Balls [5sos ot4]

itching balls

Luke's pov:

When Ashton comes in, I try to stop crying. But I don't. He comes onto the bed and holds me. He doesn't speak to me. He doesn't ask what's wrong. He just holds me. He's warm, I like warm.

He knows that I don't want to talk. That I can't talk. He doesn't know why and he's not asking. He knows I wouldn't answer him anyway. But it's best he's not asking. It's easier to ignore someone when they're not talking.

It's easier to ignore the problem when they're ignoring it too.

So I ignore it and I ignore him until the warmth starts to burn. He needs to get away. He's too close. Too warm.

"Ashton," I croak out, shuffling away from him. He groans in reply. "I'm fine. You can go, I'm fine."

He sighs at my lie. He knows me too well. "Stop it, Luke. We both know you're not fine. So I'm just gonna hold you 'til you're better."

"Holding me won't make it any better," I grumble into the pillow. I bury my face into it, trying to block out my surroundings with the strong smell of Calum. I feel guilty trying to block out Ash. But he's too warm. Too loud.

He hears me and he tenses. It finally clicked.

"Luke."

I groan.

"Luke."

I don't respond.

He sits up now, glaring down at me. "Luke. Why?" His voice is hard, lacking emotion.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. He grabs my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. I cower under his stare and his hold. He lets go. "I wanted it... I was drunk. But I don't want it now, Ash. I don't want it now."

I'm crying again. Harder.

Fuck.

"I can feel him still. I can feel his touches and his--his--" I can't continue. I keep picturing him on top of me, moaning and whimpering, enjoying it. Telling me everything I should have wanted to hear. Doing everything I should have wanted to feel.

"Shh, Lukey. It's okay. It's okay," Ash whispers, trying to comfort me. He doesn't touch me; he knows not to touch me.

"No it's not!" I shout, jumping out of bed. I'm done with him. Done with myself. "It's not, Ashy. I cheated on you. I cheated on Calum and Mikey and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I barely have sex with you guys and then I go out and get drunk and have sex with him and I'm sorry that you're comforting me when you should be yelling at me. And I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up. Okay? I'm--" I hiccup. "I'm sorry."

He stares at me, eyes wide in surprise. He isn't glaring. He's just staring. He's frowning, too. That's when I realize he's not mad. But he should be. I want him to be.

"Luke." That isn't Ashton.

I glance up, seeing Michael in my doorway. Calum is right behind him. They heard. They know. I gulp, feeling all of their eyes on me. Cal's mad. They're always mad when I screw up. I don't blame them. I'm mad too.

We stand in silence for a minute or so. Them staring at me, staring at my shoeless feet. My socks are matching. I can't stand them not being the same. They need to be the same. I once went as far as cutting a hole in the one sock so it'd match the other. Ashton took the scissors from me when I almost cut myself.

I forgot to take the sock off first.

"Luke," Michael repeats, breaking the silence. "You know we're not mad."

"I am--" Calum interrupts him, earning a hard nudge in the ribs. They huff. I can almost hear the rolling of their eyes.

"We're not mad. We know you're a lightweight--" I want to argue with him but I don't. "We know you do stupid things when you're drunk. Like really stupid things. Really, really stupid thi--"

"Okay, Mike. We get it. He's a stupid drunk. Get on with it."

"I could if you'd stop interrupting me," he whines. He's quick to clear his throat, though. "Anyway, we know how alcohol makes you all horny and we know how you get after doing the do. Especially if it's with another random drunk you meet by bumping into them on the dance floor. Those damn long limbs of yours."

I want to correct him. He wasn't another random drunk. I don't.

Ashton sighs from his spot on the bed still. "We know you're asexual, babe. We know and so do you. We accept it, it's about time you do too."

I cringe at his words. I can't accept it. I can't. Why should I accept the fact I'm not normal? A freak? Everyone wants sex. It's human nature. Everyone has a sex drive. I have one too. It's just messed up, only really taking control of me when I'm drunk. "I'm not asexual. It's not a sexuality, anyways."

"Oh, come on!" Cal rolls their eyes. I can definitely hear it this time. "Shut up with that shit. You're ace. You don't like sex. Nothing is wrong with you. It's not like you're not attracted to anyone. You are biromantic. You are with all of us. You're you, idiot."

Mikey pipes up, "Embrace the fact you don't have the urge to hump everything with a heartbeat." We all roll our eyes at that. "And a dick," he adds as an afterthought.

I look up when Ashton scoffs. His eyebrows are raised questionably at a now flustered Mikey.

"I mean, uh. Dicks don't really matter. But, um, they're usually... nice."

I giggle at his awkwardness. He sneaks a glare at me but smiles when he sees I'm not crying. Finally, the tears have stopped.

"You know we love you, right?" Cal asks, bringing all the attention back to me. I nod, smiling a bit at them. "You know that we don't care for sex if you don't want it, okay?"

When I nod, they all walk toward me. Cautious. I open my arms, letting them now it's okay to touch me now. It's okay to hold me. And that's what they do.

They drag me back to bed and cuddle me until I don't have to question if they need me or not. It wouldn't feel right if it was just three of us in this bed. It might look full but it wouldn't be full.

It's only full when there's four people on it, all spread out. Four pairs of legs all tangled up in a mess with themselves and the blanket. Three sets of balls itching at random, forcing awkward movements and uncomfortable laughs. Two boners popping in uninvited. One bed, which took forever for us to find that was big enough for the four of us.

I need them to fill up this bed. And they need me to do the same.

It's nice to be needed.