the artist → muke

n i n e

michael was about to press the call button, calum's number already typed in before luke grabbed the phone out of his hand. it had only been a minute.

"i changed my mind." luke chuckled, shoving his phone into his back pocket, leaving michael speechless.

"w-what? no. you just said i got two phone calls." michael shook his head, his eyes wide. "you can't take that away."

"i was going to give you two phone calls," he sighed, "but then, i realized the little plan you came up with. i looked up your shitty latin phrase. 'help me'? i'm not daft, michael. i know that you know how to get out of this, but it's not going to work. not today. we're doing this my way."

luke placed his hands on michael's chest, pushing him forcefully back towards the uncomfortable chair he'd been trapped in earlier. michael was hyperventilating.

"y-you can't. all life is precious. please. please," michael whimpered, but luke just leaned down and bit michael's lip until it began to bleed, and michael began to scream.

"you don't get to choose anymore, michael. i make the rules up now." luke growled, "and in my rules, the pretty boy kisses me until he can't breathe."

michael didn't want to do it. not now.

"i'll even let you have your hands free this time," luke whispered, moving his arms from pressed flush against michael's chest to around his neck. and he leaned forward to kiss michael. michael didn't want this. he didn't want luke. he didn't want anything more than to be back in his bed.

he didn't move his mouth against luke's, not even when luke pulled away and yelled at him telling him to.

he ignored the slap he received to the face when he didn't return the favor.

he began to feel more drawn to the kiss when luke's hands pulled at his blue hair.

luke pulled away, and sighed. "pretend you're into this. for a second. please?" and he picked up michael's hands, forcefully moving them to his own hair before latching back onto michael.

michael tugged as hard as he could at luke's hair, trying to implement pain if he could. sadly, it didn't work because luke seemed to be turned on by the pain, just moving closer to michael.

michael felt disgusting. he wanted this to end.

fuck it, he was gonna die anyway.

so he head-butted luke before taking one of his hands and hitting luke where he knew it'd hurt the most. luke's eyes shut in pain before he growled with anger.

"you're so going to regret that, you fucker," luke grabbed a knife from the nearest table, stabbing it into michael's side, twisting it slightly.

michael's eyes rolled back in his head as he screamed an anguished scream, "shit."

luke pulled the knife out before slamming michael's arms down into their cuffs on the chair. "we're doing this now."

he pulled out the canvas, which michael saw he'd already almost finished sketching and block coloring. luke grabbed a pencil and penciled in an added side wound, and michael could feel the blood leaving his body. very quickly. he'd be dead within the hour, at least that was his best bet.

"hey luke," michael called, and luke gave him a confused look. michael just slowly raised his middle finger at luke. "fuck you."

"wish i could've," luke rolled his eyes.

michael watched luke's hands steadily as he sketched and painted. luke had explained something about oil paints. or maybe it was pastels. or watercolor. he couldn't remember. everything was starting to slip from him. it'd been maybe half an hour, and he was going delirious.

"just a bit longer," luke mumbled.

"what? until you're done, or until i'm dead?" michael whimpered. he wanted this to end. now.

luke paused before shrugging. "both, i guess."

michael watched luke as he painted, his eyes slowly shutting occasionally. he watched as luke grabbed a black pen and swiped his signature across the bottom right hand side of the painting.

"michael," luke called. "it's done. wanna see?"

michael said nothing in response, but luke turned the canvas around anyways. michael almost puked at the sight. it looked just like him, just broken. destroyed.

luke had put extra attention into michael's eyes, making them bloodshot with tears like he was sure they were, and making his lips cherry red and scabbed with blood. blood stained cheeks and the stab wound in his side made him want to sob harder. the fact that luke had painted in the shelf full of voodoo dolls and thrown canvases baffled michael.

"it's positively demented," michael mumbled, too weak to say anything more.

"i'm glad you think so." luke smiled proudly, grabbing his knife from his desk. "michael clifford, it's been a great pleasure painting you today. hopefully heaven let's you in."

and luke plunged the knife into michael's skull.

•

well this sucked