Warning: Violence. Briefly mentions words/phrases that may be triggering.

LUKE

I see Michael a lot around the city.

Not his actual body form. No, unfortunately not. All I get are flashes, secretive glimpses of things that remind me of his fading hair, his pale eyes, his smooth skin. Catches of light that whisper about his cherry red lips and his small nose. A silhouette standing against the bridge having a smoke that reminds me of the curve of Michael's shoulders. A teenage boy laughing with his friends on their way to school that remind me of his light voice. Bits and pieces that fall into my trembling hands, slipping through my fingers before I can capture them.

I should have moved on by now. That's what my mind tells me. That's what my mother tells me. I know it's true, I should have let his face fade from my memory. I can't though, not when his name is engraved into my skin like a piece of unworthy art. I can't get him out of my mind, like a toxic disease that seeps through my brain with the thick element of honey.

My mum reminds me of how I need to get my self-control back every time she sees me in the house, which is why I have resigned to staying out on the streets, struggling not to be pushed back with the crowd like a fallen leaf. It's surprisingly hard, especially when your mind isn't totally intact with your actions and you aren't fully aware of everything happening around you. Like you're in a drunken daze without a drip of alcohol in your blood. It's confusing, but lately everything has been confusing.

My lungs ache, writhing with discomfort at the lack of smoking I have given it. I'm trying to decrease my intake of cigarettes, but it's gotten difficult. It was so much easier to stop when Michael was with me. He was a distraction. Such a beautiful, beautiful distraction.

I rub my eyes, my feet failing to walk under me. A few people shove me forward from behind, and a guttural apology leaves my lips before it gets lost in the storm of the crowd. I am pushed to the side, roughly might I add, as the impatient crowd gets put up with my inability to cooperate. I frustratingly glare at the rude crowd passing in front of me. I hate this city. I hate it with every ounce of blood in my veins.

I used to love it, of course. I used to enjoy the fast lifestyle of the city, cherish the way the lights shone late at night. I used to fit in so well, before I adjusted to the routine of Michael's world.

"Hey friend, we were looking for you!" says a voice from behind me. I turn around, my chest deflating when I see Simon and Miller smiling sarcastically from behind the shadows. I clench my jaw.

"Leave me alone. I'm really not in the mood today." I mumble.

"What fun is that?" Miller says, and they walk closer, stopping just a few feet in front of me. "Look, we don't mean any trouble. We just want to know if the rumors are true."

Anger boils inside my chest and ignites my heartbeat, sending rapid pumps of hot blood throughout my body. I clench my hands into fists and cross my arms.

"Is it true that you're gay?" Simon says in an annoyingly innocent voice. "That's all we want to know."

"Why should that even matter?" I say lowly.

"It does matter." Miller interrupts. "Because we overheard you were hanging around with some fag back in Greenwood."

I tense. "Don't call him that."

"So it's true?" Miller says. "Which makes you one, too."

"Shut up."

"I think a little fag like you deserves to get a little rough treatment, shouldn't he?"

"Shut up!" I yell.

"Make me." Miller says, his voice dropped into a growl.

Hot fury rumbles in my chest and I ram my fist against his jaw, slamming his head into the cement wall beside us. Simon springs forward, kicking me roughly in the ribs and I double over, fighting for oxygen as I shove Simon onto the ground, climbing on top of him and striking my fist over and over again against his eyes and nose. I can hardly think, hardly breathe as I feel Miller trying to kick me over, but it's no use. I'm stuck in a haze of fury and anger, the only notion in my mind to knock the two boys out.

In my mind, I have every reason to.

I feel blood dripping down my nose and spilling from a gash in my lip. I can feel a bruise over my eye forming, throbbing to my pulse as I struggle to fight off both vicious boys in the middle of a thriving city. I can't help but find the scabs forming on my knuckles somewhat delectable.

Miller's hands suddenly wrap themselves around my neck, pressing down on my throat to where it closes off my trachea, disallowing any air to pass my lungs. I hold onto the oxygen I have in my lungs as I feverishly struggle to continue punching Simon, but I can feel my muscles weakening in response to the lack of air. I reluctantly let go of Simon, clutching at the hands around my throat and clawing with my fingers, desperately trying to release my throat but to no release.

My vision is going black just as a whistle sounds through the air, high pitched and shrill in our ears. Miller immediately drops his hands from my throat and I gasp for oxygen, uneasily getting to my feet and leaning against the wall. Blood trickles down from my scalp and drips down my cheeks, staining my skin a startling red.

