Fic: Close To You... Chapter Thirteen
Title: Close to You
Pairing: Young!Michael/Young!Alex
Rating: For this chapter, PG
Summary: Alex looks up to Michael Bruno - he wishes his life could be like his. Michael, Teen Superstar Sensation wishes that he wasn't always in the limelight. A visit to a small school may change Alex and Michael's lives completely...
Authors Notes: Multi-chapter fic. Later chapters include; Angst, Abuse (Mental/physical and sexual), sex, self harm, mentions of suicide...
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve |
Jason woke up, startled at the banging on his door, he rubbed his hair and stretched, he grabbed a baseball bat as the banging didn’t stop, he rushed downstairs, bat poised. It soon dropped out of his hand as he saw Michael standing there, soaked through, shaking from the wet or something else. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Michael was in a bundle in his arms, his whole body wracking with sobs. He leant down, kissing his forehead, carrying him upstairs to the bedroom, cradling him; he sits him on his lap, despite the wet.
Michael doesn’t say anything, he just stays clinging to the older man, “Shall we get you some dry clothes? You have some here.” Michael nods slowly, though, making no attempt to get up. He carries him over to the closet, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist, biting his lip as Michael didn’t even have the strength in his lower body to wrap his legs around him. He grabs some of Michael’s clothes that have been left there from times before when they had spent nights writing songs. Michael shook his head.
“Can I wear yours?” His voice nothing more than a broken whisper. He puts Michael down, pulling him close to him, playing with his hair, he grabbed some pyjama bottoms from the drawer and a white top, he smiled at him and turned. The t-shirt slipped from his fingers, he bent down to get it, looking at his pale blue pyjama bottoms, notably covered in blood. He stood slowly. “M-Mikey..?” The way Michael’s face shuddered in fear as he looked down scared Jason. He took his hand and all but dragged him into the bathroom.
“Going to get you fixed up good, okay?” Michael shook his head, backing away from the older man; he sucked on his lip, backing into the doorframe, letting out a strangled cry. Jason picked him up, putting him in the shower, he stroked his cheek softly, smiling, trying to get Michael to feel more at ease. He knew it wouldn’t work though. “Where are you hurt?”
Michael mutters something inaudible; something that Jason thinks is ‘everywhere.’ He looks at him, taking the bottom of his hoodie, he lifts it above his head, gasping when he sees his torso covered in bruises, his shoulders and hips, scratched, hand marks, hours old. He watched as Michael covered himself up, looking away. The boy in front of him, never shy to show his body, now scarcely at a healthy weight. His ribs were bruised harshly; something told Jason that they might be broken. He knew how much that had hurt; he knew there was nothing that could be done to stop the pain that he would be in. He held the waistband of Michael’s trousers, looking up, asking for permission to pull them down. Michael nods slowly, biting his lip. Jason reveals red raw thighs, scratches identical on both. He looked at Michael’s boxers, torn and ragged.
He reaches out and turns the water on, leaving Michael his boxers on, he couldn’t face seeing him hurt anymore. He starts to dab Michael with a soapy sponge, he looked off into the distance. A soft tune comes to his lips. Jason smiles, watching as the tune eased Michael slightly.
“Sleeping to dream about you. And I'm so damn tired, of having to live without you. I’m so tired,” he sings, his voice broken, tears falling down his face without him even registering it.
“Have you spoken to Alex recently?” He whispers, watching as Michael’s bottom lip trembles, his eyes widen and glaze over with sadness.
“We’ll get you cleaned up and call him, yeah?” Michael nods slowly, looking down at his body. Jason washes him in silence, every so often a hiss escaping his lips.
Jason carried Michael out of the shower, dabbing him dry with a towel, he kisses his forehead and gently rubs cream over his stomach, thighs and back. He waited for it to dry and pulled a pair of his pyjama bottoms and a white shirt on him. Jason smiled, he looked young and almost back like Michael.