THIS IS REALLY SHITTY IM WARNING YOU

MICHAEL

My heart pulses to an unknown soundtrack as I sprint around my room, tugging on my hair until it looks acceptable and shoving clumps of bracelets up my wrists. I let out a sigh as I am finished getting ready, and I slide out of my room like a ghost, praying that my father has already left for his daily voyage to the bar. I step slowly down the stairs, my sneakers making no sound as I make it to the landing, but as I am moving stealthily to the door, my prayers are inexorably ignored.

"Michael. Where the hell do you think you're going?" My dad steps out from the kitchen, an unopened bottle of beer in his hands. He slams it roughly down on the coffee table and I wince.

"I was just going to go for a walk." I stammer out, my heart plummeting in my stomach like a wrecked ship. I pray to all of seraphim's angels that my father will let this go for now, and let me meet the only person who has ever cared enough to talk to me at the stone. My father just narrows his dark eyes at me as he steps closer.

"Really, because that's what you told me yesterday, and you were gone for hours." He stares at me critically for a minute, before slamming a large fist at the wall and raising his voice. "Hours!"

It's only true, of course. I had gone to the stone with Luke, then met his friend and cousin, who were surprisingly very nice. I wasn't used to that- I thought they would interrogate me about why I'm not attending their school, or judge me for my pastel hair and my sickly pale skin. They didn't though, and that made my heart lift a little.

"You're not going anywhere." My father's voice floats back to my ears, and my heart rapidly thumps in my chest, as if it were clawing for a way out. My hand fall from the smooth doorknob, shaking. I have to go the stone for Luke today, I promised him. The eye contact with my father doesn't break as he stares at me a second more, slowly picking up the bottle of beer and cracking it open, lifting the foul-smelling liquid to his dry lips.

He turns away, stumbling back into the kitchen where the supply of alcohol is, and I stand frozen by the door. I know by past mistakes what will happen if I attempt to escape, because when I did, I left with a bruised tongue and a swollen jaw. The dark colors staining my face didn't fade for a month.

My father slumps against the alcohol cabinet, a lonely, dusky figure against cold glass. I slip past him, ignoring the glare his bloodshot eyes give me as I shuffle past him, my feet barely moving from the ground. I walk back up the stairs, the image of Luke sitting at the stone alone replaying like a lost song in my head. I imagine him looking around for me, his feet tucked under him like they always are because he's afraid of falling, although it's not falling you have to worry about. It's when you hit the ground.

Although, nobody would care if that happened to me. Particularly not my father. He would probably buy twelve six-packs of beer in celebration if I finally got out from under his skin.

I reenter my room, sitting down on the plush carpet stained with blood and dirt from past mistakes, and stare blankly at the plain white walls, adorned with a few Green Day posters that are too dusty to admire. I should feel angry, I suppose. I should feel livid at my stoned father for not being as accepting as I have heard other parents are. I should perhaps move away, go walk where the sky and horizon meet until I can't even remember my father's name. But if I did that, I would find myself even more lost than I am right now. Who knew you could feel lost in a room you have lived in for seventeen years.

I reach over to my bedside table and grab my iPod, having gotten rid of my phone a while back when it never rang. I turn it on shuffle and close my eyes as All Time Low flowed through the speakers. I let it play quietly, not wanted to arouse my fuck up of a father and make him yell at his fuck up of a son.

What a pair we are. Scarred and trapped in this ghost of a town. Maybe this is what I was destined for anyway. I sure as hell wasn't destined for anything great.

---

LUKE

I sit silently, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun, which forces its blazing rays of heat down to cook my fair skin. The austere river continues its raging path down the stream, surrounded by smooth, chaste stones completely submerged under the water. I watch it, searching mindlessly for any sign of some freshwater fish that my eyes haven't noticed before. I find none, and it doesn't surprise me.

He hasn't arrived yet, and as the sun sets sluggishly, the knowledge that he isn't coming sends cold ice through my chagrin veins. To solace me, I imagine the pastel boy slipping through the trees on his way to meet me here, but the moment never comes.

