Work Text:
@Michael5SOS: how bad are nightmares .. I always feel traumatized when I wake up
November 19th, 2013 | 8:58 AM
__________ __________
Michael has always sort of lived in his head; and with a creative imagination like his it's hard not to. There have been times though, when his imagination has gotten the best of him and left him shooting up like a rocket in his bed, gasping for air, and his hands shaking. His mother likes to blame it on his obsession with video games. She says all those late nights staring at his computer screen put all these thoughts in his head. Michael thinks the thoughts have always been there, but they only come out at night.
There's only been a few times when he's been loud enough for his mother to come jogging down the hall and into his room at some time between midnight and six in the morning. She knocks first, always knocks, and whispers through the wood just loud enough for him to hear, "It's Mum, honey. Are you alright?". And Michael can remember clearly that one time when he was about ten when he was still too wrapped up in the aftermath of his nightmare that he couldn't speak. He just couldn't. He couldn't make his mouth move. And his mother had pushed his door open just slightly, letting in a sliver of hallway light into Michael's pitch black room, and whispered to him, "Baby, are you okay?"
And still, when he didn't answer, she had come into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. At first she didn't say anything, and Michael can remember the way she sort of just stared at him. Concern and slight panic curving her eyebrows and pressing her mouth into a straight line. She had touched his arm, ran her fingers down to his, and told him, "It was just a dream."
That did it. That's all it took and Michael was a crying mess in her arms no more than a second later. He had fell forward into her chest and let himself become totally engulfed in her arms. With her close he always felt like he was in some type of invisible bubble. One that ensured nothing could hurt him and guaranteed an infinite amount of safety and protection. And at ten years old, that meant a lot. (At twelve, fourteen, and sixteen too.)
She had kissed the top of his head and petted his hair and whispered loving things to him until he wasn't shaking anymore. Then she had rocked him back and forth, similar to the way she had when he was just a baby, and hummed the tune to Hey Jude longer than either of them bothered to keep count.
"Mum?"
It had been a while since there was any sound in the room besides her quiet humming.
"Yes, honey?"
"I think I'm okay now," he had said. He was lying, she could tell. Michael was an open book to her. Always has been. But she knew it was his way of trying to be brave. He wanted to get through this on his own. He wanted to prove to himself that he was okay on his own. That was pretty damn courageous. Especially for a ten year old.
She had kissed his head again, pulled back a little and asked just for good measure, "You sure?"
She had felt him nod his head against her chest.
It took her a few more moments to let him go, but eventually she did. It took everything inside of her, but she had tucked him back in, kissed him goodnight for the second time, and reminded him she was only a door away if he needed her.
When she had left, Michael missed the warmth of her arms around him. And he was scared. So scared he was still shaking a little. But he didn't go get her.
He needed her, but he pretended he didn't.
And now, at almost twenty years old, he doesn't think he's ever stopped pretending.
It's different when their YouTube covers goes to playing at the Annandale to becoming something serious enough to make them think they have a shot at not being terrible as a band. Because once Ashton joins the band officially, he whips them into shape. Suddenly there's scheduled practices in various places, and scheduled group chats, and scheduled Skyping sessions, and scheduled days to miss school to practice before practice.
"You gonna schedule when we take a dump too?" Michael had asked one day when Ashton had arrived with freshly printed dates for random 'banding' things. He handed them out one by one like a school teacher. His only response to Michael was a rolling of his eyes.
"Only if it cuts into our practice time," Calum had mumbled as he eyed the listings on the paper.
Ashton ends his cycle on Luke, who takes his paper with a weary smile and nothing else.
"This is why Luke's my favorite," Ashton groaned loudly, waving his paper between Luke and the other two. "He doesn't complain like you brats."
Luke smiles into his paper and doesn't look up to see Michael and Calum flipping him off.
"Teacher's pet," Michael whispers to Luke with absolutely no venom behind it as he crosses the room to sit next to him. He pushes his shoulder into Luke's until he looks up from his paper and smiles at him.
Luke looks away again, back down at his paper more out of nervous habit, and whispers back, "Fuck you."
Michael's hand is on Luke's back a second later, rubbing circles and pulling at the fabric of his shirt. No real reason more than he just felt like it. But they've always been like that. Since Luke and Michael discovered maybe they do better as friends than enemies, they've been touchy. Arms around each other as they walked down the hallway in school, opting to share a bed during sleepovers, sitting thigh to thigh when there's plenty of room. They don't think about it, not really, but it's nice.
