"One of the hardest decisions you'll ever face in life is choosing whether to walk away or try harder,"

~Unknown

Michael left the house at four in the morning. He slid out of Luke's arms, the arms that were home, the arms that gave him everything and he dressed in Black skinny jeans and Luke's T-shirt. He pulled on of Luke's sweaters on top and grabbed one of Luke's jackets. He slipped into white cotton socks and his old beaten down converse and pulled on Luke's beanie.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Luke sleep for a few minutes. If things went according to plan it was the last time Michael would see Luke. It was his last chance to tell the boy how much he meant with spoken words. It was his last chance to touch him to feel him. It was his last moments with Luke, but Michael just watched him. He didn't want to tamper with the beauty on the bed.

When a tear escaped his eye Michael made no move to wipe it away. It would dry on its own anyways. Finally Michael willed himself to leave, but not without one last kiss. He pressed his lips gently to Luke forehead and brushed back a piece of his hair, but the blonde didn't even stir. A part of Michael had hoped Luke would wake up and stop him, but when he didn't, it only solidified Michael's decision.

Michael stopped outside of Liz's room and peaked in. He wanted to see her one last time as well. Her hair was splayed across the pillow and she was near drowning in her blankets, but she looked peaceful.

Michael walked away and wondered if Liz and Luke would sleep peacefully after he did what he was about to do. He concluded that maybe it would be hard at first, but he wasn't important enough for them to lose sleep over.

Michael left the house silently. In one pocket was his phone and a few pens. In the other was envelopes and papers. In his hand was the stuffed bear Robert that Luke had given him for his birthday. He wanted Luke there until the very end. Michael had a little tour to go on, so he left and headed to his first stop.

Opening the door to the coffee shop Luke used to work at Michael sat himself at a table and pulled out a pen and one of the papers from his pocket. He'd start with his parents.

Michael wrote in silence until a girl around his age came over and asked if there was something she could get for him. Michael shook his head and she left with a confused look at him. Hardly anyone ever came to the shop anymore, and this guy wasn't even going to order.

When Michael finished writing to his parents he stood and left the shop silently. He was invisible on the street. Nobody looked his way or even walked near him. Perhaps it was his present aura, but people were taking wide berths around the depressed teenager.

When he came across the parks he was looking for he sat again and this time he wrote to Ashton. It took him a moment to start. He looked around in silence remembering when he had come here with the boys. Calum and Luke had raced to the slide and Ashton had pulled Michael aside. They had, had a heart to heart that day. Sitting on the exact bench Michael now found himself on. Michael wrote to Ashton carefully. He didn't want to get this wrong.

People passed him without a glance in his direction. People going on early morning runs. People walking their dogs. One woman had several shopping bags with her and Michael almost wondered what shop would be open that early, but he remained focused on his letter. When an old man with a cane sat next to Michael on the bench he stopped writing. He was to overcome with emotion in that moment to continue.

Would that be him if he kept fighting? Would he and Luke grow old together? Would they start a family and make a life with each other? Would they last that long?

Michael took notice of the ring on the man's finger with the initials E + J written across it.

He wanted to ask who E and J were. He wanted to ask if the man and his lover were still together. He wanted to know if things could be like that with him and Luke. But he didn't because his decision had been made. And because of his decision he and Luke would not have a future. Not together at least.

Michael found himself moving because he could not sit next to this man any longer. it made him want to speak and break his silence. Michael knew if he broke the silence the voice would be back. At the moment all that filled his mind was Luke, and memories. So many memories over such a short period of time. They had only had months, but it had felt like an eternity. Like forever. It was Michael's forever.

He sat himself a top of the side where Calum and Luke had raced to and recalled Ashton getting stuck in it and needing Calum to pull him down the rest of the way, and then he took up writing where he left off. When he finished. Michael did not slide down. He did not permit himself that type of enjoyment. He backed away and climbed down, his feet already taking him to the next stop of the day.

He stopped outside the club. It was closed right now which seemed highly appropriate to Michael. He settled himself onto the ground and wrote to Calum. He remembered when the Kiwi boy had called him sobbing over the phone and begging him to pick him up. Michael vividly remembered Calum sitting in this exact spot sobbing as the music from the club blasted. He remembered trying to comfort the boy. He remembered not having a clue what was wrong. And he remembered Calum screaming that he has a crush on Ashton.

Michael remembered it all. And he remembers thinking 'that's it?' because Calum was far too happy to be crying over something like that. He remembers telling Calum that and the boy hitting him on the shoulder gently.

Michael remembers.

And so Michael writes. Because he remembers them and he wants them to remember him.

This time he got strange looks as he sat on the ground writing, but Michael didn't give the people staring the time of day. Maybe some of them could guess what he was really doing. Maybe some could tell by his watery eyes that he was writing his final letters to the people he cared about or hated. Or maybe they thought he was some druggie, or an aspiring writer who has no money to provide for himself.

But Michael really didn't care.

He folded this envelope and placed it like the others in its own envelope. There were three now. One for his parents, one for Ashton, one for Calum.

With the letters heavy in his pocket Michael stood and headed to his next destination. He headed to Liz's destination.

He came to a stop outside of Memorial hospital and his eyes burned slightly. Did he ever remember. He remembered seeing Liz's name as his emergency contact. He remembered it so well. He remembered the overwhelming emotion that came with it, but he still had no name for it. He wasn't quite sure what it was.

