voicemails (a.i.)

one

The damn beeping. It’s the only thing assuring me that he’s alive, and I was finally questioning if he really was alive or not. He’s encased in endless chains of clear tubing that carry certain fluids in and out of his body. It’s been six days. Six whole days since I last heard his laugh and oh god how I miss it. I haven’t slept, or at least I think I haven’t, at this point it’s kind of pointless.

“You look like hell.” Michael whispers, gently closing the sliding hospital door behind him, as if he would wake Ashton up. “Yeah I know.” I snap back, a decision I regret instantly as Michael flinches away. Michael looks like hell too, his normally styled, messy hair lays flat against his head and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. I’m also pretty sure he’s been wearing the same clothes for the last six days, but then again so have I.  

I don’t mean to but I start crying, blubbering out an apology to Michael as he cautiously wraps his arms around me to hug me the best he can as I’m sitting. I haven’t let go of Ashton in days, I’m afraid that if I do he’ll just slip away into nothingness and I’ll lose him forever. My sobs are muffled by Michael’s shirt and eventually I calm down enough to breathe correctly and Michael pulls up a chair next to mine. He takes my free hand in his own and makes me look at him.

“Tell me again.” He breathes. Everyday since the accident Michael has made me retell the fight Ashton and I had before he took my car keys and left.

“It was late and it had been raining all day. Ashton had left a bit earlier and said that you guys had a band practice but that it wouldn’t take long. He kissed me before he left,” I whisper,  letting go of Michael’s hand to touch my lips carefully with the tips of my fingers, trying to remember what his own had felt like against mine. “He said that it wouldn’t be too long, and then he was gone. I was sitting on the couch watching tv when he finally walked through the door, he was soaked, and the rain had started to pick up. Before I could say anything he said “You don’t love me.” He said it, he wasn’t asking it, or wondering if it was true, he said it like he knew for a fact that I didn’t love him. And I do, oh god I do love him. Michael please don’t make me tell it again.” I stammer, crying again. He gestures for me to keep going. “Oh god, I knew that he’d been having really bad days lately, and I wasn’t watching for the signs.. And then he lunged for my car keys and left. I knew he’d come home, he always came home, especially after a fight, we always made things right. We worked through it. Oh god, it was about 2am when I got the call and they said I needed to come in right away but I didn’t have a car so I called you. You picked me up and we got here ten minutes later.They said he’d collided with an oncoming freight truck head on, he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. He should be dead.”

Michael nodded and glanced around the room and up at the ceiling. I knew he was trying not to cry, he was trying to look anywhere but Ashton covered in tubes and stitches on the bed. “You should write to him.” he says suddenly. I look at him questioningly. “You know like you would if we were on tour. Tell him about you and how much you miss him but just.. change a few things. It’s just a suggestion. If you don’t want to write to him you can always leave him voicemails. It’s his voice that picks up, for like three seconds you feel like this is all a lie. Try it.” Michael says, pushing himself out of the chair next to mine and leaving the room.

I pull my phone out a few minutes later after listening to all the machines in the room run to keep him alive and tap on Ashton’s name in my contacts. I listen to the phone ring for what seems like forever and finally his voicemail picks up.

“Hey, it’s Ashton! Sorry I couldn-” I cut it off before he finishes.