Cigarettes *Muke* #Wattys2016

Chapter 11

When Luke sees Michael again, his bruises have faded. The blonde was glad for the sight but also hated that the dark purple patches were there in the first place. "Hey," He greets softly, coming up from behind the innocent boy, causing him to flinch away from his voice.

"Oh, it's just you," Michael sighs with relief. Luke offers him a confused yet much needed smile and the ashy blonde sends a sloppy one in return.

"How've you been, Michael?" He asks, voice just above a whisper.

The smaller of the two shrugs and says, "I've been fine. I um, I moved back in with Shawn," The last few words come out a mumble yet Luke still manages to hear him.

"Why?" Luke asks, frown set deep onto his features.

"He didn't really give me a choice," Luke's frown runs deeper at the boys words yet Michael continues. "I've been back at his for a few days. I didn't want to tell you because I know you're dealing with your own stuff," His voice is weak and he's fighting back tears. Luke pretends not to notice.

"Has he hurt you?" Michael is silent, picking at his nails, a nervous habit which gives away his answer. "Where?" Luke questions again, voice soft and nothing like Shawn's.

"He's been keeping them hidden now. I told him how people would notice my bruises s-so he quit slapping me." Michael murmurs, vulnerability breaking the blonde's heart. "It's usually my tummy or ribs. Sometimes my back when he pushes me against the stairs." The hurting boy doesn't mention the times Shawn would force him in to sex. There was no way he'd be able to voice how disgusted he felt with his own body all because of a man who never knew when to stop.

"You don't deserve to be treated this way, Michael,"

The broken boy shrugs, staring down at his feet and fiddling with the carton of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. "Sometimes we don't always get what we deserve," He turns away from the blonde, flicking open the top of the package of deadly cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between his lips. He lights it quickly, taking a quick puff before Luke notices.

"You smoke?" He asks, voice incredibly small. "Why?"

"Because it makes the bad things go away and I'm sick of hurting," Michael replies. He stubbed out his cigarette after finishing it off with multiple long drags, finding Luke eyeing him with disapproval yet Michael tries not to notice. "I've gotta go anyway, Shawn's expecting me," He lies. In truth home was the last place the small boy wanted to be and they both knew it yet Michael offers a small "Bye, Luke," before turning on his heel and walking away.

When he gets home, the bruised and battered boy wishes he hadn't. Shawn was laying on the couch, hands behind his head and ice cold beer set on the coffee table. "Hey babe," He whispers. Shawn grunts in response, not even bothering to look his way before Michael heads upstairs.

The small boy remembers the night before quite vividly, the way Shawn had pushed him around, pinned him to the bed and used Michael's body for his own pleasure. The memory causes an uncomfortable shiver to run down the ashy blonde's spine as he walks into the bathroom. He lifts up his shirt, poking at his tummy with a grimace before bending over the toilet. He takes a final deep breath before sticking two fingers down his throat, getting sick quickly. He had managed to keep his retching noises to a minimum, having mastered the action from preforming it so often and gets up on wobbily knees, grabbing the sink and cupping water in his hands, drinking slowly before heading back to the toilet.

Michael manages to force himself sick a few more times before his throat is burned raw and he his gasping for breath. He somehow finds his way to his shared bedroom after washing out his mouth, head swimming and never makes it to their bed before everything fades to black.