MICHAEL

Before my mum died, she would always celebrate holidays to the fullest. She would begin putting up Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving, and she would always make adorning the Christmas tree a huge event. I remember one time, after finally putting the last ornament on the tree, she handed me the glittery star and whispered in my ear, "Go on and put it on the top, sweetheart." I remember climbing this tiny ladder so I could reach the top of the tree. I was so excited, my body quivering with exhilaration. My fingers shook as I tried to place the star on the top, accidently pushing the tree and making the entire tree teeter. I yelped and my mother shrieked as the tree fell in a heap on the ground, the sound of glass ringing out into the air in ear-splitting atrociousness. I recall standing alone on the ladder, the glittery star still in my hand, staring down at the destruction I had caused and feeling my eyes swell up with tears. I was sure my mother would scream at me- at all the broken ornaments that I had caused. My heart was crushed into fragments, just like all the fragile pieces of glass scattering the hardwood flooring. Instead of screaming at me though, my mother let out a loud and joyous laugh, coming up behind me and wrapping her long arms around me. She lifted me effortlessly off the ladder and held me as we both stumbled back, landing on the couch in a fit of laughter. The tears on my cheeks dried as she kissed my head.

"Mikey," she had said. When I refused to look at her, looking instead at the crushed tree in shame, she nudged my left ear with her small nose and said again, "Mikey. Did you know it has always been a tradition in my family to break at least one ornament?"

This caught my young attention enough to turn around and look at her petite, beautiful face.

"Really?"

My mum had nodded, humming. "Yes. We dropped so many ornaments as we grew up that it eventually became a ritual thing. If we somehow had managed to put all the decorations on the tree without breaking one, we all chose one off the tree and crushed it ourselves. My father told us that it was good luck."

I listened intently, a small smile growing on my face. My father listened nearby in his chair, a fond smile on his face as well, as though he had heard this story a thousand times.

"So, you've got a lot of good luck coming your way." My mother had said, kissing my wet cheeks. We all then stood up and picked up the tree, standing it up once again and laughing when it remained crooked. We cleaned up the glass together and kissed the cuts it created on our skin, and then stood back and grinned like fools at our imperfect Christmas tree.

It's memories like these that make me wish I could fly back in time and live them again.

Instead, I wake up this morning with my father's scruffy face in my own, alcohol lacing his breath as he snarls at me that he is going to the bar out of town and to not bother him. He's never sober anymore. When he's sober he has to think, he has to remember mum and the disappointment of his son, and he gets drunk again. Sometimes I don't blame him. I suppose if I had a son like me I wouldn't want to think of him either. I listen to his heavy footsteps as he stumbles out of the house, slamming the door closed behind him. Silence fills the air once he is gone.

I grunt, pushing the sheets off me and standing up out of bed. I wobble over to the mirror, pulling and tugging on my hair until it appears acceptable. I then go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, hating the taste of my morning breath and replacing it with fresh mint.

Once I walk downstairs to retrieve some breakfast, I am welcomed by the sight of the entire first floor destroyed, the couch turned over and the mirror shattered, glass littering the ground, along with some broken beer bottles. I let out a tiny sigh.

My bare feet step over glass and walk over to the turned over couch. I grab the fabric of it and groan, using all my strength to turn it upright again. It takes a lot of muscle, and I am tempted to sit down on the furniture and rest. Instead, I force myself to bend over and pick up the little shards of glass, cautious as to prick myself. I've almost cleaned it all up when a particularly sharp slice of glass slashes a cut in my finger, causing a bubble of blood to spill over my skin.

Tears drip down my cheeks, not so much because of the pain, but because no one is here to kiss the hurt away anymore.

Once the room is clean once again, I sit alone on the couch, feeling suddenly, overbearingly, lonely. I want my mother by my side, cuddling with me and making my anxiety vanish. I want my old father with me, teasing me about my young desire to dye my hair and watching sports on television with me. I want a friend. Someone to confide in with my worries and fears. I want to tell someone how I'm terrified of spiders, and how I hate awkward social conversations. I want to tell someone that I love waking up so early that it's still dark out, and then watching the sky grow light with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. I want someone to know that I hate the color red, and love playing the guitar and singing when no one's around. But I don't have anyone to tell that too, and I don't have anyone who cares.

However, I still want someone to talk to. Or at least be with the presence of someone, have someone else's beating heart beside mine. I want to hear the breath of someone who hasn't been drinking, just to remind me that I'm still alive- that I'm here, breathing, that perhaps my existence is true.

So I stand up, trusting my beat up converse I wear even in sleep to take me out of my house and into the woods, past the old tire swing I used to play on when I was younger, and through the trees to where that kid Luke might be.

I stand at the edge of the woods, peering out behind a thick oak tree. It doesn't take long to find Luke. He stands next to his cousin Ashton, and his friends- Calum, Ed, and Milla. They stand under the sunlight, talking in a small circle. Luke is the tallest of them all, wearing a sleeveless black tank top with Green Day scrawled across the chest. A beanie covers the back of his head while his blonde hair curls over the top in a quiff. He squints his pretty blue eyes from the sun, light dancing off his lip ring. I stand somewhat in the open. Nobody would really be able to see me at a glance, but perhaps if Luke looked...

I gaze down at a particularly beautiful leaf floating down from a tree a little while away. I don't know why I thought of Luke a few minutes ago back in my home when loneliness was weighing me down. Maybe it's because Luke Hemmings is the only person who has bothered to speak to me in years. I'm not quite sure, but I have nobody else to go to.

As the leaf found its way to the ground, nestling on top of a bunch of others identical to itself, I heard a familiar voice say, "Uh, hey guys, I'll be back later." A chorus of okay's follow as conversation sprouts once again afterwards, and I turn my head to see Luke turning away from the group, his sky blue eyes on me. I quickly retreat back into the safety of the trees, so that if his friends look to see who he is walking to, they will see nothing but shadows.

