3am - Mikey/Camila
So the night had sucked, and Michael had done battle with his stomach. Luke stayed on the sofa, but Mikey was up and down. He hadn’t slept, or really done anything. He paced mostly, quiet considering the boots on his feet. He didn’t really know why, but he ended up at Luke’s bedroom door and looked in. Did he believe that his friend didn’t touch her? No. Not from the second it fell from his lips. No. He had to see her though, just once, even though she hadn’t given a shit either. That was what hurt, and it would leave them all damaged.
He looked in the door at her sleeping form. He had let her go, but that wasn’t easy. He didn’t trust, or rather he didn’t believe he was important. This proved the entire point. He would love to have someone in his life that he connected with. They had once, but they were young. They had lived a lifetime in two years. He had been stupidly in love with that girl. Now he watched her sleep in the moonlight, and she was still his angel - but not his, and not some strangers that he could just blow off. No, she was with Luke, not that there wouldn’t be another next week.
He leaned back against the wall, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, and take his eyes off of her. He really wanted to leave, and fuck the band, fuck the concert - everything - “Hi baby,” he whispered, barely aware that he said it out loud. “Remember me.” He started to leave, because what was the point.
