LUKE

I don't know what it was that made me take a liking to Michael so quickly. Well, to fall in love with him, if I want to take the term into honesty. I don't know if it was his cute little ears or his quivering tail that made me want to press my lips against his neck. I don't know if it was his glittering laugh or his silent mind, unspoken thoughts that move in synch with mine. I don't know if it was the way he looked at me, like I was the only one he wanted to look at for the rest of his life.

In some ways, I think it was the protectiveness of it. The feeling of knowing somebody needed me. Michael needed me. He wanted my warmth, he craved it. He needed it for the safety of his being. I loved pulling him into my chest at night, twisting my ankles with his and allowing his small figure to tuck around mine under the blankets. I loved feeling his soft, content sighs against my arm, where it would rest under his chin, and watch the smile form on his lips. I never felt needed in my life, not that I was supposed to do. I'm the youngest of my family, and I wasn't ever needed for much. While Calum is an amazing friend, he isn't one to make you feel like you have a purpose for breathing. Michael was that purpose.

In my mother's mind, forcing me into a job would seemingly make me feel like living was an option again, but instead I am standing in this itchy black uniform with plates perilously balanced on my palms, struggling not to drop them in the lap of a young woman in an expensive ball gown.

It didn't take long to realize that Calum and I are not born to be waiters, and it didn't exactly take that long for Mr. Cox to realize that as well. I can practically see the regret of hiring us fill his eyes whenever he sees me trip over my own feet. Though, judging by the lack of employees in the restaurant, he has no choice but to keep us.

We had been working for three hours before he allowed us a lunch break, so Calum and I empty our hands and make our way quickly out the door, stumbling over each other in order to get out of the dreaded restaurant as fast as possible. Calum sits down outside of the restaurant and begins to eat the sandwich he packed for himself. I lower myself down next to him, leaning up against the brick walls and feeling the rough texture rub scabs into my scalp. I shut my eyes, curling my legs up to my chest and ignoring the stares of the people around us who glance over at the two boys dressed in black waiter outfits.

"Are you not going to eat?" Calum asks. I turn to my left, my eyes falling over his pronounced jawline and tan skin. His brown eyes blink at me worriedly as he chews his lunch, pulling his feet in to avoid tripping the crowd.

"I'm not hungry." I say, and Calum narrows his eyes at me in response. I reach quietly into my pocket, trying to find the cigarette pack I had shoved into my pocket when my boss wasn't looking. I find it after a moment of searching, and I swiftly light it and take it between my teeth.

"What are you-- Luke!" Calum scolds, grimacing at the smoke leaving my lips. I pull the cigarette from my mouth and glance over at him.

"What?"

"You really need to stop that. It's--disgusting. And dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt." His voice is soft, but I dismiss his words. I already have this knowledge printed onto my brain, and I burn away the words with nicotine. I turn away from the tan boy and focus on my breathing, feeling the gritty taste under my tongue, coating the back of my throat like paint.

I'm glad it's not quiet today, what with the busy roads and stampede of heels clicking against the sidewalk. Silence has a way of grabbing onto your mind with long tendrils for fingers, digging deep into your brain and curling around all your thoughts and emotions. I don't handle the silence well. I say that I like it, I like the isolation from the fury of the earth, but the isolation doesn't like me. It destroys me, breaking down the cells in my blood into there is nothing left but a hollow skull.

Of course, it's not like I deserve anything better.

The concrete under my feet is hard, a rigid surface that digs bruises into the palms of my hands. My lungs slowly breathe in the polluted air of the city center, filled with other people's breath and gas exhaust and the smoke from my own cigarette. I suck in the destroyed air until it seeps into my bloodstream, making me no more significant than the concrete under me. I'm not a significant person, and I never believed that I was. But it's so horrifyingly easy to feel insignificant when you're teetering on the edge of a forgotten cliff.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" A crisp, brash voice breaks me out of my thick trance. My eyelids open uneasily to find the tall build of my boss. His eyes narrow down at my slumped form on the wall and he stares pointedly at the cigarette dangling from my fingers. I glance down at it, watching the thin trail of smoke filter from the burning end of the cigarette, before my boss flicks it away from my fingers and crushes it under his expensive shoes.

