LUKE

My mind twists and turns, struggling to conjure up an idea of where we can go.

My main objective was to get away from the detectives, which I have succeeded in doing so. We are driving on a lonely highway, the trees standing like guards on each side of the road, closing in on us with each mile we pass. Michael is sleeping in the passenger seat, his red hair sticking out over his forehead from beneath his beanie. His legs are pulled up to his chest, his familiar white cotton socks covering his little feet. I watch him in complete silence, not worrying about watching the road because we are driving a straight path to nowhere. Michael sniffs in his sleep, dried tears crusty on his cheeks. This isn't fair to him. None of this is. He shouldn't have to hide his harmless kitty ears or tail from the cruel hearts of people all around. He shouldn't have to watch a news reporter read out his death wish from others and be forced to flee from the one place he felt safe.

I don't mind having to leave. Honestly, Liz is too overprotective and if this hadn't happened, she probably would have never let me leave in the first place. Also, there is something so fulfilling in driving away from a stampede of detectives with a sleeping boy by your side. I'm tempted to just keep driving, stopping at a barren forest of trees and live hidden between the bushes, enjoying the solitude and the company of ourselves. But I know Michael wouldn't want that. He lived like that before, and it broke him.

But where could we go? We can't drive forever.

The only person I can think of is Ashton, a friend of mine who moved a couple cities away when we were younger. Other than texting and a few phone calls, we haven't spoken in a while. However, Michael's wet cheeks tell me that we don't really have any other choice.

I pick up my phone from the cup holder it was sitting in and find Ashton's contact, dialing his number and holding it up to my ear, my other hand gripping the wheel. The phone rings a couple of times before it clicks, and Ashton's high voice comes in.

"Luke!" Ashton exclaims, and something thumps on his side of the line. "How's it going?" He sounds the exact same as he did the last time we talked, his fervent voice thick with excitement no matter the occasion.

"Uh, everything's fine." I say hesitantly, peering over at Michael before leveling my eyes back on the road. My fingers shake with anxiety, my heart rapidly beating in my chest, blood rushing like fire in my ears. "Listen, I--"

"Wait, wait! I have a question-- what the fuck is this whole hybrid thing going on in Sydney?" Ashton interrupts. My breath hitches. It hadn't actually occurred to me that Ashton could be just like the detectives. What if he hates hybrids? What if he thinks Michael is an abomination of nature like the scientists and tries to track us down, only to tear Michael from my fragile grasp?

"Well-- uh--" I struggle to find the appropriate words. "Why? Do--do you have a problem with hybrids?"

"Honestly, no." Ashton replies lightheartedly. "I did a study on them a while back and it's proven that cat hybrids are completely harmless." He paused. "Isn't that the kind that's supposedly in Sydney?"

The relief in my chest is indescribable. A few joyous tears release from my eyes, at the possibility that perhaps humanity is still present after all. I refrain from sobbing and spilling my gratefulness to Ashton, who is oblivious to the tears spilling down my cheeks as I drive haphazardly down the interstate.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." I say, trying to hide my choked up throat. "So, uh. I have to tell you something, and I really, really need you not to freak out." I swallow, and Michael shifts slightly in the seat beside me, his fingers stretching and laying limp in the space between our seats.

"Alright?" Ashton says, letting out a confused laugh. I can't imagine laughing at the moment, a release of hot breath in the form of joy. Who can be joyous when hell is following you with a loaded gun?

"I--I have Mi-- the hybrid with me." I say in one breath, searching my mind for any ways to soften the topic. I come up empty handed, and my ears strain to hear anything on the other end.

There is a complete, bitter silence on the other end, and my heart stops as I hear Ashton's slow breaths but no reply. I lean back slightly in my seat, taking a furtive glance at the pastel boy, who's pale eyes and cracked lips have seen too much shit in his life to deal with yet another human who wishes to abuse him.

"The detectives were stampeding Sydney, Ashton. We left. We escaped. We didn't have any other alternative. We--" a sob escapes my mouth, along with a rush of tears that I can't seem to control. "I found him a while ago, he was so skinny, he--he needed-- he needed help, so I--"

"Luke, stop, it's okay, it's fine." Ashton's voice reaches my ears and I cease my rambling, blinking fast to rid the water from my eyes. "I was just surprised, I'm sorry. I'm assuming you need a place to stay? To hide?"

I nod before remembering he can't see me. "Yes." I murmur.

"Okay. I live right off of Highway 156. I have a roommate, but he'll be okay with it." Ashton says softly. "Where are you?"

"I'm on Highway 156 right now. I may have passed where I'm supposed to turn, but I'll-- I'll just--"

"Yeah." Ashton saves me from forcing my swollen tongue to work and I hang up the phone, wiping my eyes and breathing deeply as I search for the right exit. It doesn't take too long to find, and as I turn into the silent neighborhood, I try to remember which house is Ashton's. For a while I can't, and I am merely a ghost circling the row of houses, until I reach the one familiar one that catches my eyes and I halt in front of the mailbox.

