(n.) a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, often accompanied with a denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.

Luke can't decide how he feels. He's not sad. That's not a strong enough word. He's not crushed, or devastated. He's never felt pain like this before, but he can't say it hurts, or that it's excruciating. He tries to think like Michael would and come up with some really smart and big word that would fit his mood perfectly. But when he does he can't breath and the walls of the car Ashton's driving start spinning and blurring.

He's aware that he's crying, but he couldn't care any less. He's aware that there are heartbreaking sobs causing Calum to flinch, but he can't find it in him to try to stop.

Deleterious. He remembers Michael telling him about it once. He remembers it to mean harmful and Luke thinks that it can relate to him. He's harmful in that moment. He's hurting Calum and Ashton and knows that he'll hurt his mum. But deleterious isn't the word he's looking for.

"Luke,"

Luke's head snaps towards Ashton and the older boy breaks a little bit.

"We're here," Ashton tells him.

Luke nods, but he doesn't move. Ashton gets out and so does Calum and Calum opens Luke's door.

"C'mon buddy," Calum says gently taking one of Luke's arms.

The second he can, Ashton grabs his other arm and they half carry half guide Luke into the hospital. Luke's seen the movies where the hospitals are always flooded with people running around wildly, but the truth may be worse.

He doesn't see any doctors. There's a nurse talking to a receptionist and an elderly lady filling out some forms, but there is no doctor saving someone's life and no wife sobbing into another ones chest. They interrupt the nurse talking to the receptionist and ask about Michael.

Luke knows the news will be bad before it's delivered. The receptionist looks at the nurse who turns to them with a smile and Luke wants to punch him. He doesn't want the sympathy in the smile and the pity that's soon to come.

"Mr. Clifford's in intensive care right now. His blood is being replenished and he's on an oxygen tank. His heart has needed to be restarted three times since he showed up. I don't want to discourage you, but I'm not going to lie,"

Luke wants to scream. He wants so yell at the man. He knows that the nurse is trying to tell them that Michael is dying. He knows that he's trying not to say it, but Luke can hear the real words.

Mr. Clifford is going to die, but we don't want to have to comfort a bunch of teenagers. He's not going to make it. He's lost to much blood. He can't breathe on his own. His heart's barely working. He's dying. We are just keeping a corpse breathing for your sake. You didn't call us fast enough. You couldn't get to him on time.

But Luke doesn't scream. "Don't call him Mr. Clifford,"

"Excuse me?" it's obvious that the nurse wasn't expecting that.

"Don't call him Mr. Clifford. He's punk rock. His dad's Mr. Clifford. Mr. Clifford is an alcoholic who beats his son and makes him feel worthless. Michael is not Mr. Clifford," Luke rants.

He's cut off by his own sob and the nurse puts a hand on his shoulder that Luke shrugs off. He doesn't want to be touched by anyone who isn't Michael. He's suddenly aware of Ashton and Calum holding him up and he moves away from them.

"Please just take us to him," Ashton begs.

The nurse smiles and guides them into an elevator.

Michael's dying.

"It's not true," he says when he finds him mum. "Please say it's not true,"

Luke's desperate. He needs someone to say it. If someone says it then maybe it'll be okay.

"He's not dead!" Luke shouts.

Liz sobs and shakes her head. "He's not dead yet, baby, but he's getting there,"

Luke hates that she's so sure that Michael will die. He hates that she's saying not yet instead of no. He hates that nobody has any faith in the boy in the bed. He hates that as much as he loves him and doesn't want him to die, even he isn't sure Michael will live. He hates everything.

"He can't die!" Luke screams. "I need him here! He can't, he can't leave me. Not like this. Not at all," Luke's done screaming. There's no point. Michael is in a drug induced coma so that they can save him and he can't hear him. Nobody he wants to hear him is listening.

He's aware of an envelope being pressed into his hands and his mother's voice is soft. "This one's your letter, Luke. Go sit with Ashton and Calum and read it,"

Luke obeys. What else is he supposed to do? This is all he has left of Michael. This stupid note covered in words. All he can think about is how much he loves Michael, and how much he thought Michael loved him. Maybe Luke didn't show him that he loved him enough. Maybe, Luke should have done something different. Maybe, Luke should turn back time and try again.

But he sits and pulls out the note written in Michael's messy writing and he reads. And each word breaks his heart even more because this is it. This is the last thing Michael will ever give him. No more hugs, or kisses. No more anything, because there will be no more Michael. And Luke can't stand the thought. But he reads because that's what Michael would want him to do.

Luke,

Sweet, innocent, perfect, Luke.

