Demons |¤| Lashton

Stone Eyes

Michael's PoV

When I saw Ashton holding Luke's sleeping body in his arms, my heart sank. I immediately was able to figure out what had happened, and only Luke and I knew. Luke knew I knew now, and he was more afraid than anything. He cried and I held him and he blubbered out countless apologies. I was able to understand that Ashton's illness was anything but natural. It was supernatural. And Luke was blaming himself. The thing had convinced Luke that it was his doing.

We all agreed that we'd take Luke to the doctor to see if anything was going on with his brain.

Ashton laid Luke on the bed and stretched out beside him.

Oh, if he only knew.

~~~

"Michael, are you alright? You've been playing on that crappy guitar for hours. What happened to your guitar?" Calum had poked his head in my door to check on me. He wasn't exaggerating, either. I had literally been playing everything that came to mind. My fingers had been stinging, but I kept going. I stole the practice guitar out of Luke's room because my guitar had been destroyed. I had to replace the strings.

Everything was so, so bad.

"Michael?"

"The strings all broke the other day."

"What did you do that for?" I kept playing, forcing my stiff fingers over the slick strings.

"Michael, your fingers are bleeding. Here. Stop." Calum walked in and tried to take the guitar out of my hands.

"No!" I yelled at him, ripping the guitar out of his grip. I desperately placed my fingers back on the strings, engulfed in a fever.

Calum kept repeating my name, his voice dripping with complete innocence and pain and sadness. His voice was so quiet, but I could hear his loudest thoughts, translated through his tongue, forming the perfect combination of letters.

"Michael."

Blood was slowly running down my hands, and the tears made their way down my cheeks, matching the pace of the blood. I was mad, mad at myself. What can I do? I felt worthless. I felt like I wasn't good enough. I was mad at myself for feeling this way when something much more important was going on.

My fingers eased to a stop, and Calum stepped forward, uncurling my fingers from the neck of the guitar. He lifted it away from me and laid it in a stand.

I stared at my hands.

Calum wrapped his arms around me, and I let him embrace me, even though I didn't return the gesture.

"I'm sorry Michael, I really am. It'll be okay."

"How do you know that?"

"Eventually, Michael. You've got us and you've got the fans. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better, but it does eventually get better. You'll find yourself in a good place. You just have to hang in there."

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Michael. Anything for you. Let's go clean up." Calum grabbed a cloth and wiped the guitar fingerboard while I washed my hands. Calum helped me put medicine on my hand and wrapped my fingertips, where it was most sensitive.

"Calum, I don't like this. My fingers feel trapped."

"Soon they'll be free. You just gotta let them heal first."

"My fingers have gloves," I commented. I sounded stupid.

"Alright, I think you should go to sleep now. You're starting to sound delirious." I was tired. My feet suddenly hurt.

"What time is it?" Calum pulled out his phone.

"It's 12:01pm. Com'on, let's go." As he clicked his phone off, I got a glimpse of his wallpaper. It was someone with short, flaming red hair.

It looked like me.

"Calum, do you have a picture of me as your wallpaper?"

~~~

"Michael, you're seeing things. It's a sunset wallpaper. Go to bed. Now." Calum seemed on edge all of a sudden. He stuffed his phone in his pocket.

"Are you lying to me? Can I see it?" I pressed.

"No Michael, you're being ridiculous and your head is messing with you. Lay off," he said, trying to maintain his composure.

"Me? Being ridiculous? Of all people living in this damn place, Luke is the ridiculous one! I hate to tell you this, but he's all fucked up in the head now and he's gonna end up killing himself if we don't get him to a psychiatrist or therapist or shit-" I started crying, because it was true. 

"Michael, stop. Luke's not messed up. No one's messed up. I'm sorry. Look, we've been standing in this bathroom for forever, let's just...argh, there we go." Calum wrapped an arm around my back and an arm behind my knees, lifting me bridal style. 

He freed a little bit of my heart and mind. He is always there for me. I don't think he ever gets enough credit.

"Thanks, Calum," I said as he tried to place me somewhat carefully on the bed.

"No problem, Mikey."