Control » Muke

s i x

i couldn't stand the person inside me

"It's weird, you know." Luke said with a quiet voice. He was sprawled out across Michael's bed with the smaller boy lay next to him, cuddled into his chest. "I've not touched someone alive in so long, I forgot what it felt like."

"Is it different? Touching a human, I mean." Michael replied, lifting his head up.

"It's warm. Feels nice."

There wasn't much conversation for a while after that. From the other side of the room, Michael's old record player was softly playing Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds, filling the room with a quiet but delightful layer of noise. In the moment, the boys couldn't have been physically and mentally closer.

"It's 3am." Michael murmured, his face still snuggled into Luke's chest.

Luke chucked lightly and shook his head at the irony. Of course it was 3am when they checked the time, with their luck they would only ever get to know each other at the hour of the devil.

"It's funny," spoke Luke, causing Michael to glacé up at the boy with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't quite sure why the hour of Satan himself could make their situation funny. Luke noticed the look in his eyes and smiled down, licking his lips before explaining.

"3AM is when I'm supposed to be at my strongest, but I do to think I've ever been more vulnerable than I am now, with you."

A smile tugged at the corners of Michael's mouth and it only faded when he felt Luke's cold fingers running along his wrist, caressing the slight bumps where his scars were permanently carved.

It wasn't that Michael felt uncomfortable around Luke - quite HTBS opposite really, considering how close they had become in a matter of hours. This was their first real, meaningful conversation but something about the blonde made him seem trustworthy, kind and gentle.

It wasn't a surprise that the scars were present. There had been many times that Luke had actually seen the blood fresh on his wrists, tears falling down Michael's cheeks as he screamed into the empty house. Luke had been haunting the Clifford house for months, so he was there to witness at least ten of Michael's breakdowns.

Unfortunately, he never managed to stop it in time before Michael started to hurt himself or break things. It took throwing furniture and slamming doors to distract Michael, even for a few seconds.

Still, Luke was curious. Throughout all of the pain in his life, he never let it turn into something physical. Luke was always a strong believer that your emotional pain should stay emotional, because taking it out on your body won't do you any good. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that Michael was so desperate for relief that he actually tore apart his own skin.

"Did you really want to die?"

Michael was startled by the question at first, but eventually he let out a shaky breath and nodded. For whatever reason, his brain told him that Luke was a person that he could confide in and after a lifetime of hiding his emotions, it was a relief for Michael to be able to tell the truth.

"I just don't understand it," Luke let out a short breath in frustration. He tightened one arm around Michael and used the other to run a hand through his hair, lightly tugging at the ends. "I know what it's like to be bullied, trust me, but death isn't all fun and games. It's scary and boring and just as bad as living a shitty life."