
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3701133.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      5_Seconds_of_Summer_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Michael_Clifford/Luke_Hemmings
  Character:
      Michael_Clifford, Luke_Hemmings, Calum_Hood
  Additional Tags:
      Depression, Implied/Referenced_Self-Harm, Healing, Falling_In_Love,
      Friends_to_Lovers, Developing_Relationship, Kissing, Sexual_Content, Blow
      Jobs, Love, Friendship/Love, Snippets, Slice_of_Life, Based_on_a_Taylor
      Swift_Song, Love/Hate, Car_Accidents, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending, Hurt/
      Comfort, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse
  Series:
      Part 6 of 5SOS_Song_Oneshots
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-07 Words: 1802
****** in silent screams, in wildest dreams, i never dreamed of this ******
by merlypops
Summary
     'Luke was the sutures that were healing Michael’s beaten heart. He
     was the shaking hand that made the stitches and threaded the needle
     and kissed the blood away when he was satisfied with his work. He was
     the one who had torn Michael into a million tiny little pieces so
     that he could put him back together again, only maybe everything that
     made up Michael wasn’t in quite the same place as it had been before,
     because things were different now.'
     Michael felt numb before he met Luke, and then he felt everything.
     Based on "This Love" by Taylor Swift.
Notes
     This oneshot is based on the song "This Love" by Taylor Swift and it
     somehow ended up a lot more angsty than I'd planned so I'm sorry
     about that! I really love the lyric I used for the title though so
     I'm quite excited about this fic!
     I really hope you'll enjoy this fic though as I had a lot of fun
     writing it :)
See the end of the work for more notes
Michael had been in Sydney all his life.
He was born in a hospital there and he went to school in the city until he was
old enough to drop out. He got several tattoos and an eyebrow piercing in a
tiny little tattoo parlour there beneath a railway bridge. He wandered the
streets of Sydney with his best friend Calum. He kicked a football around the
parks there with the younger boy unwillingly and watched the ocean crash
against the beach in the evenings… and he felt nothing.
Michael existed in Sydney but he wasn’t alive.
It felt a bit like when you looked up into the night and saw those inky black
slivers of sky where no stars hung. Logically, Michael knewthat there were more
stars up there in the gloom but he couldn’t see them and that made everything
feel darker somehow.
When Michael first met Luke when he was seventeen years old and the younger boy
was sixteen, it felt like the sun had finally completed its rotation of the sky
and was returning again, rising slowly in the east and painting the skies with
streaks of red, amber and gold. It set the world on fire and Michael felt alive
again, like he had done when he was a little kid.
Luke made him feel.
The younger boy was wide cornflower blue eyes and thin pink lips, pierced with
gleaming black metal. He was soft pale skin with a rosy undertone and golden
hair styled in a carefully casual disarray. He was a deep voice and calloused
fingertips from years of playing the guitar. He was torn band t-shirts and
tight black skinny jeans and battered Vans. He was a little pointed nose and
dimples when he smiled, and his fingertips were delicate snowdrops when he
touched Michael’s skin, fragile and beautiful and strange.
Luke was everything Michael didn’t wantto like – but Luke was everything
Michael craved anyway.
Luke was mint ice cream melting on the older boy’s tongue. He was the cool rain
running down Michael’s flushed face like tears as the older boy’s heart swelled
in his chest. Luke was the bleach Michael used to strip his hair of colour so
that he could dye it a startling crimson.
Luke was the seashells that were left scattered on the beach after the tide
came in. He was the pale drifting clouds floating high up in the sky, carried
on the wind against their will. He was the smell of petrichor and candyfloss
and damp forest.
Luke was fallen autumn leaves and cool sea spray and everything clean in the
world.
Luke’s kisses burnt Michael like acid, like that one part in ‘Alien’ where the
corrosive fluid was burning through the floor, molten as it ate its way through
deck after deck until it had fought as far as it could go.
That was how Michael felt, like he was open now – vulnerable and fucking
flayed– because Luke had laid him out in the snow so that he could see
everythingand Michael had nothing left to hide behind anymore.
Luke’s soft blue eyes revealed an innocence that the younger boy didn’t seem to
possess, because Luke might be tired evenings when the pair sat cuddled up
together – watching ‘Mamma Mia’ huddled up beneath a quilted blanket while
Michael tried to pretend he didn’t know the words and Luke sang along,
completely unashamed – but Luke was storms with crashing thunder and forked
lightning that slashed the sky apart too.
He was barbed wire and snowflakes and black ice stretched across the road,
lethal but invisible. Luke was an earthquake or a maelstrom. He was electricity
in water, bright and deadly, and the cleave of a sharp axe as it bit into the
trunk of a tree.
Luke was softer too though.
He was the smell of clean laundry and bluebells and the tickle of pollen at the
back of Michael’s throat. He was the gentle sighs that escaped the older boy as
Luke made love to Michael with his tongue and his fingers and his flushed pink
cock.
Luke was the gentle tug of Michael’s cherry-red lips when the younger boy made
him smile unwillingly. He was the birds singing softly on the windowsill in the
dawn light and the gentle rustle of the warm breeze through the ferns that grew
in Michael’s back garden.
