"You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf,"

~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Michael wants to be a part of it when he dies. A part of the ocean. It's so vast and large that no one will ever be able to tell what's him and what isn't. He wants to be part of its strength and it's beauty. He wants to jump in and never been seen again.

"Michael?" Luke's voice is hesitant and unsure. Michael's edging closer to the water's edge and Luke's panicking. Michael wouldn't. Would he?

Luke takes Michael's hand and pulls him away from the water that's pounding against the beach shore. He's worried about the boy in black. Michael pulls his hand out of Luke's large one and hides it in his sweater. He's scared that Luke will find out. Not that he's really trying to find it.

Luke tries not to be hurt by Michael's withdrawal, he know that the boy can't help it. Michael's gone his whole life without feeling affection and Luke's is strong. Michael's scared and unsure of how to proceed. But the rejection stings Luke.

"Sorry," Michael mutters. He can see the hurt in Luke's eyes, can see that it's over powered with worry. And Michael finds it in him to walk away from the water's edge dragging Luke with him. "Let's do something else,"

Luke smiles at Michael and remembers the boy's ribs digging into him as they hugged in the shop.

"Let's go get something to eat," Luke says tugging on Michael's sleeve, Michael goes willingly to prevent his sleeves riding up, but the thought of the food sickens him. He's fat and unworthy of food. People like Luke deserve to eat, not fat disgusting people like Michael.

"'M not very hungry," Michael muttered as he followed the blonde back to his car.

Luke could sense that Michael was trying to worm his way out of eating and he couldn't let him, "That's okay. Just eat as much as you can," Luke told the smaller boy.

Michael's stomach twisted uncomfortably. He did not want to eat. He didn't even want to be alive. Michael wanted to be dead. He wanted to be nothing. He already was nothing, but his body was still functioning with meant that he was a shell. Michael hated being a shell. No one could breathe the life back into him so why was he still here? Oh how he wants to be dead.

Luke begins to ramble on about the random things and Michael drinks in every detail. He's not sure how long he'll be alive. This could be his last chance to see something so perfect. Michael doesn't want it to be. For a moment Michael's thinking being alive might not be so bad if Luke's there, but he knows how the story goes. Luke will leave him just like everyone else and Michael will be left even more damaged than before.

Luke's talking about his family. His mum, Liz. His brother's Jack and Ben. Michael notices how he doesn't really mention his dad, but he recalls his own and doesn't ask questions. Luke talks about penguins and colours. He talks about how everything we call a name might not actually be that thing, that we as humans have just named it that. He talks about how numbers might really be colours and colours letters and letters numbers, and maybe we have it all backwards. Michael's head is spinning and for once it's a good thing. And Michael truly doesn't mind.

"We're here," Luke sing-songs as he turns off the car. And Michael's disappointed because he liked listening to Luke talk. Liked watching how Luke would look at him for a few seconds before snapping back to the road. How his hands would leave the steering wheel for a second before he realized what he was doing and placed them instantly back on.

Michael climbs out of the car when he sees Luke already out and waiting for him. Michael's intimidated by the stairs leading up to Luke's house. Even they look nicer then the entirety of Michael's home.

"My mum's home, but she won't mind, Jack and Ben used to skip loads of times," Luke told Michael.

His mum? Well sh*t. Michael thought. Parents hated Michael. It could be the clothes or the hair, maybe a bit of both, but he could never get along with adults. I'm f*cked, Michael thought. So very f*cked.

"She loves everyone," Luke assured at the expression on Michael's face. It was true, but Luke had also never brought home anyone like Michael before. In honesty he didn't know how his mum would react.

Before Luke could reach the door handle the door flung open and Michael hung his head low.

"Why aren't you at school?"

If you didn't already know Liz you would think she was angry. Michael didn't know Liz and his blood ran cold. What a great way to start out. He thought. Hi I'm Michael I skipped with your son. Way to win her over.

Luke shot a pointed look at Michael and Liz's eyes landed on the hunched over boy in black and her eyes softened. She didn't know what was going on in this boy's life, but she had a good idea that it wasn't anything good. She hoped this boy knew he could always come over.

"Mum this is Mikey, I mean Michael, Mikey this is my mum," Luke introduced.

Liz smiled at Michael, "Call me Liz, dear," she said kindly.

Michael glanced up at her through his eyelashes and tried not to look afraid. Adults terrified him. He hadn't exactly had great experiences with them in the past.

"Michael,"

Liz wouldn't have known what he said if Luke hadn't mouthed it for her.

