✔︎Ballerina Boy ❥ ot4

❥three❥

❥Three❥

            Calum, Luke, and Michael chatted softly in the cafeteria, eating their breakfast, all whilst watching the multiple entrances for Ashton. It wasn't long before they saw him, watching in awe as the boy walked through the room. He wore tight black booty shorts and a long sleeved shirt. The white top was visibly soft, and somewhat tight around his slim figure. Ashton carried a small blue gym bag, allowing it to swing on the bend in his arm as he grabbed breakfast.

"Ballerina Boy, over here!" Luke called, waving excitably at the slim blonde boy. Ashton glanced over as he accepted food from Marquis—the muscular blonde cook. Thanking him quickly, Ashton started towards the three boys' table. He wore loosely tied Nike shoes; they were nearly loose enough to hide his flat-footed way of walking.

"What's with the shorts? And the shoes?" Calum asked as soon as the ballerina was within earshot.

Ashton glanced down, blushing slightly. "I have ballet class," he responded. "And I walk weirdly," he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment as he sat. Michael and Luke had had a small elbowing war beforehand, which Luke had won, so the quiff-haired boy sat next to Ashton, with Calum on the ballerina's other side.

"It's cute," Luke chimed in, speaking about Ashton's walk. The older blonde shrugged, changing the subject with a charismatic ease.

"What're those bruises from?" He pointed at the purple mark on Luke's pale arm, and the other one on his collarbone. The first was from Michael's bony elbows, and the second was, well, it was less of a bruise and more of a hickey. Ashton, in all his cute innocence, didn't seem to realise, and waited for Luke's answer.

The blonde-haired boy couldn't exactly say that he'd been fighting for a spot next to Ashton, and he didn't feel like going into detail about his hickey. Unfortunately, Luke also wasn't the greatest liar, and he responded with, "I fell down the stairs." How that could've caused two small bruises on Luke's neck and arm didn't seem to matter to Ashton, or maybe he was just accepting the lie. Either way, the boy didn't question it.

"Aw," he said with an absolutely precious pout. "Are you okay?" Luke nodded quickly, smiling brightly and reassuringly. Calum then proceeded to launch into a story about how he'd once been running steps with his soccer team and someone had fallen, creating a domino effect that sent the entire team of twelve-year-olds tumbling. Ashton managed to pull off a look that featured both pity and amusement, an angelic giggle melding with an adorable "aw" of empathy.

"It was actually on those steps just over there," Calum said, pointing at the staircase by one of the entrances. "There's still a chip in the railing where I hit my head. That was my first concussion." He spoke with a voice filled with nostalgia.

"You've been here since you were twelve?" Ashton asked.

"We both have," Michael said. "Luke came when we were in year eight, and they put him in our class. That was back when AAG was competing with Australia High School for the best in the country."

Luke smiled at the memory. "It wasn't even a high school," he laughed. "It was year six to twelve, just like we were. Now it's just six to eight, and we mostly have year nine to twelve." Ashton nodded, smiling at the idea of a younger Luke trash-talking Australia High School with Michael and Calum.

Luke suddenly tugged Ashton into his lap, gently rubbing the boy's shoulders. Ashton giggled, and Michael moved into the spot Luke had vacated. "Are you eating dry cereal?" the purple-haired boy asked, sliding Ashton's tray closer so that he could reach the bowl of milk-free Rice Krispies. The ballerina nodded with a shy giggle, blushing when Michael fed some of the food to him. Since Ashton was no longer using his hands, Calum scooted closer and linked his fingers with the boy's. He traced hearts and patterns across Ashton's tanned skin.

            "You'd look good with a tattoo here," the raven-haired footballer decided, gently tapping the back of Ashton's hand.

            "I don't have enough money," the tanned boy responded, giggling.

            "So?" Michael said, smiling like a shark. "You're cute, anyone would love to hold your hand—even if they're tattooing you. Just flirt a bit." The pale boy held up his hand, revealing an X on his finger and an anchor on his thumb. "They're not that expensive, anyways."

            "My ballet teacher would disapprove," Ashton said, though he gently grabbed Michael's small hand and looked at the impressive black ink.

"There's makeup to cover it," Luke suggested. He held up Calum's seemingly bare arm, before pointing at a patch of sun-kissed skin. "He has a tattoo there," he said.

Ashton shrugged. "Maybe I will one day," he said. "If I find something that's important enough." With that said, Michael changed the subject by asking Ashton if he was part of the mile high club.

            Ashton blushed and shook his head quickly. "Are you?" he asked tentatively, tugging at his curls awkwardly.

            "Yep." Michael nodded his head, as did Calum and Luke. As they were responding, classical music started playing through the school intercom. It signified that morning classes were soon starting.

            "I have to go," Ashton said, standing quickly. He had to be in class before the music stopped. Luke kissed his tanned cheek, followed rapidly by Calum and Michael. "Bye," Ashton said with a bright pink blush, loping out of the cafeteria. The three boys watched his pretty frame in those booty shorts and thin shirt until he exited the cafeteria.

            "Do you guys want to date him?" Calum asked almost immediately, his brown eyes hopeful.

            "Yes," Michael and Luke chorused, their mind filled with images of Ashton, and his giggle, his sweet smile, and those thighs. Not much more discussion was needed. It was a miracle, considering the past list of possible boyfriends. Michael had once campaigned hard for a cute boy with purple hair that matched his eyes, but Luke hadn't liked him. The same for Calum and a boy with a charming smile and musical laugh. Michael hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was a bit of a fuck-boy.

            "Now we just have to make sure that he likes us," Michael said. "And that he likes boys."

            "Please," Calum said. "Did you see his ass? It's practically made for a dick to just—" Michael and Luke cut off the boy's crude sentence with twin flicks to the side of his head.