psych ➳ muke

20

I barely sleep through the night. The guilt started as a dull ache deep within my core, but it spread. It crept through me like fire and gasoline.

Spreading and burning.

When sleep finally found me, it did not last long. I was filled with dreams of warn smiles and butterfly kisses from my sweet boy. And when I awoke early this morning, before the sun had even risen, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. The light of the moon cast a glow around the room, illuminating just enough to see an outline of the boy across the room.

Michael is so beautiful.

Stunning.

Wonderful.

Lovely.

And just the sight of him brightens my entire day. One slight touch of hand and I am sent soaring, heart rate accelerated. Filled to the brim with love and adoration.

I am still awake when Marlene comes to wake us at six thirty. She gives me a sympathetic, knowing smile and motions to Michael. She leaves without a word and I am so thankful for this.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand, stretching my tired limbs. I pad across the room and carefully sit on the edge of the small bed. My hand finds Michael's face, softly caressing his pale cheek. I brush back his messy fringe, carding my fingers through platinum locks.

"Hmm?" he mumbles, the duvet pressed close to his chest.

I smile, "Good morning, love. Please wake up for me. I'd like to see those beautiful eyes."

A pout forms on his plump, pink lips, his emerald green eyes blink up at me. He whines low in his throat, making grabby hands in my direction. Although I shouldn't, I oblige, leaning in to his warm embrace. His arms wrap around my shoulders, my face buried in his chest. His distinctive scent floods my nostrils, it is so him, and I want to stay like this forever.

His grips loosens and I sit back a little, baby blues locked on soft greens. He smiles again, leaning forward and pressing our lips together. Despite us both having severe morning breath, the kiss is sweet, tender. It only lasts for a few moments before we pull away, our foreheads resting together.

"This was the absolute best way to wake up," Michael says, pecking my lips once again.

"We have to go shower and get ready for the day, okay? I know you don't want to leave this moment, but if we both hurry we will be together soon."

He nods his head in agreement, caressing my cheek with his thumb. My chest tightens, my heart cracking, threatening to break. But I will not crumble, not here. Not in front of Michael because I am supposed to be the strong one. I promised that I would take care of him and crying, that isn't strong.

We part ways moments later, collecting our baskets and heading to the showers; I in the hall and he in our room, a bathroom I've never used before. I am quick to cleanse myself, wanting to be back in Michael's arms as quickly as possible. When I return to our room, he is standing in front of the metallic slab, combing through his knotted hair. I place my basket on my unmade bed and make my way to him, wrapping my arms protectively around his waist, my cheek resting on the back of his head.

"I'm meant to be combing my hair, Luke. How can I when your laying on it?" he asks with a slight laugh, setting the black comb onto the counter.

I shrug, "I like your hair messy."

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Michael and I spend the entire morning as close as we can. Exchanging smiles and squeezing one another's hand every chance we get. The day passes by slowly, in a blur. I am too focused on Michael to notice that noon is nearing and my mother will be here soon. I am allotted time to gather my belongings, packing them into the black backpack my mother had sent them in. Michael joins me, the staff does not question it. And I think that they know about us. We do not try to conceal it, just attempt to make it less obvious.