*TRIGGER WARNING*
Luke's POV:
"Well maybe if you stopped being such a clingy asshole I wouldn't feel the need to sneak around behind your back anymore!"
The minute the words left my mouth I was screaming at myself to stop, to not take my anger out on him just because I was angry at nothing in particular. Ashton's tear stained cheeks added to the guilt slowly building up in my stomach, reminding me of how out of my league he is. Despite this, my pride blinds me, so I storm out of the bedroom in a huff and make my way downstairs, feeling a sense of déjà vu as memories fromlast month flood my mind: me going out and getting drunk, coming back to take my anger out on Ashton, me apologising profusely and promising to never repeat my actions again.
I let out a miserable chuckle at how I generally thought that maybe, just maybe, I could stop this habit and change for him. The promise I made when I first met him, the promise for me to stop drinking, has been broke too many times for me to remember. Sometimes I shift the blame to him, tell myself it's his fault for letting me get away with it all the time, however, deep down, I know I'm simply just a failure; I accept that I'm a failure. So, instead of gaining some courage and apologising to Ashton, the bottle of Whisky I had laying on the counter meets my lips, intended to take away my pain. As usual, it doesn't. I kid myself, swearing that just one more sip will make it all go away. But one more is never just one more - that's one thing me and Ashton have in common. We tell ourselves one more will do the trick, two won't hurt, three has never harmed anyone, four, five, ten, twenty, until we've lost count and drift into our own painless world. Except, he has scars to prove his mistakes and I have broken liquor bottles.
Happy memories of our relationship flood my mind as the liquor running through my veins lulls me to sleep, whereas my fiancé's fragile body finds its release in a hidden razor blade and hopeful thoughts of today being his last.
~
"Fuck, Luke! Wake up!" Calum's rough shakes and urgent voice jolts me awake into a state of confusion at the hysterical paramedics and noisy neighbours being unable to mind their own business.
"Shit, what's going on? Where's Ash?" My thoughts are slowly being gathered together, my excruciating headache not doing much to support me. Frantically, my head darts around the room, landing on the stretcher carrying an injured Ashton. I push past Calum before he even has chance to reply, stomach churning at the endless possibilities that could be the outcome of today's events, the worst one being unbearable to even begin to consider.
The information the Paramedics provide me with doesn't seem to make sense, wether it's because they're speaking in medical terms or that my thoughts are otherwise occupied with concern for the younger boy with blood pouring out of his scarred wrists I don't know. I have to jog just to keep up with the increasing speed Ashton is being pushed at. Before I know it, I am in the ambulance insisting on riding beside him the short journey to the hospital.
"Hold on for me Ash, please just don't let go yet, please stay for me" Embarrassment doesn't even cross my mind, despite the pathetic way I am begging to the lifeless body of my lover who probably can't even hear me.
"How long are you going to take?" I holler at the driving Paramedic, "Hurry the fuck up, do you want him to die?" I vigorously run my hands through my already messy blonde locks - a nervous habit I had presumably gained from my Father.
Minutes seemed like hours before we reached our destination, the low beep of the steady heart monitor was driving me insane, yet sounded like music to my ears since it was the only confirmation that my baby boy was actually alive. Distraught orders from doctors rushing in envelop me with worry, Ashton immediately being hooked up to a vast amount of different machines, all increasing the amount of panic rising in me.