"I told you not to smoke as long as you're working here." My boss snaps, and I vaguely try to remember when he told me that. Calum's expression looks puzzled for a moment. He can't remember when our boss said that either.

"This just gives off bad publicity for the restaurant, smoking your ass off right by the front door. What were you thinking?" Mr. Cox's voice fills the air like bricks and I blink. "You don't deserve this job if you're just going to abuse it."

His words portray his upcoming statement and I mentally sigh. Now I'll be jobless as well. Not that I mind, but my mother will. I grip onto the brick wall behind me and scrape across the scratchy surface to help pull myself up.

"Wait-- uh, don't fire him just yet, Mr. Cox. Just give him another chance, yeah? It won't happen again. Right, Luke?" Calum frantically intervenes, glancing over at me with pleading eyes. I look dully back at him, but my friend's wide eyes shake me into agreeing.

"Yeah. It won't happen again." I mumble, not meeting my boss's eyes. I hear him huff, and I watch his shoe grind the cigarette's ashes deeper into the concrete. I want to tell him that there is no point doing that anymore, that the flames have died and the rest of the cigarette will disintegrate, but I decide against it.

"Finish up and get back inside. Your shifts are over." Mr. Cox leaves us out in the thick Australian heat as he reenters the restaurant, and Calum shoots me a softened glare. I avoid his gaze, staring at the space in between his eyebrows instead. The skin is creased there, caused by his eyebrows pulling together to help create the disapproving look directed towards me.

"Luke." Calum sighs, before he picks up the remains of his lunch and tosses them in the nearest trash bin. He stands in front of me, a couple inches shorter, and grabs my wrist, pulling me reluctantly back inside the restaurant.

I soak in the air conditioning and shut my mouth, staring at the tables of couples and families, all dressed in nice dresses and suits. Calum heads back towards the kitchen to retrieve any ready meals and I stop at the nearest table, where an older couple sits. The woman is wearing a long dress and a cardigan, and the man is wearing a white button up with a suit jacket, pulled together with an expensive looking tie.

"Welcome. My name is Luke and I will be your waiter this evening." I recite, swallowing thickly and pulling out my pad of paper and a pen. "Would you like something to drink?"

The couple orders two glasses of wine that both cost over fifteen dollars per glass, and I quickly jot down the hard-to-pronounce names of the drinks and swiftly move towards the back of the restaurant.

My feet drag over the smooth hardwood floors, and I push up my hair. I don't belong in such a nice place like this. I don't belong anywhere, but especially not here.

Calum catches my glance as he is picking up three dishes of salads, balancing them on his forearms and palms. He avoids saying anything due to the watchful gaze of our boss, and then disappears through the swinging door to deliver the platters. I walk over to where the drinks are located and slowly pour the glasses of wine. It is thick and red, bitter smelling. It swirls around in the clear glass, like blood swimming in a hollow pit. I carefully lift the glasses and turn around.

I catch Mr. Cox's gaze as I do, and he grimaces, turning up his nose.

"Does it smell like smoke around here to you?" He asks to one of the chefs. He pointedly looks at me when he says it, and I clench my fingers around the fragile wine glasses before walking through the door to get back to the restaurant.

"Dick." I grumble under my breath, balancing the two glasses in one hand as I push through the door, steadily walking towards the couple.

They are talking idly to themselves, warm eyes and loving smiles. I briefly wonder what their lives are like to be able to sit here in a fancy restaurant and order expensive glasses of booze. I wonder if they have kids. I wonder if they forced them to get jobs. I wonder if they cared at all when their kids told them they didn't want to get a job.

I'm totally not bitter.

I gently begin to set the glasses of red wine onto the tabletop, making sure to balance it right on the cloth, right when the door to the restaurant flies open. I jerk my head up to the sudden abruption, and see a frenzy looking woman who looks a lot like my mother standing in the doorway.

