Ghost ⇔ Cake ✓

Thirteen: Lord of the Flies

A/N: the pic above is ME 100% I do all my  writing late at night & I have to edit it so much in the morning lol anyway happy reading

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When Ashton was a kid, he used to think the world was made of magic and fairytales. This was mainly because he read much more than a kid his age would usually read. His bookshelves were always jammed with books with broken spines and torn pages. He'd read until his eyes hurt and stung at night. By doing this, his young mind made up a false persona of the world he lived in. He thought friends were easy to make. He thought families were kind. He thought love lasted forever.

He learned he was wrong.

His father started drinking early in his life. Ashton doesn't remember what triggered it. He doesn't remember any dramatic event-- no one dying, no job incident, no financial troubles. Ashton simply started growing aware of the fact that no other fathers are like that. And no other mothers usually sit around and let their father crack his knuckles against his son's cheek.

Slowly, Ashton was driven into a kid who was taught to keep his mouth shut in order to avoid trouble. He learned talking would just get you punched or yelled at, so he rarely used his voice, both in and out of school. He hid his bruises. He became a master at cleaning cuts alone in his room to avoid infection. Most of all, he learned that he couldn't exactly trust anyone who he stumbled upon.

Ashton hadn't changed his philosophy. He wasn't quite positive who he could trust, and he wasn't sure that people were all that good and kind in their hearts. He remembered reading Lord of the Flies in his first year of high school, and remembered looking at the board from underneath his hoodie and reading the words: IS MAN INNATELY EVIL? The teacher said no. Most of the class agreed.

Ashton disagreed wholeheartedly. He full-heartedly believed that man was innately evil without a doubt. How could you explain the fact that without proper education and a good upbringing, most children turn out to go down a bad road later in life? How could you explain the way kids have to be disciplined when they're young, like they have to be trained into kindness?

Even the kindest people have a side of evil and selfishness in them. Sometimes they break and their facade cracks and their true colors shine through before packing themselves up again with glue.

Ashton was the last one to join the group of boys. Luke and Michael were first. They met in class. Then came Calum, who they met in a record shop downtown, all smiles and rainbows and everything Ashton was not. An open book, unguarded, skin clean and unscarred like an infant's. Ashton thought Luke might have been slightly intrigued by him and his pure goodness, somewhat infatuated. His eyes were chocolate brown and warm and looking into them felt like standing in the rays of a summer sun.

Ashton was colder and meaner and kept his guard up the entire time during their first meeting. The three of them were sitting around the courtyard at school, their backs pressed up against one of the wide oak trees by the math building. Michael had his headphones on, but his shoulder was pressed against Luke's, his hand tapping out a beat against Luke's knee. Luke didn't have anything with him-- no phone, no books, nothing. Simply enjoying the company and weather and whatever else was going on that day. Calum was beside him with a calculus textbook in his lap, but he wasn't paying attention to it. He and Luke seemed to be in a deep discussion, complete with locked eyes and gesturing hands. Ashton remembered being a little startled-- Luke, the class clown in a way, loud but mysterious, having a genuine discussion with Calum-- soft and exuberant and adored by everyone.

Ashton had settled with his lonesome self at the base of another oak tree a little bit away, and he pulled his hood over his face and drew his knees to his chest and re-read a torn copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.