It's midnight and Michael can't sleep. He's laying in bed, cringing and biting his bottom lip, swallowing thickly to avoid crying. His phone lights up with another message from someone, probably Luke, but Michael doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to see Calum's apologies of Luke making excuses, he just wants to-

He doesn't even know. It might be melodramatic to say he wants to die while his heart is shattering for the millionth time. Fucking Ashton.

There's a soft knock on the door before its creaking open, anyway. The floorboards creak when the person walks over to Michael's bed. Michael hopes its a fucking murderer, honestly. The strong scent of weed and cologne tells him otherwise, and his fears are confirmed when he opens his eyes. Luke's crouched next to the bed, holding a few pills in his outstretched hand and clutching a glass of water in the other.

"Fuck you," Michael spits out, squeezing his eyes shut again and pulling the blankets over his face.

Luke sighs heavily and sets the glass on the bedside table before the shitty floorboards sound like he's standing up. There's a slight pause, and then the blankets are ripped off of Michael and thrown to the floor, next to Luke's feet. Luke leans forward and clamps a hand to Michael's shoulder, instantly forcing him to sit up. Michael wobbles, he hasn't been out of bed in days, and jerks his shoulder out of Luke's grip. Luke thrusts the pills forward again, so Michael relents and pops them in his mouth, swallowing them down without the water.

Luke cringes slightly at that and sighs, running a hand down his face like he has any right to be stressed out. "Look, Mike, I'm sorry Cal and I tracked Ashton down. We thought you needed it."

Michael wants to scream. He wants to thrash around the bed until he wears himself out. He wants to jump out of the window, while he's at it.

Instead, he jerks forward and punches Luke in the stomach as hard as he can, making the younger boy groan and slump over, gripping his torso in pain. While he's distracted, Michael shoves at his shoulders and forced him to fall to the ground with a huff of breath. Luke sits on his ass and frowns, arms wrapped around his waist like he's the victim.

"I did fucking need it!" He yells as loud as he can without his voice cracking. It's about as satisfying as whispering. "I needed to talk to him, and you two went and fucked him! So fuck you!"

Luke winces at his loud tone, glancing down at his knees. At least he has the decency to be ashamed. "I'm sorry, man, you know how Cal-"

"Stop blaming everything on Calum!" Michael demands, clenching his fists. He's perched on the edge of the bed, glaring down at Luke on the floor. "You did it too, Luke! You're not innocent, and neither is Calum! Grow the fuck up and take some of the blame for once in your shitty life!"

Luke's bottom lip juts out in a pout. He knows he's been caught red handed. He knows he's at fault for this, too. "Can I at least explain? I want you to know the whole story, Mikey."

Michael huffs and rocks back so he's sitting instead of kneeling. "Fine, but I still hate you."

"Me too," Luke mutters. He clears his throat and sighs before looking back up with his stupid blue eyes again. "I was the one that found Ashton and asked him to meet us. I wanted him to come talk to you, so you two could talk. And shit."

Michael growls quietly, like a fucking animal. Of course Luke would start of with his pure, angelic intentions.

"He said- fuck, Mike, he told us you didn't mean anything," Luke whispers, looking down again and bringing his giant hands up to cover his face. He's silent for a few seconds, while Michael's heart tears through his chest, before he continues. "He said he felt obligated because you had a warm place for Lilly to stay and you were nice and- and, fuck, I'm so sorry."

Michael peers closer and notices Luke's crying. His cheeks are splotched with pink, while a few tears leak through his fingers. He's shaking, too, like he has any right to be upset about this.

Michael can barely breathe. Before he knows it, he's crying too, curling up on the middle of his bed and sobbing, trying to cover his face with his arms. He feels like an idiot for crying over a boy he hasn't seen in over a year, but Ashton was his first love. He was the first person Michael had ever truly, completely loved. And Michael was nothing but a roof over his head and a warm mouth when he was cold.