I wonder what I possibly did wrong. Was I annoying? Was I too pushy when I was asking him questions? Did Calum and Ashton say something to him that hurt his feelings? I don't know, but I can imagine Michael would find any reason to flee with arbitrary impulse, vanishing into the shadows of the woods. I hardly know him- he could be quiet and unobtrusive, or he could be a sophist and punitive speaker. He hasn't bothered to speak to me enough for me to know, and I suppose I never will know.

As I sit, my heart drums out an imperative lullaby that matches the growing anger in my stomach. Could he have not at least told me he didn't want to come? Gestured to me from the shadows and explained to me his sudden disappearance? My nails rake at the cold stone beneath me, blood threatening to spill from my fingertips at the dichotomy of emotions inside my head.

Well, fine. If Michael doesn't want to bother meeting here, so be it. I stand up, brushing off any pebbles stuck to my skin as I turn around, walking prodigally on the slippery stone with the roar of the river under me. I march through the woods, nearly fuming and not bothering to control it as I head down the straight path back to the house. I know Ms. Irwin went to church in a slightly bigger town nearby, and Ashton was out with Calum, so I storm up to the front door and jam the house key into the lock, twisting it and stomping inside.

I move straight up the stairs, hurrying to my room at the end of the hall and slamming the door shut behind me, a series of brazen echoes reverberating across the house. A voice in the back of my mind screams at me that I'm overreacting, but I can't seem to control the kaleidoscope of fiery emotions inflaming my body. I know that Michael may be held back involuntarily, or he forgot, but I can't stop myself from feeling a bit betrayed when my hopes were so high.

So instead of sitting at the stone, I sit in my room in silence, listening to the breeze rattle the leaves on a nearby oak tree and let out a tiny sigh. I want to go find him, search through the bushes and hidden shadows until I see his brightly colored hair, or go search down by the treacherous stones of the river, but I don't.

I sit in utter stillness, my polemic thoughts battling each other about where he might be until my door cracks open, revealing a pair of wide hazel eyes and a bush of unruly hair.

"Hey, what are you doing in here? Cal and I have been waiting for you at the Mini Mart." Ashton asks, his words hardly lacerating my acetic brain. I turn slowly, my icy eyes meeting with his warm ones. He stares at me and looks bewildered, obviously confused. He walks forward, taking a seat beside me in front of the window.

"I was waiting for Michael. He told me he would come." I mumble, not looking at my short cousin. I stare instead outside, at the vibrant blue sky and the dull grass.

"Come where?" Ashton asks. I shake my head at him. The boy rolls his eyes and huffs, readjusting his position on the hard floor.

"Okay, well. Maybe he got held up by something?" Ashton offers. He analyzes me, trying to figure out why I'm so sullen.

"What could he have gotten held up by?" I raise my voice. "He doesn't do anything! He strolls around the woods all day and that's it!"

Ashton furrows his eyebrows at me. "So? You don't know what goes on in that kid's life." He points out. "Why are you so mad? Do you have anger issues or something?" the last sentence wasn't even sarcastic.

I shrug, avoiding his stare. "I don't know. Probably."

"Well, fix it. Go to wherever you guys were going to meet tomorrow and see if he shows up." Ashton grumbles, pushing himself up to his feet. "But stop overreacting. Calm yourself." He then turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone once again.

I flip back around the window, as though Michael would come walking into view any moment. I groan, rubbing my eyes before putting on some music to drown out my caustic thoughts. I let the lyrics that I don't bother to comprehend sink into my veins until I can hardly think of anything else except the beat of the music.

I don't know why I'm so worked up over this. A nagging thought occurs to me, of what if he's hurt? He told me he likes to go down to the river and walk along the perilous stones, as though the feeling of risk is poultice on the bruises marking his skin. What if he fell into the river, carried away by the strength of the water? How could anyone find him? Would a hiker be strolling through the wet mud one day to find a small boy's body laying limp in the sludge? Would he see the bruises and wonder what happened to him, or speculate why his hair is a fading purple?

I can't stand the thought, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Compelled by this calamitous idea, I turn the music up higher to drown out any remaining voices in my head. I pray to an assortment of angels, whichever one will listen to my prayers, that the pallid boy is alright.

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A/N TOLD YOU IT WAS SHITTY

but its thursday so i updated for you guys. i know its terrible dont look at me

the next will be better i swear

please vote and comment ilyasm bye