filler lol

LUKE

Today, I decided to live without feeling.

Well, that's partly true. My mind is still filled with cacophonous sounds of screaming voices and a distant soundtrack of Michael's voice, but I have mastered the ability of letting no emotion flicker over my face. I have been able to hide my intractable thoughts enough that I am able to sit with Ashton and my aunt in the den as they watch television, no more tears staining my cheeks.

The alternative of crying though is just being numb. My entire body is paralyzed, my stare unblinking as I gaze at the television screen with no intention of actually watching it. I can feel Ashton's eyes on me, flickering over my frozen body with a skeptical look, almost as though he would rather me be sobbing than be emotionless.

I prefer it this way though. That way, if someone decides to grab hold on the bleeding heart in my chest and squeeze it, it won't hurt. It died a while ago, the moment Michael was forced into the back of the police car.

I'm sure that this is wrong, how I'm acting. I should be over this by now. I should be back to normal, returning to school and playing basketball and living life like I did before I met the river boy, but I can't. I physically cannot bring myself to tear my mind away from him and his pretty lilac hair.

"Luke?"

I didn't even know the boy that long, when you put it into context. I knew who he was, I knew he existed, and then I saw him. I saw the way he crouched on the edge of the stone cliff like the drop didn't affect him, and I saw the way he stared off into the distance at that cave, like he was wrapped up in chains and couldn't escape. I saw the way he looked so free among the trees, dancing in the shadows and carving our initials into the cave wall like each moment was precious.

"Luke."

I didn't realize then that our time was precious. It was so precious, so fragile, escaping our fingers at the most fleeting moment. I should have worshipped those little moments when I had the chance to. I should have held him closer to my chest and I shouldn't have yelled at him when we got lost and I shouldn't have forced us to leave the cave that day and I shouldn't have-

"Luke!"

I look up at Ashton, whose eyes are trained on mine with extreme intensity. They soften once I react to his voice, and he sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair. I know I should say something, force myself to speak so that he won't be so worried, but my tongue is stuck in a state of abeyance.

"Are you okay?"

The question takes me aback for a moment. Am I okay? The obvious answer is glued to the back of my throat, but I can't bring myself to talk. I feel wounded, no poultice available to spread across my scars. I'm broken, shattered into sharp fragments of glass that works into your skin, opening your veins and allowing your fresh blood to spill across the floor. I am a danger to everyone including myself now that my anchor to the world has been diminished, but I don't say this. All I say is:

"Yeah, I'm okay."

I review how my voice sounded. I mentally nod. Yes, I sounded nice. Somewhat convincible. Almost enough to convince myself, if it weren't for my scalded chest that reminds me.

"Luke, I understand that this is difficult to deal with. But, this just means that you've got to be stronger. You-" Ashton sighs, burrowing his hands in his hair as he rests his elbows on his knees. I stare expressionless at the top of the television, watching the colors dance across the screen. "You have to learn how to be happy again."

Happy. The only time I can remember being happy in this town without Michael was when I was drunk. Seems like a reasonable alternative, in my mind.

"Luke, honey, look at me." Ah, now it's my aunt. That's new. I turn my gaze over at her, looking at her expectantly. She looks tired, her eyes drooped with large bags darkened underneath. I can only pray that I am not the cause, because I feel like I am the cause of too many dire things. I caused my aunt and my cousin to be stricken with anxiety, watching my bones thin from lack of energy. I caused their once lively home to be deathly quiet, as though any sudden noise would disintegrate me into a pile of meaningless ashes. I am a tornado of emotions and ignorance, destroying anything that may have been full of happiness.

"I called your mother. Your family is on their way back from America." My aunt hands me this piece of information, her eyes raking across my features, waiting for a reaction, waiting for something that might prove that I am not made of stone, but I continue to stare at her, my face blank. "I- I don't know if that's what you wanted? But- I think it's for the best..."

Her voice is careful, stumbling around her words in case I react suddenly, but I don't. I just run my tongue over my cracked lips.

"Okay." I say, and my aunt glances at Ashton. The two of them share an exasperated look, probably tired of putting up with my sullen mind. I'm tired of it too. I want out, I want out of this mind I have locked myself into, but I can't find the key. I trapped in this field of torturous memories and slideshows of Michael's smile, and I can't fucking stand it.

I stand up from my spot on the couch, my family's eyes watching me the entire way. I avert my eyes from theirs as I turn my body towards the direction of the front door and walk to it, placing one foot in front of the other in a mechanical movement. The hardwood flooring in smooth under my feet, making it easier for me to breathe as I place my palm over the cool doorknob, twisting it open and letting the cold air from the fading evening skim over my skin.

I close the door behind me, grateful to be away from the two of them, sitting like ghosts with furrowed eyebrows and concerned eyes. It's too much to handle, such a terrible dichotomy from my screaming mind and the silent atmosphere.