"Come on in boys, poor Michael's standing in the rain still," Liz laughed lightly and Luke smiled, but Michael just followed Luke into the house shuffling his feet behind him.

"Do you want to change into something dry?" Luke asked Michael.

Michael nodded and Luke dragged him up the stairs to his room. The stairs in Luke's house weren't broken like in Michael's and they didn't creak under the weight of the two boys.

Luke passed Michael black skinny jeans and a black hoodie. Michael managed a small smile for Luke's sake and stepped into the bathroom Luke told him he could change in.

Michael found himself staring at his body in the mirror. He had discarded his own soaked clothes and stood simply in his boxers. His skin was pale, bruised and scarred. His bones stuck out oddly, but Michael still felt fat. His wrists were wrapped in gauze and his face was half covered in bruises. His hair was greasy and wet from the rain. Michael stared into his own green eyes and hated every inch of the boy in the mirror.

"Hey, you alright?" Luke called through the door.

"Yeah," Michael muttered moving closer to the door.

He pulled on Luke's pants and sweater and hated how they hung awkwardly off his boy and how the pants kept slipping down a bit.

Luke smiled when Michael opened the door at the sight of the smaller boy in his own clothes. They were far too big, but Luke thought the boy in black looked cute in his clothes.

Michael kept his head down and shifted under Luke's gaze. "Um," Michael hummed.

"Oh, so do you want like hot chocolate or something?" Luke asked. Michael looked up and Luke saw something in his guarded eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," Luke chuckled.

Michael blushed and bowed his head again following Luke down the stairs and to the kitchen where Liz was busy at the stove.

"I'm making hot chocolate, I thought you boys would be interested in some," she said turning around.

She faced her grinning son and Michael whose head was down so low she was afraid he would hurt it.

"Michael?" she asked.

The boy inclined his head slightly and she could just see his eyes from through his eyelashes.

"You shouldn't hang your head so low, neck troubles," she hummed.

Michael relaxed and shrugged hanging his head again. He thought she had somehow guessed or worse that she would ask him questions. The odds were not on his side as when Liz handed the two boys steaming mugs she began by clearing her throat.

Luke shot her a look, but Liz was not deterred by her son. She wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Michael. And then she wanted to make sure he got help.

"How are you, Michael?" she asked.

Michael's spine stiffened and so did Luke. Liz had hit home instantly. So Michael lied.

"Good," he whispered.

Liz smiled, "How're your parents? What do they do?"

Michael was extremely tense and it was difficult for him to breathe. Advantageous, means helpful. Ameliorate, means improve.

"My dad works at a truck company. He organizes pick-up's and drop-off's. My mum doesn't work," Michael mutters through a tight throat.

"Good, how are they?"

Michael shrugged. "Good?" he squeaked.

Liz smiled warmly. "Where do you live?" she asked.

Luke was staring daggers at him mum internally begging her to stop torturing the boy in black.

"South end," Michael whispered.

Liz raised her eyebrows in concern for Michael. The south end wasn't exactly kid friendly. There were drug addicts and alcoholics. Homeless roamed the streets and parents often neglected their children. The living standards were low to say the least.

"That's a long walk to school," she commented.

"Like walking," Michael murmured shrugging.

"So what kinds of things do you like, Michael?" Liz asked him.

Cutting my wrists, hurting myself, fantasizing my own suicide. Michael thought. "Words and rain," Michael whispered instead.

"That's interesting. Why do you like words?"

"Just do,"

Luke interrupted then before his mum could traumatize the boy any further. "Mikey and I are going to go upstairs," he said. "Mikey why don't you head on up while I have a quick word with my mum?"

Michael nodded and left as quickly as he could hands still clutching the warm cup of hot chocolate. He debated sitting on Luke's bed but decided against it, not wanting to anger the blonde. Michael settled himself on the floor and listened to the voices drifting up the stairs.

"Leave him alone would you?" Luke's voice asked.

"Luke, baby listen. That boy seems off. Not in a bad way, Luke, definitely not bad. He's hurting. You can tell from the way he holds himself. He needs to be helped," Liz's voice spoke clearly.

"You don't think I know that?" Luke asked. "I want to help him. I want him to be happy, mum. But he needs to open up first. And you drilling him with questions isn't helping! I like him mum, just leave him alone,"

"Like him?"

Silenced ensued Liz's question and Michael refused to let himself hope.

"Y-yeah. I mean he's a good guy, just needs some help, you know?" Luke stuttered.

He's not gay. Michael reminded himself.

"Do you like him...romantically?" Liz pushed.