"I'm so sorry, Mikey," Luke whispers, trembling hands trailing over Michael's back delicately. "I know how much he meant to you, I- fuck, I was so angry and he was so fucking cocky about it. Calum punched him in the face and he liked it. I didn't mean to- I was just so mad and I needed to get my frustration out and Calum said-" Luke cuts himself off, mouth snapping shut when he realizes what he's saying. "I didn't know he'd filmed it until Calum showed me the video. Someone must have hacked him, I- I'm sorry, I don't- I don't know who put it on the internet- fuck, Mikey, I'm sorry."

Michael doesn't bother responding. He'll probably forgive Luke, eventually. Luke sounds genuine, he is truly sorry for sleeping with the only person Michael's ever loved. It wasn't his fault Ashton recorded it and leaked it into the Internet for the entire world to see. Besides, Luke is sort of the victim here, his sex tape did leak.

Michael pats the empty space on the bed next to him, remembering when they were still in high school and Luke would crawl into his bed after a hard day. They're both bigger and older and they've been through so much fucking shit, but Luke still cuddles the same exact way. He uses his big, gangly, broad body to herd Michael into a ball, then wraps around him like fucking tin foil, or something. Michael's tucked against his chest, gripping Luke's black shirt tightly and sobbing against him. Luke's fingers run up and down his back soothingly, trying to calm him down, even though he's still crying, too.

"I'm sorry I fucked us all up, Lukey," Michael mumbles, when he's done sobbing enough to speak.

"It's okay," Luke sniffs and laughs humorlessly. "Fuck, let's just blame everything on Calum. Little fucker."

"Fucker," Michael echoes.

****

It takes Calum a few months to come around. Michael's okay with that, because he watches the news and keeps tabs on Calum occasionally, he knows he's struggling.

There was a peak, which involved more drugs than Luke's ever seen in his life, apparently, and a fall, which involved a few rehab centers and court dates. He didn't get any jail time, but he was fined and deemed mentally unstable, which ended him a month in a high end mental institution. Paid for by Luke and Michael, due to Calum's sudden bankruptcy.

Michael might want to light Calum on fire and watch him burn, but he still loves the idiot. They were brothers, despite Calum's habits and poor life choices, and there's no way Michael can stop caring about him, now. He still loves Calum to death.

When Calum shows up after about six months, Michael slaps him in the face.

"I deserved that," Calum agrees, holding his cheek. Michael gathers him in a hug after that, pulling Calum off the front step and into his house.

"Missed you, you piece of shit," Michael mumbles against Calum's shoulder.

"Missed you more, you fucking nerd," Calum replies, burying a hand in Michael's bleach blonde hair and ruffling it softly. They stand there for a few seconds, just hugging each other tightly and pretending like they're not going to cry a little.

"'M so proud of you, Cally," Michael sniffs, because he is. He's proud of Calum for getting through all of his issues and rehab and a fucking mental institute. Calum groans at the old nickname, but Michael just smacks his head to get him to shut up, then continues. "I'm so proud of you for getting through all your shit. You're back on your feet, and I'm so proud, Cal."

Calum's smiling with his big dumb cheeks and his big dumb eyes. He looks good, so much better than the pictures that had been circling the news. Last Michael had seen, he was thin, face hollowed out and eyes set deep in his skull. He'd looked so much different than the eight year old boy with chipmunk cheeks that Michael used to know. Now, he's gained some weight back, and he looks like he's got some muscle back, even. His shoulders are broader again and his arms are thicker with biceps and triceps and whatever the fuck else is in there. He looks healthy and happy, cheeks flushed and lips pulled into a grin.

Michael pulls him back by the shoulders and looks at him from an arms length away, then makes a quiet cooing noise and pulls him back in again. Calum laughs and hugs him back.

"Luke thought it was time I come around," Calum explains, rubbing his fingers through Michael's hair. "Thought we were both ready."

