Catharsis || Lashton AU - boyxboy

22. ĵeto

"And there's certain things that I adore,

And there's certain things that I ignore,

But I'm certain that I'm yours."

-James Arthur, Certain Things

 

l.h.

It was near 8 at night and Ashton'd been asleep for a few hours, though I had yet to move from my spot beneath him. The room was drowning in darkness, aside from the shadows illuminated by the moon through the ceiling-high windows, across from the couch where we laid. From where I was, I could almost count each of Ashton's eyelashes shadowed down across the sharp diamonds planes of his cheekbones, and he looked very gracious in this light, I thought; even the small puddle of drool pooling in the corner of his mouth and the dark-blue circles beneath his eyes.

I'd fallen asleep for an hour or so, but I'd drifted onto the brink of my nightmare again and I snapped awake and if it weren't for Ashton, laid out so beautifully across me with a hand still fisted in my t-shirt, I worried I might've fallen back asleep.

I was looking at Ashton, memorizing every inch of his skin and there was just something gnawing away at me in the bottom of my lungs to trail my fingers across his skin and at this point, I was losing the battle. I carefully lifted my hand from his side and dragged it lightly up his bare arm, all the while thinking of the therapy session I'd attended the other day in a rather trivial attempt to earn Nöel's trust back.

I still didn't find that I liked it very much; though, he'd said something I'd found rather compelling. He was telling me about some of patients he'd had before who found comfort in what he had called 'anchors'. Some people painted, some people played music, some people worked out; there were a lot of things people did to draw their minds out of the muck and onto something more important.

And as I dragged my fingertips softly up and down Ashton's arm, I wondered if that anchor could be a person, instead.

He had been stirring in his sleep for a while, but had never quite woken. A part of me wished he would so I could ask him about Harry and Lauren, but the other part of me knew that Ashton wouldn't leave them somewhere they weren't safe, and wanted him to continue sleeping so that I never had to stop. He was keeping my head clear and he wasn't even conscious.

Although, of course, as all moments must, this one had come to an inevitable end, and he was waking from his four hour slumber despite my wishes that things would remain blissfully still the way they had been, because stillness had come to be the best thing I'd known in years. Stillness was indefinitely the best atmospheres to be in, because, well, broken bones didn't hurt until you moved them wrong.

It appeared Ashton felt differently, as he sat up from between my legs, and I burned from the lack of contact.

"Luke?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes with his fists and stifling a yawn. He glanced up and down my body with tired eyes, undoubtedly confused at my position and why he had fallen asleep alone and woken up between my legs. I didn't let his consciousness stop me from running my fingers across his skin, though, because I feared that if I did, I wouldn't be able to anchor myself alone.

I smiled at him in response instead of saying anything. He blinked back at me, obviously still tired, and eventually turned around and laid back against my front.

He was awake then, I could tell. He blinked his eyes every few seconds and his breathing had become slightly faster, and now his hands were folded over his stomach rather than tangled in my shirt but I was just thankful he didn't say anything about the way I was touching him.

A few moments passed, and the air was still, but it was nice.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't in a very shattering way. His tone of voice matched that of the still air, and he never surpassed calm.

"Have I ever told you I was a theater-geek?" he had asked, and I laughed a little, because I'd never taken him for the type.

I leaned my head on top of his and chuckled. "Were you, now?"

He nodded against my chest, and a few moments passed before anyone said anything again.

"I wasn't actually interested in theater. At first, I mean." he said and then he was quiet for another moment, while he sat with his back against my front and his hands folded over his stomach, arguably deep in thought. "Y'see, my friend Andy was in theater because the teacher, uh, Mr. Dupree, she said, was hot, I guess. And she practically cornered me into joining. Kind of for that reason."

I nodded my head against Ashton's, silently encouraging him to continue. I knew he had trouble with this sometimes.

"And, so, like, I did?" he said warily. "Don't really know why. To get her off my back, I guess."

I nodded again. I continued running my fingers down his arm, and pressed my lips to the top of his head.

"There was this play, that uh, that Dupree wrote. He was a very, er, charismatic guy, if you will. And there was this play he wrote—this very eccentric play about two men in some lowkey queer relationship around the peak of the Renaissance. And, you know, at first, I thought it was a little weird. Eventually though, I was like, 'okay, well, this isn't that bad' because, despite its eccentricity, it was a rather well written, Shakespeare-esque play." Ashton said, and I thought he sounded like tangled yarn and that made me worry.

"After a few weeks in theater, I guess, uhm, I guess Dupree said he liked my improv. Said I wasn't too bad. So he asked if I wanted to play a lead—one of the men—and so here I was, a fifteen year old kid alone in the face of a theater teacher who looked more the part of a goddamn movie star or something, and I didn't want to get kicked out or anything, so I said yes." he said like broken glass, and I couldn't help but wonder why.

He stopped talking for a moment, and I wanted to encourage him to continue, but there was this part of me that was scared of what he was going to say just because of how he sounded.

"There was another boy, though, the other character?" he said like a question and I wondered what it was that made him so unsure. "His name was Miles." Ashton stopped then, and he was fiddling with his fingers with a ghost of a smile on his face and there was a subtle burn in my throat.

I wondered if maybe I should've told him that I'd heard mildly of Miles already, but I didn't. I didn't want him to be angry with Harry and I wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"He was..." Ashton trailed off, exhaling deeply. "He was kind of my best friend for a really long time."

I furrowed my eyebrows, despite knowing Ashton couldn't see me. "Was?" I asked cautiously.

"Well, uh, you know. Things happened, I guess. Things change, people change. You know how it goes." he said, and I could hear that lump in his throat and I wanted so desperately to know what was causing it but I couldn't come up with a scenario that made sense.

"Life." I whispered when the air was still, and I didn't know what encouraged me. "Life happened."

Maybe it was because it was true. Maybe it was because I knew that feeling too well.

"Yeah." he breathed thickly. "Yeah, and it's fucking agonizing, isn't it?"

I just nodded.

Everything had become quite agonizing, I thought.

x

this is undoubtedly one of the worst things i've ever written. i'm sorry.

i hate to join the crowd, because it seems everyone's leaving wattpad now, but i might be taking a break sometime soon. not leaving, i won't leave without finishing my stories, but i might have to go on hiatus for a little while because i am not doing very well right now. i just need a few excused mental health days rather than disappearing without a trace for weeks at a time.

even though not many people are on wattpad anymore, so not many people are still reading this, but to those of you who are and who still care, thank you, and i'm truly sorry. i feel terrible.

good night.