Cutie ⇔ Muke ✓

[16] No Control

would you guys want a character ask? i heard you guys liked them so idk? im just curious lol. would you guys ask stuff if i ended up doing one?

LUKE

My mind is a melted frenzy of emotions, swimming together in the same morphine drip that does nothing to extinguish the fire in my veins. I'm furious-- and depressed, but that does nothing to calm the anger-- and my thoughts aren't entirely lucid and that makes me want to scream at myself even more. It's not fair, what happened. It's not fair at all. It's not fair to me, who has to suffer being left behind with nobody to hold on to. It's not fair to Michael, who has to suffer the consequences of whatever those detectives want with him. It's not fair to Ashton, who has to put up with my screaming and crying, and it's not fair to my mother, who has to provide a home for my broken form.

Except this home that she provided me with isn't home. Home isn't here in this house I have spent all my life growing up in. Home is where Michael is, and he is gone.

I don't even know what is happening to him, which hurts more than it probably should. The unknown is chewing me up from the inside like a parasite, and I can't seem to swallow the worry that wraps itself around my throat. I push my hands into my hair, grabbing at it and pulling, desperate to feel something other than the pressure in my chest. I have to find him. I have to save him from wherever that facility is. I have to have him back in my arms. I need him, like the oxygen in my lungs.

I stand up from where I was lying in my bed, realizing that I am still fully dressed from yesterday. Michael's sweater still hangs on my slumped shoulders, wrinkled and not really smelling like Michael anymore. My shoes are still on my feet, and I'm not quite sure how I slept last night with them on, but it's not as though I slept much anyway.

I know I should probably shower, considering my hair is greasy and dried tears still stick to my cheeks, but I can't bring myself to. Instead, I slide off Michael's sweater and fold it neatly, setting it softly inside my drawer. I switch into a cleaner pair of black jeans and throw on a t-shirt, not bothering to look at what band is advertised on the front. It doesn't matter much anymore.

I open the door of my room, my head fuzzy. I walk down the staircase, my feet skidding slightly on the wood and step onto the landing, my eyes focusing on my car keys that sit at the table by the front door. I move towards it, but I see my mum and Ashton move into view. They both hold a cup of coffee, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I cringe away from them.

"Luke, you're awake." Liz says, her blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Her glasses sit perched on her nose as she blinks at me worriedly.

"Obviously." I grumble, moving away from their stares and towards the door, picking up the keys from the table. I peer out the window, seeing my car in the driveway.

"Where are you going, sweetie?" Liz asks, sighing. She sets down her coffee and walks towards me. "Yesterday was a long day. You need to stay here and rest--"

"I'm going to go look for Michael." I say firmly, and twist open the doorknob, pulling open the door. Liz's face falls, looking tortured.

"Luke, there's no use. The facility most likely isn't even in Sydney." Ashton says, his hazel eyes staring at me. He crosses his arms. "You can't just drive all around Australia."

I clench my jaw, stepping through the doorframe and slamming the door closed behind me, shutting off my connection with my mum and my friend. I can't deal with them today. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever it seems. Their words only stab more wounds into my bruised skin.

I step across the dry grass over to my car, unlocking it and sliding onto the old leather seats. I close the car door and sit in the silence, staring dully through the windshield. I shut my eyes, trying not to let any tears escape my eyes, which proves to be pointless as they stream down my concave cheeks. I push my keys into the ignition, hearing the car roar to life, and I grip my fists around the steering wheel. I swallow hard, opening my eyes and seeing through the teardrops stuck to my eyelashes, pulling out of the driveway and onto the neighborhood road.