A series of barbarous voices fill the air, making my head snap up. I nearly faint when I notice the menacing line of policeman rushing toward us, police sirens squealing in the distance. Simon turns to me, anger covering his features as he lunges towards me, his fist raised. I raise my hands to block it just as a policeman snatches Simon by the back of his shirt and yanks him backwards. Another policeman grabs my shoulders, pulling me away roughly as he jerks my hands behind my back.

I stop struggling against them, my arms falling limp as I feel heavy metal cuffs snap around my wrists. I stand there for a moment, paralyzed and frazzled as the cop tugs me towards a police car on the road.

"What the hell did I do?" I snap, yanking my arms against the restraints but to no avail. "Tell me what the hell I did!"

"Public violence!" the police says harshly, and I turn my head to see Simon and Miller being forced into police cars as well. "You're not being arrested, so calm down."

The man opens the back of the car and forced me into the backseat before slamming the door shut. The seats are tough under me and I notice black bars separating me from reaching into the front seats. The windows are tinted black, to where it's difficult to even see out of them. I writhe uncomfortably in the leather backseat. What the hell did I get myself into?

The car shifts slightly as the cop gets into the driver's seat, starting up the car. He sends a glance towards me before pulling out onto the road, unbearable silence filling the air.

I let out a low groan, resting my head on the cold window and staring at the crowded sidewalks as we pass. I didn't mean to get in so bad of a fight. I never mean to, but I can't help but defend myself when two guys are insulting me right to my face.

I don't think I would have cared too much if they were just insulting me, but they insulted Michael as well. Without even knowing him, without even seeing his pretty pastel face. It's unfair, and they deserved every beat that they got.

I lick my crackled lips, tasting the metallic flavor of blood on my tongue. I ignore my left eye, which throbs almost rhythmically, and focus on the pulse in my chest. I can feel it thumping against my ribcage, trapped like a dove in a crate. It hurts, painfully striking with intense force that sends jarring convulsions down my spine. It pumps in my ears. All I can hear is the anomalous sound of blood. It makes me feel sick.

I know my mother will be furious. She's already mad that I can't seem to keep my emotions under control, and this will be what finally sets her off. I don't blame her. I'm angry at myself as well. I'm furious that I can't seem to let a few little insults wash off my skin like water, can't seem to brush it off without a care. No, I had to let it sink through my veins and swim through the blood like some sort of viral disease. I had to let it ignite a flame inside my chest, and I had to let it grow into a wildfire. For some imprudent reason, I let it grow until my fists were bloodied and restrained behind my back in the backseat of a police car.

I don't realize we've stopped until I notice the weight shift out of the car, and I watch the stern policeman round the car to open up my door. Light breaks through the dark of the backseat and I squint slightly, struggling to pull myself out of the car without the help of my hands. The cop grabs onto my arm and stabilizes me as I pull myself out, and I want so badly to knock his greasy hands off of my skin, but I can't. I shut my eyes and clench my jaw, trying to remain calm. This entire ordeal is making me want to lie down on the road and let the cars run me right over.

I don't speak as the policeman leads me into the station, a low building that looks much too friendly for what it's worth. He pulls me into the front office and then turns me around, unlocking the handcuffs from behind my back. I scornfully rub my wrists, grimacing at the sore skin from the cuffs.

"Sit in one of the chairs in the main office. You will be watched in case you try to move. You can leave when your parents come and pick you up." The cop says, monotone.

I let out a sigh. "Fine." I go towards the long line of chairs in the office and sit unhappily in one of them, situating my hands in my lap and picking at the black denim.

At least Michael can't look at me now, sitting in the corner of a police station with cops analyzing my every move, my face bloodied from a fight. Michael would have hated me fighting. He hated all sorts of fighting, any type of violence. He wouldn't want to see me here in a police office. Maybe, in that way, it's good that he's gone. I won't have to feel his disappointment.

Suddenly, my head snaps up. "Wait," I say, frantically looking up to stare at one of the police officers behind the counter. The officer looks at me dully, her eyes faded and brown. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You can't speak until your mother comes and picks you up." She says.

"Please, it's really important."

"Stay quiet, or I'll lock you up in the back for the remainder of your stay here. You want that?" The officer snaps, and I huff quietly. Crossing my arms, I look away from the officer, my question burning inside my mind. I have to ask. They have to know. They have to.

It doesn't take long for my mother to burst through the station doors, her eyes feverishly scanning the office until they land on me. I can see the anger burning in her eyes, and I prepare myself silently.

"Luke Robert Hemmings." My mother growls, marching over and standing over me with her hands on her hips. "What the hell were you thinking? You told me you stopped fighting those kids."