Luke was the sutures that were healing Michael’s beaten heart. He was the
shaking hand that made the stitches and threaded the needle and kissed the
blood away when he was satisfied with his work. He was the one who had torn
Michael into a million tiny little pieces so that he could put him back
together again, only maybe everything that made up Michael wasn’t in quite the
same place as it had been before, because things were differentnow.
Luke was rainclouds and tinsel and the sharp bite of a crisp green apple too
soon after you had cleaned your teeth. He was the summer rain and the shift of
tectonic plates deep down in the earth. He was the wind turbines and the waves
crashing against the pebbly beach and the scorching sun burning down in the
vast blue sky.
He was the taste of coffee sweetened with caramel to mask the bitterness. Luke
was soft, pale skin marred with silvery scars and dark bruises that Michael
tried to kiss away before he washed Luke’s skin clean with his tears.
Luke was a freshly-ironed shirt, burnt and forced before it lay how it was
supposed to, and Michael was the dancing fingers and the cool wind that taught
him how to move freely again.
Michael was cold pizza and chocolate milkshakes on a full stomach, dirtyin the
best possible way. He was the shirt that you had already worn the day before
but weren’t tired of yet, and he was the person who noticed that you were
wearing the same clothes again and smirked anyway.
Michael was soft red hair and scratchy stubble and fiery green eyes that had
seen too much. He was contented humming and soft jumpers and sweater paws
stretched from too-long sleeves. He was loud music and angry singing and
driving too fast without seatbelts.
Michael was the glow of a cigarette and the burn of alcohol running down Luke’s
throat as they got drunk at house parties they didn’t belong at. Michael was
grass-stains on knees and a chocolate-eyed boy named Calum and bright sunlight
on a cold autumn day.
Michael was torn skinny jeans and battered leather jackets and hair fading back
to burnished gold. He was eyelashes spiky with tears and rose-red cheeks as the
icy wind bit at his skin. He was their two hands clasped warmly together as he
and Luke walked through the park with the frost crunching beneath their boots.
Michael was sensitive skin and hips rocking up and broken gasps as Luke choked
himself on Michael’s cock. He was the tears leaking from his forest-coloured
eyes as Luke stroked him open with his long, pale fingers. He was the broken
sobs that left him when his nails bit into Luke’s shoulders as Michael wrapped
his pale legs tightly around the taller boy’s waist, wanting him deeper.
Michael was jealousy and greed and lust, but he was affection and amusement and
lovetoo. He was the shadows who watched Luke bottling his secrets up and
casting them out to sea, and Michael was the fisherman who reeled them back in
and discovered the hidden depths of Luke’s heart.
Michael was grains of sand drifting through fingers and the gritty feeling of
the wind blowing debris from the forest floor straight into your face. He was
blossoms floating on the breeze and the silvery bark on the trunk of the
eucalyptus trees, and the stories of drop bears his friends had talked about at
school to scare the younger children.
Michael was blood-stained teeth when his car wrapped around the barrier edging
the highway. He was the protesting screech of grating metal and the deep,
agonising crunch of bones breaking.
Michael was closed lavender eyelids and the delicate blue veins in the back of
his hand that Luke traced with trembling fingertips as he sat hunched up in the
chair beside Michael’s hospital bed, sobbing brokenly as he pleaded with the
older boy not to leave him all alone in the world.
Michael was the irregular beeping of the heart monitor and the urgency of the
doctors as they fought to save his life, and he was Luke crying in the corridor
outside while someone held him back. He was Luke thumping on the wood and
screamingfor the older boy to wake up because he couldn’t live without him
anymore.
Michael was the long, dark hours of silence before the dawn on those cloudy
nights where the stars didn’t shine. He was the muffled silence that blankets
the world when snow has fallen and the sudden hush after diving into a swimming
pool.
Michael was withered autumn leaves crunching on the floor and the shatter of
fragile glass breaking on tiles. He was torn skin and white bandages and
emerald eyes that didn’t open anymore, until they did.
Luke was the sunlight shining in through the grey blinds covering the window in
Michael’s room. He was the heavy scent of lilies and the drip in Michael’s arm
and the kind nurses who were weary but tolerant in their reassurances.
Luke was sunshine glittering on snow like a thousand diamonds and the gentle
call of a crow as it circled overhead in the vast sky, a black speck against
the empty blue.
Luke was relief and anger and terror and love and, finally, after solong of
feeling the contrary, Michael was untainted waters and the lap of the ocean and
the cool winter breeze that reddened cheeks and chapped lips.
He was soap and fresh linen and the moon hanging low in the sky, painting the
world with indigos and whites and silvers.
Michael was the slow walks that he took through Sydney with Luke in the long
summer months. He was the sun warming the pavement and the sweat beading on
their foreheads and the heat of their hands entwined as they wandered the
streets without direction.
Michael was the shock he felt that he had someone as wonderful as Lukeloving
him, and he was the relief that bubbled inside him when the realisation that
the blond boy wasn’t going anywhereformed in the older boy’s mind.
Michael was Luke’s pale skin and his soft hair and the sparkling of his ocean-
blue eyes as they fluttered shut when the older boy kissed him, and Michael
didn’t just exist anymore.
He felt alive.
End Notes
     I hope this was okay!
     Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos :)
     Thank you! <3
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