Sorry •Muke•

Chapter 33 - By My Side

"Michael?" 

My eyes met the mirror's reflection. I stood only in my boxers as I stared at my ribs, collarbones, and hipbones sticking out amongst my scarred white skin. A few dark bruises sprinkled along my skin; most of them on my neck. Tears prickled in my grey eyes. 

"You in here? Mike- oh."

I closed my eyes and folded my arms across my chest, hiding the hideous sight. I felt Luke's arms snake their way around my waist, underneath mine.

"Kitten?.. What's wrong?"

I shook my head and let the tears slip. I heard Luke mumble something but I didn't hear him. I quickly then turned around and grabbed onto him as hard as I could.

"Michael? What's wrong?" 

"I'm not perfect Luke." I cried onto his chest. He didn't say anything, he just held me in his arms, running his fingers through my hair gently to calm me down. 

"The way you make me feel is so hard to describe
It's like I'm living in a picture perfect romance everytime your lips touch mine
It blows my mind that even after all these years
I still feel like I can take on the world when
I wake up with you by my side"

Luke hummed the lyrics of By My Side by Matty Mullins. It calmed me down enough so I could talk finally.

"I am the opposite of perfection, Luke." 

He grabbed my hand and tugged me over to the bed where we then sat. Our fingers were tangled together and our foreheads were nearly touching.

"Michael, what do you see as perfection?" He asked, looking down and messing with the small scar on my thumb from when I had accidently cut myself trying to get the razor out of a jammed pencilsharpener a few years back.

"I see someone who is skinny... has bright blue eyes, a defined jawline, sharp cheekbones... someone who can sing, and play the guitar... tall; about 6'4, wears only black skinny jeans and has his lip pierced and my name scarred onto their flawless skin."

He smiled, "That's me, you dork."

"I know."

I looked up and our eyes met. I smiled at him and he smiled back. His eyes then trailed back down to our hands.

"My point here, is that not everyone has the same idea of perfect. Some people may think blonde hair is perfect, or black, or even dyed blond and brown. Some people may fancy tanner people while others may like pale people better..." He trailed off.

"What's your idea of perfect then?" I asked after a minute of silence.

"A boy; a really really pale boy... with the strangest hair colours, who is size 8.5 in converse, has extremly red lips that always taste like sugar... who has scars that go all over his body, an X tattooed on his heart and has their name scared on my arm." 

I smiled down at our hands, "You think I'm perfect then?"

"Of course... you are so adorable."

I looked up at him as he released my hands;

"The softest hair," He tangled his fingers through my messy hair.

"The most amazing eyes," He said staring into them with his.

"The cutest little nose," He booped my nose which was no longer runny from crying.

"The most hottest lips," He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

 "And the most adorable personality." He smiled, pressing our foreheads together.

I closed my eyes as our lips met once again. He then slowly pushed me back onto the bed. Our lips still locked as our bodies collided.