"We all have bad days , but one thing is true; no cloud is too dark for the sun to shine through,"

~Miranda Kerr

Michael's fascinated by clouds. They're made up of steam and chemicals in the least scientific terms. And yet the force of gravity doesn't apply to them. They don't come crashing to the ground every time they get to high. So why is it that Michael can barely get an inch off the ground without being beat upon.

Liz must have told Luke to stay by Michael at all times because he's trailing after him like a lost puppy. Michael finds it adorable, but Luke's friends are annoyed. They give Michael dirty looks when he passes them in the hall and won't talk to him while they work on the project.

Michael can't find it in him to care, because he's so busy pretending to be okay for Luke. He's been staying at Luke's house for only two days now, but Michael hasn't cut in those two days and he feels like he's going to die because of an overactive brain.

Luke isn't truly making a difference anymore. His rambling helps Michael focus on something other than himself, but he can't shake the feeling of wanting to die. And he's tried so badly because he knows it'll hurt Luke so very badly, but the pain Luke will endure if Michael leaves would be so easily manageable next to the pain Michael has to live with. And it would fade after time right? It would dull and eventually leave?

Michael knows what people say about suicide. That it's the weak man's way of escaping, but if they knew. If they truly knew what it felt like to hate every single part of yourself would they still think like that? Or would they realize that suicide is truly the only option they have? Because Michael's tried everything. At first he didn't want to kill himself, just to die. He knew everyone would be better off if he were dead, but he was selfish and didn't want to kill himself. But now Michael isn't selfish if it will make everything easier for everyone, he'll be glad to do it. But with Luke in his life he almost wants to get hit by a car so that it looks like an accident so Luke can't blame himself for Michael's death.

Honestly, Michael's given up on living. He's just a skeleton waiting for death to pick him up and carry him away, leaving the pain of being human behind.

Michael wants to live up in the clouds. Where nothing can touch him or cause him pain. He wants to feel a cloud, smell it even taste it. Michael wants to live in them.

"Mikey, come on. We have to go to English," Luke said gently pulling the smaller boy out of his seat in the cafeteria. Luke guided him to English and sat down right next to him.

"You didn't eat anything at lunch," Luke stated. "Why?"

Michael shrugged. "Not hungry,"

"You always say that," Luke responds.

Michael angles his head away from Luke and plays with his fingers under the table. The class is slowly filling, but there's no sign of the teacher yet.

"Hemmings," both Luke and Michael make the mistake of looking at Ryan, or in Michael's case angling his head slightly. "Why are you sitting with a fag?"

Michael visibly deflates as Luke stiffens. The few people in the class have their attention fixed solely on the three boys in the middle.

"Look at him, Hemmings. Even he knows he's not worth the time. Am I right, Clifford?" Ryan continued.

Michael nodded reluctantly for two reasons. The first being he knew going along with Ryan diffused the situation. And the second being that he truly did agree with him.

"Shut the f*ck up, Ryan," Luke growled standing up and getting in his face. Luke and Ryan were nearly the same height and Michael didn't want to see who was stronger.

"Are you gonna make me?" Ryan laughed.

Michael grabbed the sleeve of Luke's flannel and tugged on it. When Luke didn't respond to Michael's tugs the boy in black called his name softly.

Luke turned and saw Michael's worried expression and sunk back into his seat unwillingly for the smaller boy.

"You his faggot boyfriend now?" Ryan asked cruelty slipping into his voice as Michael finally found his.

"Do you know the story behind that word?" he asked rather quietly. Ryan blinked stupidly at the once mute boy and the rest of the students in the room followed suit as Luke began to slowly grin. "It was originally a British word that meant a bundle of sticks bound together as fuel. People who were gay, bisexual, lesbian or pansexual were often burned using these. Now the term is used for to offend someone who is gay, and if this individual is aware of the story it hurts. It hurts a lot more than you would think,"

"I'm proud of you," Luke whispered immediately after the words stopped flowing from Michael.

Michael's cheeks flushed and he bowed his head again as the teacher walked in.

"Mr. Matthews why are you not sitting?" asked their teacher.

Ryan glared at Michael and headed to his own seat a few rows behind him.

Michael fell into a trance, but was soon painfully aware of Luke's hand on his thigh and lost all the focus he had. He felt his face grow hot and his lower region perk up a bit.

He bit hard on his lip, but there was nowhere for him to move. Besides Michael wasn't good enough for Luke, so it clearly meant nothing to the blonde.

