quinze

Luke was never very good at sleeping. His mind ran crazy at night, and that's why he got high. It's a pretty simple answer. He felt better when he could not feel his mind any longer. All his fears washed away, all his worries and pains simply went away.

So, when the clock ticked at 3:11 in the morning, Luke was ready to give up. Give up on the night, give up on sleep.

He had no supply of anything. There were no pills to pop, there was no weed to smoke, there were no needles to inject.

Luke sat up in his bed, bringing his knees to his chest. He leant over, turning on his bedside light. This was literal defeat. Self vs. self type of conflict his seventh grade literacy teacher talked about.

He wasn't at a war with himself, per say, it was more just a fight. A fight with one half of his mind against the other half.
He rested his chin on his knees, his hands wrapping around his shins of his knees. Luke didn't know how to feel. Everything happened so fast. One day he was soaring at the top, the next he was at a funeral.

Life changes, and Luke is never ready.

Looking up at his bedroom, he knew he had everything. There was always a roof over his head, three meals in his stomach, and two parents. That was what everyone needed, supposedly.

He never felt okay, though. Luke never quite felt alive. He felt like a weak, little child that a strong wind could blow over. He held his head high, his shoulders back, but he went home and cried.

Every single day.

It was easy to become overwhelmed in the day-and-age Luke lived in. It was school. It was his friends. It was parties. It was his parents. Nothing ever went the way it was supposed to for Luke.

When he was younger, he promised his parents that when he was older, he'd make them proud. The lanky blonde has given up on that dream. He's almost positive his parents have, too.

He stood up, taking his phone from its plug-in and sliding it into the waistband of his boxers. His phone was a 21st century security blanket, he didn't want to suddenly get kidnapped between his bed and en suite bathroom. God forbid.

Luke turned on the light, his eyes scanning the four corners of the spacious room. The oval spa bath tub was shining a pearly white as the maid was by only the previous day. The shower head held high, sometimes Luke had to jump to angle it to the right height. The toilet lid was closed, making sure his dog wouldn't come and drown in it (it was a fear of his mother's). He faced the mirror, running his hands over his face.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

He placed his phone down, his eyes scanning the bathroom. He covered a scream from his mouth when he spotted a spider. Luke can pretend to be all strong and powerful, but he's petrified of any type of insect.

Yeah, he can stab needles into his veins, but refuses to kill an eight-legged creature.

Luke picked ip his phone, cowering against the far wall. He couldn't leave the thing there, it'd end up somewhere closer to him.

He bit on his nail, trying to decide what to do. Luke didn't want to stay in the corner of his bathroom shaking with fear over a bug the size of his finger nail.

So, he did the first thing his 3 AM brain thought of.

To / Mikey

please come save me there is a huge spider in my bathroom

Michael was sometimes like Luke—he didn't sleep—but sometimes he was the opposite—he always slept.

Luke was lucky at this dark night in March.

From / Mikey

are you fucking kidding me m8

Luke eyed the crawling bug as he quickly typed out a response.

To / Mikey

please please please come save me

Michael rolled his eyes as he saved his game on Sims. He closed his laptop, putting on flannel pajamas over his dark blue panties. He threw a white muscle tee over his upper body, stepping into the closest shoes to him—ugly, black flip flops.

He snuck downstairs, leaving a note for his parents once more just in case. He placed it on the counter, hoping they would stay asleep until morning.

He grabbed his set of keys from the kitchen counter, trying to keep down the jingling to a minimum. He exited through the back door—the furthest from his parent's bedroom—before turning around and locking it.

He double-checked the white wooden door before going around the house and starting his car in the driveway.

Luke didn't get a response from the boy, but he knew he read it. This meant one of two things. Either Michael went to sleep, or he was on the way to kill the spider keeping Luke from exiting his bathroom.

His blue eyes traced over the counter top, watching the bug crawl over the light granite surrounding his sink.

Fifteen minutes later, Mike was at Luke's back door. Texting him to let him in. The door slid open quietly, revealing the skinny shadow of the blonde boy. "I could've died."

"There are cops waiting to pull me over, sorry I didn't speed," Michael said, sarcasm radiating his voice. He put his keys in the pocket of his pajamas, the lanyard for his parent's store sticking out the side.

"Please go kill it," Luke begged. He followed behind Michael, not finding it weird that the darker blonde boy knew his way around Luke's house.

"I didn't come all the way here to be like 'lol, jk, I'm just going to let you suffer'." Michael walked slowly up the stairs. He didn't want to be the first one busted if the Hemmings parents woke up.

Luke followed behind him quickly, jumping up the steps and into his bedroom.

Michael entered the bathroom, taking a roll of paper towels. "This thing is a baby, you scardy cat."

Luke whimpered as he sat on his bed. "It's so scary."

Michael killed it, throwing the remains in the toilet afterwards. He walked back out, his eyebrows raised. "Did you seriously force me out of my bed at 3:45 in the morning to kill a spider the size of your dick?"

"I told you the spider was big!"

Michael rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from laughing at the boy. "Okay, Luke. I'm going back to bed, I actually have to get up for school in two hours."

Luke crossed his legs underneath his body as he bit his lip. "Do you wanna, like, stay over here?"

"I think Mama Clifford would be a little mad." Michael was trying to come up with an excuse. He could say he left early to pick up Luke, they would probably believe him.

Then, he remember it's his parents they're talking about. They would be okay with almost anything. They know Luke, they know his parents.

Luke patted the spot next to him, and Michael was physically unable to say no. He pulled out his phone, sending a real quick and vague message to his mother. He placed his keys on Luke's desk as he kicked off his shoes.

He turned off the bedroom lights before making his way into Luke's bed. "I hate that you do this to me."

"Do what?" Luke asked as he got comfortable in his pillow.

Michael closed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Everything."