"Oh, wait--," Luke says abruptly, interrupting Ashton's lecture on them being dedicated to the band if they want to get some type of recognition. "I can't skip on Thursday, I have a maths test."
Visibly, Ashton's shoulders deflate. Behind him, Calum smirks, anticipating whatever is about to happen. He thinks maybe Ashton's head will explode and they can put it on YouTube. That'll definitely make them famous.
"My mum's gonna kill me, Ash!" Luke adds. A valid concern. Still, Calum's smile grows.
Ashton sighs. "Do you wanna be the best band in the world or do you wanna take an exam?"
Luke thinks for a second. Then says, "I wanna not be grounded until I'm twenty four."
The paper drops out of Ashton's hand. "You three are useless. I'm quitting the band."
"Um, that's not scheduled. I think you're gonna have to move that to next week," Michael says, scanning the paper and squinting his eyes. Calum loses it, and falls over to his side laughing. Luke, a lot quieter, brings the paper up to his mouth to hide his giggle.
Ashton leaves the room, promises of never coming back as he does, with the other three's laughter following him out.
Despite Michael's constant complaining, Ashton Irwin's Extreme Banding Bootcamp does a lot more than take them out of class and keep them up till two in the morning planning things that seem intangible; it somehow levels Michael's mind. He thinks maybe with everything in his life suddenly being about the band, he doesn't have time to think about much else. And it helps, because the nightmares die down and is replaced with much-needed, continuous sleep.
He thinks maybe it was just a phase. Maybe he's over it.
By some magical, fairytale twist of fate they get invited to go on tour with One Direction. Excited and amazing, but also scary and stressful. If they thought Ashton was strict on time, they had no idea how structured being on a huge tour like this was. Going to bed at two just to be up at six. Traveling for half of the day. Playing every day even when you're dead tired and sometimes don't want to. Guitar lessons, full band practices, vocal training, interviews, photoshoots. Everything.
The first month and a half was kind of rough for Michael, but he thinks that lies solely on the fact he's never been on a plane before and suddenly he's on one every few days. It's just shocking to the system to never have been more than a few miles away from your town to suddenly being countries and countries away from everything you've ever known. He didn't say it, but he was terrified. At least, he used to be.
Luke had fallen into the habit of sitting next to him on plane rides. And even being only a few inches apart, they found themselves leaning into each other and lying on each other's shoulders. There was something about Luke that was comforting. Something about him that felt safe and Michael could feel himself becoming addicted to it. There were times when he felt the actual need to be next to Luke. And it's not that he was going to fall apart and shatter into a million pieces if Luke wasn't reaching distance away, but there was something that put his heart at ease when he was.
And Luke needed him too. He had traveled before with his family, but he was definitely the shyest out of the group and the youngest and that played into a lot of things. His mother went with them on tour, but he called back home to his father and brothers a lot. And there were days when he just wanted to be with his mother and basically no one else. They all respected that. Truth be told, if all their mothers had come like Liz did, they'd probably all be in the same position as Luke.
Locked away in the back of their tour bus was their favorite place. Michael's favorite because the television and the PlayStation was there. Luke's favorite because Michael was there. And in that room it was like there was no fear too embarrassing or big to say. Together, they had laid there in the relative darkness and spilled secrets to each other that they hadn't said to anyone else. Not that they didn't trust the rest of the band, but there was just something natural and freeing about them being together that it sort of just happened.
"I just... don't wanna ruin it," Luke had said one night as they drove through some state in America that Michael couldn't remember the name of and had trouble saying.
Luke had his head resting on Michael's shoulder, but their hands were to themselves and they both had a separate blanket. Close, but not as close as either of them wanted to be. It was a scary thought: the way that close was never close enough for them anymore, how they've become basically attached at the hip over the years, how sometimes it felt like they needed nothing more than each other.
"Ruin what?"
"Everything."
Michael thinks Luke thinks too much. He has a bad habit of playing out every terrible scenario in his head of how he personally can destroy what they have going. Impossible, but he thinks he can do it. He's always worried about something. What if I forget the words? What if I forget the chords? What if my voice goes out? What if my voice cracks and I sound terrible? What if they think I'm a horrible singer?
Michael had leaned his head to the side and rested it on top of Luke's. He had told him, "There's no way you can ruin this. You're too good."