I turn to Michael, who is still sound asleep. I hate to wake him up, to force his swollen eyelids to open and blind him with the patently bright light of the morning.

I reach over and touch his shoulder, shaking it slightly. "Wake up, Mikey." I say, a little over a whisper, but it works. Michael opens his eyes, insipid green irises zeroing in on me. He stretches slightly, one side of his beanie slipping off an ear and I hurry to slide it back into place. Michael wipes his cheeks, removing the excess tears from last night and looks out the window.

"Where are we?" he asks, a bit of panic dripping in his voice like morphine.

"It's alright. It's a friend of mine's house. He's okay with hybrids, you'll be alright." I assure him, but he hardly relaxes, melting into his seat. I unbuckle and I remove myself from the car, grabbing my phone and backpack before making my way over to Michael's side. I open the door and unbuckle him since his hands are frozen to his sides, and help him slide out of the car.

He clings to me as we walk up the narrow driveway to the front door, his cold hands wrapped around my arm. I can feel him shivering, his tiny little breaths escaping his lips. I am silent as a rock as we walk, unable to force any encouraging expressions from my lips.

When we arrive on the front porch, standing like homeless children in front of the tall door, I lift my fist and knock on the door. Ice runs in my veins, paralyzing my body as I wait for the door to swing open, revealing a detective, a facility worker, anything or anyone that could pry Michael away from me. Instead, the door opens to reveal a boy with jet black hair and tan skin.

"Hello." He says in a strong Australian accent. "Are you Luke and Michael?" I nod, and the boy offers a welcoming smile.

"Ah! It's nice to meet you both. Come on in, Ashton is in the kitchen. I'm Carter, by the way." He steps aside with a smile and allows us to step inside the air-conditioned home. His brown eyes are warm like chocolate, and he shuts the door tenderly behind us. "Michael, you can take off your beanie if you'd like. It's safe here."

Michael stares at him with wide eyes before carefully pulling off the hat, revealing his two little kitten ears. Carter pays no mind to them, acting as though it weren't out of the ordinary for formality's sake. I look to see Michael softly pulling his tail out from his pants, his eyes analyzing the house, deciding if it's safe enough or not.

"Luke!" Ashton's voice bellows, and I look away from Michael to see Ashton walking towards me with open arms, and an unnaturally wide smile on his face. He engulfs me in a hug with me trapped inside, with no intention of returning the gesture. Under the circumstances, Ashton doesn't seem to care.

"You look tired." Ashton comments, looking under my eyelashes to peer at my icy blue eyes, faded from exhaustion and torturous thoughts incapacitating my mind.

"I am." I reply blankly. I stand like a stone statue in the middle of Ashton's living room, the boy's smile disappearing from his face at my state of wellbeing as he drops his hands from my sides.

"Why don't you go upstairs? I only have one guest bedroom, but there's a couch and stuff, so..." Ashton trails off, glancing at Carter. I just force myself to nod, the throbs in my head intensifying at the movement. I turn away and make my way blindly to the edge of the stairs, and I am acutely aware of Michael following me, hoisting my heavy backpack with him.

I clamber up the steps slowly, ignoring Ashton's worried glances at my fatigue, but I've been driving for over 24 hours with no rest. My muscles have to die out eventually.

The guest room is bland, white walls and white ceilings and white curtains adorning the window with white panes. It looks like a graveyard, but I am in no state to complain. There is a queen sized bed in the middle of the room, sheets drawn tight. Michael scurries over and picks away the pillows with his delicate fingers, white and just as pale as the matching sheets. Once he peels back the bedspread, he walks cautiously over to me and wraps his cold fingers around my arm, leading me to the bed with careful steps before letting me crawl under the sheets and close my weary eyes. Michael sits on the ground beside the bed as I lose consciousness, playing with his tail contently as I lose perception of who and where I am, with the kitten boy right by my side.

~*~

When I wake up it's darker outside, the pale afternoon sun faded by the events of the day. As my eyes open, the room looks just as much as a graveyard as it did before, but I feel much more alive, which must be saying something. Michael is no longer sitting beside me on the white carpet, and I am dangerously aware of my unaccompanied presence in the room.

I flick away the bedspread, and emerge still fully dressed as I stand up, cracking the tense bones in my legs and arms. I walk downstairs, my converse silent on the wood steps. I hear voices, particularly Michael's soft, low one speaking in nearly a whisper. I step onto the landing and look up to see Michael, Carter, and Ashton all sitting at the coffee table, drinking some sort of hot beverage and chatting pleasantly.

Ashton looks up and spots me almost immediately, inevitably hollering out to me in his flamboyant voice.

