5 Seconds of Summer BoyXBoy one-shots

Clear // Mashton [Muke&Malum]

~AN: I don't even know. Don't even ask.

Also, dedicated to @mikescuddles because I love your story and I love you and you're beautiful and yeah. I don't even know sorry. ~ 

“Michael? Are you alright in there? You’ve been there for quite a while now.” Knocking on the door, one, two, three times. Michael doesn’t answer, he ignores it, even though it bothers him that it was an odd number of knocks on the door. Three, not two or four. Why three? “Michael?” It’s clear he won’t go away, won’t leave Michael alone.

“I’m fine, just washing my hands.” he answers. He’s been here before, in this exact situation with someone who cares about him on the other side of the door, waiting for him to explain. But he can’t explain it, he doesn’t want to explain.

“Are you sure you’re okay Mikey? You’ve been in there for a very long time.” he pauses, letting the burning water wash over his hands as he tries to decide if that voice came from outside the door or if it’s simply a memory, a voice from the past. “You’re not hurting yourself are you? Please tell me you’re not hurting yourself.”

“No I’m not.” his voice is calm and he turns his hands over, looking at the pale skin on the inside of his wrists. They’re a bit red from the hot water and there are one, no two tiny scars but those are from when he was just a kid, not knowing better than to play with scissors. He’s never been that desperate, has never felt the need to inflict pain on himself.

“Did you say something Michael?” there’s a knock on the door again and once again Michael wants to tell him to stop doing that, stop knocking three times, want to tell him it’s wrong.

“No, no I didn’t.” he answers, knowing he will be believed. There’s nothing in his voice that indicates that he’s lying, nothing to give him any reasons to be doubted. “I’ll be out in a minute, there’s no need for you to stand there waiting for me.” and it works, he hears the floorboards creak as the hallway outside the bathroom empties. Once he’s sure he’s alone and there’s no one outside the door listening to, and possibly even watching, him he turns back to the sink.

 

Watching blood, red blood, being washed off his hands and disappearing down the drain only to be replaced by more, more and more. It’s like a circle, he’s trying to get rid of it but it just gets more and more. But Michael stays calm because that’s important. If he panics, if he makes as much as a noise, he won’t be alone no more. He’ll only wash them two more times now, not one or three but two because even numbers are good numbers. He needs all the good he can get now because the water in the sink isn’t as pink anymore and even though he wants it to be clear he knows he needs more red, he needs more.

 

“there you are.” relief in the voice as he enters the livingroom, hazel eyes looking up at him from the couch, loving eyes, even though he’s still too young to really know what love is.  

“you were in there for so long Mikey, I was scared.” the eyes were blue the last time, piercing blue. And loving, as if they were old enough to know what love were. “do you want to watch a movie with me? I’ll let you pick.”

“come, How I Met Your Mother is just about to start.” Michael takes his place, just like last time, next to him on the couch, letting him wrap his arms around his waist and pull him closer. He feels the same way he did back then, he knows what’s about to happen and the hazel eyed boy next to him has no idea, he doesn’t know. Just like the blue eyes boy didn’t know as he layed down next to Michael, laughing as the hair, that back then was dark brown, tickled his nose. All Michael can see, all he can feel, is red. His own heart beating, the plastic handle hidden away in his pocket, his cold palm wrapped around it. Ready. Waiting. He feels the beating of another heart, a chest pressed to his back, he remembers the soundtrack to the movie he watched before, when he could feel the beautiful blue eyes on him instead of the tv.

 

And then there’s red. Everywhere, everything is red and warm and slippery and he isn’t scared. He slowly stands, reaching out to make sure the warm hazel eyes aren’t staring at the white sealing before counting, making sure there’s an even number. If not, he would have to do it again and again and he wouldn’t be as calm afterwards, would maybe forget to make sure he’s safe. But he doesn’t have to and he stands, picks up the bag with his things from the floor, careful not to step in the red, and leaves through the front door.

 

Not too long after that he’s sitting in a small café, sipping a coffee as he listens to the news, listening as they talk about a boy with hazel eyes being found dead, covered in red, in his home no more than an hour ago. Listening as they say that the authorities are clueless to who could have done it. Smiling as he listens, knowing he’s safe. Knowing he’ll have a couple of months before the red starts leaking again, before he has to repeat.

“Nasty thing, that murder.” he looks up from his coffee, nodding since the stranger somehow knew he was listening. “people like us probably shouldn’t be alone right now, not with that guy out there. would you like to come over to my place? “would you like to come home with me, stay there for a couple of nights?” green eyes meet brown, beautiful brown, as they stand, leaving the café, the stranger just as clueless as the others were up until that very last moment. But there’s months left, months before the water stops being clear.