Michael was out of his seat the second the bell rang and racing down the hall to his next class. Time ticked slowly by as Michael bounced his leg and steadily grew oblivious to the teachers lecture. He was at his locker within a matter of seconds and had thrown his stuff in and grabbed what he needed for home before he dashed out of the school not waiting for Luke.

He realized as he was about to start walking that he did not actually remember how to get to Luke's house, and he needed his clothes before he could head to his house. Michael bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously before making up his mind and deciding to ask Luke to bring his stuff tomorrow. His feet carried him rapidly towards his house and his converse pounded the ground quietly as he walked.

His strides were longer than normal in his rush to get to his house. It wasn't that he was eager to get there because it felt like there was a lead pipe in his stomach, but Michael could not run the risk of Luke catching him. He needed his own house desperately because of the one thing it offered him that he couldn't find elsewhere.

His razors.

Michael broke into a joke when the worn dirty building that he lived in came into sight, but he halted at the door. What would be waiting for him inside? Michael shook off the question and walked in.

The fist came from nowhere, but Michael was aware of his back against the ground and a weight on top of him weighing him down. Pain was blossoming on his face and his chest and every other part of him his dad could reach.

Michael wanted to cry out for help so he bit his tongue. He wanted to fight back so he forced himself to lay still. He wanted to cry so he closed his eyes.

The verbal abuse began flowing along with the punches and it became harder for Michael to hold back tears. The punches slowed so they could be accompanied by his dad's voice, but Michael's own subconscious was screaming at him.

Worthless. Punch.

Waste. Punch.

Faggot. Punch.

Mistake. Punch.

Trash. Punch.

F*ck up. Punch.

Finally his dad got up, but he then began delivering sharp kicks to Michael. The boy curled into himself and covered his head and neck. He stayed on the ground for a while even after his dad had left muttering a string of curses.

It was an hour before Michael was numb enough to move without pain. And then he was desperate for more. His wrists were bloodied in no time, but Michael's brain was not acknowledging anything anymore. It was moving rapidly shooting intricate and complex sentences at him that were replaced before he could grasp them. He couldn't calm down. The blade wasn't helping so Michael dropped it and cleaned his wrists. He re-wrapped them and tried something different.

Luke.

And it was as if it was a password to turn everything off. The second Michael pictured the boy everything stopped but thoughts of him. Michael felt himself flush at the memory of Luke's hand on his thigh and he buried his head in his hands. He noticed his cheeks were damp and looked up to see red puffy eyes and tear stains. He wiped them away and snatched his phone up pressing call on Luke's contact.

"Michael! Where are you? I'm coming to get you right now," Luke said as soon as he picked up.

Michael couldn't help but smile.

"I'm at my house," he muttered.

"W-what? M-Mikey, you need to get out right now before-"

"After," Michael corrected knowing what Luke was saying.

"F*ck. Mikey, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have gone back," Luke told him.

"I needed new clothes," Michael lied. "Yours are too big for me,"

Luke sighed over the phone. "Give me the address, Mikey," the blonde instructed.

"I, uh. I can't," Michael whispered.

"Why not?"

"M-my dad's home, a-and I don't want him to, to you know," Michael trailed off and the blonde struggled to connect the dots.

"To what, Mikey?"

"Hurt you," Michael whispered. "I don't want him to hurt you, Luke,"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Meet me at the corner of First and Watson," Michael muttered.

"Yeah, yeah okay," Luke agreed before Michael hung up and grabbed fresh jeans and some other clothes.

Michael knew his dad would be passed out do to alcohol consumption and his mum was probably high as a kite. He wasn't wrong as he struggled down the stairs with his chest beginning to ache and his face pound. He slipped out the front door easily and was at the corner before Luke was.

When Luke's car pulled up the blonde climbed out and wrapped his arms around Michael picking up the small boy. A cry of pain escaped Michael's lips and Luke released him backing away quickly his eyes wide and petrified.

"I'm so sorry," Luke exclaimed instantly.

Michael smiled at the boy's concern and hugged him, holding his clothes in one hand. "It's okay, Lukey,"

Luke opened the passenger door for Michael before getting in on his own and driving them away. They did not however, go to Luke's house.

Michael was confused when Luke came to a stop in a clearing in the middle of nowhere.

"Is this where you kill me?" Michael asked just above a whisper.

Luke laughed and climbed out opening Michael's door. "Not exactly,"

Michael raised an eyebrow, and noticed that even that action hurt slightly. "Then what's it for?" he asked quietly.