"I don't know! Stop it! Quit with the mind games! I don't know anymore," Luke pleaded.

"Anymore?" Liz asked.

"I mean I thought it was platonic,"

"And now you aren't sure?"

"Now I'm not sure," Luke confirmed.

Deleterious, means harmful. Michael thought trying to put his mind at ease. Michael's deleterious.

Michael's one of those few people with an impossibly loud mind and a silent voice. And his mind is screaming. He knows he likes Luke. How could he not. But Luke like Michael? No. Michael is everything bad and Luke is just so good. Michael's mind is spinning, but it always comes back to Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke. And dammit Michael can't help but hope, but he's no good for Luke. Beautiful Luke with his blonde hair and blue eyes, just being so damn irresistible. Michael knows all too well how it works. He'll open up to Luke and scare him off. Luke will hightail it back to wherever perfect people come from without a glance back and Michael with be left with nothing once more even more broken.

And damn Michael needs an off button for his brain because his thoughts are too plentiful and complicated for Michael to understand what's happening. He gets a glimpse of something and then it's gone and Michael's on the verge of screaming. He knows that even if he weren't at Luke's house and out of space on his wrists, cutting wouldn't help him. Michael's lost in his own head and he needs someone to come and draw him out. He can't find the path that he strayed from.

His thoughts are incoherent and jumbled and all about Luke. Sweet, innocent, Luke. Kind, pure, Luke. Soft-hearted, delicate, Luke. And Michael's anything but good where Luke is everything that is. Michael's tortured and haunted. He's stiff and dirty. Cold-heated and broken. Michael is the bad things and Luke is the good. Luke could save Michael, but Michael would ruin Luke and Michael won't let that happen.

Michael closes his eyes but that just makes it worse. Everything is a mess. His life, his head. Michael never was very tidy to begin with. But this is something entirely different. Michael can't follow a single thought and now Luke's face is plastered everywhere he looks and Michael swears he's going insane.

"He's probably wondering where you are," Liz noted finally.

"Oh sh*t yeah! Bye mum, please leave him alone,"

Footsteps told Michael Luke was nearing the room and Michael busied himself sipping the hot chocolate eagerly so it looked like he had been drinking slowly the whole time and not losing his mind.

"Hey, sorry I took so long," Luke said as he stepped into the room. He frowned at Michael's position on the floor. "Um, why are you on the floor?"

"I didn't want to invade your space or something," Michael mutters. In truth he didn't want to poison anything.

"You can lie on the bed if you want," Luke says catching Michael's yawn.

Michael's cheeks flush, but he crawls over to the bed and pulls himself onto it curling into himself and hugging his legs.

"You're cute," Luke commented before blushing himself. "Sorry, that was...um,"

"S'okay," Michael muttered sleepily.

He caught sight of Luke's grin before his eyes shut.

When Michael woke up he found he was pressed up against someone's chest. Luke's chest, he realized with a jolt.

"Hey, sleepy head," Luke teased when he saw Michael's eyes flutter open. "You were shivering and I couldn't get the blanket from under you. You don't mind right?" Luke asked, explaining himself nervously.

Michael shook his head. Of course he didn't mind. He wanted to be in Luke's arms every second of every day, if that was possible. Luke's arm was draped over Michael's waist and Luke began playing with Michael's fingers as Michael yawned again.

"You're so adorable when you yawn," Luke said nonchalantly.

Michael still wasn't used to compliments and his eyes watered. He wasn't used to hearing anything positive from other people or himself.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked him instantly.

Michael just shook his head. He couldn't tell Luke without explaining everything and Michael didn't want to scare the blonde away.

"What time is it?" Michael asked quietly.

"School got out ten minutes ago," Luke told him and Michael flew out of the bed searching for his now dry clothes. "What's wrong?" Luke asked.

"I have to get home on time," Michael said not caring if he was loud or not as he rushed.

Luke was slightly stunned that Michael spoke at a normal volume, but quickly recovered as the boy scrambled around.

"Slow down, Mikey. I'll drive you," Luke said.

Michael turned to him wide-eyed and shook his head eyes-welling up again.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. Please don't cry," Luke cooed taking Michael in his arms.

Michael's arms wove themselves around Luke and he buried his head in the blondes shoulder repressing the tears.

"I can walk," Michael muttered.

Luke nodded and let the boy go watching him leave.

Michael heard the door shut behind him and kept his head as low as he could as he maneuvered to the front door and slipped out, leaving Luke and his mum alone. Michael began walking home and built up the courage he would need to face his dad.