The Setup » [lashton] √

2.1

The thing was, Luke was fine. He was really fine. 

He barely thought about Ashton anymore, really. So when the first one arrived, he thought it must have been from anyone else, the last person he thought of was Ashton when a bouquet of wax flowers, wrapped in butcher's paper and left as if there were a memorial outside Luke's apartment. Which had been what made him inclined to believe that it was a mistake; someone had simply gotten the wrong apartment, so he left them to the side of his doormat as they slowly wilted and then eventually vanished. 

Replaced by something Luke found harder to claim was mistakenly left, a box of brownies, from the store they'd been to all those months ago. Again there was no note and really no way of knowing for sure that it wasn't some sort of coincidence, but Luke knew it was him. He had no idea what Ashton would be doing, leaving things on his doorstep but decided it was probably best to ignore them until he got some sort of explanation, or better, he got bored. 

The third time though, there was a massive, and he meant a massive bag of coffee grounds; there was absolutely no way he was getting through them before they went bad. They were good coffee grounds, though, expensive, the ones from his favourite coffee shop. Which he argued he'd taken plenty of people to, even Michael now. Maybe Michael and Calum were trying to make him feel better. He had been... withdrawn lately. 

That was it. Michael and Calum were trying to make him feel better.

The fourth thing to arrive shattered that idea. It was a ring in a box that didn't belong to it; it was intricately engraved and, upon closer inspection, was practically flawless. Luke's breath was caught in his throat as he looked it over. No one else knew about this. He hesitated as he held the abused box in his hand and then looked up; feeling as though he were about to be caught in this moment of genuine vulnerability. Quickly, he retreated behind his door where he could marvel at it in peace. 

It took him a long moment of looking at the ring nestled in the crushed velvet box lining before it occurred to him that he could put it on. Then, he took it with a slight tremor in his hand and slid it on his middle finger, where it sat snugly and he continued to look on transfixed. 

No one else could have given me this; what the fuck is going on?

There was also this immense sense of relief that overwhelmed him; maybe he hadn't been entirely alone in the wanting to know, in the paying too much attention to appear to be paying too little. His heart ached, this was stupid, but god, the feeling of being known, being seen by someone else, was intoxicating. The thought that Ashton had seen, watched, and remembered was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

So he slid the ring off, put it back in its box, and then shoved it in the junk drawer between the batteries that needed to be recycled and the half-used pack of command hooks. 

He'd been determined to pretend it hadn't ever graced his doorstep; maybe this was all some sort of apology to clear his conscience before the rest of his life with Emma started. But, if it was, Luke thought it was a cruel way of doing it. 

But then the note came, slipped under his door instead of leant up against it like the last deliveries, and his heart rose and sank over and over as he tried to imagine the contents. A final goodbye? An apology? He didn't think anything in the note would bring him any level of peace, so it sat in the mail tray for four days until he realised it sitting there was doing more harm than good. 

It had become a safety blanket; he'd check it on the way into the apartment and on the way out as if something in the not knowing was a comfort. And he'd toy with the idea of opening it, thinking maybe there was something life-changing in the note. So he had to open it, or he'd be filled with these delusions about love confessions and life-changing declarations when he knew there was only disappointment sealed behind a cheap post office envelope. 

Hi, 

I didn't know how to start this after all this time. Dear, To, it all seemed too formal, but Hi, now that I've written it, it seems stupid. 

I don't know how long it'll take you to open this letter; I know you're probably worried that there's some piss poor list of excuses in here, and I wouldn't blame you if you never opened it. But I guess if you're reading this, you have. I know this sounds shit, but this is the fifth attempt, and I've gotta just write this. 

I'm so fucking sorry. 

I really am; I don't have any excuses, really; I just couldn't deal with us; I thought when it started that I knew who I was and what I was capable of- and who I was capable of that with. Really I guess I was living as someone that hadn't existed for a while now, and I don't know if I know exactly who I am now, but it's different from who I thought I was. I know what I did was terrible, but I want you to know that I care about you so much; being away from you and not having our friendship has been really hard. And I didn't do what I did trying to be malicious. I just thought that I could put things back the way they were, but I didn't realise how unwilling I was to let go of you. And I admit I wasn't thinking about you, I was only thinking about myself and how I wanted things to be, and I didn't respect our friendship in that. 

So I don't know if it was ever more than friends hooking up to you, but I miss you, and I miss us. I really want to try and make things work, so if you feel the same, you know where I live; if you don't come, I totally get it, and I will do my best not to make things awkward if we ever run into each other again. But I will be waiting, even if it takes you a little while to decide. 

I think I might love you, 

Ashton

p.s I know how dramatic this is, but I was scared of you yelling at me more if I came in person.