In fact, it is my mother. I recognize her blue eyes as they scan the restaurant, landing directly on me.

"Luke!" she gasps, stepping into the restaurant with hurried footsteps. The entire restaurant turns towards my mum, who ignores the excess attention. I watch the customers stare at my mother with a look of confusion, and I am fairly positive I have the same expression.

I notice Calum in the corner, two empty plates in his hand as he pauses halfway towards walking to the kitchen. He glances at me, eyebrows furrowed. He mouths what the fuck to me as he balances the heavy dishes. I shrug slightly and turn towards the couple in front of me, who look slightly horrified at the interruption of their dinner. I give them a small smile before setting down the glasses and straightening my shoulders, walking somewhat calmly towards my delusional looking mother.

Heavy footsteps stop me as I pass tables, and I turn to see my boss staring at me with screaming eyes. "What the hell, Hemmings?" He offers a reassuring smile to the staring customers around him. I open my mouth to explain that I have no idea what the fuck my mother wants, right when she speaks.

"Luke, I found where the facility is."

It's like the world stopped.

Everyone around me freezes, like ice has settled in their veins. My heart continues to throb, pulsing louder and harder into my chest to the point where it physically hurts. The muscle pushes flames through my blood, burning me until I collapse into a pit of ashes. For a moment I can't move, or think, or breathe, and then everything comes rushing back at me in vivid colors that hurt my eyes, pushing down at me and clawing at my chest and at my back. My feet move from under me, sprinting past my boss and zigzagging through the maze of white clothed tables to get to that front door. Just as I burst through, my hip knocks against one of the round tables and a family's dinner is sent sliding into their laps, fine dishes clattering and sending splinters of glass across the hardwood floors. I ignore it all, an apology barely passing my lips as I run to my mum, grabbing at her wrist to pull her out of the restaurant as fast as possible, wanting to get to Michael, needing to get to Michael, needing it like the oxygen in my lungs.

Calum stands still with the platters still in his hands, watching the entire scene play out. He carefully places the dishes down on a nearby table before glancing at his boss, mumbling a quick and genuine apology before shuffling through the restaurant and out the front door. His brown eyes meet with mine once we step out onto the busy sidewalk, and he looks thoroughly puzzled.

I turn to my mother, who is jogging towards her parked car. I hurry after her, Calum on my heels. "How did you find out? Where is he? Is he in Sydney? Is he in Australia? Is he hurt? What are they doing with hi--"

"Shut up, get in the car! I'll tell you when we get in." Liz barks before swinging around the front of the car and sliding in the driver's seat. My fingers fumble at the passenger door handle, peeling it open and leaping inside. My hands shake as my mother shuts her door and jams the car keys into the ignition. Calum slides quickly into the backseat, beginning to pick shards of glass out from the soles of his shoes.

My mum pulls out of the parking space, beginning to speed down the road. "I was at the bar, and--"

"Why were you at the bar? You don't drink." I interrupt.

"I wasn't there to drink, I was meeting with somebody, we were going-- that's not the point. I was sitting at the bar, and I overheard the bartender talk to some guy, and they were talking about the hybrid search, and then one of them asked where they took the hybrid, and the bartender knew. I don't know how he knew, considering he's worked at that bar for like seven years, and I know for a fact he has no connection with the detectives, so--"

"God dammit Mum, where is he?" I snap, fisting my hair and yanking at it.

"Sorry. The facility is located about a few hours outside of Sydney, basically in the middle of nowhere. I got directions to it from the bartender." My mum finishes, glancing at me with hopeful eyes.

I should be happy. I should be leaping out of my seat in the hopes of being able to find Michael. But I'm terrified. I don't know what is going on in that facility. I don't know how he is, I don't know if they hurt him. What if he doesn't remember me? What if he's seriously injured? What if he isn't even alive?

I fumble in my pocket for my phone, pulling it out and dialing the familiar numbers before holding it up to my ear. It rings six times before it clicks.

"Luke! How's it going? Aren't you at the restaurant with Mr. Cocks?" Ashton's voice filters through the speaker. I hear loud music pumping in the background.

