Lips Of An Angel (Muke/Cashton)

Ch. 11 - Home

"By the time you come home
I'm already stoned
You turn off the TV
And you scream at me
I can hardly wait
Till you get off my case

No matter how hard I try
You're never satisfied
This is not a home
I think I'm better off alone"

If there was a song to describe Michael's life right now, it was this one- Home by Three Days Grace.

He'd skipped school today, without his parents even knowing, and had the song on replay as he absentmindedly stared at the television. He hadn't told Luke- or Calum & Ashton- that he wasn't going to school, and he knew it was a bad idea, but he just didn't fell like making the effort to explain that he just didn't feel like leaving the house.

It wasn't actually that he didn't tell Luke he wasn't going to school so much as it was lying about it. Luke had sent him a text earlier that morning asking if he wanted to be picked up, but Michael had said he would meet Luke there, then only made it to the lounge room couch.

Another reason Michael had lost the motivation to leave the house was that just after his mother had left, his father decided Michael deserved another beating. He had sobbed on his bedroom floor for fifteen minutes until his father left for work and he got up to check the damage- a long scratch down the left side of his neck and a big bruise on the right side of his chest.

Michael had dragged himself to the lounge room and flopped down on the couch as if it were the hardest task in the world. He hadn't bothered to even get changed, so he was still in nothing but black boxers and a cream-coloured,  baggy long-sleeve shirt.

It was ten past three in the afternoon. Michael was high, his parents would be getting home any second now, and he knew he was going to be in huge trouble. Luke was clearly out of school, because his phone was going crazy, he glanced at it long enough to see a message saying "I will be there in ten minutes, Michael."

Ten minutes, was that enough time to beat his father home? Luke was on foot and Mr. Clifford was driving. The school was further away than his fathers work, but Michael couldn't remember exactly when he got of work.

His questions were answered five minutes later when he heard his fathers car pull into the driveway. Hesitantly, he reached for the tv remote to turn it off, and noticed that much to his dismay, his hands were trembling uncontrollably. He momentarily considered rushing out into the back yard to be protected by his dog, Federer, who Michael knew would attack anyone who tried to harm him.

Sadly, he didn't have enough time to retreat to the protection of his loyal dog, because his father entered the house before he'd even had time to jump up from the couch. Michael, wishing he could be invisible, pulled himself up from the couch, wondering if he could get to his room without being caught.

Instead of heading straight to his room, Mr. Clifford goes straight to the lounge room. Michael's freezes in fear as his fathers eyes land on him. "Did you even go to school today?" He growls, stoping a few feet away from Michael.

"No" Michael chokes out, shaking his head slightly.

"You lazy, good for nothing, child" his father snaps, and slaps him across the face. Michael lets out a cry of pain and backs away from his father, who only follows him.

After yet another beating, Michael watches from the floor as his father leaves the room. Bursting into tears, he drops his head into his hand. A few minutes later when there is a knock on the door and he pulls his hands away, there is blood smeared across his hands.

With a choked sob, Michael pulls himself to his feet to let Luke in. "Michael" Luke gasped in concern the second he saw the blood coming from Michael's bust lip. "What happened?"

"Dad," Michael says under his breath as he closes the door behind Luke, "he got home a few minutes ago."

Michael's anxiety spikes as anger visibly washes over Luke's face. "I'm going to kill him," he growls.

"Luke." Worry laced Michael's voice as he grabs Luke by the shoulder with one hand, accidentally staining his uniform with blood.

"Come with me, "Luke says, grabbing Michael's wrist and dragging him towards the bathroom. "Where's your dad now?" He asks, grabbing a washcloth from the cupboard so he could clean the blood from Michael's hands and face.

"Probably half asleep in his room, and mum will be home in an hour or so," Michael replies in a mumble.

"Do you have a suitcase?" Luke asks, dampening the cloth and gently dabbing Michael's wound with it.

"Two. At the top of my cupboard."

"When you're cleaned up, we are packing all necessities into your suitcases and I am calling my mum to pick us up. Michael, I've fucking had it, you're not staying in this house another day." Luke's words left Michael speechless, so he just nodded in response.

When Michael is cleaned up, they head back to his room, he pulls on a pair of black skinny jeans while Luke pulls the suitcases down from the cupboard and sets them up on the bed. Michael starts packing while Luke calls his mother, then he helps with packing the suitcases.

After half an hour of packing up the most important items of Michael's, they finally finish. Luke's mother arrives not long later, they pack the suitcases, along with Michael's guitar and gaming equipment, into the car and, because Mrs. Hemmings insisted, wait for Michael's mother to return.

When Mrs. Clifford returns home, Luke & his mother explain to her that they are taking Michael to a better home. She was furious and tried to argue with them, but Luke pointed at Michael and told her to look at her son, who was in tears yet again. In the end she shouted "whatever, don't come crawling back to us then," and stormed off.

Michael cried on Luke's shoulder all the way back to his new home. He felt both happy & sad, but also terrified, because what if his parents managed to get him back and then punish him for trying to leave?

"I promise, Michael, we will keep you safe from now on," Mrs. Hemmings tells Michael once they arrive.

****

"Come on, Mikey," Luke whines, tugging at Michael's baggy shirt, "It's too hot to sleep in that thing."

"I'll be fine" Michael mumbles, holding it down at the front. Luke frowns in suspicion before his eyes widen with realisation.

"Show me now, Michael, please," Luke pleads. Michael hesitates, but lifts up his shirt to reveal the purple bruise on the side of his chest. Luke sucks in a breath, trying to hold back tears. "Mike," he breaths out, gently running his fingers along the bruise.

"It's from this morning," Michael says as Luke's fingers slowly run across his chest.

"You're ribs, Michael, you're getting too thin" Luke says in concern, "I knew you'd lost weight, but this isn't healthy."

Michael looks down in bemusement. "No, I-" he falls silent as he, for the first first time in a long time, really looks at himself. Looking up at the mirror across the room, Michael realises that it wasn't just his ribs and concave stomach that gave away weight loss, but his face as well. He had never looked so thin in his entire life.

And it scared him that he hadn't noticed until Luke pointed it out.