"You don't understand." I mumble, steadily getting to my feet. I ignore the following comments from my mother and walk to the front desk, leaning against the counter.

"Now can I ask you some questions?" I ask, and the police officer sighs, nodding reluctantly. She fishes out a couple of documents for my mother to sign, handing her a pen. My mother grumbles to herself, sending me glares as she begins filling out the endless amount of information on the sheets.

"Do you have any information on a boy named Michael Clifford?" I ask, gazing at the officer hopefully. "He was taken by Child Services a little while back, and I'm sure you have association with them in some form, so--"

"Look, kid." The officer huffs, shifting slightly in her seat. I purse my lips, narrowing my eyes at her as she blinks with uninterested eyes. "We don't have the information, and neither would we tell it."

"Do you know anyone who does?"

"No, kid. Why don't you go home once your mother is finished signing these papers and stay out of trouble for a change, yeah? It might do you some good."

I slam my fist on the counter, frustrated. I turn away from the officer before she can call any security on me and wait impatiently for my mother to finish up. I'm furious, to say the least. This was my last shot, my only hope in getting any information about where Michael could be. It's infuriating, having him somewhere breathing in the world but with no way to contact him. It aches. It hurts.

My mum shoves the paperwork at the officer with an unenthusiastic apology before grabbing my arm and yanking me out the front office, leading me angrily out to her car. She rounds the front and climbs into the driver's side, waiting impatiently while I get into the passenger seat. Once I am in and situated, she pulls the car onto the road and starts to scold.

"Why the hell would you do this, Luke? I didn't raise you to be like this. I didn't teach you that fighting was okay, and I didn't teach you that smoking was okay, and I--"

"I stopped smoking."

"--and I didn't teach you to act towards bullies using violence. I have told you so many times," she hits the steering wheel repeatedly for emphasis, "that violence is never the answer. And then what do you do? You fight."

"You don't understand what they--"

"What could they have said to you that was so bad, Luke? I know you're strong, mentally. You can take insults. I've watched you brush them off your entire life. What could they have possibly said that made you wind up in a police station?"

I stay quiet. My mother continues.

"That's unlike you. What did they say? Did they say something about Michael?"

I tense, and my mum notices. She stares at me for a moment longer than necessary, conflicted emotions flickering across her face. She wavers a bit, frazzled.

"I know you're still upset about Michael, alright?" She says sharply. "But for god's sake, Luke. You have got to either move on, or get yourself together and accept that he isn't coming back."

I bitterly remain silent.

"I don't know what happened in Greenwood. Something about a kid with purple hair and you disappearing for a frighteningly long amount of time. To be honest, I don't really care what happened. But I'm concerned about your wellbeing when you're getting in fights and being shoved in the back of police cars, all because of this boy."

"He wasn't just 'a boy'!" I shout, breaking out of my motionless stance. "You don't fucking get it! No one does!"

"We shouldn't have to. Whatever happened there is over. I know he was abused, Luke. I know his father is in jail. Haven't you ever thought that maybe wherever he is, he's happy?" She says tensely. "Maybe he doesn't want to come back. Maybe he wants to stay right where he is, and if you really love him like you say you do, you would accept that and be happy for him."

"How do you know he's happy? How do you know that?" I snap.

"I don't, Luke!" my mother sighs, exasperated. She stops the car in front of our apartment complex, and I stare at the building through the window. I take deep breaths.

"All I know is that if you two are meant to be together, then he'll find his way back to you."

Her words flood through my body with the effect of morphine, sending me into silence. I swallow thickly, letting out a shaky sigh as I glance down at my trembling hands. I clasp then together to get them to stop shaking, trying not to let any tears spill over my cheeks. It's too much, everything is too much.

I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted from fighting and crying and shaking and yelling and trying not to lose my cool and failing. I'm worn out from it all. All I want to do is close my eyes and fall asleep for a perilously long amount of time.

I miss him, all in all. It all comes back down to those three words. I miss him. And I want so badly for him to be in my arms again and for him to find his way back to me, like what my mother said. I need him, perhaps even way more than he needs me, and I send up a quiet prayer that his empty heart will bleed out his love until the only thing left to do is to fall back into my arms.

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A/N THIS WAS SO POORLY WRITTEN I MIGHT CRY

okay so anyway idk how many more chapters there are but there are very few and they will be fairly long. so

do any of you play any instruments?

i play the piano. and i'm trying to teach myself the guitar but it is proving to be quite difficult.

thanks for reading and i love you guys a lot. please vote and comment and i will see you in the next chapter. it should be up rather quickly because i'm going to try and finish this story up pretty soon.

bye, I love you.