Luke emerges into the woods, his eyes fixing on mine immediately as we both walk deeper into the woods. I make sure we don't go into the direction of my house. We settle down into the dirt and grass of the ground, crunching leaves.

Luke gives a small wave, his lips pulling into a smile.

"Hey, Michael." Luke says, leaning back onto the trunk of a pine tree. I pick at a thread on my jeans.

"Hey, Luke." I answer. I don't quite know what to say, since the last time we spoke was me begging him not to follow me to where my house was, and him getting overwhelmingly frustrated to where I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"It's nice back here." Luke says, and I find the upmost satisfaction in just hearing a voice speaking directly to me. "Very quiet. You can really hear your thoughts, you know?"

I nod, fiddling with my bracelets and peering around my comfortable surroundings.

"Yeah. I spend a lot of time back here." I say. Luke eyes me and nods his head, his hair ruffling a bit at the action.

"Yeah. It seems nobody in town really knows who you are." Luke informs me, and it doesn't surprise me at all. I've worked hard in keeping hidden. Luke looks up to the sky, which shines just as blue as his eyes, sparkling underneath his long, blonde eyelashes.

"I don't really like talking to people." I say somewhat honestly.

"Why do you talk to me then?" Luke asks bluntly.

"What?" I start, caught off guard.

"Why do you talk to me if you don't like talking to people?" Luke asks. I stare at him. "I mean, you obviously wanted to talk today, even though you normally don't. Why are you talking to me, then?"

My heart drops in my chest, plummeting lower and lower until I feel sick. I should have known. Of course Luke would rather go and talk to his popular friends and play basketball than talk to me, a silent ghost in the woods who's insecurities make up the entirety of their being. Why did I ever think he would want to talk to me? I duck my head to hide the glossiness of my eyes. I stammer out something impossible to comprehend, my thoughts a jumbled up mess.

"Hey, I didn't mean anything bad by that. I want to talk to you." Luke's voice softens completely until each word melts and flows through my blood. "I swear. Please- Please don't shut me out." I continue to hide my face from him, blinking away tears as fast as humanly possible.

Never tell your feelings. That's something I've learned a long time ago.

My view of the dirt around my shoes is interrupted by a face- Luke's, who looks up at me from where he is lying flat on the ground so he can look up to my face. When my eyes find his, he smiles and sits up, relief filling his face when I lift my face up with his.

"I'm sorry. I just thought-" I try to apologize in my choked voice, but Luke shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything. I'm sorry. I was just surprised you wanted to talk to me. You normally run away whenever you see me." He chuckles a bit and my cheeks redden.

We sit in silence, me fiddling with my shoelaces and Luke watching me, seeming perfectly content in observing my interaction with the strings attached to my shoes. I finally look up at him and purse my chapped lips.

"Can I show you something?" I ask. Luke blinks, and then nods, getting to his feet beside me. I stand up as well, brushing dirt off my pants and beginning the familiar trail I know so well. Luke follows behind me, not quite as graceful as he stumbles over rocks and twigs.

It doesn't take long until I hear the roar of the river, accustomed so nicely to my ears. I can feel Luke hesitate as we walk but I ignore it, hiking forward until the trees stop and the bushes reveal a gap in its straight line. I step through the gap of the bushes and out onto the rock platform I know so well, acting as a sort of balcony over the river. I walk to the edge of the rock and sit down, letting my feet dangle dangerously over the sides. I look down to see the familiar sight of the river rushing in its usual stormy rage below me. Looking behind me, I see Luke staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's okay. It's not dangerous, I promise." I say. Luke cautiously steps onto the rock, and then stops, as though he expects the entire thing to break off and crash down into the river. Luke takes a few more steps, and a few more with some encouraging words from me, until he shakily sits down next to me, pulling his long legs under him instead of over the sides like me.

Luke finally looks below and all around him.

"Wow." He breathes, peering at the sky and the water under us. "Everything is so... free." I nod, a smile gracing my lips. This, right here, is my favorite place in the world.

I glance at Luke, who looks wonderstruck at the new atmosphere around him. I stare at him fondly. With Luke beside me, in this desolated place, I have never been more at peace.

"I come here a lot." I say. "No one else, besides you now, knows about it. It's kind of like an escape." I tell him. Luke shifts his gaze to me. "You can come here as much as you want, too."

"I'd like that." Luke replies. "But I'd only want to come with you. It's kind of scary. I'd feel safer with you."

It's a simple statement: I'd only want to come with you. But for me, my heart stopped, and revived itself with a renewed heartbeat. Warmth floods my veins and loosens my tense muscles. What a simple sentence, yet it makes me feel like perhaps I have a purpose on this earth.

Luke just turns back to the river, unaware that he has made my world a little brighter in color.

"Michael, I want to get to know you better. My aunt will want me home soon, but do you think we could meet here tomorrow?" Luke says suddenly. He pushes away from the edge of the rock in preparation to leave.

"You...You want to get to know me better?" I repeat quietly. "Why?"

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. "I think you could be a good friend. So, yes about tomorrow?"

I stare at him, and then quickly nod my head. Luke smiles.

"Cool. See you then." Luke turns and disappears into the overgrowth of bushes and trees.

I turn around and dangle my feet above the river, a smile that has no intention of going away covering my face. I haven't smiled in a long time. It feels nice.

I decide that I like Luke. I like talking to Luke. I like his blonde hair and his blue eyes and his lip ring that shines in the sun. I like his punk t-shirts and his soft voice and the simple, effortless fact that he cares. I like Luke.

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A/N sorry I haven't updated in like 50 years but here is a super long, fluffy chapter ((((:

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