Give Me Love (Muke)

I'm Better off on My Own

Michael's not a saint. He's not a hero. He's not God's warrior. Heaven doesn't exist for him, and even if it did, it wouldn't be where he belongs.

Michael used to dream about the kind of God his mother would talk about when he was little coming down to take Michael in his arms and wipe away the hurt. That was before he stopped believing in God, knew if there was one then He wouldn't let Michael suffer. He wouldn't just stand by and watch as Michael was ripped from his friends, wouldn't watch as he tried to take care of his tormented mother as his hands shook and his back ached. He wouldn't let Michael lose Luke, wouldn't just watch as Luke slipped away. To Michael, God can exist only as a vicious lie created to instill fear in the sinners and placate the saints. It's not that there isn't a God at all, it's that for Michael, there cannot be a God. For Michael, God must have given up on him.

And Michael always figured he was fine with that.

But Luke. Luke's kind of what Michael imagines an angel as, his soul white and clean just as Michael's is stained with hair dye and faults. Michael doesn't want that to bleed through to Luke. Let Luke stay innocent and lovely. Michael can't be the cause of Luke's eyes dulling.

And yet Michael hates himself more for pushing away, for not taking the opportunity to snatch Luke up and take him in his arms and take away the hurt. Michael could have had the only boy he'd ever truly wanted. And now he never will. Michael did the right thing, stopped it before someone got hurt, stopped this before he could damage Luke. Because Luke's such a perfect thing, and Michael knows he can't have Luke. He doesn't deserve something so good.

And now Michael wishes he stood with the angels, wishes he could forget the look on Luke's face when he said, "I don't love you."

Michael lied. Oh, he lied, and it's too late now; he hurt poor Luke, and Ashton and Calum won't want him back, he's fucked.

He may love Luke, but in the end, it doesn't matter. Good things don't come to Michael, he doesn't deserve Luke.

Why, God, Michael asks, pretending for a moment He cares about Michael, why did you give me a taste of something so beautiful just to make it ever clearer that he's not meant for me?

Michael's a lot of things. He's bitter and tortured and insecure, but he's not mean. Michael's only ever beaten a man down if it was to defend someone weaker. And Michael tries so hard not to hurt people. But in taking himself down, people get caught in the crossfire.

Because the thing is, Michael wasn't just denying it. He wasn't just scared and broken. And he didn't say all those things to hurt Luke. He said all those things because he wanted to hurt himself.

And, well, he got what he wanted.

---

Michael steps off the plane in Perth, drooping eyes and empty stomach, invisible bruises over his heart in his chest from beating himself up for his mistakes again and again. He goes through security in a slump, moving with his mind paralyzed on the same thoughts. There's a dull ache in his heart. With every step, he gets closer to his family. What's left of it.

When he finally emerges from security with his backpack, he looks up and sees his aunt waiting patiently for him with pained eyes.

She gives him a hug. She says, "I'm so sorry." She starts to cry.

Michael makes sure to blink back his own tears before they fall. He's taller than her, tall enough that she has to stand on tiptoes to rest her head on his shoulder. She used to sit Michael down in her bathroom and take out her first aid kit and patch him up after fights. She used to come over with food on nights where his mother had been in a slump and forgot to buy groceries, used to help pay the electricity bills when Michael's part-time job income didn't cover it (and it almost never did).