imagination

//give me love//muke//

Michael couldn't take it anymore, the yelling of his parents down stairs, was too much for him. He had started to shake and cry, so he did the first thing on his mind.

'Run'

So he did, he ran, he ran fast, well as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran past his parents fighting, them not even noticing him. He didn't put on shoes, no time, and he was out the door.

Shit! Where am I going? Luke's! I'll go to Luke's!

Michael ran to the direction of his friends house, knowing they, the Hemmings, kept one the living room windows open, and he could slide in that way. Michael ran the mile, not caring to stop, or that rocks were piercing his feet on the sidewalks. When he saw the porcelain house come in sight, he sighed, thankful, because his feet hurt, legs cramped, and chest burnt. Many thoughts went through Michael's head.

Fuck Luke, why do you have to live so fucking far?!

Fuck, why can't he just have a instinct that I'm coming and be there?

Why can't he just hold me already?!

Michael ran the short way, cursing, and crying, when he felt the grass between his toes. Trying to saviour the moment, of the freshly cut greenness.

'No, this is no time for shit like this!' His mind screamed and yelled at him. He knew his mind was right, so he limped his way to the window, seeing it open, just a crack. He quickly slid his small fingers beneath it, pushing it open, just enough so he could squeeze through. Which he struggled to do, but did it. His hands caught him, from falling and making too much noise. Rising from the ground, he sniffed, and breathed in, god this house, if you could smell home, this, this was it, this was the scent, the scent of home.

Michael looked at everything, he had never taken a good look at the Hemming household, and now he is, and it felt good. He saw the families pictures on the walls, plants hanging from the ceiling, little trinkets, glass ornaments littered the walls, coffee table, and cabinets. A tan couch pairing with a armchair, sat facing the corner. Where a tv was, white small pillows, sat on both sitting areas. The sofa complete with a carefully knitted blanket, sitting on it's back.

He looked past the living room, to the dinning area, where he saw the dark wood table, with matching chairs. Where he knew the family sat every morning and every night, to eat. He stood in the living room, where Luke and his dad, and occasionally his brothers sat and watched the football games that aired. His mum, even glancing for a moment, the boys yelling in excitement as they celebrated, or cursing when they lost.

Luke's so lucky, I wish I had a family like him...

Michael, stumbled as he limped on his feet, walking out of the conjoined rooms, to the front door and landing of the stairs. Again he could just picture the happy moments that happened here. Ben and Jack coming home after graduating, Luke coming home after he aced his math test, telling his mum, just so he could feel proud. Luke's mum yelling goodbye to Luke as he rushed out the door with a 'I love you!'

Michael glance up the stairs, seeing more family portraits and framed wedding photos. Sighing and cursing in his mind.

Fucking hell, why does Luke have to be so fucking perfect!

Michael made it up the stairs, and to Luke's room, he cracked Luke's door open, he looked at Luke, who looked like a angel when he slept. He opened the door, shuffling through, and walking up to Luke's bed, lifting the covers off Luke's practically naked body. He crawled in, spooning Luke, and to which Luke shifted in his sleep, turning to face Michael, then opened his eyes. Luke gasped, freaked out, why the hell was Michael in his bed? Then he noticed his blotchy face, and sad expression.

"Awh, Mikey, what happened?" Luke whispered, grabbing Michael, and pulling him towards his chest. Michael sighed, and then though, what did happen? I had a panic attack and then I came here, right?

"M-mum, and dad, t-they were yelling, s-so much, I-I, couldn't breathe, at a-all, so I ran, here, I'm s-sorry, I didn't k-know, where else t-to go." Michael started his water works all over again, crying into Luke's chest.

"Awh, shhh Mikey, it's okay, my house is yours, I'm always here." Luke told Michael, rubbing his back, like you would do to a baby.

"Mikey, we haven't always been on the best terms, but I love you, which is weird to say, but I know you don't hear that enough, but I do." Luke confessed to the crying boy.

"L-Luke? Can you sing to me?" He heard Michael's small, sad, cracked voice ask.

"Mhmm, Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran okay?" He asked Michael, when he felt him nod, he cleared his still groggy throat, and began to sing.

"Give me love, like her, cause lately I've been waking up alone. Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt, told you I'd let then go." Luke sang, soothing Michael, his voice cracking, but he ignored it.

"And that I'll fight my corner, maybe tonight I'll call ya. After my blood turns into alcohol, no I just wanna hold ya." Luke continued, looking down at Michael, noticing he stopped crying, but still couldn't breathe right.

"Give a little time to me or burn this out, we'll play hide and seek to turn this around, all I want is the taste that your lips allow." Luke swallowed hard after that, not really noticing the lyrics until now. Michael shifted on Luke's chest, and Luke petted his hair.

"My, my, my, my, oh give me love, my, my, my, my, oh give me love, my, my, my, my, oh give me love, my, my, my, my, oh give me love, my, my, my, my, give me love." Luke sang, quietly, but beautifully, and Michael's breathing evened, Luke looking down and seeing he was asleep.

"My, my, my, my, give me love, lover, my, my, my, my, give me love, lover, my, my, my, my, give me love, lover, my, my, my, my, give me love." Luke continued a coarse, not caring that the part he sang wasn't the right one. He laid down more, pulling Michael into his chest, and falling asleep with him.

My, my, my, my, give me love.