and then we weren't (luke hemmings)

November 20th, 2016

Luke

"Hey Mikey. I miss you a lot right now. I mean, I miss Mom, of course. But it's been six years, so I'm pretty accustomed to the feeling of wanting just one more conversation with somebody that I know I'll never see again, no matter how much I wish I could." 

I paused, taking a deep breathe and adjusting the cell phone in my hand.

"And I obviously miss Lena; we haven't spoken in almost forty days, and it's taking every ounce of self-control that I have to stay away from her. Remember her? She used to think you were going to go bald because of all of that hair dye. You didn't though, not until they made you shave it all off before- um, you know," I smiled sadly, looking down at the broken picture frame positioned carefully in my lap. Within it was a blurry photo of Michael himself, a bright smile on his thinned face. The hospital gown he wore was stained and dirty and the IV that stuck out of his right arm made my stomach churn. Still, he wore a happy expression, a pulse oximeter clamped onto his index finger as he held up a peace-sign. 

"Anyways, I miss them. But right now, I think I miss you the most. You're my best friend, you always have been. And you always know-" I cut myself off, correcting my mistake almost immediately. "You always knew exactly what to say, you know? You could've been a fucking therapist or something." 

My mind traveled back to seventh grade, reminiscing in the faint memory of Michael sitting beside me in the boy's bathroom as I cried over an English project that we were assigned; to talk about your favorite memory with your parents. He rubbed my back with one of his arms while the other wiped away at my tears. He told me that he would take care of it and that I didn't have to worry about it. Later that day, he sat by me at lunch and reassured me that life would carry on, and that I didn't have to torture myself with the memory of her.

 I let out a humorless chuckle, my eyes locked on the front door of his home with a shred of hope that he would walk in at any minute and all of this would be some sort of sick joke. 

"And I know you never really thought you could do anything with your life, but I think you could've been anything you wanted to. You were so smart, Mikey," I chocked back a sob, fiddling with the house-key that he had given me a while back. "So smart. Like-like fucking Einstein, you know? Doesn't really matter now, does it? Because you're gone. You're-you're dead, Michael. And it's not fucking okay that you're dead because we were supposed to be best friends until we got old and fat and grumpy all of the time and-"

The beeping noise sounding from the other side of the line interrupted my endless rambling, signaling that I had used up all of the available time to leave a message. Tears were falling freely now, landing on my grey shirt and even the picture itself, but I ignored them as I shakily re-dialed his number. 

"Sorry, buddy. I ran out of time. But you understand, don't you? You ran out of time, too. And now it's just me and your old number, and it feels pretty fucking lonely. Anyways, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Mikey. I love you. I do. I'll see you again someday, okay? Don't forget me, you asshole. I'll see you again. Maybe sooner than you think." 

I hung up, sitting for what seemed like forever in a thick silence, not having nearly enough energy to wipe the snot off of my nose or the few leftover tears sitting uncomfortably on my cheeks. The world spun around me as I stood still with my back against the couch and my legs crossed on the ground. My head was craned towards the kitchen and I stared absentmindedly at the door, numbness clouding over me in a sickeningly familiar fashion. It almost felt like hours passed before something so startling happened that it caused me to physically jump, a mixture of hope and fear shadowing over me as I scrambled to my feet.

The doorbell rang again, and I rushed to it with such force that my thin white socks slid across the ground as I came to a stop, causing me to crash directly into the door. I tore it open without a second thought. Part of me thought that maybe, just maybe,  Michael would trudge through the door and explain that he had just gone for a really long walk and got lost. Another part of me almost hoped it was Lena, just so that I could have somebody to tell me that I'd be okay. 

However, when the door opened to reveal a sobbing, shaking, altogether broken curly-haired boy, the color drained from my face and I embraced him in an endearing hug, almost knocking him over in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Ashton. I missed you so fucking much."

a/n: ok so i almost cried while writing this omg