Luke was quiet so Michael continued. "And if you forget the words," Michael tells him, a smile emerging on his face, "I'll sing them for you. Promise."
He hears Luke let out a breathy laugh.
Michael holds his pinky out and waits for Luke to see it in the moonlight. Luke wraps his pinky with Michaels and they squeeze their fingers together. They hold it there for a moment, then let their hands drop back down into the minimal space between them.
Neither of them unwrap their fingers.
The stress of being on tour piles up and five months into it, Michael finds himself jerking awake and his heart pounding so loud in his ears he can't even hear the loud rumble of the bus over it. His eyes are open wide, trying to see anything in the darkness of his bunk, and it takes his brain a full two minutes to remind himself he can open the curtain and let some light in. When he does, his movements are rushed and stiff.
For a while, he just lays there and stares at the top of his bunk as he tells himself over and over that it was just a dream. He knows it was, but it still scares him and he can still feel how hard his heart is beating. He balls his hands into fists so they stop shaking and he holds his breath to get a hold on that too. His mind is still a blurry mess of conscious thoughts and subconscious rememberings of the nightmare. He blinks rapidly, hoping it'll filter out the thoughts he doesn't need and help him keep the ones he does.
And he doesn't know why, but the first clear thought in his mind was Luke. He tells himself to go to Luke and he's pushing himself out of his bunk before he has a chance to tell his body no.
Then, in the middle aisle between the two rows of bunks, Michael just stands there. Luke's curtain is closed, so he's literally just staring at fabric. More than anything, he wants to talk to Luke. He just wants to hear his voice and have a conversation with someone that's real and not in his head to help him get enough footing to think about going back to sleep. But he also doesn't want to wake Luke up. Especially for something he thinks he should be able to handle by himself.
Despite that train of thought, Michael's body is still working on autopilot and he pushes back Luke's curtain enough to see Luke's head and shoulders. He's asleep, just like Michael knew he would be, and he looks peaceful. He's facing the aisle, so Michael has a clear view at his face, and it's killing him to even think about waking him up. Especially knowing how tough all of this is on Luke too; and how even with a gracious amount of hours of sleep, Luke still looks like the walking dead on most days.
So for a while, Michael just stares at him. And somehow it helps. Just knowing Luke is there, and the rest of the band is there, and that whatever he dreamed about isn't, helps a lot. More than he thought it would. But he thinks the thoughts in his head screaming for Luke to wake up somehow teleports to Luke's brain because he does just that a minute later.
Groggily, one eye at a time, Luke wakes up. He flinches a little, with Michael's shadow being the first thing he sees without any explanation, but then he's asking in his deep, sleepy voice, "Mikey?"
"Sorry," Michael says. It's the first thing that pops into his brain and it's the first thing out of his mouth.
"Michael?" Luke says again, too close to sleep to comprehend what's happening. So this time Michael nods at him.
"Yeah, sorry."
He watches Luke rub his eyes and then blink at him. He looks around; at the side of his bunk, behind Michael, over at the shadows the trees outside are making on the tour bus wall. Then he asks, "What time is it?"
Michael can hear the tiredness in his voice and it makes him want to slap himself. This was a dumb idea. Why did he think this would work out? Now he's woken Luke and he's got a lot of explaining to do.
"I don't know," Michael whispers back. Then again, "Sorry."
In the dim light of the passing streetlights and the moon, Michael can see Luke's sleepy brain trying to make sense of all of this. He squints at Michael again, puts a hand over his face, then pulls it away. Michael thinks about apologizing again and heading back to his bunk. Luke's too tired, he probably won't even remember this anyway. But for some reason he doesn't move.
Luke asks, "Are you okay?"
A heavy question. One Michael doesn't know the answer to. He shrugs, but he doesn't think Luke saw it with the lack of light. The silence starts to scare Luke and he sits up a little in his bunk. Now Michael feels like shit. He's worrying him for no reason besides he doesn't know how to tame his own nightmares.
"I--"
"Do you wanna...sleep here?" Luke asks him timidly. Maybe if Luke was a little more awake he wouldn't have asked. Not that he wouldn't want to, but he probably would've talked himself out it it. He probably would've told himself that Michael would think it's weird that he's offering that. He probably would've told himself that it's not normal to ask your best friend to sleep in the same bunk as you.
But Luke's tired and Michael's standing in front of his bunk and it's the only solution he can think of right now.
