Hazel Eyes | Lashton

Chapter Thirteen

"My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck. I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet." -Kiss Me (Ed Sheeran)

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It has been four days, seven hours, and fifty-two minutes since Luke and Ashton had last spoken.

Well, kind of.

They had spoken over the phone a few times (Luke reassuring Ashton that he was okay and that he would be coming round the bakery soon) and texted constantly, but Luke has been avoiding his crush due to the scratch marks on his face and itching under his skin.

(Okay, it wasn't really a crush. Not at all. Luke just really, really wanted to shut Ashton up with his mouth when he babbled about nothing and cuddle up to him on exceptionally cold days but. No. It wasn't a crush at all.)

(Except that it was. Oh, god it was.)

So maybe Luke does have a teeny tiny totally-not-platonic crush on Ashton.

With his bright hazel eyes and cute dimples it's hard not to find the curly headed boy absolutely adorable in every way. Luke groans in annoyance with himself and bangs his head on the fridge door. He's completely and utterly screwed.

"Hey Luke," Calum starts, empty plate in hand as he moves through the door and to the sink to put it away. "One, don't bang your head on the refrigerator-you just got back from the hospital with a minor concussion a few days ago, what are you doing? Two, we really need to do the dishes. I mean, look at the sink, it's literally overflowing. And three, I think it's about time to pay Ashton a visit. It's been what-three days?" Calum maneuvers through the dirty dishes until his plate fits and lets out a satisfied 'humph' turning to face Luke who had fallen slack against the door to the fridge.

"Four." Luke sighs and rests his now red forehead on the cool metal. "It's been four days." He glares at his shoes, scolding himself for becoming fond of the flower child at such an early point in their friendship. "But who's counting?" The bitterness in Lukes' voice is enough to rot the apples in the fridge. Calum sighs and pats Luke on the back in a reassuring matter. It doesn't really work.

"Just... Go and see him. From what you've told me he's pretty understanding with... Well, everything. I'm sure if you told him-"

"No." Luke cuts him off and glares at him. Calum raises his arms in surrender, palms out, and steps away from the pouting blonde. "I will not tell Ashton that my psychotic mother barged into my apartment and left me an 'I'm glad you're my son' present," Luke motions to the pink and ever-fading lines on his face, scowl deepening. "And got me hospitalized. Yeah, no thanks."

Calum stares at Luke long and hard, then shrugs. He stuffs his hand into the pockets of his jeans (which are skin fucking tight and look painted on in Lukes' opinion) and gives his best friend a condescending look.

"Okay then. There's no need to snap at the only person who actually knows what's going on with you. Sorry for trying to help." The thing is, Calum is absolutely right. Luke wants to see Ashton more than anything. But there's this, this thing in his mind telling him not to and screaming terrible, terrible things at him all the time causing Luke to feel trapped inside his own mind. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, quieting the voices in his mind enough to think of his comeback.

"Shut up." Luke finally says, going into his five-year-old pout mode. He crosses his arms, pouts his lip, and hangs his head, mentally stabbing Calum in the foot for being Calum. "I hate you." Calum sorts and pats Luke on the head (lightly), shaking his head.

"Mmmkay. Love you too. When you're ready to leave, tell me. Otherwise I have some Supernatural to catch up on." Despite the displeased noise Luke makes in the back of his throat, the relieved look in his eyes was enough to convince Calum he was officially the bestest best friend on the planet.