vegas ➳ muke

eight

The television was on, but the sound was mute, just like the boy on the floor. His body trembled. His eyes wide and blood shot, staring directly ahead.

Luke carried on, stepping over the body on the floor when need be. He thought nothing of the boy, this was common for him.

Until strangled breaths escaped past his lips, vomit seeping from his mouth.

And all Luke could do was scream.

The blond dropped to his knees, scooping the boy's body into his arms and sitting him up.

"Stop it! Michael! Stop that!" Luke screamed, pounding his fist onto the choking boy's back.

Luke quickly pulled him up, positioning himself so he could hold the boy from behind.

In and up. In and up. Harder. In and up.

Luke had seen the Heimlich Maneuver performed before, but he had never had to do it.

"Please, Michael! Fucking stop!" Luke was crying, "I love you, Michael...."

It took two full minutes to get Michael breathing again. But to Luke, it was an eternity. Each second passing felt like minutes.

Time slowed down in panic.

Michael was conscious, but dazed. He lay in Luke's lap, soaked in his own vomit, just staring. Luke was petting Michael's hair, crying, and whispering i love you again and again.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? I'll run a bath."

Luke helped Michael to the bed.

He rushed to the bathroom to start the tap, filling the small tub with warm water. He had to carry Michael to the bathroom, strip him of his clothes, and lower him in to the tub. The weak boy could'nt hold his own weight.

Michael was smiling. A soft smile. But it was evident.

"M' love you," He mumbled, reaching out to touch Luke's face

Luke kissed the boy's hand.

"No more of this, Michael. You have to stop. You almost died... And you can't. You aren't allowed. I need you. I love you."

Michael smiled, closing his eyes.

"We have to leave here. I know they heard us. They'll call the police. We'll go to jail."

A tear slipped from Michael's eye, cascading down his pale cheek.

"The lights, Luke. I have to see the lights."

Luke wanted nothing more than to make Michael happy. To give him everything he ever wanted. For him to see those damn lights.

"We don't have to leave Vegas. Just this hotel, okay? We'll drive to the other end of the strip. We can find a place there."

Luke retrieved a cloth from the cabinet, wetting it with the warm water, and cleaned Michael's frail body.

Michael was looking worse everyday. His coloured hair was faded. His body turning to skin and bones. His complection pale.

But Luke would always find him beautiful. He loved the boy, no matter the circumstance. No matter how sick he was. Or how bad his addiction became.

Luke loved Michael.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

The pair chose a motel rather than a high end hotel. If events were to reoccur, they would be disregarded. Motels held all sorts of occupants. Typically, the off putting ones. But Michael and Luke made themselves at home.

The room was quite small. Only holding a single bed, dresser, a very old television set, and a tiny kitchenette. It was more than they had planned, so they were grateful.

After getting curious stares from the lobbyist at the last hotel, Michael decided to lay low. He kept put in the car while Luke checked them in to a room. He didn't want to be seen. Especially not in his current condition.

Michael had only over dosed once prior to that morning. It was early on in his experience with substance abuse and he landed himself in the hospital. The doctors had suggested a rehabilitation program, but Michael refused treatment. He didn't have a problem. He was lucky though. If Luke had not been there or had not acted on impulse, Michael would be dead. But even now, Michael would not admit to having a problem.

Luke sat in the armchair, counting the stack of cash in his hand. There had to be at least a thousand there. But that did not include the briefcase stashed under the bed. That was full. Michael had curled himself onto the bed as soon as they arrived. He felt exhausted, but Luke didn't mind having a day in. Especially not after the morning's events.

"Luke..." Michael mumbled, turning to face the boy

"Hmm?"

Michael sighed, "How can we continue to live if we know we're going to die?"

The sudden question startled the younger boy, causing him to set down the money and join his worried lover on the bed.

"You aren't dying, Mikey. You're just weak. You've had a long day..."

Michael shook his head in disbelief, "Not now, Luke. Just in general. We're all going to die."

And Luke knew that. Everyone knew that. Humans were not designed to be immortal. We live and then we die, that is just the way things are. But Michael had a difficult time accepting reality. It worried him.

Luke pressed a kiss to Michael's forehead, "You are so young, Michael. You don't have to worry about dying any time soon. Okay?"

But Michael did worry. All he ever did was worry.

"I almost died today..." He said blankly, "I would have been gone. That's it. You've got one shot at life... and I almost fucked mine up."

Michael sat up, draping his arms around Luke's body and sobbing into his chest.

"I don't want to die, Luke. Not now, not ever. I can't be without you..."

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The first part of this was extremely hard to write. I rewrote it a dozen times and its probably still terrible. But it needed to happened .

Also, Michael's dialogue came straight from my thoughts. As someone whom suffers from anxiety, these are thoughts I have on an everyday basis. I figured incorporating them into Michael would be a safe way to get them out.

I hope you are all enjoying this.

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