"Worthless!" His father yelled, bringing the belt above his head. Michael brought his legs to his chest, silent tears falling down his cheeks.
"One word, Michael! All I want is one God damn word! But you can't do that, you failure!" His father brought the belt back down on his back, leaving a new trail of red. Michael wanted to die. He felt like he was.
His dad grabbed his wrists and yanked Michael to his knees. The bleeding boy could barely hold himself up.
Michael's dad looked at the red-haired boys wrists, and spit on him in disgust.
"Never did I think my son would be coward like you." He snarled, bringing the belt on his wrist in quick motion. Fire shot through Michael's veins as he looked at the cuts he made reopening.
"What a disappointment." His father sighed, dropping the belt. Everything went black.
Michael woke up, drenched in sweat. He was shaking violently, his bright green eyes adjusting to the dark. He felt a larger arm wrapped around him protectively, and quickly remembered it was Luke's. But even Luke couldn't protect him from his nightmares.
He slid quietly out of Luke's bed, the floor creaking as he walked towards Luke's bathroom. He knew he could be as loud as he wanted, because Luke wouldn't hear. And the rest of the Hemmings were at Luke's grandma's house, leaving it empty for the quiet pair.
He turned the light on in the bathroom, looking at his tear stained face. He checked his wrists to see the old, faded scars had not been reopened. He looked down to see Luke's old pajama pants hanging loosely off his hips, and bunching up at the feet with all the extra material.
Luke's oversized t-shirt was loose around his tummy, and that made Michael feel okay. When he had it on, he didn't feel fat or overweight.
Michael heard footsteps coming down the hall, and was meant face to face with Luke in the bathroom doorway. He had a concerned look on his face, his eyes running up and down Michael.
Michael looked at Luke's body. He was in just his boxers, and normally, Michael would be too. But he didn't want Luke to see his ugly scars. He didn't want Luke to see the ugly purple surrounding his body, he didn't want him to see the bruises shaded green. He didn't want Luke to see his red streaks from a belt, he didn't want Luke to see his ugly, damaged body.
He felt like trash.
Luke looked at Michael's stained face, his shirt covered in sweat. His shaky hands, his quivering lip. He knew something was wrong with Michael, it wasn't just a simple nightmare.
He brought the smaller boy into his arms, and he felt warm tears on his shirt. He didn't ever want to see Michael cry, he knew it would break him.
He couldn't ask Michael what was wrong, and he didn't think he wanted to know. Michael wouldn't want to talk about it, anyway. He knew Michael all too well, he doesn't like pity parties.
So he just kept the crying boy in his arms until he stopped shaking. He kept him protected until the darkness faded.
A/n
It's been a while
like 4 days but
You get it
Okay byee love you all so so so so so much
~Kay
YOU ARE READING
shooting stars//muke
Fanfiction"When I was little, I thought airplanes were shooting stars. And every night, I wished for a voice." •/•/•/•/• Michael Clifford says nothing, and Luke Hemmings manages a few words. But Michael lives in a world of noise while Luke lives in a world of...
