You & I~Muke

-Luke-

okay so another unusually long absense for me

sorrryyyyyyyyy

no excuse other than i've been busy, schools been tiring as hell and i'm getting my life together as much as possible hahaha

but omgggg

how have you all been???? i've missed and love you all so much ya'll are my pride and joy

here's an extra long chapter to say sorry for taking nearly a month to update:)

i love u sm<3

-

Nicotine lingers on my lips as I walk into the house again, the sweet smell of baking filling my nostrils- I lean down toward the warm ovem, radiating heat and look in.

Cake. My tummy rumbles and I smile.

I remember how often Michael would give in to a slice of cake; even on the days when he really didn't want to eat.

Creeping out of the kitchen, lighter on my feet than I have been in weeks, I begin to leer toward's michael's room where of course, I spent last night; but then, there's the spare room which I slept in on Christmas Eve.

Michael's room seems more appealing- I walk into the doorway, and look at Michael who's laying down on his side, facing the wall closest to him- I study the numb body.

I just wanna hold him, touch him, feel him. Always. Forever.

Because I'm here, now, trying.

I wanna kiss him, taste him.

Because this separation is fucking killing me; we're close right now, don't get me wrong. As I sit down on the bed next to him, there's merely space between us, but somehow, that doesn't feel like that's what is between us.

I'm slowly diverging into a void of worry, thinking thinking thinking worrying that last night was a one off, that he's gonna say once again, I was a mistake and he's an idiot for getting lost in the moment.

Small body turns over, and his eyes open- long eyelashes splitting as he stares up at me.

"You okay?"

He nods, and then moving slightly more, his head rests in my lap.

I smile.

"I'm o-okay."

I mean, I know he's probably lying but for now, I just wanna believe him, so I nod.

"Did you know there's cake in the oven?" you can the nostalgia dripping from my throat and dampening my words- they leave my mouth coated in the foul substance and I wish it would, quite frankly, fuck off.

He nods against my thigh.

A little smile blossoms and perches on his cracked, bloody lips- his are almost as bad as mine, and I've been slapped and hit. Maybe he has, but only internally by those mean words in his head.

I remember, once, when we were together in the dark night- I think we were walking home from a restaurant- it was a happy night. We'd discussed the likings of the future, and where we want to go, things we want to do.

The day had just gone so well, too well; we were walking home when a man walked past and called us fags; I take everything lightly, through one ear and out the other to me, but Michael doesn't. god, he doesn't- I don't believe he ever will, but maybe, just maybe, I like that about him. I like that he feels so much, and that he gets passionate and he gets hurt because he's human. Boy, is he the most human human being I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.