Stay With Me

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There are reminders of Luke all over Michael. His fragile, shaking handprints on Michael’s skin, the taste of his mouth lingering in Michael’s, the feel of Luke’s body against his own. Michael lies motionless beneath the covers, itching to get rid of the poison.

Worse, with the adrenaline and post-sex haze faded, Michael can remember everything. The sounds Luke made and the way he gripped at the bedsheets and alternatively, Michael, and how he kissed him and gasped into Michael’s mouth when it happened. He remembers Luke cursing, then begging, how his eyes were glossy and bright with the moonlight reflecting off them. It sits in Michael, waiting for an opportunity to claw its way out with teeth and nails.

He remembers the murmur of What have you done, Michael? that slipped through his mind after.

Michael has never felt worse, filthier. This is his fault. His fault. What has he done? He’s terrified of what Luke will think now, terrified that he’s so close to Luke. Michael can’t handle a full-scale relationship. He can’t give Luke what he deserves, and he can’t keep his anger under control yet.

Stupid, stupid. This will end in him hurting Luke somehow. And he’s sure Luke won’t love him after that.

Michael wants to be anywhere but here in this stupid bed, wishes Ashton was home to tell him things will be alright, wishes he could ask Calum for advice, even. Wishing, a little bit, that he didn’t just fuck Luke.

Michael hates himself. Mostly for being an asshole, partly for leading Luke on to believe he was ready for this, and a tiny bit because he feels so low, like he doesn’t deserve Luke at all. Did he take advantage of Luke? He pushed so hard for it, he was so needy and agonizingly clingy. And he doesn’t even known what they are. Little kisses and hand holding, Michael’s almost close to dealing with, Michael can try and forget, but he’s marked now, ruined. Sex is a whole lot harder to forget.

Does this mean they’re boyfriends? Michael almost wants it, wants to be able to wake up next to Luke every day and fall asleep with him every night, wants Luke to be able to take him home to his family. Michael wants to be part of Luke’s life, more than anything. Michael wants to be happy with Luke. But he’s tired of the push and pull, tired of being afraid to hurt Luke when he’s at his worst.

Michael’s all messed up inside, scrambled thoughts and guilt, and the only person he could turn to is lying next to him, and Michael can’t do that. Michael’s back to being alone and it’s like being 16 again, being uncertain and out of control and wrecked inside. Michael’s alone, so fucking alone now, because by getting intimate with Luke he’s set up a wall between them.

The only thing he can think of doing is getting rid of the feeling of Luke, separating himself from what’s happened. So he gets up and leaves the room, slipping across the hall and into the shower, to scrub away all traces of the boy lying in his bed fast asleep, oblivious to the battle in Michael’s head.

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The faint sound of different songs filters through the distortion of the water crashing down, and Michael stands under the flow, skin burning red when the scalding water hits it. It burns away Luke’s touch, burns away all feeling. Michael sings along softly, stopping now and then when his throat tightens too much.

We all get lost sometimes, and we forget who we are, we forget who we are. Somewhere along the way, we’re running in a crazy race, never thinking about the hearts we break, and as our hope starts fading away, things are never gonna be the same.

Michael scrubs savagely at his skin, wanting to feel nothing of Luke’s soft fingers, wanting to scratch at his skin until it bleeds down his arms and reminds him that he’s alive and human. Or maybe he just wants to punish himself, never thinking straight.

What is he going to do now? Is he going to have to tell Luke he made another mistake and wasn’t ready? It’s not like he didn’t want it to happen, God did he want it, but not now, not in this way. He didn’t want it to be rushed, to initiate things just because he wasn’t sure when the other two boys would be out of the house at the same time for a night, because he was desperate and wanted to forget and wanted to feel alive for a little while.

Michael needs time, he needs space. He always seems to need space after he takes a step with Luke, and he knows, how could he not know, that it hurts Luke. He can see it in the hurt look in his eyes, and his body language, how he droops slightly, how he shrinks back. By now, Luke should have left, for both of their goods, although it’s hard to leave Michael without one of them leaving the band. Something makes him stay, and Michael doesn’t know what.

Maybe Michael won’t ever be able to handle this. He should have known coming from Perth from the first time that he’d be way in over his own head, and now everything’s crashing around him.

Luke, stupid fucking Luke, who makes Michael feel like he’s in the clouds when he’s really sinking through the ground into an unspoken grave. Michael’s at a catch-22. If he lies to Luke and says he doesn’t love him again, then it’ll be the end of them. But if he lies to himself and says he can handle it, then he’s going to keep getting dragged down into this abyss, and he can’t be the kind of lover Luke expects.

Michael leans against the cold tile wall, stepping out of the flow of the water for a minute. He doesn’t realize he’s breathing hard until he does, his chest rising and falling from the stress, even late at night as it is. It’s difficult to force air in and out of his chest. Desperate tears blend into the water and spin down the drain.

He remembers almost everything. Luke’s loving and gentle handprints on Michael’s skin, the love in the way he pressed his mouth against Michael’s, the feel of Luke’s body fitting perfectly against his own. Michael stands in the shower, every inch of him tainted by Luke.

Oh, Michael can remember almost everything. The sounds Luke made and the way he held onto Michael as if he would fall without him, how he kissed him with faith and trust and breathed life into Michael. He remembers Luke cursing and begging and how he looked so in love with the moonlight illuminating his face.

And Michael remembers Luke whispering, I love you, but he doesn’t remember if he said it back or if it got lost in the space of everything else Michael’s forgotten to say to him.

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(A/N) SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS

this is a surprise for me too i didn't mean to update but you guys are getting a really long chapter this weekend I promise

also surprise you thought you were getting smut joke's on you i'm a 15 year old virgin please

plus i want this to be a plot point not just sexy times okay

and also surprise michael's back to being sad who knew (we all did cmon it's me what did you expect)

so many surprises hope you like surprises and aren't too sad

and I'm not done with my history studying and it's almost midnight oops

things suck long story short but this story gives me so much life and you guys give me life. thanks, I need you guys. see you this weekend (I really hope)

bye xx

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