Michael jumps at the opportunity. And maybe, if he was a little less desperate he would've declined. He puts his hands on the edge of Luke's bunk, ready to push himself up, but then he stops. He asks Luke if he's sure, if it's okay if he stays there for the night.
"Yeah, of course," Luke mumbles back softly, sleepiness adding a whine to his voice. He pushes himself toward the very back of his bunk to make room for Michael and kicks his stuffed penguin down to the foot of his bed. Michael climbs in, lays on his side, and rests his head on Luke's pillow. It's a tight fit. The bunks definitely aren't made for two people. But his band specializes in making a lot of room out of a little bit. They can all fit on one full size bed; and if they can do that, they can do anything.
Neither of them turn over, so they lay face to face with only about an inch of space between their noses. Michael can feel Luke breathing, and just that alone make him feel calmer.
"Thanks, Lukey," Michael whispers to him a few minutes later. He feels like an idiot for needing this, but Luke's the most nonjudgmental person he knows, so he doesn't feel embarrassed. He just feels dumb, and slightly disappointed in himself for not trying harder to handle it himself.
Luke's fallen back asleep, so his only answer is the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
About fifteen minutes later, Michael's at ease enough to fall asleep too. By morning, Luke's got his forehead pressed against Michael's chin, his fingers against Michael's stomach and Michael's hand is around Luke's waist.
They both try not to think about how nice it is to wake up in each other's arms.
@Michael5SOS: can never fucking sleep urrgghghfhfbg
December 11th, 2014 | 7:15 AM
__________ __________
There are better nights and worse nights as time goes on, but Luke's there for him every time. Michael's gotten used to the hectic, jungle-like atmosphere of touring, so he doesn't think that's the problem anymore. Honestly, he thinks the problem is just him. His brain.
If there's one thing Michael will admit, is he's an over thinker. Almost like Luke is, but in a way extremely different. While Luke thinks about things that are personally happening to him, Michael tends to think about the world along with the things that are personally happening to him. He'll see a tweet randomly from a fan talking about how they're having a bad day and he'll think about them for hours on end. The news of government discrepancies happening in China make him feel anxious, terrorist attack threats aimed at Israel that he read about earlier in the week will linger in his mind and he'll think about the citizens of that area, hoping they're okay. Then his mind is cluttered with the sudden responsibility he has for every single fan they've gained over the years and he feels like he can't breathe.
Michael just thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks and it sometimes feels like he doesn't have any room in his brain to do anything else but sit and contemplate all the problems in his life and the world and everything else. He doesn't know why he does it. He thinks it's great that he has a big heart and wants to help everyone, but at what cost to his mind is all this excessive worrying doing? He worries about his parents, and the rest of the band's family too. He thinks about the handful of friends he has back in Sydney and wonders if they've had good days. He wonders about every fan they encounter, and the thought that maybe everyone he meets may not be alright makes him feel like a lesser person somehow.
"But none of that is your fault, Mikey," Luke had whispered to him one night in their hotel room. They've been sharing a room for about three months straight and he thinks they're becoming suspicious. But them being suspicious is one thing Michael's managed to not care about. He doesn't know what he and Luke are, but they're definitely turning into something, and he doesn't think they should care if people know.
They were lying in Michael's bed, the blankets pulled up to their shoulders, Luke resting his chin on Michael's chest. The warmth of Luke's skin against his was a feeling he hopes he never has to miss. He likes the way he and Luke fit. Something about they way they're able to just shift and lock together makes him feel like this is way more than just some weird, twisted, confused concoction of feelings they have going on. There's something about the way he's memorized the beating of Luke's heart, and has a playlist on his phone just for when Luke steals it, and the way he doesn't share clothes with anyone else but Luke that makes him think there's something extremely real about this. And that thought too keeps him up. It's all just too much to think about.
"I know," Michael whispered back. "But, I don't know, I can't help it. I just wanna help everyone and I don't even know how to help myself."
"How punk rock of you," Luke teased.
Michael pushed him gently. "Fuck you, world peace is extremely punk rock."
Luke smiled for a moment, but then it faded away. He asked softer, "But you haven't been having them lately, right? The nightmares..."
"Not as much." Michael had looked away.
There have been times he's woken up from the middle of a nightmare in the past month, but Luke's slept through it. He's a heavy sleeper, especially when he's super tired. Which, nowadays, seems like all the time. But Luke's still managed to help him. Because the first thing he sees and the first thing he feels when he wakes up is Luke, and that's the best anchor he could ever have.
