Chapter Text
“This was me…” Michael trails off, thinking back, “...two years sober from, y’know– attempting, and self-harm, and…so on. It was taken just before I got let out of that hellhole. Worst time of my life.”
Luke lays with his head on Michael’s chest, as the older shows him photos that were taken during his time in the psychiatric facility. Michael taps the side of his phone after he swipes across to show Luke a photo of himself and another boy, “I met this guy in there. His name was…Malik, I think. He reminded me of you, in a way, with the same blonde hair and blue eyes.”
“Yeah, like half the population of white men, Mikey,” he murmurs softly, earning a small pinch at his side. He yelps, burying his face against the other male’s bare chest. They still haven’t gotten dressed after their time spent there. They finished, changed the sheets, showered together, then climbed back into the bed, still completely undressed. Luke glances at Michael as he scrolls through the photos, trying to attach the past memory of his lover to the photos he’s seeing of the shy boy in hoodies despite the hot weather, then connecting that to the man he’s laying in the arms of.
Without thinking, Luke’s lips separate, and an admission falls out, “I still love you like I did back then.” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but he does, and decides to run with, “You’ve seen other people in the time we’ve been apart, but– I haven’t. I keep comparing any potential partner to you, and I scare them off by crying at the worst possible time. Like, I once slept with a guy I met at a pub, and I cried the whole time. I was so fucking embarrassed, but I was so sad, and he kept telling me to shut up or he’d make me. Even when I told him that I wasn’t feeling up to continuing.”
Michael stares down at Luke for a minute before scoffing. He has so much he wants to say, or ask, or yell, but he keeps it all inside. He can’t let himself startle Luke and scare him off, not when he’s only just got him back again. Instead, he opts for gently brushing his fingers through the younger boy’s hair, “He didn’t stop?”
Luke shakes his head, shrugging a little and burying his face against the elder’s chest, “No. But I’m fine, it’s nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious? That’s assault, Luke!”
Hey. Hey, shush, it’s okay. I’ve already dealt with it in therapy. Please don’t worry.”
Michael wants to fucking scream. He desperately wants to yell at Luke that what happened was assault, but he knows it won’t work. Instead, he holds him closer, thumb swiping across the screen as he goes back to showing his lover the photos. He’s in the middle of telling him about the time he almost escaped by slipping two two bars in the barred windows, when his phone begins to ring. He doesn’t recognise the number, but he feels in his gut that he should answer it.
“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he mumbles to Luke, answering the call and holding the phone to his ear, “Hello? Yes, this is Michael. What…? Is he dead? Okay, listen, uhm, don’t tell him I answered. We’re not together anymore, he was physically abusive towards me. Is there any way you can remove any information about me that's still connected to him? That’d be great, thank you. Okay…thanks again. Bye.”
He’s sat up in bed by now, sheets pooled around his hips as he stares at the phone in his hand. He doesn’t register the hand resting on his lower back until there’s lips pressed against his jaw, “Who was that?” Luke asks. Michael lets out a sob, before he takes a shaky breath, “The hospital.” He sighs shakily before continuing, “Jon’s in critical condition. He;s got a collapsed lung and tension pneumothorax – where the lung collapses and pushes on the heart because of air building up.”
Luke gasps, his free hand moving to rub Mikey’s bicep, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “Are you going to visit him?” He won’t admit it, but the thought of Michael going anywhere near that man gives him the creeps. He won’t let that asshole steal this man away from him again. Even if they were only friends, he’d feel the same way; he’s never going to let Jon hurt Michael again.
“No. But, I’m going to head back to the house and grab the rest of my stuff, then I’m coming home. To you, Lukey.”
Luke doesn’t like this one bit. He shakes his head, wrapping the sheets around his hips as he moves to sit on the edge, pulling Michael closer by his hips, “Don’t go. Please, I- I can’t lose you again, Mikey. Please don’t go, don’t leave again.” He’s panicking now, breathing elevated and pupils dilated and glossy.
A hand cups his cheek, silently willing him to calm down. Michael leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Luke’s lips, “I’ll come home…I promise. You have therapy today, yeah? I’ll be home before you get back.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
It’s late afternoon/early evening, around six, when the front door opens. Luke walks in, holding the end of a leash in his hand. A dog is attached to the other end of that leash, which Luke is talking to and laughing softly to himself. He toes his shoes off, shutting the door behind him and unclipping Petunia’s leash. “Mikey?” He calls out, but there’s no reply. There’s an unmistakable scent of…cheese and tomato.
“Petunia, go, girl,” Luke urges, smiling as the older dog walks towards the living room. That’s when there’s a little yelp, followed by an excited shrill, “Aww! Luke!” Michael yells, suddenly appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, “Petunia!” is all he says, before running towards the living room. “She wasn’t here, I thought she might’ve passed or something when I couldn’t find her around the house.”
Luke laughs, following Mikey into the living room and kneeling beside him as he plays with the dog, “She was at Calum’s place. He dogsits for me, sometimes.”
“Good.”
Luke glances towards the kitchen, “Were you…cooking?” He asks, laughing. Michael nods, looking simultaneously sheepish yet proud, “Yeah! I made us dinner, if you’re hungry? It’s nothing fancy, just pasta.” Luke smiles, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the other’s cheek.
“Thank you,” he replies. He stands, leaving the elder man to play with his dog while the younger goes and serves himself some dinner. He leans back against the counter, watching from the kitchen as Petunia and Michael play. For an older dog, she acts like a puppy when around the elder man. The pasta is good, just the way he’s always loved it. Just as he finishes, he hears the older man speak, “Oh! By the way, I got a new phone, so can I borrow yours to put my new digits in?”
“‘Digits’? What are you, 80?”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“You love me.”
“You’re lucky,” Michael replies, snatching Luke’s phone and adding his new number to Luke’s already long list of contacts, “There, now I’m officially yours.”
Luke’s placing the dirty dishes and cutlery into the dishwasher when Michael approaches him from behind, placing his hands on his hips and squeezing gently, “Hey,” he murmurs. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of Luke’s head, eliciting a sigh from the younger man’s lips. Luke hums as he stands up straight and turns to face the other, “Hi, can we talk?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
Silence, before, “I was telling my therapist about…everything, today. You, us, Jonathan, everything. And she reckons that we should take a break. I told her that was utter bullshit, and so we made a compromise. She says that we should take our relationship slow…get to know each other again, like we did when we first met, all those years ago. But, the compromise is that we both attend therapy. Couple’s therapy, and separate.”
The younger man knows that this might come as a shock to Michael, but he needs him to know that he’s serious about this, if he is too. He’s not going to fight for something, if it’s only going to end terribly. However, the reaction his lover has is not what he expected:
“Sure. I can do that. We can do that, can’t we?”
“Yeah. We can. I just– I need to heal from having you back in my life, and you…you need to heal from your shitty, abusive ex-boyfriend. We don’t need to break up, or go our separate ways, but we need to heal before we take this too seriously.”
Michael cups Luke’s cheek, Petunia resting at their feet. He smiles, though it’s soft, like he knows about all the inner turmoil Luke is currently facing. He says, “I think this is a good idea. Let’s take this thing slow, and see what happens. Now, can I kiss you, or is that against the rules?”
“Asshole. Kiss me,” Luke replies, grabbing the collar of Michael’s shirt and pulling him into a deep kiss, sighing softly as their lips connect. It’ll take a long time, but they will heal from the traumas of their lives, and they will grow to love being alone, as well as together.