psych ➳ muke

24

When morning comes, I am quick to rise from the comfort of my bed. Typically, I am not a morning person, but Michael makes everything worth it.

I shower longer than anticipated, washing my hair twice and scrubbing at my pale skin until it is tinted red. I want to look my best for Michael, my sweet boy.

As I dress, I question if Michael is going through the very same process.

Is he scared?

Nervous?

Does he feel sick the way I do?

My black jeans feel far too tight, restricting and suffocating. I fumble over the buttons on my red flannel, mismatching the tiny black circles. I feel stressed, nervous even. But why? This is simply Michael - my platinum haired, vanilla sweet, cuddly boy whom I spent eight whole days fawning over.

Downstairs, my mother is preparing lunch, but I couldn't possibly eat. My stomach is doing acrobatics, flipping and twisting in anticipation.

I crave to feel Michael's skin pressing against my own, to feel his pink lips moving against mine. And I think that maybe this is absurd, to be so infatuated with a boy I barely knew a week. But something inside of me is telling me that this is right, these feelings are okay - normal. I am not accustomed to normality and maybe this is why I feel the way I do.

"I'm going out with a friend for the afternoon," I say as I remove a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

My mother turns to me, "Why don't you sit and have lunch first? I'm sure they could wait."

No, I think, he cannot simply wait.

I offer a forced smile, "We are stopping to eat while we're out, I'm fine, Mom."

She stares at me a little longer, assessing my features to see if I am lying. Eventually, she sighs - giving in.

"I'll be back later!" I call as I dash down the hall to the foyer, tugging on my shoes as quickly as possible.

I over exert myself on the way to Carson Street Station, moving faster than my legs deem acceptable. I cannot risk missing the scheduled bus being as another will not come for the next hour.

Thankfully, I make it on time and board the vehicle, taking the very first seat. My leg bounces and I find myself picking at the hem of my jeans to still my nerves. As I pick at a stray string, I notice that my hands are shaking and I fear I will have an anxiety attack right here on the bus.

Calm down, Luke. It's okay, I tell myself silently, willing myself to breathe properly.

The air around me suddenly feels stuffy, too dense, almost suffocating.

Just a few more blocks, Luke, you can do it.

When the contraption halts a block away from Flo's, I am the first to exit, propelling myself into the open air. The breeze floods my lungs and I am so thankful to be outside.

The walk to Flo's is short, only taking a couple of minutes. And once inside, I take a seat near the window, off in the corner so I can be alone. There are a few other occupants on the other end of the diner, just high school students rough housing. I don't pay them much mind, too focused on the events about to occur.

This is it, I think, I will see my Michael again.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door chime ringing out, I glance up to see a pale boy, messy platinum locks atop his head, and a confused look on his face.

Michael.

I stand quickly, but I do not approach him. Too afraid that this is some sort of sick dream, I couldn't possibly be imagining this, could I?

He turns in my direction, our eyes locking on one another. Blue meeting green - the most lovelt shade I have ever seen. And then soft tears are trickling down his pale cheeks and he is running to me. On instinct, I wrap him in my arms, pulling him flush against my chest.

He is warm like the sun, the smell of coconut fills my nose - it's so sweet, so welcoming. I card my fingers through his locks and kiss his forehead several times.

This is real, he is here.

And it is as if no one else in the entire world matters. It's simply just us, wrapped in our little forever. And he is so perfect.

"I missed you so much, sweets," he says, his words laced with pure happiness.

I pull away slightly so I can see his beautiful face, using my thumbs to wipe away his tears.

"I missed you, too. So, so much."

We opt to sit in the booth I had chosen - across from one another so we can take each other in. Our hands are interlocked, never seperating. I fear that if I let go I may lose him and I never want to lose him again.

He tells me about his time at the ward after I left. About a new boy called Troye whom was an attention whore, as Michael called it. He tells me about our friends, about how they were treated and discharged. And I feel sad in knowing that I will never see them again.

Sawyer.

Jai.

Levi.

Sutton.

These poor, hopeless souls that I have considered friends were lost amongst the world. Simply carrying on.

And all I can hope is that they make it. That they survive because I need them to.

And he tells me about his home life - about his parents and how over bearing they can be. I remind him that he is just loved, that they want the best for him.

We sit and talk for hours, the conversation carrying on so easily, as if we have known one another for a lifetime.

Michael walks me to the bus stop as the sun is setting, his hand holding mine. We sit in the tiny blue booth, awaiting the thing that will carry me away. And as we sit, we are silent. Simply holding one another close, whispering sweet nothings.

And as the bus approaches just down the street, Michael connects our lips in a passionate kiss.

"I love you, Luke Hemmings," he mutters.

"And I love you, Michael Clifford."

• • • • • • • • •

I literally cried whilst writing this. Their love is something magical.

The 'i love you' has been exchanged.
I know it is very soon for them to be confessing such feelings but love has no limits.

There are only two chapters left of this book and then the final author's note. Please, stick around for this! This is something that you do not want to miss.