Words (Muke)

Twenty: Stitches

"I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside,"
~Jessica Sorensen

Within two days Michael finds himself sitting waiting for Luke only when the blonde comes he has to offer a smile.

"My mum's making me do some stuff, but I gave Ash a call and he'll be here any second to take you to get the stitches out,"

Michael tries not to look disappointed. It's not that he doesn't like Ashton, but the boy likes to get everything done in one shot. Michael knows that with Ashton getting his stitches out is a task that could take the rest of the day.

As if on cue there was a knock on the door and Michael gave Luke a quick kiss before opening it to see Ashton grinning at him. "Hey, Ash," Michael greeted.

"Hey, I hope you don't mind, but I've got a handful of errands to run today and I won't be able to squeeze in getting you home till later on," Ashton said apologetically.

"No problem," Michael told him closing the door and following him out to the car. Because it wasn't really a problem. Michael would rather spend time with Ashton then alone, but he knew Luke would be waiting at home and he'd definitely rather Luke.

Ashton climbed into the driver's seat and Michael slid into the passenger's seat next to him, his fingers pressing against the healed cut on his side.

"Hey, what are you doing, Mike?" Ashton asked pulling Michael's arm away from where he could grab at it.

"Sorry. I'm really nervous," Michael admitted.

"Did you, did you used to cut? When you were nervous I mean?"

"Yeah," Michael said with a laugh, "Nervous, anxious, angry, sad, lonely, anything really. I cut whenever I felt, because it was so overwhelming to feel,"

"What about when you didn't feel?"

"When I was numb?" Ashton nodded. "Then I cut because I wanted to feel pain. I always found a reason. Wanted to feel, stop feeling, calm my head, breathe for a moment. For everything,"

"Michael," Ashton wasn't exactly sure how to translate his thoughts into coherent sentences. "There, there are only four of us. And I know that four is such a small number. But four is more than three and more than two and more than one. And, Michael, four is more than zero. Does that make sense? I know that there are only four of us, but we love you and care for you more than anyone else has ever cared for another person. And I think that has to count for something. And I know that you probably want more than four, but four is the only number with the same amount of letters as it's worth? That means, to me at least, that anything above four when it comes to friends. Is fake. Quality over quantity right?"

Ashton glanced over to see Michael swatting at tears.

"Four is more than enough, Ashton. But it's hard when you don't even think you deserve zero," Michael told him.

"We'll stick by you, Mike. Every step to recovery," Ashton muttered as they pulled into the parking lot and he turned off the car. "Starting, with getting those stitches out,"

Michael laughed and followed Ashton out of the car and into the building.

They waited in the reception area for Michael's name to be called joking under their breath and snickering quietly. More than once they were complained about, but since Michael was a patient they couldn't just throw him out.

Eventually a nurse called his name and he followed him into a small office where he was instructed to remove his sweater. Michael obeyed and tried his best not to pay attention to anything.