it's me [muke af]

empty gold//halsey

empty gold//halsey

"No, Mom, I've been doing fine," he snarled. His phone was laying on the art easel in front of him, his mother's voice radiating through speaker. 

His green eyes looked at the sketch in front of him, trying to figure out the palette he wants to use. 

"Are you sure?"

"I'm thirty eight years old. I'm married and have two children, you cannot possible expect to micromanage my life."

His mother was very controlling, every aspect of Mike's childhood was under her control. In the view of doctors, she did a damn good job. In the view of the school, it worked for a long time. In the view of Michael, she fucked up. 

"I know, Honey. I know that one character of yours is fairly violent. I don't want my grandchildren being in harm."

Michael felt the right of his face itch as he flinched, his neck tilting as he held his face still. "It's not characters. They're personalities, you know that."

She never believed her only child, her most prized procession, had something as awful as multiple personality disorder. She told herself it was just a phase from the time he was diagnosed at nine. 

He could feel his jaw chittering as he clenched his hands. Then unclenched. Then clenched. It was happening. 

"How are the kids?" 

Michael couldn't feel his fingers nor toes. His face was flinching, his eyes blinking fast. He pulled at the back collar of his tee shirt, pulling over his body. "They're fine. Nick has a 4.0 again and Alex's band are opening for a local band." Michael stood up, unbuckling his belt and throwing it against the cement walls of their basement. 

He bent over as he pulled at his hair. 

"That is so cute. They're just like you and Luke. Remember your old band? You guys were actually pretty good."

Michael's nails dug up and down his thighs as he took off his sweatpants. "Hey, Mom. I've gotta go, can I call you later?" Or never.

She sighed, a large huff escaping her lips. If Michael wasn't losing a third of his mind, he'd probably hear it. "I guess. Are you on your meds? I know Luke was worried about that."

Michael teeth clenched as his eyes kept blinking. His head was spinning and he wasn't sure if he was standing or sitting. "No, maybe soon though."

Michael closed his eyes.

Ashton opened his eyes.

Ashton took a deep breath, his back stretching out as he cracked his neck from left to right. He looked around the room, his face solemn and relaxed. His eyes darkened from where Michael left off. 

He spotted the phone with "Mom" at the top, the numbers ticking just over nine minutes. Ash walked over, sitting on the wooden bench covered in hues of pink and blue. "Hey, I'm back," Ashton said in his best Michael tone. 

"Didn't know you left," she said. "Have you got a job yet or is poor Luke still supporting you all?"

"Not yet, Mom," his voice seemed to snarl the last part. Ashton knew Michael didn't like his family. Ashton knew this because Michael knew this. 

"Do you remember Nancy? She has a son who—," Michael's mother trailed on about a story Ash didn't care two shits about.

His dark green eyes looked around the basement studio, a cocky smile upon his face as looked at the many unfinished artwork. "That's great, Mom."