muse-ic. ➵ muke ✔

the fifth day.

Michael hated waking up alone.

He missed Luke's angelic pale skin, lit up by the pretty morning dawn.

He missed Luke's morning voice and even the morning breath.

He missed his sleepy Luke, sitting with his toes grazing the carpet as his legs hung off the bed, yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes as he looked at Michael and a sleepy smile made its way across his sleepy face.

Michael loved Luke in the morning, but Luke was almost always gone before Michael woke up, playing that stupid piano.

He had grown to hate the piano almost as much as he loved Luke, which was a lot of hatred for an inanimate object.

Michael felt as if the piano held more of Luke's attention than he did. It was as if Luke were admiring someone (or in this case, something) from afar and Calum, when told of the situation, detected the feeling as jealousy.

"Jealousy?" Michael had barked.

"What do you know about jealousy? You haven't had a girlfriend since-... You haven't even had a girlfriend, Calum!"

"That doesn't mean I can't tell that someone's jealous when I see it."

Michael had sighed and slumped down into his bean bag, asking for advice.

Calum had said something about asking to play with Luke, and Michael had shot it down with negative remarks on his irregularly staccato playing skills.

The dark-haired boy had tried again after that, asking if Luke knew any songs that Michael could sing along with, then Michael had kindly informed Calum that Luke had been playing, or attempting, the same difficult sonata for the past few days.

It was a tune Michael scarcely had out of his head, a catchy, yet sad melody that started off in a loud, major key and then moved to soft minor.

Luke had mentioned words once, but Michael could never catch on.

"I'm no help to you, Michael. Make him feel loved, though. Don't hurt him."

Michael nodded, that was a given. "I'd never harm him."

Calum clapped a hand on Michael's shoulder as the boy walked out, contemplating all they'd said.

Presently, however, Michael was still angry about being left alone in the morning for the fourth day in a row.

He flittered downstairs and smiled at Luke, taking his seat to the left of the boy on the bench.

The notes slid perfectly from Luke's fingers, and once the song was done, and there was a beat of silence, Michael clapped.

Although, Luke wasn't satisfied. Everything had to be perfect. He couldn't just play it flawlessly only once. It had to be done in such a way many times, so one got used to playing the song correctly.

He laid his hands against the keys once more, and Michael shook his head.

"Baby, we're out of milk. Will you drive out and get some?"

Michael used his giant, begging eyes and Luke sighed, getting up and walking to their bedroom, throwing on a desperately wrinkled blink-182 tank top and ripped jeans.

Michael watched, completely appalled that a simple task that required Luke's attention on something other than the stupid grand piano distraught Luke so.

"Lukey, I'll come with you," Michael added, smiling, "Ashton and Calum are supposed to be over tonight, so I'll help with the impulse buys."

Luke looked over at Michael, who was eager and excited for a cutesy shopping trip with his boyfriend.

"No. Just... stay here and watch the piano."

Michael, his smile faded and his heart crushed, sank down onto the hard bench of the piano, watching Luke grab the keys to his Chevy and shove his phone in his pocket.

The slamming of the door made Michael jump, and he turned himself around to look at the sleek white keys.

He covered his face with the sleeves of his hoodie and a sour chord rang throughout the house as Michael collapsed against the piano, crying.