Blind side; a direction in which someone has poor view, typically of approaching danger.

Michael felt as if he had been blindsided. It had come out of nowhere and hit him hard. Everything was slowly starting to get better. Sure he was sick and he had just relapsed again, but at least he was in a proper home with a mother figure a boyfriend and two new friends. Michael thought he was in the clear for the time being. But just as the dust was settling and Michael could almost breathe someone had to come and stir thing up again.

"Dad?" Michael squeaked. "What are you doing?"

"For f*ck's sake faggot. I told you not to call me dad!" Michael's dad shouted.

Michael didn't know how he got in the house, but it was evident that his father was drunk beyond belief. Michael also didn't know where his dad found the knife he had clutched in his grip, but he knew it was enough to keep Liz seated on the couch and Luke motionless against the wall with the blade to his throat.

"S-sorry sir," Michael muttered.

"Damn right you are! What the hell were you thinking runnin' off and stayin' with folks like these? You know you aren't worth it boy! You know they are just stringing you along don't you? You know you're worthless,"

Michael's shoulders fell and he hung his head as his own fathers words washed over him.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Michael eyes were locked with his dad's instantly and the old man chuckled. "Oh you know it. I see it in your eyes fag. You know you're a piece of sh*t. Let me tell you some more boy. You're a failure, a pathetic, worthless, undesirable, ugly, faggot!" Michael's dad pushed Luke aside and was on Michael in seconds. "Trash. That's what you are. You don't deserve to live. You should have killed yourself a long time ago boy. A real long time ago," the blade was against Michael cheek. "Are you gonna deny it?"

Michael shook his head trying not to let any tears escape, but failed and his dad filled with rage.

"Don't you f*cking cry!" he screamed hitting Michael across the face.

The boy in black stumbled backwards and cupped his cheek, the familiar sting very prominent in that moment.

"Don't touch him!" Luke shouted and Michael's blood felt like lead. Not Luke. Anything but Luke.

Michael's dad laughed. "This your faggot boyfriend, Michael?" he asked.

Michael bit his lip and lied, looking Luke in the eye to try and let him know he didn't mean what he was going to say.

"N-no," Michael stuttered.

"No?" Michael's dad asked.

Michael nodded tears welling in his eyes again.

"Even he sees you for what you are then," Michael's dad grabbed his arm roughly and began pulling him towards the door. "Your mum's been waiting to see you," his dad laughed.

Michael let himself cry as his dad dragged him from the house. Not his mum. His mum always knew which words would hurt the most. She always knew the best ways to torture him.

"P-please no," Michael begged. Trying to pull him arm from his dad's grip.

His dad let out a canine like growl and threw Michael forwards onto the ground where he let out a cry of pain. His dad kicked him in the chest and stomach several times. Michael had the will power to cover his head. He knew his torso and arms would be bruised within the next few hours, but he was more concerned about the blonde boy and his mother watching the scene unfold. If his dad didn't hurt them then Michael would do everything to piss his dad off and keep them away from them. Finally Michael's dad stopped and lifted the broken boy up by his hair pulling him out of the home like house and into the back of an old beat down car.

It didn't take long for them to get to the house, but it was long enough for the ache to set in. Michael hardly breathed as his dad opened the door and dragged him into the building.

"Do you have, Michael?" his mum's voice called out.

Michael fought his dad pitifully. He knew he would never escape the grip his dad had on him.

"I got the fag," his dad replied pushing Michael into what was once a nice living room.

His mother was sitting on the couch and she smiled at him. The same malevolent smile from when he was a kid.

"Inconsequential. Of little or no importance. A synonym would be insignificant. I could also use nugatory. Of no value or importance. Do you know what I'm describing yet?" she started.

"Me," Michael muttered falling to his knees before her. And she smiled knowing and loving how much her carefully chosen words hurt him.

"I could say inutile. Of no use or service. Now are you going to sit there or help me describe you?"

"Reprobate, miscreant, irreparable, despondent, moronic, irrelevant, repugnant," Michael rattled off.

"Good," his mum reached out and touched his hair softly, stroking it as Luke had done but it was as if it were another action completely to Michael.

Her fingers trailed down his jaw and landed on his chest. Michael squeezed his eyes shut. The last time something like this happened he was thirteen. He wondered if his dad was still here in case he tried to fight her off, but Michael was too far lost and too hopeless to even try.

"Please stop," he tried begging.

His mum laughed and her hands moved again trailing down his chest onto his stomach where she paused once more and pressed hard. "You're still too fat," she said even though Michael was skin and bone.

"Please, no, please,"

He hands were on the waist of his pants and pulling them down when there was a knock on the door.

His mother stood to get it and Michael listened in to the conversation.

"Um, my names Luke. I'm looking for Michael Clifford?"

He could picture his mum's faux confused expression.

"Sorry, you must have the wrong house," she said in a sickly sweet voice.

"Oh, um. Do you, uh, know where I could find him?" Luke's voice was hopeful in Michael's ears and Michael wanted to scream out to him, but his dad still had a knife and he wouldn't do that to Luke. Michael couldn't let that happen.

"No sorry. Try down the road maybe,"

"Okay. Thanks anyways,"

Luke's voice was dejected this time and Michael became suddenly aware that he was now at the mercy of his parents and that Luke would not come back to double check.

"Where are all the joints?" his mum asked and Michael sunk even lower knowing that somehow he was off the hook for tonight. He just had to figure out a way to get out.

