Definition [ot4]

Thirty Three

Michael doesn't spend a lot of time on Luke. No one really spends a lot of time on Luke, he realizes. They used to, they used to coddle him and give him all the attention he could possibly need, because he was the baby. He was the youngest, and he liked to make sure everyone knew it.

Now though, they've all got their own problems. Ashton's dealing with all his sexuality shit, Calum's got all his gender shit, and Michael's trying to keep up with both. He's paying special attention to them, because they need it. Ashton needs to work through his problems, and Calum needs to be more comfortable with himself. He's been so caught up in trying to help them, he forgot about Luke. They all forgot about Luke.

Calum shrugs when Michael mentions their Luke neglect. "He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

"Yeah," Ashton agrees. "Besides, we've been busy. We still talk to him, it's not like we've cut him out."

"You're too busy for Luke?" Michael cocks an eyebrow curiously. Ashton pauses, frowning a bit when he realizes what he's said.

"I didn't mean-"

"No, I get it," Michael cuts him off. The last thing he needs is for Ashton to get stressed and have an emotional breakdown, or something. He runs a hand through Ashton's hair and kisses his head, then shoves off the couch to go off in search of Luke. There's not a lot of places he could be, really, a bus isn't that big. The bunks are all empty, as is the bathroom. Ashton and Calum are the only ones in the front, which kind of startles Michael for a second.

"We didn't leave Luke somewhere, did we?" He calls.

"Oh for fucks-" Luke yells in frustration from somewhere, before there's a thud and a groan of pain. Michael traces the noise to the back of the bus, where there's a small couch and a couple cabinets (mostly to store the alcohol they're not meant to have). Luke's laying on the ground, wrapped tightly in a heavy blanket, with the side of his face set against the ground. He glances up when Michael slides the door open and sighs, but makes no move to get up.

"I was angry and I fell," he mutters.

"Off the couch?" Michael slides the door closed again and turns to give Luke an incredulous glance. Luke nods and juts his bottom lip out in a pout. "Lukey," Michael says in a high pitched voice, the same one he uses to talk to dogs. Luke pouts even more. "Lukey, put the shelf away, I haven't got any knickknacks."

Luke snorts at that, swiping his blanket covered hand up to cover his mouth. His eyes flutter shut and his eyebrows tilt, smoothing his forehead free of wrinkles. "Shut the fuck up, grandma."

Michael rolls his eyes and drops to his knees carefully, then crawls forward until he gets to Luke. He sits back and reaches over to brush the fringe off Luke's forehead, cooing softly until Luke hisses at him. Luke bares his teeth in an attempt to look vicious, but Michael figures he resembles a baby bear.

"Lukey," he repeats in the same silly voice.

"Shut up, you thought you left me somewhere!" Luke mumbles, huffing slightly while Michael tucks the loose hair behind his ear. Luke buries his face further into the blankets until he's almost lost, with just his bright blue eyes and forehead sticking out. Michael can tell he's still scowling by the lines etched into his forehead again and the downwards tilt of his eyebrows.

Michael sets his hand on the pile of blankets that's probably on the side of Luke's face and presses the pad of his thumb against his left eyebrow, smoothing it out carefully. "Come on, Luke, you were quiet. You're never quiet, of course we thought we left you somewhere."