Fallen Friend > Muke

Til death do us part

Michael's POV

When Michael opened his eyes next, he had expected to find himself ten feet below if you catch his drift. But instead, he found himself lying across the altar, wrapped tightly in someone's arms. His first instinct was to panic, remembering the feeling of the demon's arms wound across his throat, silencing his cries and shutting his airway. However, he didn't get too far before he had to slouch back down; the searing pain radiating from his upper chest down to his side almost sending him back to the dream realm he'd just returned from. Michael's ears were ringing, making the voice of whoever was holding him sound warbled. The last thing he remembered was pushing himself between Luke and Dominic, before a white, hot pain had him falling to his knees. It took a solid minute of lying still before Michael could distinguish that it was in fact Luke's worried voice calling out to him, and that Dominic was nowhere to be seen.

"Michael, Michael! Can you hear me? Please, I need to know you're alright? Wake up."

The hollowness of the church in conjunction with Michael's weakened state amplified Luke's voice, causing Michael to groan aloud.

"Oh thank god, you're alive," Luke sighed. "I thought I'd lost you, again."

"You're telling him I'm not dead right now?" Michael said, peering down to inspect the damage. Surprisingly, the pain didn't match the scar. A deep, crimson line stretched across Michael's body, from the space just right of his heart to his navel. "Sure feels like it."

"Well when you jump in front of an oncoming attack like that, what do you expect? You're lucky to be alive right now, Mister."

"You're mad at me?" he questioned obliviously.

"Are you serious!? You just saved my life, of course I'm not mad at you dingus."

Michael chuckled, but immediately had to stop after realising it hurt too much. Only Luke could manage to be sarcastic at a time like this. Luke smiled back at him, but still held concern in his eyes. After everything Michael had done, here Luke was, still caring about him.

"Why'd you come back for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought you hated me," he replied like it was completely obvious.

"Michael," Luke sighed. "It's impossible for me to hate you. I can definitely dislike you, trust me on that, but darling, hate and you don't ever go together in my book."

Michael lifted himself into a seated position, ignoring the searing pain that followed the action, and shared a much-awaited kiss with his boyfriend. Grief, pain, love, hope; it all tangled itself up in that one fleeting moment. Michael was the first to break away, his eyes drifting from Luke's to the body of his former best friend, which still lay cold and untouched on the other side of the room. Michael couldn't believe how in one day, he had lost two people who meant the most to him.

He leant his palm against the side of the podium and slowly pushed against it, using the sturdy frame for support to stand up. Luke chastised Michael's sudden movements but still, wrapped an arm across his shoulders for extra support. It was painful, but Michael managed to rise to his feet, and with Luke's support, wandered over to where the other, brunet boy laid. He had been too engrossed in the grief that accompanied Ashton's death to see Calum get thrown across the room, into the stone wall, like a ragdoll. Tears sprung to his eyes as he peered down at carnage. Like Ashton, Calum was still – too still for a human being – and Michael knew that indeed, his other friend had befallen the same fate. Not wanting to look any longer, Michael shied his face away into Luke's chest, allowing the grief to wash over him in waves. Luke chose not to speak. Instead, he cocooned the sobbing boy in his arms, allowing Michael to have those few moments of humanity before the pair would be forced to report the deaths and face the council.

At least he would have if fate wasn't a total bitch. Michael was still buried in Luke's warm chest when suddenly he felt the blond stiffen. Worried that one of the demons may have somehow arisen, Michael twisted around to see what had caused such a visceral reaction. Calum, who both boys had presumed to be dead, was in fact, alive; his chest rising and falling shallowly, proving there was still some life left in him but probably not for long. Michael and Luke now had a choice to make.