the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// t h r e e // +

I can't believe I forgot your name/ Oh baby won't you cum again? +

When Timothy was born, he was very pale. The first words from Michael's mouth were, "Oh, yeah, he's mine." Ashton cried when Tim let out his first cry. He was sixteen and overwhelmed but extremely ecstatic.

He loved his son and he always would. It broke his heart when he got his custody rights taken away from him, but he knew it was for the best.

Michael dumped his work briefcase and jacket by the door, smiling at a boy whom looked no older than nineteen. "Calum, this is Ashton. Ashton, this is my assistant Calum."

The two shook hands, Cal having next to no idea who the brunette standing in the foyer was.

"Is Timothy already asleep?" Michael asked, looking down at his watch. It was a few minutes before ten and he knew Tim never went to bed before midnight.

"He just got out of his shower. He still has that algebra project to do."

Mike tsked. "What has he been doing all night? Procrastinating?" He led the two other men to the kitchen, looking at the spotless countertops and empty sink. "You didn't need to do the dishes, that's not your job."

"I know how you get," the assistant said, leaning against the counter across from Michael.

Ashton watched the two react with each other, wondering if there was something more between the two. He didn't think there was, but there are a lot of things he doesn't think.

Michael gave him a smile. "Anyways, I'll add the payment from tonight to your paycheck at the end of the month if that's alright."

He nodded, grabbing his coat and bag from the table. "Sounds perfect. I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah, see you then."

Calum shook Ashton's hand once more before letting himself out of the Clifford household.

"Ready to see Timothy?" Michael asked the question Ashton has been waiting to hear for years and years and years.

"Obviously." Ash has imagined this moment for years and years on end. Ever since he lost the boy, he dreamt forever of holding him again.

Michael led his ex-lover through his house, up the stairs and through a corridor. "Let me update him on a few things, I don't want to stress him out or anything," the blonde man said as he stood outside a white wood door.

Mike snuck into the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

Ashton was left in the hallway, rolling on the balls of his feet. He looked behind him, a few photos framed on the walls.

The perfect photos matched their perfect house and their perfect family. The family of just Michael and Timothy. All the 11 x 10 photos were black and whites, various moments of Tim growing up, of their family bonding.

Vacations, soccer games, happy moments. It was all there and Ashton envied the fact that he wasn't in them. He should have been there but even he knew he wasn't ready to be in them.

Mike opened the door once more, a boy only a few inches shorter than him trailing behind him. "Well, this is Tim. He's grown since you last saw him," Michael said, stepping aside. Timothy looked up, no emotion drawn upon his face. Tim was the splitting image of Michael. His nose was sloped, his cheekbones were carved so high. He had the same tones to his skin as his paternal father, the same tones of Michael's (natural) hair. He had sloped shoulders, knobby knees, small fingers, clipped fingernails.