Numb || Muke

...Paint :: 19

Unedited

"Luke?" Michael whispers with his ember eyes closed, "Luke."

He gets no answer.

Michael mumbles a few things under his breath before opening his eyes, seeing no one lying next to him in the guest bed. He frowns and sits up. No one's even in the room.

Michael forces his tired self to hop out of bed and search through the house to find the blonde haired psycho. But he isn't anywhere, which really concerns Michael.

Lastly, the scrawny little boy goes to Luke's room. A key is scattered on the floor along with a lot of books.

"Luke doesn't read books," Michael whispers. He picks up a book, the cover indicating that it's a book on disorders...

Michael narrows his eyebrows, looking at more books.

"Disorders, How Disorders Work, Signs of Disorders..."

Michael sighs, "I'm sure this isn't about me."

He makes his way to Luke's bed, checking under it. Nothing but a-- knife.

Michael grabs the gripping part of the knife, pulling it out from under the large bed. Once he catches a glimpse of red he throws it across the room in fear. Michael's breathing quickens and his heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

Was that human blood?!

He quickly runs out of the room, only to run into a large object.

"Why were you in my room?" Luke asks. He's clearly annoyed.

"Uh-- I was looking for you! But-- why is there a knife with... blood?" Michael stutters. He feels so weak and scared as he looks up at the obviously stronger male.

"Oh, that? Sorry. It's not blood, actually. Only paint. Cleans up edges I mess up on." Luke shrugs, taking Michael's hand, "Let me show you."

Michael nods and walks along with Luke back into the messy room.

"See?"

Michael looks up at red paintings on the wall. Only red, nothing else.

"It's just-- paint?" Michael asks just in case once again.

"Yes, only paint. How about you go downstairs and eat the pancakes I got from the grandma next door who was trying to be nice I guess. I'll be cleaning my room." Luke says kindly with a huge grin on his face. Michael smiles back, almost leaving the room.

Luke grabs his arm, pulling him closer. He kisses his cheek and lets him leave the room with red covering his face.

Luke chuckles.

He closes the door and starts to stack the books.

"Fùcking Michael... You're really that dumb?" Luke mumbles, picking up the knife and putting it back under his bed, "That's not paint, it's blood. Paint doesn't dry like that."

Luke walks to the paintings, feeling the blood with his hands which leave him to feel a great feeling of happiness, "Just so I remember all the pain I've caused and all the people I've killed..."

****

An, well damn Luke chill out mf

Q, would you say that Luke is a psycho or just in need of great help?

A, idk tbh cause it's Luke but-- I dunno o.o

ily guys so much!

xxxx,
KillerMarshmallows