"We know where Michael is." I say, and listen to Ashton's breath catch.

"Shit, what? Seriously? Where is he? Are you going to get him?" Ashton sounds frantic, and the music fades a little, like he is walking away from it.

"Yeah, we're in the car."

"Wait, don't leave, come pick me up, I want to come." Ashton pleads. I expected this, and I can easily guess where he is due to the music. I reassure him that we will come pick him up before ending the call and directing my mum to the club.

"Why is Ashton at the club?" Liz wonders as she pulls into the parking lot. We see Ashton standing by the front door, bouncing on his toes in anticipation.

"He's friends with Alex, and Alex works with the DJ there." I tell her hurriedly as my hazel eyed friend spots us, sprinting as fast as he can towards the car.

"Who's Alex?"

I don't bother answering my mother as Ashton yanks open the backseat and plows into the car, nearly knocking out Calum. They both scramble over each other to get to separate seats as Ashton's heavy breathing fills the silent car. He begins rambling out questions and excited phrases as we all ignore him, and my mum steps on the petal. She pulls onto the highway that leads out of Sydney, and I grip at the car handles with tight knuckles. Michael. We're going to get Michael. We're going to get Michael.

My nerves jump around under my skin like they're trying to escape. I try and hide my strangled breathing, but it's so hard to when the entire car is silent like a graveyard, abused ghosts lost in their own world. I wander around the imaginary cemetery with careful footsteps, searching for Michael's gravestone, not wanting to find it but wanting to see it with my own eyes, just so I can know if it is true. I want to know how he is, I want to see his body in the frightening flesh, and I want to kiss any bruises littering his skin.

Scenarios flood my mind. What if they drugged his mind, made it to where he couldn't remember anything of his former life? What if he can't remember the way he used to chase butterflies in the park, or how he used to cry whenever he watched sad movies? What if he can't remember his fingers dancing across the guitar neck, pressing down on chords and squealing in excitement whenever he succeeded in making a chord? What if he can't remember the feeling of my lips pressed against his, my arms cradling his body as he slept? What if he can't remember me?

Or maybe the facility is the exact opposite as I had previously thought. Maybe it is some kind of getaway, a kind of heaven for hybrids. Maybe they give him all the comfort he needs, maybe he is fed correctly and the kitten part of him is satisfied in every way possible. Maybe he doesn't even need me anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to come home.

There is also that nagging possibility that tugs at my brain stem, pulling at my eyes and squeezing my heart. Maybe they twisted a slow knife in his stomach, ignored his whimpers and cries, and dumped him into a hole six feet into the ground. Maybe his body is still there, slowly disintegrating into a pile of horror and ashes. Perhaps, just perhaps, I will be met by nothing but sorry eyes when I arrive.

Although, I doubt they would be sorry.

I choke on my own breath as I sit in the passenger seat of the car, and I ignore the glances thrown at me when I do. I clench my hands together, my knuckles white from the lack of circulation. I want to pray, I want to pray to God or an angel, or whatever heavenly person with more power than I do, someone who has the ability to inject imaginary morphine into my veins. I need relief. I need Michael to be okay. I need Michael to hold on, just a few hours, just a few more hours, until I can burst through the facility doors and scoop him into my arms.

That's all I want, but luck doesn't seem to ever fall in my shaking hands.

--

A/N hello friends! quick apology for not updating for a while, I was in Europe.

first, I would like to shamlessly self promote my new story Kill Time! it's muke. and i know that all of us are so muke af so it would be awesome if you could maybe check that out.

second, we have another translation for this story! it's russian, translated by @cheekydisaster. i added it to my translations reading list for those of you who want to read it.

thirdly, thanks so much for 90k! you guys are all so sweet and it really surprises me whenever you give compliments on my writing because ??? before i started writing on wattpad everyone told me my writing sucked so like ?? idk i just really love you guys and i thought you should know.

thanks for reading! maybe this will be the first chapter of this story that you won't cry to idk i mean it turned out fairly happy right

see you in the next update. ily please vote and comment bye!