Affliction | cashton |

Chapter Five: Dislocated Knees

"Come on, we can settle
this like mature adults"
Ashton chuckled as he was
thrown against a brick wall. A chain
of profanities spilled from the boys
mouth as several punches were
thrown to his stomach.

"We really fucking thought you
were a lot smarter than this Irwin"
a deep voice said lowly, another punch was thrown to his stomach, then another to his face, then suddenly the world paused as a foot came in contact with his knee. A cracking sound was heard, Ashton's pained scream overlapping the awful sound. Someone placed a hand over his mouth as his body shook with each blow. Pain raked through the boys body as he collapsed to the ground, his body trembling.

"Don't be a bitch, Ash"
the same deep voice taunted, punching his cheek harshly. It felt like at least an hour of pure torture but in reality it was probably about five minutes. The two figures in front of Ashton gripped his jacket and slammed his back against the concrete floor. As heavy boots repeatedly hit the same spot on his hipbone Ashton snuck his hand behind his back and gripped the handle of his handgun. In the heat of the moment he wrapped the sleeve of his jacket around it and pulled it out.

Three shots was all it took to have the two on the ground. Even with all of the wounds Ashton received, he got up and started sprinting. A shock of pain coursed through his left leg every time he put even the slightest bit of pressure on it.

He contemplated on whether or not he should just go to Calum's apartment. It had been two days since he showed up with the gun, he wanted the boy to have it after seeing Marco hanging around outside of his apartment. Ashton was already on that slimy drug dealers list to kill and Marco wouldn't hesitate paying a visit to the pretty boy who had been caught associating with Ashton. He decided to just go home instead of risking it.

Ashton's knee was just about ready to give out once he stepped foot inside of his apartment. He locked the front door before limping into the bathroom. He slipped his shirt off tossing it into the small laundry basket by the sink. He rid himself of his pants before sitting himself on the closed toilet seat. His glossy hazel eyes scanned over his knee, which was very harshly popped out of placed.

Ashton rose on one foot and turned the shower on, letting it get warm as he sat back down. He grabbed a washcloth and balled it up, stuffing as much as he could into his mouth. He placed both of his hands on either side of his left knee and squeezed his eyes shut. A painful scream was muffled by the washcloth as he popped his knee back into place.

Tears dripped from his eyes as he stepped into the shower. Blood streamed down his body, hitting the tiled shower floor then streaming down the drain. He wanted to forget about the events of tonight. He wanted to forget why he could barely walk on his left leg. He wanted to forget why it isn't only his blood going down the shower drain. Most of all, he wanted to forget Calum because somehow the beautiful, troublesome boy is always on his goddamn mind.

-

Calum tossed and turned in his bed.
The white cotton sheets and big fluffy comforter didn't seem so nice anymore. His bed felt tainted, like the thousand thread count sheets were laced with poison. soft streams of sunlight poured through the open curtains, hitting Calum's skin. On any other morning Calum would have loved to just lay there and feel the warmth of the sun, but not now. Something feels different. Missing.

Calum threw the blankets off of himself and stood up from the bed. He stretched his body, his back slightly cracking as he bent it. He walked his sore body into the bathroom to take a quick shower. His mind raced with thoughts of his old friends. As he washed away the soreness and the dirt the accident replayed in his head.

The screeching of tires rang in his ears. The feeling of broken glass lingered on his skin, scars covered the skin that he tried to hid behind clothes and make up. The suffocating feeling of the car smashing and caving in on him. Calum's heart broke each time he heard the faint memory of Luke's pained scream.

It wasn't his fault, everyone said it was, Luke was wrongly accused. They had all been drinking that night, like most 18 year olds, they weren't thinking about the uncertainty or the consequences. The laughter that filled the car haunted Calum's mind and racing heart. The dead silence was worse than the pain, the space between being saved and dying. The silence hurt him more than the impact of the white semi truck.

Calum stepped out of the shower, violent sobs left his lips, tears cascading down his cheeks. He slid on a pair of black pants and a simple knitted, grey sweater, wiping his tears as he slid into white converse. His arm slipped under the strap of his brown messenger bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The heels of his converse clicked against the hardwood as he walked down the hall and through the living room.

He grabbed his keys off of the island in the kitchen before heading towards the door. As the door swung open his eyes landed on a white piece of paper which was taped to the front door with black duct tape. His white painted nails scraped against the door as he untapped the folded piece of paper. Calum's heart rate picked up as he read the black words omn the white piece of paper.

Dear Calum, You're beautiful.