mixtapes >> muke

3- stupid mistake

Luke didn't really know how to respond. Obviously, he knew he was gay (girls were far too... organised. aesthetically.) but he didn't think that Michael felt that way about guys too. Michael. Michael with his stupid fluorescent hair and stupid snowflake pale skin and stupid eyes that made you want to sing stupid love songs and stay up until 3 am just looking into them. Stupid.

He had only met Michael a few days ago, and already felt that if he didn't have Michael by his side, he might just go insane. It was something about the way that Michael didn't really care what other people thought about him, or his undeniably inspiring self-confidence that made Luke feel so below him and unworthy of his friendship, let alone his presence.

Maybe Luke was over thinking the entire thing, and Michael was just kidding when he said he was gay. Even the thought of Michael finding out he actually WAS gay, and not wanting to be his friend made his vision blurry with uncertainty.

Luke broke away from his thoughts and met the inquisitive gaze of his companion. The XBOX was paused on a gruesome murder scene from COD, and the controller lolled in the grasp of Michael's short fingers.

"You okay, Puke?"

(Michael had taken to calling him Puke ever since the pizza incident on the sidewalk).

Luke nodded and self consciously fiddled with the stack of bracelets and wristbands.

"Woah, those are fūcking cool, man. It must've taken you ages to get all of those!!" Michael pointed to Luke's wrist.

Panic seized his heart in a vice as Michael began inspecting his right arm to look at his bracelets, fiddling with the indents and logos and braids adorning a blanket of milky white guilt.

Michael was a hand-slip away from seeing the scars that hadn't quite faded, and the bruises that shone mauve on his forearm.

Fūck.

"Wait..."

"Lukey?"

"What are these? Please tell me you don't hurt yourself. Please. Please."

Michael's words flew out in a torrent of panic and worry. Luke's eyesight was suddenly filled with translucent ghosts that flew in his vision and fell down his cheeks. Michael practically threw himself onto Luke and pulled Luke under him so that they were perfectly aligned.

"Luke. Lukey. Lucas. Jesus, I've only known you for what, a day? And I already feel like you're my best friend," Michael began, his eyes wide and earnest. He laced his fingers with Luke's and propped himself by his elbows, so that his face was inches from the taller boy's. "I'm not going to ask you not to do it, neither will I tell you it's all going to be okay. Because I don't know if it will. But, Jesus, Luke, seeing those makes my heart break a thousand times over. I don't know what made you do this to yourself, your beautiful and kinda dorky self, but I know that whatever DID make this happen is out of the picture. I'll

make sure of it. You've got me, Luke. You have me."

And in that moment, the moon and the sun and the stars collided to form something so unfamiliar and dangerous to Luke that he had never felt before. At least, not since his mum died.

Something that would break his heart and polish his being and light up his darkness, sending it back into Perth where his bruises and blades remained.

Something that came in the form of a stupid, amazing person.

Love.