The concern in Luke's eyes was prominent despite the darkness of the room, so Michael had said to him with a grin, "They're better, I promise. Don't worry."
Luke leaned forward so he was just a few inches from Michael's face. Michael leaned forward too, pushing his lips out, but Luke pulled back with a devious grin. Always a fucking tease. Michael groaned, put his hand on the back of Luke's neck to hold him still, and kissed him.
Michael's so thankful they've gotten to this point: where they can kiss just about whenever they want, be as close as they want, hug for no reason other than wanting to. He loves that they can fall asleep holding hands and not feel weird about it in the morning. He loves that they can do things like shower together in the morning and it doesn't even have to be sexual. He just loves the comfortableness they have with each other. He's never had that with anyone before. And it's mushy and gross but he doesn't care. He thinks it's just about the only thing keeping him sane sometimes.
Pulling back, Luke looked over at the clock. He told Michael, "We should sleep some. We've gotta be up early tomorrow."
Michael had nodded. "Yeah, okay," he had said. Luke kissed him again, a goodnight kiss, before he moved off of Michael and into his own space on the bed. They were still close, Michael still had his arm around Luke, but now they were back to chest instead. The shampoo Luke used in his hair a few hours ago filled Michael's nose. It was the hotel's shampoo but somehow it fit Luke perfectly.
Luke falls asleep in no time, but Michael knew that would happen. He's the king of sleep and Michael's forever envious of him for that. Because despite the fact he's been having less lightmares, he's positive it's due to the fact he's been sleeping a whole lot less. There have been times when he's gone days without sleeping. He doesn't mean for it to happen, but sometimes his brain just won't shut off.
The clock ticks on as the hours pass. Michael closes his eyes, listens to Luke breathe, and hopes he'll get at least a few hours tonight.
Naps become life savers. This band, as a whole, has always been big on naps. Especially Luke. With him in the band, it was impossible to not have nap time thrown in at some point during their day. He and Calum sleep just about anywhere nowadays, they were beginning to sound like a Dr. Seuss book: on the bus, on the train, on the plane/ here, there, everywhere. But now Michael has joined the pack of nappers.
He thinks they work better for him because they're shorter amounts of time, and as a result gives him less time for his brain to think anything up. He'll proudly name it an accomplishment if he gets in an hour nap during the day. It's enough to get him through whatever happens later.
It's not exactly running on empty, but it's pretty damn close. He knows he can't keep this up forever.
About a month later Michael has a nightmare that has him clinging to Luke before he even has a chance to realize he's doing it. And it's just become such a habit in his brain, to go to Luke when this happens, that he thinks he did it before he could even think about it. He felt Luke jerk awake in his arms, startled by the sudden and strong touch, but he quickly assessed the situation and wrapped his arms around Michael too.
He could feel Michael's pounding heart sort of shaking both of them. Luke had whispered to him, "It's okay, you were just dreaming. Everything's alright."
And when Luke stopped speaking, Michael replayed those words in his mind over and over until they set in and he started to believe it. He blinked hard, rubbed his face against Luke's neck, and took in a deep breath. When he inhaled, he smelled nothing but Luke. His body wash, his deodorant, his shaving cream, his tooth paste. And that too helped Michael resettle.
Michael doesn't fall back asleep, but he stays awake and listens to Luke's heart and he feels rested in the morning anyway.
Sometimes, when he and Luke get too caught up in their own heads, they think it's better to sleep apart. Still in the same room, but just in their separate beds. Most of the time when they do that, Michael just misses Luke's presence next to him. He misses feeling his every move, and the change in his breathing when he's dreaming, and the way he keeps moving closer and closer as the night goes on like he's looking for Michael despite the fact he's right next to him.
And some nights it doesn't feel like Michael's going to make it through because he feels so empty.
He hates he's become that attached to Luke. That even in the same room, he feels a million miles away because they're not in the same bed. Shockingly enough, those nights he's managed to get some sleep. He thinks maybe he's just literally tired of being awake. Whatever the mechanics behind it, he's thankful. He'll take a good night's rest whenever he can.
