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.

The sun does little to brighten up the streets as I drive through them, as though the mass of energy has fallen into the fog. My eyes scrape along the roads, looking for a catch of anything that might indicate a clue of where the kitten boy may be. It's useless, I know, to look for him in such an open city, filled with people and cars, but I can't help it. I can't just sit in that house and mourn and be sad and not do anything. I have to get out. I have to contribute something so that if the time comes where the kitten boy's heart is no longer beating, at least I can say I tried.

I drive past the city center, my car passing the entry to the trail where I met Michael in the first place. Tears spring into my eyes and I slam on the brakes, pulling over to the side and hitting the steering wheel repeatedly with my hand, ignoring the burning on my palms.

"Fuck!" I scream, hot tears squeezing from between my eyelids. My chest shudders and I desperately try to stop crying, to try and get myself together but it is impossible, impossible to try and act calm when I am parked right beside the spot where Michael and I stood, my arm around him as he wrapped himself in his old blue blanket.

"Stop it." I tell myself, sniffing and wiping my eyes. I rub the tears on my clothes and swallow, staring down at my lap. I take deep, even breathes until I calm down enough to pull out my phone. I quickly go to Google and type in a string of words that might fit the hybrid search, and I am relieved to see lots of information pop up.

I click on the first result I find and desperately try and seek any information about where the facility might be located, but I come up with nothing. I find plenty of information about the dangers of hybrids and how relieved everyone is that the "dangerous" hybrid was captured, but nothing about where he was taken. I throw my phone against the dashboard, ignoring when a crack splits down the screen, and press my forehead to the steering wheel, struggling to regain my composure.

Sniffing loudly, I sit up and ease my foot onto the accelerator, pulling off the curb and driving absentmindedly until I come across an old gas station. I pull into the parking lot and slide into a slot, tearing out the keys and getting out of the car. I rub my eyes, trying to make it look as though I wasn't just crying as I walk into the gas station.

I step straight up to the cashier, who looks at me with bored eyes.

"Marlboros, please." I mumble, and the girl grabs the pack of cigarettes from the wall behind her, tossing them to me as I hand her a few crumpled dollars. I hold the cigarettes in my hand and move out of the gas station door, loathing myself for buying them as I slide into my car, pulling out the lighter from under the seat. I yank out a cigarette and light the end of it, watching the paper darken as it burns, the tip of it lighting up.

I quickly bring it to my lips, sucking in the smoke harshly, not caring when it scorches my lungs in the process. I used to smoke all the time and I stopped when I met Michael, but now that he is gone the urge has returned. It feels good. It feels refreshing, even if it's unhealthy.

I roll down the window a bit to allow the smoke to funnel out into the open air outside, sighing at the relief the smoke brings. I know I shouldn't be doing this, I know my mum will hate me for smoking again, and I know I am putting my health at risk, but how does all that matter when I have so much else to worry about?

Michael. I have Michael to worry about. I want to do something, my bones itch to go fly around the world and search for him, but it's impossible. His name is permanently tattooed into my mind, so that whatever thought I have, it always reverts back to him. Him and his cute little ears and fluffy tail that I know he hates so much. He hates them, simply because everyone else does. They are flaws in his eyes, but to me they are perfect, absolutely perfect. It hurts to think that he hates the way he looks, when he is my entire universe. I love the way his ears droop when he is tired, and the way he purrs when I stroke his tail, and I love how embarrassed he gets.

I'm in love with the way he gets so flustered when he is in Hot Topic with me, and how he likes to cling to me in the mornings. I love how he has an obsession for hot chocolate and knows how to cook better than me, even though he lived in the woods for the majority of his life. I love the way he liked to chase butterflies and got scared by his own shadow and how he loved to sleep by the campfire on the soft sand. I love all of this, and I hate how I might never see it again.

Even if I do save him from wherever he went, how do I know that he will be the same? How do I know that he won't his mind won't be permanently altered into fear from what he went through at the facility? It can't be good, whatever they do to him, considering what Carter said. How do I know that Michael is even alive right now? How do I know that his heart isn't cold and still in his small chest?