I walk down the small driveway and onto the sandy trail that leads to the city center. I stand at the intersection of two paths, dully wondering if I should go to the city center or if I should walk into the comforting arms of the shadows. The latter seems safer, both for my mind and the fact that if I go to the city center, the bar will pull me into its grasp and teach me that alcohol takes away the sadness.

I take small steps into the woods, letting out shadow breaths as I walk deeper into the trees. My shoes move expertly over the twigs and thorns, no longer tripping over my own shoelaces. I am not quite as graceful as Michael would be, who was to be an angel in these woods. His feet never seemed to touch the ground.

I don't realize where I am walking into the sound of the river cuts through my thoughts and roars in my ears, ripping away the blinds over my eyes and allowing me to view the scene in front of me. I stare at it, I stare at the stone that sits over the river, so obviously unaccompanied without the slumped form of Michael. I try so hard not to let my thoughts take over my facial features, try not to let the expression drip over my face even though no one is around to see it.

It proves to be pointless as my breath catches in my throat and my eyes start to sting. My chest shudders and my feet carry me forward, stepping onto the smooth rock, slightly wet from the moisture of the river. I walk, unafraid, over the slippery stone and drop down at the edge. My feet are tucked under me as always, but as my tears blur my vision, I am dangerously aware of how my heart no longer beats in fear in my chest. I move my legs out from under me, letting te dangle over the edge like I saw Michael so often do.

I push forward until I am hardly sitting on the edge at all, mimicking the river boy's actions that I vivaciously remember. I look down at the dangerously high drop down to the roaring river, and I am unafraid. If I fall, I fall. At least the last few moments of my life would be free.

I think back to what my aunt told me. My family, cancelling their trip in America early to come rescue my body from this town full of memories. Another thing I destroyed. I'm sure my brothers must be furious. I would be furious as well.

I don't want to go back to the city. I hate the city, especially now that I have gotten a taste of the wonderful life here. It's not wonderful anymore now. It is a haunted house full of sickeningly sweet memories. But I don't want to go back to the city, not at all. I don't want to return to the rude street kids who always pick fights with me and leave me with bloody knuckles and one of us passed out. I'm tired of violence. I'm tired of everything.

I can't help but think about that saying that talks about soulmates, and how if they are meant to be together, fate will find a way to bring them back together. I don't see that happening with me and Michael, simply because it is nearly impossible. I believe that we are meant to be together, yes, because of the way his body tucks perfect against mine, his small fingers clutching my shirt as he sleeps. Something that perfect can't be not meant for each other. But, it's hard to believe that we will meet again when everything has been standing in our way.

I know that everyone wants me to move on, but nobody knew the connection Michael and I had. Nobody. Nobody even knows where we went for those few months. They just presumed we had gone to a house in the woods or something, not to the cave. Nobody knows about the cave or the stone, and I mean to keep it that way. That's our place, Michael's and I. Nobody can ruin it.

The sky fades into darkness, and I am unable to see the river below me, only the sound remaining to throb in my eardrums. I feel like I am separate from my body, my thoughts and mind floating around in the air surrounding the water instead of my pitiful form on the stone. I can practically feel myself being lowered into a coffin, shoved into a hearse to be travelled to the nearest graveyard. I wonder if I died, I wonder if anybody would notify Michael somehow. I wonder if Michael died, would anyone notify me.

The moisture that hangs in the air from the river has become too virulent to breathe in, and I push away from the edge of the stone, skidding backwards until I hit he grassy land behind it. I need to go back before they think too wildly of me, I need to return so that they can look at me with their beady, misjudging eyes and watch me as I corner myself in my room. It's what I need, so that I can feel something, something other than the ghost of Michael's fingertips against my skin.

I bring myself to my feet, turning away from the toxic river and running, sprinting down the familiar path guided only by my sense of hearing, until I see the bright lights of Ashton's house. I stumble across the driveway, stumbling up the front steps until I reach the door.

Inside, the air is warm, different than the icy weather outside. Ashton and my aunt are no longer in the den, and are nowhere to be found. Perhaps they have given up on me, and I don't blame them.

I hurry up to my room and dart inside, slamming the door closed and letting tears fill my eyes, sapphire drops that represent all the pain inside my chest. I slide over to my bed and slip under the sheets, tugging the blankets to my chin and letting my teardrops wet my bedspread.

I'm tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of crying. Tired of breathing.

So I shut my eyes and grab the extra pillow beside me, pretending that it is Michael's warm, sweater-covered body instead.

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A/N look at that, grace wrote yet another sad chapter. what a surprise

this is the shortest chapter I have ever written in my entire life someone please kill me. and it was a filler wow go me

it was needed though so whatever. pls vote and comment ily guys to the moon and back. x