"Yeah," Michael agrees, because Luke's been acting as peacekeeper for far too long. He's the only one that had actually gone to see Calum in his institutes; even Calum's family hadn't bothered to go visit. They'd given up on him ages ago, long before Michael had. Luke would come back after every visit and tell Michael everything ("Cal said he gained three pounds!", "He had a little bit of a relapse, but he feels bad about it! Regret is a start!", "Calum misses you, I wish you'd go see him.").

"'M sorry I never went to see you," Michael frowns, sighing heavily and pulling Calum back by his shoulders again.

"No, it's okay," Calum assures him, quickly, shaking his head. "I get it, I was a complete asshole to you. Everyone, really. I didn't deserve Luke, but- I don't know, he says he loves me too much to leave. Stubborn little fucker."

"That's what he said about you, too," Michael hums, fondly. He'd always known his best friends were in love, it was just matter of them figuring it out. Luke has, and Calum's getting there.

Calum's just looking at him, then, staring at him and grinning like a complete idiot. "God, I fucking missed you," he laughs, running a hand down his face.

Michael's laughing then, too, shoving at Calum's shoulder and sniffing a bit. "Don't be so genuine, you'll make me fucking cry."

"I am genuine, I fucking missed you, man!" Calum's still grinning, and Michael loves him. He loved Calum so fucking much. When Michael laughs, it's an unspoken act of forgiveness. Calum gets it, of course he does, and laughs in his own, unspoken apology. And Michael know they're alright.

****

Lilly comes by two years after Michael had last seen her brother. She's got long, bleached white hair, brushing along her waist, and ruby red lips, along with matching nails and a jumpsuit. She looks beautiful. Luke trips down the stairs at the sight of her and Michael in the front entryway, gracefully, of course. He catches himself on the banister at the last minute, despite the startled shriek that has Calum practically leaping down the stairs to come to his aid.

He doesn't even notice Lilly, too caught up in grabbing Luke's elbows to steady him and making sure his precious boyfriend is safe and sound. He runs his thumb over Luke's cheek gently and whispers, "Alright, love? Doing well?"

Luke doesn't answer, just blushes and stares at Lilly out of the corner of his eye until Calum gets the hint and turns his head.

Lilly scrunches up her nose distastefully at the two of them, instantly moving her body so her back is to them. Michael hums, flicking his eyes over her shoulder to find Calum and Luke scurrying up the stairs again, hands laced together and frantic whispers being tossed between them.

"Thank for, you know," Lilly tosses her long hair over her shoulder and smiles sadly at Michael, sighing a bit as she looks him over. "Letting me in. I appreciate it."

"Yeah," Michael shrugs. Lilly never did anything wrong. Michael always considered her to be the younger sister he never had. "So, what's up?"

"Have you seen Ashton?" Lilly asks, straight to the point, as always. Michael furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head quickly, which makes her frown again. "He's been- well, I don't want to use the word missing, but. We haven't seen him in a few."

"Days?"

Lilly pauses, pursing her lips, then shaking her head. "Weeks."

Michael's stomach drops through the fucking floor. "Did you call the police?"

"No, no," Lilly says quickly, twisting on her heels. "He does this sometimes. He's- he got sucked into the Rock and roll lifestyle. He's got a bit of an addiction, so he does this sometimes. Disappears for a while. It's never been this long, though. That's- I thought he'd come here if he was in trouble or anything."

Michael tries to regain his composure, school his face into a cold expression. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocks one eyebrow bitterly. "He wouldn't. I meant nothing to him."

Lilly shakes her head quickly, making her long hair spin around her shoulders like water. "No, that's a lie. He was trying to convince himself that he didn't need you. He does, Michael, he needs you so bad; you're what keeps him grounded. He loves you-"

"Lilly, I'm sorry, but I think you should go," Michael sighs, running a hand down his face and trying to control his emotions. His voice shakes and cracks a bit, he hates it, but it does. He's scared of falling back in love with a boy he hasn't even talked to for years.

"I'm sorry he did this," Lilly whispers, reaching forward to give Michael's bicep a comforting squeeze. "If you hear from him, promise you'll call, alright? He loves you, Michael, he'll come back to you."

