Clean ⇔ Cashton ✓

If Being Afraid Is A Crime We Hang Side By Side

A/N: ^^^LOOK AT THE PICTURE. none of us are safe

ASHTON

I can't say that I wasn't upset when Calum sent me that text. I mean, being told that you've been aggravating someone since the day you met them isn't exactly the best self-esteem booster out there. Especially when you thought you were helping them. Looking at it that morning was like being punched in the stomach, and seeing him walk into work a few days later hurt even worse.

I couldn't help but grow attached to the boy, with his big brown eyes and full, pouted lips. He's perhaps the sweetest, most gentle person I've ever met, and it was so unlike him to send that text that it sent me into some sort of mental shock. But he did, and as much as it hurts to know how he truly feels, I have to respect it. I mean, it came from his phone. So he had to be the one who sent it, right?

It's Monday, which means I had to wake up bright and early to come into work. We don't get much business in the mornings, but we're usually just preparing for the day anyway.

Michael and I stand by the silverware, rolling them into napkins. His red hair stands out brightly against his pale skin, his permanent smirk etched onto his face. I focus on rolling the silverware, keeping my mind off everything else.

"So I see you've finally taken my advice on ignoring the Calum kid," Michael says beside me, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. He nudges me with his elbow teasingly, and my fingers still with annoyance.

"I'm not ignoring him," I mumble. "I'm just-- I'm doing it for him."

"You're doing it for yourself," Michael laughs, twirling a fork around his finger. "You met his boyfriend! The guy's fucking insane. He's probably out for your blood by now."

"I don't give a shit about his boyfriend." I slam down the silverware, staring at Michael incredously. His grin falters a bit. "Don't you get that? The only reason I'm not talking to him is because he doesn't want me to."

Michael's smile finally fades into a small frown. He shrugs, mumbling somethng under his breath before turning away and walking into the break room. I huff and take in a breath to calm down.

The guy gets on my nerves constantly. He's fine anywhere else but here at work. He's funny, he has a good taste of music and a yearn for adventure. But whenever he steps into the restaurant, he turns into an asshole who judges sweet boys based on who they love.

I grab a handful of silverware and move into the dining area. I begin setting the tables with the silverware, adjusting the plates to make sure they are align.

The door opens, and I see Calum step inside from the corner of my eye. I glance up at him, and my movements falter for a moment when I take in his paled skin and slumped shoulders. His eyes look tired, like he hasn't slept in years. A light bruise covers his left shoulder.

He doesn't see me, or maybe he's just ignoring me, but he walks straight past and heads to the break room. It's not until he's walking by me that I notice what's off about him: a thick banded necklace, the color of soft rose gold, clasped around his neck like it's choking him.

It seems like it's weighing him down as he walks. He stops by the silverware, picking some up to set up his section. I can see the expensive diamonds lining the necklace, and I know for sure that Luke bought it for him.

I want desperately to go talk to him, to ask him how he's been and maybe ask about the bruise on his left shoulder, but I know he doesn't want me to. I swallow roughly, clenching my jaw as I return to the silverware, but I'm no longer focused.

Calum comes to a table near me, setting it up quietly. I can practically hear Michael cracking jokes in the break room, can still remember his snarl whenever someone mentions him. I put down the rest of the silverware and turn on my heel, stepping to Calum and tapping his shoulder.