did drugs. What happened to your mom?"
I rolled my eyes at the question.
"I just told you about my father! Now you know everything about me! And you can't answer a simple question?!" he said raising his voice.
"My parents are dead!" I said turning around because I felt tears collecting in my eyes, "They're dead," I said calmer.
"But- but I met your dad," he said denying the truth.
"Yeah, you met my foster dad," I said hugging my knees to my chest with tears streaming down my face.
"Foster dad?" he repeated.
"Yes," I said trying to hide the hurt.
"How-" he said before stopping.
"How did my parents die?" I asked finishing his question.
"Yeah," he said.
I sighed, "Long sob story."
"Well," he said coming closer to me, "I'm here for you."
I didn't turn around to look at him. I didn't even want to get into this conversation. We sat in silence for a long time and the memories of my parents replayed in my head. Their death replayed in my head. It was like it was on replay forever.
"Michael," Luke finally said, "Please? I want to help and comfort you. I want you to trust me and be comfortable around me. I love you."
"You can't help a broken person," I said truthfully, "Once broken always broken. Broken people just wear a mask to hide the fact that they are broken."
"I can comfort my broken boyfriend," he said standing up and sitting on the bed, "Come here."
"No," I said. I don't want him knowing I'm crying even though he probably knows. He sighed and stood up walking over to me. I felt his hands go under my arms and lift me up like I'm dead. He drug me over to the bed. I smiled and stood up on my own.
"Thanks Luke," I said smiling.
"I knew you were crying," he said as we sat on the bed again.
"I can't help it," I said, "I'm emotional."
"I know," he smiled, "It makes me love you even more because I know I can comfort you."
I smiled, "Wow."
"So," he said gesturing me to finish the story.
"Oh yeah," I said as I sat back on his bed so I could rest my back against the wall, "It happened when I was in Year 2," he sat beside me cross legged, "It was in the beginning of Year 2 actually. I was in the house with my mom dad and sister and it was a typical day, my mom came home from work and cooked, my sister and I came home from school and did our homework, and my father was still at work. My father and my mother always fought and he'd always abuse us."