When his dad left the room Michael scrambled to his feet and rushed upstairs. He still felt feverish and he had to resist the urge to puke as he fell onto his bed. Two in the morning was a safe time. His dad would be passed out with his mum and he would hopefully be able to leave undetected.

He waited for the time to pass and tried to ignore the voice in his head with its new chant.

Inconsequential.

Nugatory.

Inutile.

Reprobate.

Miscreant.

Irreparable.

Despondent.

Moronic.

Irrelevant.

Repugnant.

His nails scratched mercilessly at his temples and forehead. At his neck and chest. At his checks and scalp. He pulled his hair and screamed into his pillow. He was trying desperately to claw out the voices, but it was unreachable. He was only ripping at his skin causing blood to bubble up. His arms were already bruised and his chest was black and blue and now blood dribbled down the side of his head from the scratches by his temple.

In that moment, Michael was lost beyond finding. But Luke knew, no matter where he was, he knew he would find him and bring him back. But in that moment Michael swore he was truly insane.

He spent his time lost in his mind and heaving into the toilet until two finally rolled around. He was correct in assuming that his parents would be out cold so Michael grabbed more of his clothes and left after cleaning the dried blood off his face.

It was dark out, as expected at two in the morning, and Michael couldn't see exactly where he was going. He wasn't sure if he had turned at the right street or if he was even going the right direction. He gained some confidence when he saw the one house still with a light on. He recognized it almost immediately and found himself jogging the last few steps before knocking on the door.

Michael nearly cried out in relief when Liz opened the door and he let himself fall into her embrace easily.

"Oh, Michael. Oh thank God. Luke told me everything after that damn man took you. Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael," she hugged him tightly to her and Michael draped his arms around her and let her hold him. Loving the giddy feeling building inside his chest. "Luke! Luke Robert Hemmings! Get down here!" she yelled, shutting the door and leading Michael to the couch.

Luke's footsteps pound down the stairs and Michael hears the sob as he turns, but Luke's arms are around him before he can comprehend what's going on.

"Mikey! Baby! Kitten! Michael!" Luke exclaims burying his head in the smaller boy's neck.

Michael releases a laugh. "Luke," he sighs tucking his nose into Luke's neck as they sway, slightly off balance.

Happy tears cloud Liz's eyes. It's been too long since she last saw Luke like this. And this time it was over a person and not an inanimate guitar.

"What happened? What did they do to you?" Luke asked pulling back and caressing Michael face noticing how his fingers lined up easily with the marks on the smaller boys face.

"Nothing worse than usual," Michael whispered leaning his head down onto Luke shoulder. "My mum tried, but she was...interrupted let's just say,"

"Mikey,"

"It's okay, Luke. Really I'm fine,"

"You shouldn't have to be," Luke pulled Michael tight to himself pressing kisses along any part of Michael he could reach.

"Your mum is right there," Michael muttered pushing Luke off of him embarrassed.

"And she's completely over-joyed if you can't tell from her smile and the fact that she's nearly bouncing up and down," Luke said pulling Michael back into his waiting arms. "She loves you Mike. She is all about Muke,"

"Luke, what the hell is Muke?"

"It's me and you baby. Our ship name,"

"You bought us a boat?"

"Our relationship name,"

Michael laughed and wedged his head into the crook of Luke's neck again. Soon enough Liz's arms wound around the two boys and the three of them stood together and Michael had never felt ore at home, or more himself than it that moment.

"My boys. My strong, brave, beautiful boys," Liz muttered.

"Mum, stop it," Luke muttered as Michael said thanks.

"My boys,"

The three of them stood together in the living room for what must have been an hour before Liz realized it was a school night.

"Bed. Luke you have to go to school. Michael, if you want to stay home tomorrow you can,"

Luke rolled his eyes and pulled Michael up the stairs away from Liz who was trying desperately not to cry. Michael saw the first tear roll down her cheek and he was confused. He was so very confused. But Liz wasn't sad in any way. She was happy. They were tears of joy because Michael was safe, as beaten and broken as he was. Michael was safe.

Michael dropped his clothes onto the heap of the ones he had brought before and turned to be met with Luke's lips on his. Michael's eyes fluttered shut and his lips moved with Luke's as one as his hands tangled themselves in Luke's hair.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Luke asked his lips ghosting across Michael's.

"Luke. I've had worse believe me. I'm fine,"

"Alright," Luke muttered before he was kissing Michael again.

Michael was in a stage of bliss. This was all he wanted. He wanted the taste of Luke in his mouth, he wanted Luke's hands tugging on his hair and roaming his body. Michael wanted everything about Luke. He wanted Luke to be the dominant one all the time. He wanted Luke to protect him from everything. And for that moment, when Luke was all Michael could think of, Michael didn't want to die anymore. He wanted to live so that he could have Luke.

But the moment ended when Liz knocked on the door and Michael lost that sense of happiness and he wanted to die again.

"If the two of you are going to make-out it better be official!" Liz called through the door.

"It is mum," Luke told her.

"And there will be no sex in this house do you hear me! Not until you're married!"

Michael giggled and Luke flushed deeply.

"Mum please go away," he begged.

Liz's laugh could be heard through the door and Luke groaned stripping to his boxers and slipping into bed pulling Michael with him. "Night, Mikey," Luke muttered.

"Night, Luke,"

And the blonde fell asleep while the boy in black watched his expressions trying to guess what sort of dream he was having.