He remembered wanting to cry when he saw it and how he tried so hard to pretend it didn't really mean that much, but now he's thinking he should have let himself cry and that he should have told her exactly what it meant because he'll never get the chance now.

He sat at the side of the building by where they keep the ambulances and thought about whether someone would call an ambulance for him. Which one he'd ride in.

And then Michael stopped thinking about the ambulance that would retrieve his corpse and focused on his letter to Liz. he wrote carefully, he scripted everything he never told her and everything he did. And he thought bitterly, this is everything I didn't say Liz, sorry I never said it.

And then he wrote her name on an envelope and slid the letter in. Four letters done and one left. The hardest one to write was the only one left.

Michael found himself at the edge of the body of water Luke had brought him to the day they first hugged. He was so close to the water he knew he could just walk right in, but no. That wasn't what he had planned. Everything was there waiting for him, he just needed to do these few things first.

He had picked a specific memory for Ashton, Calum and Liz, but when it came to Luke he couldn't just decide. This was not his last stop. No he simply came here to leave something behind.

There was a poem he found a long time ago, but he found it fitting. so he left it at the water's edge for Luke whether the blonde would find it or not. With the sharpie pen Michael wrote against the stone wall; I wrote your name in the clouds, but the wind blew it away. I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves washed it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.

He retraced Luke's name that was written only yesterday next to his and drew little hearts around it. he wanted to scribble out his own name as to erase himself from Luke's life, but he left it there and drew around Luke's name, by the end it was the only one of importance. Your eyes were drawn to it and you forgot Michael's name was next to it.

And then Michael let the sharpie fall and he left heading to Luke's second destination with rocks in his hand.

When he finally reached the field the blonde and him shared their first kiss at it was past twelve in the afternoon. Michael knew Liz, Ashton, Calum and Luke would be searching desperately for him, but he was confident they would not find him.

Right at the spot where they had lied with each other Michael set the rocks down, WAVES, could be read. And then Michael left heading to Luke's last destination.

It took him an hour to reach the site of the accident, but it was where Luke told him he loved him. With branches and blades of grass Michael left the word KISSES in his place and he hoped Luke would find all three.

Michael stayed there and wrote. The page was covered in ink and his tears and he hoped it was right. He wondered if it was all too cliché if he was even doing any of it right. He wrote to Luke and he hoped that it was enough. He gave Luke everything he had left. Every last thing. But all Michael ever had was words, and he prayed he was using them right. He prayed that Luke, would understand, that they would all be okay. He wrote Luke's letter and folded it placing it in an envelope with Luke's name scrawled across it and he placed it in the opposite pocket as the others, trying to balance out the weight of them, but Luke's was heavier by far.

It carried the most emotion and the most love.

And then Michael left for the last place he would ever go with the weight of the letters in his pockets dragging him down.

When he arrived he was not scared, not at all, but he was crying because he was both happy and sad. He was both relieved and anguished. But he was out of time for decisions. Besides his mind was already made. There was no going back.

Each letter was carefully folded and placed in its designated envelope. His sleeves were rolled up and his wrists were bare, his scars showing for the world to see. He wasn't at home. He was on the roof of an abandoned factory where he used to run to when he needed an escape. He wasn't going to jump. Michael didn't like heights and he didn't want to die afraid. He wanted to be happy when he killed himself. He wanted it to be familiar and comfortable. He was going to cut.

Only this time his blade was long and sharper than normal. He wasn't going to make multiple horizontal cuts, but two long ones, one for each arm. These cuts would be deeper and would run from his wrist to his elbow. They would slice through his major artery and he was confident that nobody would find him before he had bled out completely.

His phone was in his hand and his fingers were typing the last text he would ever send. It was addressed to Luke.

He smiled as he pressed send and set his phone down and took a seat. He dug the blade into his right arm and it pierced the flesh instantly. Blood bubbled out and he smiled. He thought of Luke as he dragged the blade upwards and he was relieved to find himself already light headed as the blood oozed out rapidly. He switched hands and cut his left wrist in the same manner with a grin on his face.

Luke's hands in his hair. Luke's lips on his.

The blade slipped out of his hands as he was no longer strong enough to hold it.

Michael laughed. The sound echoed across the empty lot. A dying broken boy in a deserted empty place. It was almost too perfect of a place to die, Michael thought.

His phone was buzzing and he knew it was Luke. Sweet, sweet, Luke. Michael didn't want to hurt him, but it was the only thing left for him to do. He tried so hard. But the better things got the harder he fell and Michael was falling for the last time.

Luke's bright eyes. Luke's huge hands.

And Michael's brain was slowing down he was becoming disoriented and he could barely see so he closed his eyes and imagined Luke, stroking him softly as he fell into unconsciousness. He knew death would be next. He didn't take notice of the screaming girl calling for help. The ambulance was too far for Michael to hear it and he was certain they wouldn't make it on time. So he pretended he was in Luke's arms and smiled one last time as his heart slowed to a stop.

Michael was free-falling, he was finally letting go. And as good as it felt there would always be a part of him that said 'you could have held on' because letting go meant leaving Luke. And leaving Luke was the worst pain of all. But it was okay, because they were both better off now. So Michael didn't even try to keep his heart going, because he wanted it to stop. So he let whatever happened happen, and he let everything go. Including himself.