here’s a little dribble of something not very good but it’s for people who don’t know how to feel about a family member passing because they were terrible
Three Drinks Past Midnight - Micheal x Luke (mukeee)
hi I suck at everything but this is basically a fluffy one shot with minor freakiness and yea.
Summary : Micheal comes back to Luke’s hotel room after a night out. Luke stayed in because he didn’t feel well. Mikey drunk; Luke tired. ENJOYYY
If you asked Micheal this morning how he thought his night would go, he probably wouldn’t have said this.
The thing is, he didn’t mean for it to even happen. The drinks just started flowing, then he got tired, then he got excited.
So, like any normal boy, he decided to go back to his hotel room. And, I mean, he really did mean to go to his room but this hotel is very confusing and the door he was knocking on may or may not have belonged to himself. Who knows?
When the door finally opened he all but fell onto the groggy blonde, almost knocking him over.
And who was he kidding; he knew whose room it was, he always knows. At a certain point you’d think they would start sharing a room given, you know, but Ashton wouldn’t allow it. He says that sleep is more important and blah blah, and Micheal knows that in his heart. But on nights like these, who was he to deny himself the need.
Luke knew exactly how the night would go. He wasn’t excited about it because he really was tired and he really didn’t feel well. Hence him saying all this when the boys tried getting him to go out with them to some club in whatever city they were in. Essentially shutting them all down and watching a sulking Micheal with a glint, that Luke knew too well, in his eyes walk away.
So, to say it was a shock that Micheal was knocking on his door at 3:30 in the morning was a lie. For Micheal to actually fall into his arms, though, that was a bit weird.
“Jesus, how much did you have to drink” a confused Luke asked. Micheal almost didn’t reply solely because he was too focused on not falling asleep. He doesn’t really remember why he came here and Luke smells good and is warm and, god, how long has it been since he asked that question?
“Not that much” he slurred at the same time Luke said his name.
“Doesn’t smell like not that much” and this is the point where Micheal remembers why he’s here because Luke smells really good now and suddenly his neck just looks so yummy, which is the only word that Micheals slow mind can think of.
He doesn’t even remember doing it but now his mouth is moving on Luke’s neck, and he’s rutting against Luke’s thigh, and he thinks this might be enough but they’re still half in the hallway, and Luke is grabbing the base of his neck to detach him, and he thinks that maybe Luke will kiss him but instead he just mutters idiot and walks back to his bed leaving Micheal standing there with puffy lips and a very obvious hard on looking like an actual idiot.
When Luke reaches the bed, he grumbles a little, come on, while getting under the sheets which is followed by the quick passing of Micheal’s feet on the carpeted floor and the shuffling of clothes.
And maybe this isn’t how Micheal expected the night to go, but he couldn’t help but smile as he nuzzled into Luke’s neck.
I quit quit my meds but I quit therapy too. I hated talking about everything because what’s the point. Whether I talk about it or not, I still feel it. People kept asking me if I felt numb on meds. If that was why I stopped. It’s like asking a blind person if they see black. I didn’t feel numb because I just felt nothing. I was in this weird constant state of neutral. I’d rather feel eveprything than nothing. I’d rather deal with it myself.
No matter what I do it never goes away. It takes breaks just like the small seconds between songs but just like those, it never lasts long. I knew I was wishful thinking when I imagined a life where everything is quiet but a girl can hope. I’ll stay here as I always do but the breaking point is always creeping up on me. Like a mallet hanging over my head, grazing the split ends sticking up. It’s like a doomsday clock and one day it’ll drop but I’ll never know when.
It seems like anything will set me off now. Like I’m a bag that’s already been stretched enough that it could clearly rip at any second. I know that it will always come back and I should probably go back on meds or something but I just can’t help but hope that it’ll all disappear someday. Someday I won’t feel this trapped in myself and my mind. Someday I won’t feel like this. But today isn’t that day and neither is tomorrow. I’m hopeful for the future and present with the past.
Hard times. I don’t know how to describe how I feel other than I’m tired. The other day I had to leave school because I just couldn’t be normal. I feel like all I do is cry and sleep. My joints ache whether I move or stay still and I feel like that girl on tiktok who can’t wash her hair often because of a chronic illness. Matty’s been questioning me recently and I don’t know what to tell him. He always asks me if I’m really just tired or if it’s something else. How do I tell him that it’s everything? He says I can talk to him about anything, but what about everything? Soon I’ll be moving away for uni and I can’t help but be sad that I’m not sad. I never saw myself getting this far and some days I still doubt I’ll make it to move in day. For now, I’ll keep a smile plastered on my face and the jokes flowing; nobody will notice the change in my smile or eyes. They never have, they never will
The hardest thing about relationships is that they change. But for a moment in that burger joint with our Starbucks drinks, it felt like us again. It felt the same as when we were in 10th grade and we would vent and love and support each other. For a moment there, I almost forgot everything that’s happened. The reasons we don’t hang out anymore. It felt perfect for those moments until the wedge himself had to come pick us up and drive us back. My heart will always hold onto the love I had for you, but my brain is smart enough to leave our distance at a good point. Freedom feels amazing in the form of driving twenty over with the moonroof open and music blasting with my real best friend beside me.
Days go like any other; I go to school with bad make up, my lost dreams, and reachable goals of making it through the week. It feels like every day I lose more of my childhood self and I’m only 17. Jack is at film school, Matty is studying the arts, and I’m applying for nursing. My dreams of acting get shoved further to the back of my brain the more days that go by and my mind of poems and novel ideas get put next to Jacks old clothing brand. In a mind of guilt, grief, and anxiety. Somehow, the most prevalent thing is the loss of love. I used to think that I would have a highschool sweetheart, but 206 days and the only boy I ever loved being in love with another tells me otherwise. 