It's a Wednesday when they have an interview that gets Michael thinking. They talk about them being role models for their fans and for some reason the phrase sticks in Michael's head for the rest of the day. And he thinks about the crazy type of power they have and for no extravagant reason at all besides they play music that people happen to like. He thinks about how he can tweet "Hey go buy this!" and whatever the hell this is, thousands and thousands of people will do it. It's an abstract concept to him that there's an insane amount of people hanging on his ever word. And it's outlandish to him that there's a crowd of people when they arrive at airports, and there's paparazzi outside of the restaurants they eat at. But there is and he thinks he has to do something positive with that power.
His mind is restless for a while as he tries to sleep. Luke's in his bed-- his own bed-- and Michael has told his brain three times already that he shouldn't go climb into Luke's bed instead.
He keeps thinking about their fans, and he hopes they're happy with them. He hopes the things they joke about are jokes to everyone and they don't offend anyone. He's made some shitty jokes in the past but he's read a lot and experienced a lot and learned a lot since then. Now, he's cautious of just about everything he says-- at least he tries to be. But Michael's mouth is still used to just spewing out the first thing that pops into his brain and sometimes he doesn't have time to think it through and filter out the things maybe he shouldn't say. And some nights, he'll playback interviews they did recently and try to pinpoint anything any of them might've said that may not have been the best.
It feels compulsive, the way his brain works sometimes. How it'll linger on one little thing for hours and hours even when he's telling himself over and over to just fucking let it go. But he can't. Plain and simple. Some nights he can't. And those are the nights that all those thoughts pile up in his brain and distribute heart racing pictures in his mind that wake him wake up in a cold sweat. Most of the time he doesn't remember the actual nightmare. Most of the time he just remembers the feeling. How terrified he was, how much pain he dreamed he was in, how helpless he felt-- those are the things he remembers. And it's enough.
Some nights he remembers the dream.
That particular night, Michael dreams he's drowning. He dreams there's boulders wrapped around his legs that are pulling him to the bottom of the water.
He doesn't remember the time between the dream ending and him opening his eyes, but one second he's drifting to the bottom of the ocean and the next he sees Luke hovering over him whispering, "Mikey, wake up, you're okay."
And once he's awake they don't speak. Luke climbs into Michael's bed and lays with his head on Michael's shoulder. He lets Michael pull him as close as he possibly can and likes the feeling of how tight Michael's holding him. He can hear how fast Michael's heart is pounding in his chest still, so he kisses over the pulse in Michael's neck, then at his jaw. Luke takes Michael's hand in his, holds it firmly, and closes his eyes.
It takes Michael awhile, but he's able to fall back asleep.
This time, there's no nightmare.
This time, he dreams he and Luke are flying.
@Michael5SOS: Taking a sleeping tablet to go back to sleep at 8 am....
July 12th, 2015 | 8:05 AM
__________ __________
Sometimes, enough is enough. Michael thinks he's had enough. So he spent exactly ten and a half minutes on Google and found he can take Melatonin to help him sleep. So he puts on his jacket, his pants, his Converse, grabs his wallet and heads for the nearest convenient store. He doesn't think anywhere's going to be open, considering how late it is, but he guesses a convenient store wouldn't be exactly convenient if it weren't open at all hours of the night.
It doesn't take much effort to find what he needs. He grabs the bottle and heads for the counter. There's an older man with graying hair smirking at him as he walks up. He can feel the judgement in the older man's eyes as he reads the label on what Michael's buying. A second later, Michael tells himself it's none of this man's business what he's buying and he can go screw himself if he's got something to say. Pretty harsh, he knows. He blames it on the fact he's dead tired but can't sleep. It's a horrible combination. Definitely the equation for a grumpy person.
He pays for the bottle, makes his way back to the hotel, and takes the designated amount printed on the back of the bottle.
Michael undresses and lays back in bed next to Luke. Part of him is surprised Luke didn't wake up during any of this or notice he was gone at all and text him asking where he went, but the other half is again reminded that Luke literally sleeps like a dead person, and it's actually not shocking at all that he was no way affected by all of Michael's ruckus.
Luckily, they have an off day so Michael hopefully has all the time in the world to catch up on some sleep.
He makes himself comfortable against Luke's back, closes his eyes, and hopes for the best.
He doesn't know why he thought he'd have time to sleep when he shares a band with the three loudest people on the fucking planet.
Michael doesn't know why, because he's clearly sleeping, but all three of them are stationed in his and Luke's room. Their only gesture of courtesy is they're on Luke's bed instead of Michael's, but voices carry, especially when that voice is yelling, and Michael hears them all the same.