I blow out more smoke, watching it dance in the air. I hate this, I hate not knowing where and how he is. I don't want him to be cold. I don't want him to be scared. I want him to be warm, I want him cuddled in my arms.

I know my mum wants me to pick up my life from where it left off. I know that she is aware how much Michael meant to me, but I don't think she knows how much it changed my life. I don't think she understands that it is so difficult just to get up in the morning without breaking into sobs, and how hard it is to get dressed when you can still feel the traces of Michael's fingertips against your skin. I don't think I was even aware how much Michael was a part of my life. I didn't notice him taking up my mind so much that his absence physically hurts.

I sit up in the car seat, leaving the cigarette dangling between my teeth as I place my hands on the steering wheel, pulling out of the gas station parking lot and back onto the streets. I drive slowly, breathing in the last bit of smoke I can from the cigarette before I drop it into the ashtray in my car, swallowing the disgusting aftertaste as I drive back down the neighborhood roads I can so clearly remember escaping from.

I pull the car up to the curb, putting my lighter and Marlboros into my pocket as I get out, walking up the driveway and to the front door. I feel exhausted as I push open the door, stepping inside.

I shut it behind me and look up, eyeing my mother and Ashton, who both glance up from where they were sitting on the den couches. They still look sympathetic, even more so now that I have come back with no sign of the kitten boy. I blink at them before walking into the den to get to the staircase, praying that my mum won't smell the smoke on my lips.

"Luke." Liz says as I pass them, and I halt, closing my eyes as I turn back around. I'm not in the mood for a lecture, I know exactly how bad it is for me, I don't need anyone else to tell me that for me.

My mum walks forward, disappointment filling her face and I want to throw myself in front of a train. She licks her lips, crossing her arms as she stares down at her flip-flop covered feet.

"You smoked." She states, and I just stare at her. She exhales, reaching up and rubbing my arms with her smooth palms, looking thoroughly concerned. "Baby, why did you smoke again?"

"Why do you think?" I say gruffly, my voice rough from the cigarette. My mother winces, probably smelling the foul stench of the smoke, and she drops her hands from my arms. I am thankful for it. The contact hurts.

Ashton stands up from where he is sitting, and the motion makes my head throb. Too many people, too many people in one room. My muscles itch, I can't stand it. I back away, blinking repeatedly, and the one thought to get away from the two bodies consumes my mind. I need to be alone, I need to be alone right now.

I quickly backpedal, ignoring my mum's demands to stay so she can lecture me, ignoring Ashton's grumbling. I just hurry backwards until my heels hit the staircase, and then I turn around, clambering up the steps and sprinting into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I slide down to the ground, sitting on the plush carpet. I lock myself into the room, where my mother and my friend think I can't hear their conversation.

"I don't know what is wrong with him." My mum sighs. "I know Michael meant a lot to him, but I didn't expect him to act this way if he got caught."

"I assumed you knew." Ashton says softly. My throat closes up. "Luke and Michael were like, in a relationship. They--" Ashton sighs. "They really loved each other."

I draw my knees up to my chest and bury my head into the soft denim as I listen to the silence that follows.

"Oh." My mum whispers, and the house falls into a deathly muteness, so quiet that I can hear my heart pulse deep inside my chest. I clench my jaw, shuddering breaths leaving my chest.

I need to pull myself together. I can't be like this all the time, I'll never be able to carry on the functions to live. I haven't eaten anything all day, I haven't had anything to drink. The thoughts had never crossed my mind, considering that seems so trivial compared to everything else. I sniff loudly, tossing my head back against the wall and struggling to get my breaths to even.

In all honesty, I suppose I'm scared. I'm scared of what they will do to my love, and I hate how I can do nothing about it. I want to take action, I want to beat the living shit out of whoever touches a strand of pretty hair on Michael's hair. I want to stop them from whatever they are going to do, but I can't. And that hurts.

I drown in the silence of the world, grateful for the obscurity. I used to love being alone. Now it feels like I'm dying.

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A/N no school today so I updated this. it's a filler but you know. you win some and you lose some.

thank you guys so much for 33k! that is so cool omg I can't believe people actually decided to read this haha

pls vote and comment ily!