"It's Not Worth It If It's Easy" //5sos

^51^

  A/N: Its my birthday! Thought I'd give you a content chapter, hope you like it :)

  It was late, not late enough for the sky to be dark, but late enough for the sun to begin to sink behind the horizon, colors skirting arcross the sky, oranges and reds dancing together with blue, lilac, purple. 

  It was chilly, just chilly enough to wear a hoodie and stick your hands in the front pockets. So that's what they did, Luke and Mikey, stuck their hands in their front pockets as they walked, gravel crunching underneath their feet. 

  They didn't live in a very populated area, but that didn't mean much. Regardless, they'd managed to find a deserted path away from the city. On one side of them was a lake- on the other, a hill that ran up to meet with a neighborhood. Californians were known for being active, but for some reason on this particular night, on this particular path, there was no one but them. 

  "Thanks for coming with me," Luke said, breaking the silence. It was comfortable silence, but he liked talking to Michael. He just had to remember how. 

  Michael shrugged. "Don't bother. I like this, I'm glad you invited me." 

  Luke couldn't help but stare at his friend, the great Mikey Clifford, guitarist and vocalist for 5 Seconds of Summer. So many times he had seen him drenched in sweat, pounding out chords and lyrics like he was going to pass out playing. So many times, Luke had seen Mikey on covers of albums, or posing in airbrushed photoshoots. Even Mikey's instagram pictures were seemingly perfect. 

  But that's not why he was staring. He was staring because that amazing Mikey Clifford, the idol, the sensation, that's not who was walking with him. No, he was walking with Michael, the boy with hair so bleached some day it'd fall out, who lived on a strict diet of pizza, video games and comebacks. He probably hadn't brushed his hair that day, and it stuck out in all it's faded blonde glory, the purple long since bleached out. He clearly hadn't shaved either, and Luke wondered how Emma could stand it. Luke hated kissing people with stumbly beards. 

  Messy haired, stumbly bearded, sloppily dressed Michael with his eyes reflecting back the sunrise  walking over his own ratty shoelaces and never tripping. He was truly a beautiful sight. 

  "How are you?" The messy, scruffy boy asked, and Luke had to blink a few times to register the question. 

  "'M fine. You?" 

  The automatic response. The correct response- not quite a conversation starter as much as it was a greeting. 

  Michael chuckled, not having any of it. "Nah, I wanna really know. I mean.... you seem better. I don't know... what's going on in your head... but I wanna know if you're actually better, or, what."

  Another thing that seperated Mikey from Michael- Mikey could always put words together. Michael wasn't always sure how. 

  Luke shrugged. Another automatic answer- one that meant I don't know. But it wasn't the right answer, so he had to try again. 

  "I'm... better. Sleep better. Don't have to have Ashton mother me all the time. It's good."

  "The meds are working?"

  He wanted to shrug again. "I guess."

  "And therapy? Does that help?"

  The sunset dyed the sky pink. Pink morphed to purple, which morphed to a darkening blue.

  "I don't like it," Luke admitted. "Some things I just want to forget." 

  Michael pulled out his phone, nodding absently. He typed a few things in, then put it back away. 

  Luke's mouth felt acidic. "Texting Emma?"

  "Hmm? No, writing down what you'd said. I've been writing down lyric ideas lately. Dunno if I'm gonna use any of them, but..." he closed his mouth, ending the sentence. He didn't need to finish it; Luke knew what he meant. 

  Luke's Adam's apple bopped as he swallowed, looking at the ground. "That's a good idea. I've tried writing some, but it's not going well." 

  "Probably won't be on this album anyways." 

  "Probably not." 

  They were quiet for a few minutes, silence aside from the crunching of gravel under their feet. The path they were on went down a little hill, into a clearing. They walked along the lake. 

  So many words swirled around in Luke's brain, but he didn't know how to form them into proper paragraphs. So many things he wanted to say; apologies, comments, jokes that didn't make sense, thoughts, feelings, sentences that were like puzzle pieces that didn't go together stuck in the wrong holes, all swirling around in an endless whirlpool of what if. 

  "I love you," Luke blurted out. 

  Michael gave him a look before quickly looking back to the path, not saying anything. 

  "Not in the wrong way," Luke quickly backtracked. "Just, in the normal way. The... the not-weird way. Like brothers. Not like... like that."

  How do you respond to that?

  "I'm sorry," Luke muttered, eyes falling back to his feet. "I just made it awkward, didn't I."

  Not a question, a statement. 

  Silence. 

  Crunch crunch. Gravel makes a lot of noise. A kids laughter from one of the nearby neighborhoods. Luke loves Michael. The lake's calm this time of night. 

  "I love you too, Luke. I... love you too."

  Crunch crunch. Gravel still makes a lot of noise. People talking somewhere far away- maybe a party, or a barbecue. Michael loves Luke too. The lake's calm this time of night.