inevitable entanglements » a.i. + l.h.

27

Michael stayed with Calum until he fell asleep, patiently waiting for his breathing to even out. The boy had curled up in the bed, buried under a load of blankets. He had to admit it made him feel warm, if not safe. It felt strange to have someone care for him the way Michael did. So when he got comfortable, preparing himself to stop moving, he made sure to face the older lad.

Michael stared at him. He wasn't even going to deny it.

At first, he stared at his chest. He watched it rise and fall, as if to make sure that his lungs were still doing what they were supposed to. But then he stared at his pale cheeks. His bruises. His collar bones. His awfully defined cheekbones. The strands of hair that fell in front of his closed eyes. His bottom lip, that was still trembling.

He stared at the pile of stick-like bones hidden underneath the blankets that had somehow made their way through this mess without breaking. There were bruises and scratches and cuts and fucking bite marks but there wasn't a single broken bone.

While he watched and watched, growing familiar with every inch of Calum's skin, every feature of his face, he started feeling a strange kind of fondness.

Not the kind Ashton felt for Luke or Luke felt for Ashton. It was something entirely different. Something that hit him around the time he realised he was Calum's only friend. He was the only person he trusted. The only person who trusted him.

This boy was his responsibility now. Luke was Ashton's and Calum was his. He was going to feed him and warm him and learn him how to cope like a normal human being again until he could stop staring at pale cheeks. At bruises. At awfully defined cheek bones. At swollen, trembling lips. Until he could stop staring at the rising and falling of his chest, worrying that if he looked away, his lungs would stop doing what they were supposed to.

By the time Michael realised this, Calum's breathing had evened out. With a sigh, he stood up, softly sneaking out the room. Outside, he found Luke and Ashton sitting on the floor, both of the boys looking up at him expectantly. In an attempt to postpone telling him about the duke's new found kink, he slid down the wall. Although the couple wasn't going to rush him, he could sense their curiosity.

“There were fucking bite marks.”

He pushed to words off his lips, forcing them to tumble out of his mouth. Instead of watching their reaction, he closed his eyes and burried his head in his hands. Only now, he felt the tears that were running down his cheeks. He had no idea how long he'd been crying for. He just hoped that it had only started after Calum fell asleep.

“My body is yours. Do whatever you want with it.”

He choked on the quote that had been etched in every inch of his body and had rooted in his brains after the suffocating silence. When he gasped for air, he suddenly felt on arm around him, breathing in the familiar smell of Ashton. His elder brother gently kissed his scalp, before doing what he assumed was the same to Luke.

Ashton found himself sitting on the dirty floor in the corridor in between two shuddering boys. His mind threatened to explode and it felt like the only thing that could soothe him was alternating between comforting his loved ones. A peck on this side, a hug on the other. Some loving words in one's ears, a silencing kiss on the other's mouth. It felt like hours before Michael finally spoke up.

“I should go back, I don't want to leave him alone for too long.”

He muttered after coughing to clear his throat. His voice was rough from the crying, still rattling from the things he had only just said. Ashton shook his head.

“Go wash up. Luke and I will stay here. We can watch over him.”

Luke nodded to emphasise his approval. Michael looked exhausted.