You & I~Muke

-Luke-

I open my heavy eyes to the sounds of panic.

I feel the alarm raise in my chest, as I can't see much in Michael's dark bedroom.

The sound of Michael's cries and hiccups and sharp, panicked breaths shock to me to the harsh reality, my world of dreaming falling apart around of me.

"Michael?" my hand furrows around in the mound of duvets and blankets as I try desperately, so desperately to find his stubby fingers but I cant.

That or he won't let me. Quickly, I turn around and fumble with shaky hands to flick the switch on my lamp, and I know Michael hates bright lights but I don't care because I haven't to help him somehow.

"Baby, look at me Michael,"

I study him in the new lighting, and see both his hands are in his damp hair, holding so tightly his knuckles are white, his eyes are closed, eyelashes creating shadows on his wet cheeks, and his knees are tucked loosely to his chest.

I shuffle closer to him, almost in-between his legs, but he doesn't move at all.

I use a stern voice, soft too, and make him look at me.

Green eyes meet blue.

I place my hands on his cheeks and swipe my thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears, only for them to continue to fall.

His hands slowly loosen on his hair, and I soon take them in mine, writing unknown words onto his palms.

"What's going on in your head, Mikey? I want to help you," I ask, and he wraps his legs around my waist, nuzzling his face into my neck, each breath he breathes filling me with warmth.

"I d-don't k-k-know Lukey," he replies.

He looks down, a small sad pout on his lips. And I want to kiss him.

I want to run my hands on his body.

I want to run my hands through his hair and across his skin and give him hickeys and make him laugh and hold him when he cries and I want to be with him.

I want to be his.

And I want him to be mine.

But I know right now isn't the time to be thinking that and I would be lying if I said I don't feel guilty for thinking that when he's in such a state.

"What was your dream about?" I ask, shifting us so we're lying down, so he's curled into me and my arms are wrapped around his waist and in this moment, whilst we hide away in the darkness under his covers, I swear to god, it's just us.

That no one else exists.

Because when his eyes meet mine or our lips touch, nothing else matters.

We can't bring ourselves to car about the fact we're both sad and miserable and that how we're slowly and surely falling apart.

Because if we hug enough, it brings out broken pieces back together.

And that's all we need.

"It w-was about m-my ex-b-b-boyfriend, Ray."

My eyes darken and I don't try to hide it.

"Are you going to talk about it?" I press my thin lips to his button nose, and he smiles, playing with my fingers in the darkness.

"h-he..." for a second I waver on the fact whether I want to know or not. "He h-hit me," I feel sick but then he carries on. "It wasn't a dream."