"I wanted to be alone with you," Luke muttered sheepishly rubbing his neck.

Michael pulled Luke's hand away from his neck with a sudden stroke of bravado and interwove their fingers.

Luke gazed down at their hands before looking up at Michael with a look in his eyes Michael had never seen before. Luke's face grew closer until the feet became inches before he grinned and pulled Michael into the middle of the clearing.

Luke lied down in the center and Michael copied him. Their shoulders were brushing and Michael wanted to blush.

Michael found himself transfixed in the clouds above him until Luke's voice spoke and his attention shifted. Clearly Luke was more important.

"Uh, so I um, I wanted to uh, tell you something," Luke stuttered clearing his throat before continuing. "I think I, I think maybe, oh f*ck it," Michael turned his head to look at Luke and watched the blonde throw cation to the wind before Luke's lips were on his.

Michael's eyes fluttered closed as Luke turned onto his side. Luke's lips left Michael's and the boy in black opened his eyes to see the blonde moving to hover on top of him. Michael's eyes widened and Luke looked into them wanting the boy under him to be comfortable with what was happening.

Michael was yearning to stretch upwards and re-connect himself to Luke in any way possible and he bit his lip gently to stop himself seeming desperate even though he was desperate for Luke. Luke ignited a fire in Michael, and it both frightened the boy and made him rejoice at the same time.

"You're so f*cking adorable," Luke whispered to Michael.

It was as if they were the only two people alive. Michael's vision was only of Luke, his thoughts revolved around the blonde. Luke was his gravity. They were completely alone and yet Michael found it endearing that Luke whispered. It was as if they were sharing secrets, and to Michael they were. They were the secrets to recovery whether he registered that or not.

Luke's lips trapped Michael's again and Michael's eyes shut as his hands reached for the boy. He grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. Luke had a hand on either side of Michael's head as he held himself above the boy as to not hurt him, but Michael didn't care about pain. He wanted contact. He wanted to feel Luke's chest against his own. He wanted Luke's hands on his body. He just wanted Luke. Every inch of him that he could get.

Though this was new to Michael the boy pushed himself upwards, moving Luke with him. Their lips broke apart as they gasped for breath, but Michael still wanted Luke. He pushed the blonde into a sitting position and straddled him connecting his lips with the blondes again.

Soon enough Luke's tongue was in Michael's mouth and they fought briefly for dominance before Michael submitted and they tangled together in an odd sort of dance.

Luke's hands were on Michael's back. They were in his hair. They were touching every part of the boy they could leaving his skin burning for more. Michael's hands were twisted in Luke's hair pulling at it softly and bringing the boy closer.

Luke's lips left Michael's and the boys panted for breath. They left a sloppy trail of kisses along Michael's chin till they reached his ear. Luke's teeth were cold and Michael shivered when they bit down lightly on his ear lobe. When Luke's lips ventured onto Michael's neck the boy tilted his head giving Luke more access to his porcelain skin and to his surprise he let out a moan.

Luke kissed, and sucked. He ran his tongue along Michael's skin and left a few purple marks that were clearly noticeable. Michael was growing anxious and though he loved Luke's mouth on his skin and his hot breath fanning across it Michael needed Luke's lips on his own.

Michael guided Luke back to his lips and they moved together again. Michael found himself grinding down on the blonde and grinned when he was rewarded with a strangled moan.

"F*ck, Mikey," Luke muttered against Michael's lips.

The boy's panted in time with the other and their foreheads were pressed together. Michael's nose was brushing Luke's as he opened his eyes to find the blonde already gazing at him.

"So...what were you trying to say?" Michael asked in a whisper.

"Hmm, I can't seem to recall. Would you mind helping to jumpstart my memory?" Luke played along.

"I think," Michael whispered sliding his hands under Luke's shirt, "You were talking," Michael's mouth was hovering above the boy's exposed skin. "About something," Michael kissed the skin and sucked gently causing Luke's breath to catch in his throat. "Like this," Michael bit the purple skin softly and moved his mouth along Luke's skin leaving a trail. "And how much," Michael was back in front of Luke now staring into his eyes. "You love it,"

Luke kissed Michael's nose lightly and smiled. "That's right, I should find someone to do it for me," Luke joked.

Michael smiled and rolled his eyes at the blonde he was still straddling.

"I was trying to tell you that I like you, as you have hopefully gathered by now," Luke said.

Michael buried his head in Luke's shoulder. "I like you too, a lot more than I should," he muttered.