"Well that's just fucking dumb!" Calum yells. Not says. Not suggests. Yells.
Michael feels blindly for the spare pillow the put over his head. Honestly, why the hell are they here? Usually on an off day Calum and Ashton are bouncing off the walls to go walk around and take their hipster-esque pictures on every bridge and street corner. But for some reason they were all here and they were all arguing and Michael's starting to think a solo career might not be too bad.
Calum must've seen him move because the next thing Michael knows, Calum's saying loudly, "Mike, don't you think Squidward could kick Mr. Krabs' ass in an MMA fight?"
"Get out of my room," Michael groans.
Calum huffs. "Someone's pissy."
"He's tired," Michael heard Luke say.
"He's annoyed," Michael says.
A moment later he feels a weight on top of him. A familiar type of weight. It's definitely Luke. He says to him gently, "We were just about to grab breakfast or something. Want us to wait for you?"
Michael shakes his head. "Bring me back something?"
"What are we, your servants?" Ashton asks with a wild laugh. Too early for that loud of a laugh.
Luke rubs his shoulder, trying to get him to ignore everyone else. He asks him quietly, "What do you want?"
Shrugging, Michael says, "I don't know. You know what I like."
And Luke leaves it at that. He rubs Michael's shoulder again, this time as a goodbye, and Michael hears him saying to the other two, "Alright, let's go before Mikey assassinates us."
They exit the room pondering the idea of who Michael would have killed first if he did in fact hire a hitman. The answer seemed to be Calum and right now Michael felt that was just about right.
"It wouldn't be me, I'm his best fucking friend!"
"We're all his best friends, idiot," Luke says back with a giggle as the door closes.
Michael welcomes the silence once it's back, and he welcomes the sleep even more.
"What is this?" Luke asks about a week later when they're packing their suitcases yet again to head to a town Luke forgot the name of. He's got the bottle of pills Michael bought not too long ago in his hands. Michael must've left it on the counter in the bathroom. He wasn't trying to hide it per se, but he definitely wasn't trying to let Luke see it. Not that he has anything to hide, really. But he just knows how Luke gets and he knows he's gonna be more worried than he has to be.
Michael looks up, sees the bottle in Luke's hands, and takes it away. He tosses it into his open suitcase and shrugs. "It's, um...," but his voice trails off.
Luke's eyebrows furrow. "A what?"
"Don't worry about it," Michael tells him. He pulls a shirt from the middle of the bed and folds it. He's not exactly sure who it belongs to, but it's in his suitcase so it's his now.
Luke lets out a nervous laugh. "Should I be worried?"
"No, that's why I said don't worry about it."
Michael's always sarcastic when he's defensive. Luke knows this, so he's not phased by it. He sees it more as a confirmation that it was something Michael sort of felt embarrassed about. He hated that there were still things Michael felt that way about with him. Luke really thought they were passed it.
Sitting on the edge of Michael's bed next to him, Luke says, "Mikey..."
"They just help me sleep, Luke, that's it."
The look on Luke's face is one Michael can't place and that scares him. Michael's starting to think one of his biggest fears is being judged by someone he never thought would judge him. Because the second he can't read Luke's expression, the words start spilling out of his mouth.
He says, "It's not even a big deal, okay? It's not like-- it's not like I'm taking them every hour or something, it's just--," he waves his hand, "It's not even every night! There are just times when I can't sleep and I know I need to because we have a long day and... I got them at the convenient store, anyone can take them!"
Luke's quiet. He lets Michael finish. Then he asks, simply, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Michael answers quickly. "I just thought maybe they'd help."
Luke swallows hard and leans forward on the bed to look inside Michael's suitcase at the bottle again. "Are they?"
"Yeah, I think so," Michael tells him. It's sort of relieving to say. He has been getting better night's sleep since he's taken it those few times. And it's the truth, he doesn't even need it every night. But the nights he does need it, they've definitely helped.
Luke plays with his hands in his lap. He picks at a hangnail and then brings it to his mouth to bite off. He asks cautiously, "And the nightmares...?"
"Better," Michael tells him. He smiles and nods. That's the truth too. That also feels nice to say.
Michael tells Luke to trust him, and he does, with all his heart, so he says okay.