"Luke has finally left the room!" Ashton teases before standing up and moving into the kitchen, probably fixing me a cup of whatever they are drinking. Carter waves happily at me and Michael shyly turns around, his tail flicking pleasingly behind him. His pink lips turn up at the ends sweetly and he lifts a small hand to gesture me forward, patting the empty seat beside him.

I walk over, pulling out the chair and sitting down as Ashton pushes a tall mug brimming with warm chocolate and fluffy marshmallows. I chuckle as I take a sip, and turn to Michael, who is sitting and staring at me with a smile.

"I remember when I made you this the second day you took me in." Michael tells me, admiring the drink. "You were so impressed that I knew how to make it."

Ashton snorts. "Luke can't make shit. He tried cooking some Campbell's soup one time and ended up catching the stove on fire."

"Don't bring that up again." I groan. "My mum got so mad at me."

"Jack was worse than Liz, though. He almost killed you he was so mad." Ashton reminded me, as if I need retelling. Jack wouldn't talk to me for a month. He still makes fun of me about it. Michael just giggles quietly and touches my arm.

"I could teach you how to cook?" he offers.

"How do you know how to cook? You lived in the woods." I point out.

"Exactly. There is nothing to do in the woods, it's so boring." Michael turns back to his hot chocolate. "My mum used to take cooking classes and then come back and tell me everything she learned, since she never allowed me to leave the woods."

Ashton and Carter began arguing about how to pronounce the word "sherbet" across the table, so I turn back to Michael, remembering intensely of what the news reporter said.

"What exactly happened to your mum?" I ask, and Michael physically seems to dissolve. He shrinks lower in his seat and shakes his head quickly, his fingers trembling and twitching.

"Don't want to talk about it." Michael mumbles, not looking me in the eye.

"Hey, you can tell me." I say softly, watching the kitten boy blink back urgent tears.

"Not here." He whispers, pushing away the beverage quietly.

"It's not pronounced sher-bet!" Ashton screams.

"Yes it is!" Carter shouts.

"Then come on upstairs with me, alright?" I say quietly, helping a weak Michael out of his seat. He seems to collapse though, his knees giving out, so I lift him effortlessly out of his seat and carry him princess style.

Ashton and Carter continue to yell as I bring Michael up the stairs, his nose pressed into my neck and his bright hair tickling my ear. His kitten ears are pressed low against his head, hardly visible, and his tail is limp, swinging slightly as I bring him into the guest bedroom. I gently lay him down on the bed.

With unspoken agreement, we both slide under the covers, Michael shivering uncontrollably on his side of the bed. I notice the tears sparkling on his cheeks and I quickly brush them away.

"Sh--She left the woods one day to go run some errands and I watched from the edge of the woods to see if she got to her car and--and she got in a car crash and she flew out of her windshield and the paramedics took her away and she still had her beanie on but I knew that it would be taken off and so I knew that she would be caught as a hybrid just like my dad did and be taken to that facility and I was right, she was, and they killed her. They killed her and now they're after me and--" Michael is rambling, his pretty pink lips moving at an incredibly fast speed as tears escaped the sluice of his eyes, rolling down his soft cheeks with no intent of stopping.

I hush at him, his voice breaking off and sobbing instead, coughing as he tries and fails to push literate words out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry." I whisper, pulling him away from the cold side of his bed to the warm side of mine, holding him to my chest. His fluffy hair brushes my chin, but he is still crying. My heart is breaking with every drop that escapes his eyes, and my ears pulse at the noises he makes.

So I lean in and press my lips against his to silence him, and perhaps comfort him. He's still as a stone under me, and the kiss lasts only a second, but it calms him and he stares at me with wide eyes that contain a bit more color than they did before. His lips are just as soft as they look, and taste sweet.

"You're going to be okay." I whisper, and he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his skinny arms around my frame and I wrap mine around his. He melts into me as I leave pecks of kisses on his head and cheeks, anywhere I can possibly leave them to ease him.

He soon falls asleep contently, with just a few sniffles. I can't figure out why I kissed him-- I just wanted him to be relaxed, to be happy, and because I thought his pink lips were irresistibly cute. A thousand thoughts run through my head and I wonder if this is wrong. Not kissing another boy-- no, I figured out I was gay a long time ago and everyone is fine with it, but I can't help but wonder if this is what Michael needs emotionally at the moment.

According to his blissful sighs against my chest and the dried tears on his hollow cheeks, I decide that it is. The house falls silent, the moon from outside rising to meet with the black sky, and I close my eyes and give in the urge of insentience.

---
A/N this was over 3,000 words holy shit I probably bored you guys to death

oh and when i wrote this i didnt think the pronunciation of "sherbet" would be such a controversial issue but the correct way to say it is "sher-bet". however, everyone pronounces it like "sher-bert" ok

BTW CARTER IS JUST A RANDOM NAME OKAY IT IS NOT CARTER REYNOLDS NEVER NO NOPE ITS NOT

please vote and comment your thoughts and suggestions (: love you guys.