I'm sorry. This is the hardest letter for me to write because I really don't want to be writing it. I don't want to have to say goodbye to you, Luke. But I want you to have something of me to hold onto. This is NOT your fault. Nothing you could have said or done would have changed the outcome of this situation. I was made up of bad. It was eating me alive, Luke. People say that suicide is the easy way out and that to kill yourself is to be a coward. I don't want you to remember me as a coward, Luke. I don't want you to remember my cold, lifeless corpse. I want you to remember the person I was when I was alone with you. Because, Luke that's when I felt truly ALIVE. I felt like I was finally myself, like I could finally breathe. I felt like I belonged and oh my God, Luke I loved you so, so much and I always will. Never doubt my love for you. It was unwavering and it still is. I will never ever stop loving you. I want you to be happy, Luke, so move on and be happy, but never forget me. I don't know what's coming for me in the afterlife, but I know you won't be there waiting and as much as that hurts I know I made the right choice. If there is a God out there then he certainly doesn't care about me, but he gave me you, Luke. So maybe, just maybe there is a God and maybe he really does love everyone. I'm made of bad and I know I'll be going to Hell when I die. When 70 years pass and you come join me you'll be in Heaven. Maybe we can sneak into purgatory and meet up sometimes. Just know that I'll be right there waiting. And if you fall in love with someone else, that's okay. I won't say that I want you to because I'm selfish, Luke, and I want you all to myself. But I've made the choice to leave and I can't let my memory hold you back. I'm going to die tonight and when I do I want you to know that I died remembering your lips against mine and the feel of your skin on mine and your hand in my hair. I died with you, Luke. Whether you were truly there or not. And I died happily. There is a quote from native chief Tecumseh "When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home," I want you to know that I did not cry. I did not cower from death or scream for forgiveness. I want you to know that I left this world with a grin on my face and the thought of you on my mind. I died in relief because it meant I was finally free, Luke. I want you to know that I really did try to stay for you. But in the end it was all just too much. It would always be too much. I was drowning, Luke. Cutting kept my head above the water. We were like the titanic. The life jacket would not hold us both, and I couldn't drag you down with me. This is what I wanted, Luke, so please do not feel responsible for this at all. You made the last while of my life worth living. You gave me a million reasons to stay: your hair, your eyes, your dimples, your cheeks, your blush, your skin, your lips, your kiss, your hands, your fingers, your muscular arms, your hugs, your torso, your chest, your back, your legs, your feet, your toes. Everything about you and the things you used to do like the way you would wipe away my tears and whisper sweet nothings to me even if I didn't deserve it. Like how excited you got when it came to penguins. Like how into a movie or video game you got. Like how you were so easy to tickle and how you would melt at my touch. Oh my God. I'm sorry if the page is salty. I don't want to let go of you, Luke. I will always hold onto the memories you gave me, and the feelings we experienced together. I love you, Luke Hemmings and I didn't want to leave you. But I don't have any other choice. You were my only reason to stay alive as long as I did, but there were a million hands pulling me from you, Luke, and I wasn't strong enough to hold onto you. I'm not strong, or brave, or smart. I'm not nice or attractive and I have a jet black heart. But you didn't care. You saw right through me and you helped so much. All I ever had was words until you came along. But I'm made of bad and you're made of good. I'm not allowed to have you, Luke. So I'll let you go. Because I'm alright with just words and I hope that the words I've left for you have been enough because it's all I have to give. I love you, Luke and I miss you already. But you'll be okay without me, and I'll finally be okay dead. I want you to live life, Luke. I want you to kick life's ass. Take charge of it and make it your own. Don't ever let it beat you down because you are so much stronger than it. Do everything you've ever wanted and everything you ever will. Love greatly and plentifully. Go on adventures and know that I'll be right there with you seeing all the same sights. Do what I couldn't, Luke. Do it for both of us. And when you do let everyone know. Tell them that you did the impossible and then die a happy death after living a long life. Find love, Luke. I'll always be supporting you. When you're alone and you feel like everyone's against you know I'm there and on your side even if you can't see me. You will never truly be alone in this world, Luke. I love you and only you. You made me LIVE, Luke. And that's all I ever wanted.

All the love in the world,

Mikey xx

Luke reads it and re-reads it. He hates that Michael sounds so sure that he'll be dead by the time Luke reads this and for a second Luke thinks he can hear the sound of someone's heart flat lining. He hates that it's all he has left. The last piece of Michael he'll ever hold. The last piece he'll ever see. And Luke starts praying. He's not sure he even believes in God, but he prays anyways. If God gave Michael Luke then maybe he would give Luke Michael just one more time so that Luke can save him this time. He promises that if he has just one more chance he can do it. He can fix the broken boy. He knows Michael's grown up in hatred he's so used to hatred. If Luke can just show him more love. He knows that he can do it. He knows that he just needs another chance and he can do it.

At some point an officer walks over with Robert. The teddy bear Luke had given Michael for his birthday saying that it was found with his dying body. Liz accepted the bear, but soon enough it was in Luke's arms and he was clutching to it for dear life. A letter and a bear. That was it.

Michael had started out with nothing, but his words. And now it made Luke sick because that was all that was left of him if he didn't pull through. But at that moment, Michael was words, a stuffed bear, a boy living off hospital machinery and most importantly a memory that would last forever. All Michael had ever had was words and Luke, and now Michael was gone and that was what was left. Words on a page and a broken boy holding to the hope that Michael was still alive. Sure a machine was breathing for him and another was replenishing his blood. And maybe they had to restart his heart a few times, but Michael was still alive. Even if it was in the worst possible way. And then a torturous thought hit Luke hard and stole his breath.

He needs Michael. And he knows that now.

And then the word comes to him. Destitute. Michael said it once. He told Luke it meant to be without the basic necessities of life. Luke is destitute. He needs Michael to survive. And he doesn't have him.