Speechless (Muke)

DAY 4:

Words For Mikey Day 4:

Ardor: Great warmth of feeling, intense devotion, eagerness, or burning heat.

How is it that all three definitions of this word manage to sum up how I feel towards you? Your heart stopped today. It stopped beating, Michael. I remember screaming for minutes on end until there was blood pooling in my mouth from my shredded throat. By the time I stopped screaming your heart was beating again. Thank God. I had a nightmare that you committed suicide. Then I woke up and realized it was a memory. I'm living my biggest nightmare, Mikey. Please wake up and change the ending for me. I miss the sound of your voice so bad that each moment without it actually hurts. I just want to talk to you at least one more time. I'll lose my voice forever if you'll wake up and talk to me. I'll lose all my senses if you wake up, but I'll still love you. Even if I can't see you, hear you, talk to you, feel you, smell you or taste you I will still love you. I'll give my life for yours. Dammit Michael I'll sell my soul to the devil if you just wake up! Please?

I love you,

Luke

Nothing. That was the only thing there was. There was no sense of time passing, it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, even years for all Michael knew. Only Michael didn't seem to know anything either. He couldn't think. There was finally complete and absolute silence. There was no wicked voice, but at the same time there was no anything at all.

It was actual genuine silence and Michael didn't like it nearly as much as he thought he would. But then, Michael had never known silence like this. He wasn't sure anyone alive did. Michael couldn't relate it to anything because he couldn't think.

For any person silence isn't actually silence. You always have something playing in your head, whether it's a song, or random thoughts, or you're having a conversation with yourself, there's always something. But it was like someone had pressed mute. Michael had always had a loud mind, but he couldn't draw up any thought, he couldn't visualize a colour because he didn't know how or what it was called, but then he didn't think any of those either. He couldn't think. Literally.

And he couldn't feel by attachment because he didn't know what he was feeling because he couldn't remember what it was called, but he didn't know he couldn't remember because he couldn't think, but he couldn't tell something was off either because he couldn't think or recall what it used to be like. He didn't even realize he was alive or that his mind was working.

He didn't know that time was passing him by and that Luke was hurting just outside the door of the room he didn't know he was in. There was simply nothing. Michael had thought when he was alive that he would have liked this, but now he couldn't decide because he couldn't think.

He didn't know how long passed before he finally found a word. The word for the feeling that he was suffering. Michael was scared.

And then things were blissful and happy and he didn't know how he got those words until he realized he was thinking again, but then in the real world Luke was screaming desperately and the doctors managed to restart his heart and he was sucked back into the nothingness with the word scared floating about on an endless mantra because that was all he had.

To Michael it seemed instant, but in reality hours had passed before something clicked somewhere. And he got it back. The voice. Not the corrupting, evil one he got from being diseased, but the soft, gentle, loving one that belonged to Luke. And he realized how much he truly loved the goofy blonde boy. And Michael felt a pang he couldn't identify and something else started churning as a memory tried to surface, but Michael was not quite that far into recovery. He wasn't sure if recovery was possible, but what was recovery? Why did he need to recover?