I Wish You Liked Boys // cashton

chapter seven

Calum woke up from a wonderful dream of Ashton to a sharp pain in the right side of his chest and a burning sensation in his stomach, causing him to jolt awake in agony. He sat up and then ripped the covers off of him, the migraine he was sporting had nothing on the rips and aches going on further down. It felt like someone was grabbing his organs and shredding them in half.

He pushed the body that clung to him off roughly as he felt the familiar sting of bile in the back of his throat, and he jumped out of bed in search of a bathroom. He clamped a fist over his hand as he yanked the door open and then slammed the lid of the toilet seat against the back while falling to his knees. Not even the bruising joints hurt more than the throb of his heart as he heard it's beat in his ears.

It felt like it was tearing his throat apart as he hacked and coughed into the bowl, his eyes squeezed shut as lungs twisting with need for oxygen as he spit up wave after wave of God knows what. All he knew is he wasn't going to be singing, not when it felt like thorns were tangling inside of his vocal chords and shredding his body from the inside out.

The ringing in his ears never ceased, and he could feel himself shake as he tears escaped his eyes. He held on to the rim of the toilet and then felt his arms vibrate unsteadily as a wave of nausea and vomit hit him like a tidal wave.

It smelled like alcohol and blood, and he scrunched his nose up as he rested his forehead on his palm. Elbows rested on the rim after he realized he wasn't strong enough to lift himself up, and he sat in misery as he felt the sticky petals of flowers against his lip and tongue and cheek. They were everywhere.

There was a knock, but it wasn't on the door. It was on the wall, and he felt his body seize as he saw through the hotel mirror his best friend standing in the doorway. He was looking at him in complete and utter bewilderment, like a little kid going to the zoo for the first time in his life. He felt like an exhibit to stand and gawk at, and he hated it.

"Calum?"

He sobbed, disgust and shame flooding his veins as he felt Ashton's eyes on his bare back. He never approached him, and it made him insecure with himself. What was wrong with him? How could he be as stupid as to sleep with his best friend, a man with a wonderful girlfriend, even with knowing how his body would react to his unrequited feelings? He was dying.

He was light headed, and when he looked into the bowl in front of him he covered his mouth with both hands as he felt a cry bubble in his aching throat. The water wasn't pink with just a few petals anymore. It wasn't small dots of crimson and a couple little flowers. The water was a deep red color, clots and lumps of his insides floating around with flowers so red that he couldn't even tell the petals were once lovely shades of purple and blue. It looked like a murder scene.

"W-What's going on?" He heard Ashton's voice, shaky with fear. He never moved from his spot, but he could see. He was visibly paler than usual as he stared.

Calum tried to stand up, but his limbs were jelly and his bones felt like marshmallows as he held on to the wall nearest to him for balance. A rush of light headedness hit him, his world spinning and turning after getting up too quick and losing so much blood in such a short amount of time.

"Answer me," Ashton weakly demanded. "- what just happened?"

He flushed the toilet after putting all his strength just to push the lever, and he looked up at his best friend. He wiped his mouth with his arm and then shook his head. "I'm sorry." He practically whimpered before using the counter to guide him back into the room.

Ashton grabbed his arm and he cried out in pain at the grip that left a searing burn in it's place once removed. He fell against the wall and he held his bicep as tears welled in his eyes again.

"I-I didn't even grab you that hard. Cal, -"

A sharp pain struck him in his lungs as he gasped.

"Don't say that!" He shouted as he stumbled to the bed.

"Your name?" He asked and Calum couldn't meet his worried eyes. Everything about the drummer made him ache, and he could feel himself grow weaker the longer he smelled his cologne and thought about what they did last night.

"I have to go. I have to go now. I-I can't be here." Calum repeated to himself quietly before raising his voice. "I have to go."

"But -"

"- Don't touch me!" He begged as he yanked his arm  to him and backed away. "Ashton, please don't. Trust me, I can't. You can't."

"Why not? What's happening to you?" He was so confused, and Calum felt pangs of guilt hit him, as well as a pressure on his heart that felt similar to someone wrapping a hand around it and squeezing.

He picked up his clothes and then shook his head as he slid against the wall back towards the door. "I'm so sorry." He apologized as he fumbled with the lock.

"What did I do?"

Calum laughed brokenly as he finally twisted the doorknob open and he stumbled back into the wall. "Nothing. You didn't do anything." He answered. "You're perfect... so fucking perfect. I... God I need to go. I-I'll see you around."

He was going to avoid him as best as he could, but how can you ignore someone your whole life revolves around? Especially in a space as small as a tour bus?

He was going to die soon, and he truly meant that.