You & I~Muke

-Luke-

letting you know before hand, 1) it's late and i haven't edited this chapter so any mistakes i apolgise and 2) this is a massive mess of a chapter, so all the apologies again, i am going away for a few days and needed to update because tomorrow i won't be able to update or get the time so i'm sorry, ilyasm and let me know what you think if you feel like it because you're comments make me happy:)) 

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Michael sits up in his bed, staring blankly at the wall.

His room is bare, plain and white; the walls almost as pale as his skin that stays unmoved.

Almost.

His hair is a flat mess, and he's in a gown that I guess he got put in at some point.

His high cheekbones are sunken. His eyes are dark circles staring out with pain, and dullness, the once bright green colour, terrifyingly dim; A heaviness, a cloud of depression and weariness, seems to draw all of Michael's features downward as he remains emotionless, unaware and I wonder if he's even realised we're in the room.

He's numb.

And as I stare at him, I wonder if he'll ever feel again.

Cracked lips are almost white, bloodless as they're left in a thin, stern line.

There's a long long silence, while we all stand there.

I wonder if anyone's going to cry; if I'm going to cry and pray I don't, not quite yet.

And definitely not in front of him.

In front of the numb boy; I remind myself to breathe and take a few step forwards.

Michael does not move, not really.

I'm not sure if he's breathing, if he's alive or dead and he's had days like this before. Days where he struggles to feel anything, when others he feels everything'

And I guess that sometimes he gets lost.

Sometimes he goes so far into his head that he forgets anything else exists for a while.

And man, I'd love to know what goes on up there.

But I've never seen him like this, this lost. This spaced out and I wonder if it's the medication in his body or if it's the treatment they're giving him or if he's tired or maybe because I'm here, maybe because everything's my fault.

But most likely, it's because he's alive, and he doesn't want to be, not even a little bit because who would?

At the end of the day, I'm nothing special, I'm not cool and I'm not punk I'm just a self destructive kid who tries to drown out the world and all those demons in his head with some loud music and a cigarette or two.

And who would've guessed?

Who would've guessed that it would all go so wrong?

You?

Me?

Michael?

I think we all did, and all for the same reason, discounting Michael and I's insecurity and pain, because every story has the low point, right?

Every story has to have a disaster to get better, so that's what I'm going to tell myself.

That it's going to pick up from here, (even if it doesn't). because if not, I'm more than sure I'll be writing my will before I'm 30, dying from a thrill- or something I'd like to call an ultimate high.