Work Text:
sometimes luke didn't sleep. instead he would lay on his side and embrace the warmth curled into his chest, breathing softly as the orange streetlights streamed through the bedroom window and touched patches of the older boy's milk white skin. occasionally luke would attempt to count the number of dark eyelashes that fanned over michaels cheeks as they would rhythmically sway from left to right, sleep settling into his green eyes (one, two, three, four...).
and it was times like this when luke didn't know if michael was a dream all on his own. because when michael breathed on him, or unknowingly brushed his calloused fingertips along his arm, luke could feel himself standing somewhere in between the stars and heaven, a confusion of scattered words surrounding his mind but unable to escape his mouth. but that was okay. he wouldn't know how to sentence the words together, anyway (love you i? you i love? i love...).
but michael could breathe and could speak and could laugh and could sing. he was in fact not a dream, he was just as real as the wooden floors luke walked on and beige walls he stared aimlessly at every night. and everytime luke was reminded of this, his breath would hitch and his lips would shyly curl at the corners, because michael clifford was his—was the dip in the mattress beside him, was the head on the other pillow, was the voice that sleepily hummed luke to sleep at night.
it was all unfair, though. michael had brought hues of sunflower yellow and summer orange into a washed-out world, and luke still (after many days and weeks and years) could not voice the three monosyllabic words to simply thank the boy he adored so very much.
a car passed by the flat, reflecting sheets of yellow and white lights onto the bedroom walls, practically illuminating the entire space. luke sighed into michael's hair. 11:46 pm.
"i love you," luke whispered.
but to no one, apparently. because michael was still asleep, and so was the rest of the world. it was just the moon and luke exchanging whispers through the dark.
as luke was hanging on at the edge of sleep, his ear picked up the sound of a mumbled voice breathing sleepily into his chest. and once again, it took many moments to process the scattered words that luke had thought he heard (was it a dream?????).
(no, it wasn't.)
"i love you, too."
and it was clear that michael was not asleep, and luke was not dreaming.
(his dreaming days were over; this was enough)