Devil's Backbone (Muke)

7

I get home and head straight to our bedroom. Curling up in the bed, I decide to take a nap. Despite my coffee, I'm exhausted.

I wake up hours later. Michael is sober, and Ethan is gone. I check the time to see that it's early evening. My stomach rumbles, so I go downstairs to find food.

Digging through the cupboards, I find a box of cheese crackers. I'm too lazy to make food, so I grab the box and head into the living room. Michael's sitting on the couch, staring out the window.

"Morning," he says. I roll my eyes.

"Are you over your little fit?" I wonder. I sit on the opposite end of the couch and grab the remote. I switch the channel to a murder show that seems interesting and he looks at me.

"What?"

I sigh and do my best to explain what happened. I try not to get angry, but it doesn't work. By the end, I'm pissed off again. I shove crackers into my mouth and focus on the show.

"Baby, I am so sorry. I'm an asshole," he tells me. I shrug.

"Kind of."

"I should have said something to him. I will next time I see him, I promise," he says.

I ignore him, still mad though I shouldn't be. He apologized; I should let it go.

"Luke, honey, I am sorry. I shouldn't have been angry with you. That was stupid." He shakes his head and moves to kneel in front of me. "Are you okay?"

I meet his eyes, and the green in them shows me a hint of fear and sadness. It breaks my rage at once and I nod.

"I'm fine. I've lived through much worse."

Memories of my father flash through my mind and I cringe. I don't want to remember the way he treated me as a child. None of it. Not the punches, kicks, names he called me, the things he did to me when I started wearing skirts...

"I'm so sorry, baby. How can I make it up to you?"

I press my lips to his, wanting my mind to be anywhere besides where it is. He kisses me back, first unsure but then steady. After a moment, he hovers on top of me and his lips capture some of the skin under my jaw. I whimper for more and he chuckles.

"Needy today?" He teases.

"Just fuck me already," I laugh.

"As you wish, darling."

***

We're cuddled up on the couch when Michael's phone rings. He gets up, answers the call, and walks outside. A cold chill runs through my body, so I take this moment to put my clothes back on.

When he comes back inside, I open my arms for him to snuggle into. Instead, he shakes his head.

"I can't, love. I've got to go," he tells me. I sigh as he slides his shoes on and grabs his keys. Just before he leaves, he kisses me.

Once I'm alone, I call to order a pizza. When it's being prepared, I switch the TV to Netflix and find Friends. Restarting the first episode, I settle into the warm couch.

I've seen this show too many times to count, but it never gets old. Michael doesn't agree, though, so I only watch it when he isn't home. Which, as of late, is often. Much more often than I like. His job has provided a life for us that is past comfortable, but still. I'd like to have him home more often.

When the pizza arrives, I pay and tip the teenage boy an extra $35. Might as well. I take the food inside and pull a slice from the box. My stomach is feeling a little weird, so I take it in small nibbles.

After I eat, I curl up under a fuzzy blanket. My eyelids start feeling heavy, so I allow them to close. I want to see Michael, but I'm right by the front door. Chances are, I'll wake up when he comes in. If not, I'm sure he'll wake me at some point to go to bed.

With my eyes shut, I listen to the voices from my show. Eventually, they fade out and I fall asleep.

When I wake, I think Michael is home. When I notice that the door is locked and I'm alone in the house, I check the time under our TV. It's 2:32 in the morning. Where the hell is Michael?

My phone ringing makes me jump. I grab it and look at the screen. It's Calum. I accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice is groggy as I just woke up. I cough to clear my throat and rub my eyes with my free hand.

"Luke? Are you okay? This is the third time I've called," Calum speaks in a quick, energetic tone that puts off nervous vibes.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I was asleep."

He laughs on the other end, then sighs.

"Is Michael home?" He asks me.

"No. Why, what's going on?" I ask. I sit up more and look at the 'are you still watching' screen on Netflix. It's the only source of light in the living room, and my eyes take a moment to adjust.

"Well, have you heard from Ashton?" He wonders.

"No." I tell him. "Is everything okay?"

He's quiet for a long moment.

"Calum?"

"Ash left just after eight. That was six and a half hours ago!" He informs me. I throw my legs over the side of the couch and stand up.

"So did Mike. You haven't heard from either of them?" I check.

"Not a word." he confirms. "I'm worried. What if things got out of hand? What if someone is hurt?"

I shake my head.

"No. Nobody is hurt. I'm sure they're just... busy," I state. I refuse to think about Michael or Ashton getting hurt while at work. Though they've never stayed gone this long, or this late. Michael's had some late nights, but he has always been home by one in the morning. Now the clock is ticking towards three, and there's no sign of him or Ashton.

"I don't know, Luke. I'm going to keep trying, alright?" he sighs.

"Okay. I'll try, too. Let me know if you hear anything," I say.

"Yeah. You, too," he replies.

"I will. Bye, Cal."

"Bye."

As soon as I hang up, I attempt to call Michael. My call is sent straight to voicemail. So are the next four. After calling him proves to be useless, I open our message thread and start typing.

Answer your god damn phone, Michael.

I'm not kidding.

Are you okay? Is Ash?

I try to call one more time, but I'm just sent to voicemail again. Giving up, I send him one last message.

I want answers. Now.