There wasn’t a funeral because there was no one to go and we couldn’t leave anyway.
The world didn’t suddenly turn dark, the birds still sang, we still sang, and so did Luke.
He worked on that song day and night, only leaving his room to perform. He didn’t really eat, he didn’t sleep, he just worked on that same song, all the time, mumbling how he really wasn’t fine at all, and I hated it.
I tried to coax him out however he wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence, he didn’t acknowledge anyone’s presence, the only thing he had even said since the day he said in a fourteen tweet long rant, which created a mess to say the least, however he didn’t know or care.
Now I wish I could tell you some great story like I got him to go out one day and he met a girl that talked and looked like Charlie and it was a reincarnation and they lived happily ever after, but that’s not what happened.
“Lukey.” Michael said softly, sitting next to him one evening and prying his guitar from his hands.
“Hmmm?” Luke mumbled, the most he’d said in weeks.
“I’m going to say this one time and one time only, are you ready?” Michael asked.
“Mmm-hmmm.” Luke sighed.
Taking a deep breath, Michael slapped Luke as hard as he could across the face.
“What the hell?” Luke yelled.
“This is your reality check.” Michael replied, “I get that you loved her, but what would you want her to do if you died, would you want her to sit there and waste away and be miserable?”
Luke shrugged.
“No,” Michael snapped, “You would want her to live her life right?”
“I guess.” Luke croaked.
“Well, that’s what you’re going to do.” Michael said, “Stand up.”
Luke ignored him.
“Fine, sit, I don’t care.” Michael snapped, crossing over to Luke’s suitcase and removing a black shirt with red stars on the sleeves.
“Arms up.” Michael demanded.
Sighing Luke slowly raised his arms above his head, and Michael tugged off his week old Nirvana shirt, replacing it with the new one.
“What are you doing?” Calum asked.
“He. Can. Not. Sit. Here Like. This.” Michael replied, as he struggled to pull Luke’s jeans down.
“You can’t take him out like that.” I said slowly.
“Watch me.” Michael snapped, tugging a new pair of jeans up Luke’s legs, before changing his socks and cramming his feet in a pair of vans.
“You probably should have showered since you stink like ass, but this will have to work.” Michael sighed, dousing Luke in cologne and Ax.
“Mikey I don’t want to go anywhere.” Luke whispered.
“Tough tits.” Michael snapped, “You’ve been sitting there like a piece of shit in a porta potty for a month now. If you don’t watch it you’re ridiculously long legs are going to stop working. Now open up.”
Sighing Luke closed his mouth. Looking pissed, Michael grabbed his face and squeezed his cheeks until his mouth opened, before shoving Luke’s singing toothbrush in and brushing his teeth so violently I feared the poor kid might throw up.
“I’m not leaving.” Luke declared when Michael was finished, a ring of white toothpaste circling his mouth.
“Oh yes you are,” Micahel replied, ripping Luke’s beanie off of his head, and going to town on his blonde hair with a mound of gel.