@Michael5SOS: hoping no alien space gods decide to invade my dreams tonight. goodnight
October 13th, 2015 | 11:24 PM
__________ __________
It's been awhile since Michael's had a nightmare he'd consider bad. Sure, he's had a handful sprinkled here and there, but it's nothing like it used to be. And he owes a lot of that to Luke. Michael doesn't think it's been a walk in the park for Luke to have to deal with this for as long as he has. But he's been relentless on being comforting and understanding since the first night Michael came to him in the middle of the night, too scared to sleep alone and too prideful to admit it. And Luke's stayed supportive too; that's definitely helped a lot. He's never made Michael talk about a dream he didn't want to. And he's never pressured him to talk about it the next morning. All the talks they've had about it, he's allowed Michael to initiate.
They still share a bed even when they don't share a room. They've been through their own headlining tour and now that they've made more money, there's more money able to be spent on things like booking all four of them their separate rooms with decent sized beds and bathrooms. A lot of nights though, they find themselves in one room. An old habit they're not sure they'll ever break. Just last night, they all fell asleep in Calum's room watching Comedy Central.
But most nights, even if their rooms are just a door apart, Luke and Michael still like to sleep in the same bed.
There's just something unexplainably comforting about sleeping next to each other. And if Luke's honest, he likes being able to see firsthand that Michael's doing better. He's had nights where he couldn't sleep, despite the medicine. And he's had nights where he's still had nightmares that Luke was able to help him through. But over time, they've become lesser and lesser.
And over time he and Luke have become closer. They didn't know it was possible, but it was. And they've gotten to a place where they understand no matter what it's always going to be them two. No matter how many people they meet or places they go. Nothing feels quite as good as lying next to each other, talking about music or television or their day. Simple stuff. Pitifully domestic stuff. But they wouldn't have it any other way.
Michael thinks he's learning that not everything has to be fixed by him personally, although he'd really like that. And he thinks maybe that was his problem before. He had put too much pressure on himself to be the person everyone needed. Right now, he was just focused on being the best person he can be. Because honestly, that's the only thing he can be. And as a result, his mind has become less of a war zone and more of a caged circus of some sort. He's knows there's still some wild thoughts running round in his head, and maybe he'll never be able to tame them, but he's working on it.
Nowadays, the nightmares are less like nightmares and more just like strange dreams. Last week he dreamed he was being chased by a dinosaur-sized rat on Mars. Scary shit. But not nightmares. And just the other night he dreamed he was abducted by some alien army. That one was actually pretty scary because he's pretty sure they were doing to kill him in his dream, but still. These types of dreams he can handle. And since they don't result in him waking up at some ridiculous hour, Luke's been sleeping better too.
Luke comes out of the bathroom, phone in hand, with a smile on his face. He asks, "Alien space gods?"
Clearly he had saw Michael's tweet.
Michael shrugs. "Those are my better dreams," he jokes.
Michael's already in bed; actually, he's been there for a while. Luke, Ashton and Calum were doing something in Ashton's room for the past couple of hours, but Michael was too lazy to join them. Besides, he needed some quality time with his DS. It's been a little while since it's been just him, a game system, and a couple empty hours to waste. It felt good.
Luke crawls up Michael's bed until they're face to face. "Well just make sure if they take you to their home planet or something, they take me too."
Michael smiles, big and stupid, and he hates how easily Luke can make him happy.
"Will do," Michael promises before he tilts his head forward to catch Luke's lips on his. Their kisses feel different now. They've both got beards going. It took a while to get used to, but Michael thinks he likes it. It sounds dumb, but it sort of shows how far they've come. They're not the same kids who used to sneak into the back of their tour bus just to sit near each other and hope it turned into something more.
Luke had turned the light off, set his alarm for the next day, and made himself comfortable next to Michael. They've fallen into a routine sleeping position too and Ashton tells them they're basically an old married couple now. Calum says they've always argued like one so it made sense they didn't stop there. Both Luke and Michael are just happy whatever the hell they have going on isn't weird to the other half of band. But they think, somewhere in the back of their minds, they all knew this is how they'd end up.
"'Night, Mikey," Luke whispers to him. He shifts around next to Michael for a few seconds, getting warm.
Michael tucks his arm around Luke's side and closes his eyes. "'Night, babe."
With the soft sounds of the world outside their window and Luke beside him, Michael's able to fall asleep within a half an hour. That's basically a new record for him. Michael thinks he can get used to this.
He doesn't dream about alien space gods though, not tonight.
Tonight is peaceful.