War ⇔ Cashton ✓

Little Boy

ASHTON

I was relieved when the nurses finally, allowed Michael and Luke to come into the room and help me out, judging by the fact that my back was beginning to tighten with stiff muscles and my bones were beginning to ache. The thin mattress of the hospital bed did nothing to ease my discomfort, and I barely slept the whole night. The stitches itched a bit, and it was hard trying not to scratch them and make the wound start bleeding all over again.

When Michael and Luke came in, they looked at me a bit uncomfortably. Neither of them are good at comforting people so for the first two minutes, they just stared at me with unblinking eyes, their gazes falling over my bare torso to where the stitches were, and I think Luke froze at that point, not having any medical ability whatsoever.

After I had cleared my throat, they moved from their frozen stances to retrieve my shirt from the table beside me, helping me fit into the tight undershirt and the army jacket without tearing the gash. Their fumbling hands had done little to actually help me out, but their presence was good enough.

I was able to walk fairly well, so Michael and Luke had taken me out of the army hospital and out the front doors, where we walked a short distance to where a series of army trucks stood.

Which is where I am now, stuffed between Michael's muscular body and Luke's slimmer but taller body as the truck drives down barren streets, dust flying up all around us. I'm not sure where exactly we are headed, only that we are going to some malnourished area of the country, and that half of us are being sent out on the front and the other half is staying in the famished area to keep watch of any enemy lines that might attempt a surprise raid.

The army truck jerks over bumps and uneven pathways, shaking the passengers inside and causes all of us to crash into one another. It's a good thing we are all comfortable with each other, or things could have gotten awkward.

"Ashton," Luke says to get my attention. I turn and blink at him, staring at his wide eyes too blue for this dull world, and his lips that he constantly chews on to the point where they bleed.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." His voice is soft, regret lacing his timbre and I cannot bring myself to ignore him for what he said yesterday. I know that that is what he is apologizing about, but it is hard to hold grudges when life-threatening things happen all the time. I can imagine that if I died, Luke would be racked with guilt from the unreleased apology in his throat.

"It's fine, mate." I say honestly, nodding afterwards to convince him further. His anxious eyes soften in relief, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he slides a bit in his seat, looking away from me and staring at the back of some guy's head in front of us. "Don't worry about it."

Luke still seems a bit nervous but I let him be, knowing he will calm down soon. I slouch in the rough leather seat, stretching out my large hands and tracing my fingers against my leg. Michael rubs his eyes with his fists, obviously still tired from last night. None of us are prepared to go out on the front today, all weak bones and stitched up wounds. I can only pray that we won't be the ones sent out yet. I don't think I am capable of sprinting into trenches and dodging behind walls to avoid being penetrated by a bullet today.

I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders and I turn to see Michael smiling sadly at me. His pale eyes analyze mine before they trail down to my side.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. "I mean, it was so bad yesterday. Before they stitched you up. I was terrified, Ashton."

I can tell it is true judging by the way his eyes soften, looking so tired and scared as he chews on his lip. I almost feel bad for scaring them the way I did, although I had no way of stopping it. I was scared too, I suppose, but I was a bit out of it the entire time, the pain hazing up my vision with sharp stabs of agony, cutting like a slice of broken glass.