Beside You *Muke*

Chapter 11

Trigger warning: Short self harm scene in the near beginning of the chapter.

I return to my house three days later and when I enter, I'm happy to find it's empty. My father's fingerprint bruises have faded from my neck yet the memory remains. That was a different kind of abuse than normal. This one almost killed me.

I lay down on my bed, happy that my bed still smelt of me; the sharp sting of my hair gel and musky cologne. It brought me a sense of comfort. Minutes later, I head over to my closet, running a hand through all of the clothes, each one black, a certain band name printed on the front of the shirts in either white or yellow lettering. "God, what am I still doing here?" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. I knew living here wasn't healthy and I certainly wouldn't uphold my level of sanity if I lived here any longer. 

My thoughts consume as soon as I look back at my bed. The way the sheets were still crumpled from my quick escape out of the room, panicked at the way my father had had his hands clamped over my throat so easily, without hesitance. 

I peel back my sleeve, picking at my dozens of cuts, watching them bleed but it's not enough. I pick up my razor again, even though I knew Ashton would be upset that I was and make more gashes across my right wrist, seeing as if there wasn't enough room on my left. 

A knock sounds though out the house and I shakily clean everything up before running to the front door and twisting the knob, nervous as to who was on the other side. "Hey Lukey. Ashton said you'd be here,"  

I'm surprised to find Michael standing in the doorway. His hair was dyed black and white. Black down the middle of his scalp and white on the right and left sides. He looked ridiculous but I somehow liked it. "You dyed your hair," I comment stupidly, running a hand through my own with nerves. 

"I did." He tells me. "I rather like it, if I'm being completely honest. Does that make me cocky?" Michael questions, and I allow a smile to wash over my features. 

"No, Michael Clifford. I don't think it does," 

"Do you wanna go on a walk with me?" He asks me suddenly and I find myself nodding my head. "Lets go then," He smiles. I wasn't exactly sure where we were going but when we end up back at Michael's house, my eyebrows furrow. "I was wondering if you wanted to have a movie night with me, Luke Hemmings," He suggests. "My mom's out at work and I was home alone. I really enjoy your company," He tells me sheepishly and a smile floats onto my face. 

"I'd love to accompany you on this movie night," I tell him, smiling shakily. He takes my hand, leading me over to his living room. We then start to build a pillow fort, something I hadn't done since I was child and as soon as it's done, the two of us settle down and Michael pops in a movie. "Which movie is it? Is it Mean Girls? That's like, my favorite movie," I comment, small smile on my face. 

"Naw, it's not Mean Girls," Michael tells me with a chuckle. "It's actually a Disney movie." Once Dumbo starts to come onto the screen, I can't help but laugh. "You like this movie, Lukey?" He asks, bumping into my forearm. I wince quietly at the pain it brought but force a smile, nodding. 

"Mhm, one of my favorites," I mutter before leaning back into the pillows. As soon as I feel a slick wetness running down my arm, my eyes widen. "I-I'll be right back," I whisper, getting up and sprinting to find his bathroom. Shutting the door, I mutter, "Shitshitshit," under my breath as I pull up my left sleeve and find blood beading to the surface.

I try cleaning up my wrist in a haste and when I hear Michael knock on the bathroom door, saying, "You've been in there a while, mate. You alright?" my face blanches of all color. 

I get rid of the tissue, flushing the toilet and washing my hands, rolling my sleeves back down. "Yeah, sorry," I mumble, walking past him nervously. "Awe, you paused the movie for me?" I ask, finding it to be in the exact spot it had been when I left. 

"'Course I did," Michael chirps, laying down at my side. Mid-movie, I find my eyelids getting heavy and I find myself falling asleep with my head resting on Michael's shoulder and the bulkier boy not minding one bit.

***

"Luke. Luke. Luke." Someone calls and my eyes snap open, momentarily alarmed by the sudden noise. 

"What?" I mumble into a side couch pillow. 

"Luke, what're these?" It's Michael, I knew that now. I could tell by the deep smokiness of his voice and my eyes flutter open. 

"What're what?" I ask quietly, trying to shake the sleep from my body. 

"These," He says, pointing at my right wrist which held fresh cuts. 

"I, um--" I stammer, eyes wide and wild with panic. "I uh, I have to go," I whisper, getting up from the floor and taking in the darkness of the night sky from the living room window. I'm struggling to put on my shoes, losing my balance and crashing into his bookshelf, splitting my cuts back open again. "Shitshitshit," I hiss, pain erupting from the surface. Michael comes to my aid after hearing my string of curse words and I push him away, pulling up my sleeve and trying to stop the bleeding. "Fuck. Michael, please stop hovering," I beg, moving past him and heading back to the bathroom. I clean up my cuts once again and once I had, Michael pulls me into a hug before I could do anything else. 

"Please fill me in. Please tell me what's going on," He begs, hot breath brushing against my ruffled blonde quiff. 

"I can't, Michael. I can't and I have to go," I mumble, pulling out of his grip and walking away, without looking back. 

Okay, I realize I haven't updated in forever but I have a reason. I've been going through a lot lately and have been trying to focus on that. Sorry about the wait. 

-Shianne xx