Some Day We Might (Muke)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I feel a sickening ache in my stomach when I wake up. It's not from what happened last night--how could it be when Luke was so perfect to me?

That's why I feel like this.

He's so good to me, and what do I have to offer? Nothing, that's what. And I have so many secrets I'm keeping from him. I feel like a liar and a hypocrite. I mean, here I am pretending everything is all fine and dandy, trying to get Ashton better when I'm just sinking into the quicksand that is my own mind.

The difference is, though, that I care about Ashton. Not myself.

I throw away some cups left over from last night. I barely got any sleep due to Jack's loud and drunk singing and Halloween music blaring from our speakers.

Even with my lack of sleep, I seem to be the first one awake.

Which gives me more time to dwell on my own poisonous thoughts.

It starts with me sitting down on the couch, just feeling empty. Then I turn the tv on, and the smiling faces of everyone seems to bring me down. I wish I could be happy like that. They're acting and it's more real than my own happiness.

And then I realise how much I hate everything about myself. All I do is complain. I try to seem cool by pretending that I'm an asshole or too good to do things, even if I'm just joking. I'm annoying. I look like some reject, pudgy emo kid. And most importantly, I'm mentally fucked.

It's almost a tired movement when I get up from the couch, though my mind is stirring and bubbling with...something--everything.

I feel guilty when I dig a clothespin from the bathroom drawer, and even guiltier when I make thin scratches on the top of my pale thigh, now making it pink and puffy around the fine lines with small dots of red seeping to the surface. The new ones overlap the mostly faded, discoloured scars. I wonder how long it will be until these turn into scars. Or if they ever will.

- - - -

(*LUKES POV*)

Michael isn't in the bed when I wake up. Man, I fucked up. I shouldn't have come on so strong. I wasn't trying to. I honestly didn't have intentions of doing anything he didn't want me to.

I hope he doesn't hate me. I won't be able to deal with him hating me.

I find Michael in the kitchen eating a bagel.

"Hey." I say.

He smiles. "Hey." He's smiling but there's something in his eyes that's a little off. He looks almost scared.

Did I scare him? Fuck, I scared him. I'm not even a scary person.

I sigh and sit down next to him. "I'm really, really sorry about last night, Mikey."

"Luke, don't apologise." He closes his eyes. "It's honestly 100% fine. I'm not mad--how could I be?"

"Because I was pushy."

"You were far from pushy."

"But--"

He cuts me off, "Luke, stop." He grabs my hand. "You're fucking perfect, okay? So stop worrying. You aren't doing anything wrong. I don't even think you're capable of doing wrong."

I smile a little. "That's...a big claim, you know."

"It's not a claim, it's the truth." Michael gets up from the table. "I'm gonna take a shower, okay?" He kisses me on the cheek, lingering for a few seconds, and finally walks away.