Luke sat by his windowsill, head resting against the cold glass as he stared out. He wasn’t sure what he was staring at, but they were fixed on something in a blank gaze. There was an empty feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, the kind he always got when he found himself missing that idiot with the red hair. The idiot who was clingy in the most adorable way, the idiot with sweater paws and gave the best hugs. Luke didn’t want to miss him. He really didn’t want to miss him, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be needed and Michael was the only one who could satisfy him.
Luke and Michael had been stuck in an on-again off-again relationship for almost two years now. It seemed like all they ever did was say goodbye and though the two were on another one of their ‘breaks’ again, Michael couldn’t help but think about the tall blonde as he lay in bed.
It was late of course, nearing four in the morning, when he found his tired mind thinking about Luke again. Their last goodbye was a month ago, a month and two weeks to be exact, and though they promised that that goodbye was most definitely the last, they both knew it wasn’t. Michael had a habit of clinging, never being able to let go and Luke? Well, Luke had a habit of giving Michael whatever he wanted. Thus, the 19 breakups and make ups that had occurred between the two in the past two years.
Michael rolled over in his large empty bed, pulling the sheets over his shoulder and snuggling into them. They could never come close to the feeling of Luke’s arms around his waist, his long legs encasing Michael as they shared warmth and affection. They could never come close to the feeling of Luke’s fingers entangled with Michael’s, Luke’s hair flat and falling in his face yet still tickling Michael in the most pleasurable way. God, Michael craved him. Luke was a drug, Michael was an addict and the withdrawals were so fucking painful.
Michael’s phone sat on the bedside table, taunting him. His enabler. Groaning loudly at the torturing by his own mind, Michael’s arm snuck out from under the covers and pulled the phone closely to his face. Was it really a good idea to text Luke? Would Luke even answer? Michael was sure Luke was way past done with his shit by now, but maybe Michael was wrong.
Luke sat by his windowsill, head resting against the cold glass as he stared out.He wasn’t sure what he was staring at, but they were fixed on something in a blank gaze. There was an empty feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, the kind he always got when he found himself missing that idiot with the red hair. The idiot who was clingy in the most adorable way, the idiot with sweater paws and gave the best hugs. Luke didn’t want to miss him. He really didn’t want to miss him, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be needed and Michael was the only one who could satisfy him.
It had been a month and two weeks since Luke had last talked to Michael. Luke knew this because on a calendar beside his bed, Luke was counting the days. He felt pathetic, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was Michael and the ever consistent worry in the back of his mind, wondering if the last goodbye was really the last goodbye, if the last goodbye was the last time he’d ever speak to Michael again.
This happened every time. Every time the two said goodbye, they’d wait by the telephone, the calendar, the computer, wait to find out if that was the end or just another goodbye added to the list of many. Luke was almost positive that this time was it. The fight that tore the two apart was so caustic, one of the most serious fights there had ever been between the two and had even ended in Michael having to go to the hospital. It was a night neither one of them thought about.