Michael nods and ushers her out quickly, then slumps against the front door, hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, thinking about the pretty hazel eyed boy in a crown of leaves and tape that he'd met so long ago.

****

They find Ashton a few days later, locked in his hotel room.

The medics and tabloids had called it an overdose, Calum called it neglect.

Either way, Ashton is dead. And he knew he was dying, because he'd written out a couple of letters, tape them up, and set them on the bedside table. He then proceeded to move every other piece of furniture in the room in front of the door, so no one could get it. Michael's not sure what drug had actually killed him, but there was a multitude in his system when they found him.

Michael hears the news from Luke, first, then every news stations, magazine, paper, and website known to man. People calling Ashton another burnout sent down to hell too soon. Michael doesn't know wether to agree with them or not.

Lilly brings over an envelope, addressed to Michael in pink letters, and doesn't say a word when he takes it. She gives Calum and Luke one as well, then goes without speaking.

"He fucking hated us," Luke mumbles, sliding his finger under the deal of the envelope to swipe it open. Michael's still staring at his, trying and failing to catch his bearings. His head is spinning, lights scattered across his vision as he stares down at the very pink letters on the envelope.

Young Ashton was his favorite, with his pink accessories and homemade shirts and soft blonde fringe, sand Ashton knew that. Ashton knew Michael always preferred him with clean skin, pink boxers, and a flower crown. He knew Michael didn't care for all his tattoos, burns, cuts, anything that marred his skin. But Ashton did it anyway, because he didn't think he needed Michael. And now he's fucking dead.

Michael can't get over the fact that Ashton's tongue licked the edge of this envelope to seal it. His spit is all over the stupid thing.

Calum pries it out of his shaking hands gently, then flips it over and rips it opening with a deafening tear. Michael's ears hurt. He snatches the letter back before Calum can do anything else destructive.

"Mikey, you need this," Calum prompts, reaching forward to clamp his hand over Michael's shoulder. "He's finally going to say something to you. Listen."

Michael stares at him, because he can't believe the boy that would sit in his childhood bedroom with a bag of weed is so full of fucking wisdom. He nods, ducking his head down as he slowly pulls the lined paper out of the envelope. He unfolds the sheet carefully, fingers trembling, and flits his eyes wildly around the scribbled handwriting. His heart is racing, breath stuttering in his lungs, and all he can think about is Ashton, Ashton, Ashton.

"Michael-

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I've ever done to you, directly or inadvertently. I fucked up. If I could go back in time, I would. I would go back far enough so that I didn't go to that stupid concert, so I never would have met you or lusted after Luke or fucked around with Calum.

But I can't. So, I'm writing you from my hotel room, watching the sun set, and think of the way your nose scrunches up when you laughed and the way your eyes squinted when you smiled, and even the way your cheeks flushed when you orgasmed. I loved you, and everything about you. You were my sun, my stars, my moon, all my galaxies, all the comets and meteors and planets. You were the dust under my feet and the clouds above my head, as cliche as that sounds. I didn't show it very well, but you meant everything to me.

I'm not very good with love and all that shit, obviously. No ones ever loved me, aside from Lilly, and no ones ever kissed me like you did. I didn't know what to do. My mother told me codependency was bad, so I believed her. I distanced myself from you, until I was too far gone to come back. You wouldn't want a burn out, would you? You're too good for me.

I'm sorry for everything I ever did to you. I fucked up. I love you more than anything in the entire world.

Love,

Ash Xx"

The whole thing is written in pink pen, and there's tiny pink hearts surrounding the final signature. Michael doesn't even bother hiding his sobbing.

••••••••••

((Okay, that's it, its done. It ended shitty, too.

Anyway, THANK YOU, IF YOU STUCK AROUND TO THE END. I KNOW I NEGLECTED THE FUCK OUT OF THIS, AND IM SUPER SORRY, BUT THANKS IF YOU MANAGED TO FINISH THIS. YOU ROCK. I LOVE YOU.

-Mel))