the pale and the dimpled ;; mashton

thirty-three // projects

Michael lay in his bed, music in his ears and a pencil in his hand as he worked on some chem homework. He would've invited Ashton over so they could "work" on it together, but Ashton had said he had something to do.

Michael sighed when he got stuck on the fourth question, trying to remember a main component of some weird chemical. He bit his lip in concentration, trying to focus past the sound of Gerard Way.

"Ugh," He said when he failed to remember the small piece of information, pulling out his laptop to search it on the internet.

He hummed lightly to the current song playing. Centuries was really his thing right now. Well, so was Fireproof, but he would never admit that.

He found what he was looking for, quickly writing it down in the correct space. He moved onto the next question, finding it much easier.

As he was so focused on his work and the music floating in his ears, he failed to notice his window open and a flustered Ashton tumble through. "Ow," The frantic boy said, standing up and checking his elbows for any marks.

He took note of the fact that Michael hadn't seen him, which was both good and bad because one - great view of that boo-tay and two - he was panicking.

Ash walked calmly towards him, debating whether to lie down next to him, tap him on the shoulder, or just jump on him.

He went with the latter.

"OH MY F*CK, ASHTON YOU BINCH SALAD." Michael yelled once their bodies collided, ripping out his earbuds. "What the hell?!"

"Sorry," Ashton said, giggling a little as he rolled off Michael's back. "I couldn't resist. You're really quite bouncy."

"I've ridden your balls, of course I'm bouncy." Michael said, his face blank. Ashton felt his eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. Michael couldn't have been serious, could he?

"I'm kidding," The red boy laughed, nudging Ash with his shoulder. "Sort of."

The currently brown-eyed boy nodded before remembering why he came over. "Michael I need your help," He said, sitting cross-legged.

"Yeah, me too. Have you done question seven? I'm having a bit of trouble," He said, his pen between his teeth, almost making Ashton forget why he was there once again.

"Oxygen, you idiot," Ashton said with a roll of his eyes. "But I mean serious help."

"Okay, fine, what's up?" Michael asked, rolling onto his back after putting aside the package. "Have a boner you can't get rid of? Because I think I'll only make it worse."

"Shut up, this is serious." Ashton said, twiddling with his thumbs nervously. "I have an essay to type for French for freaking tomorrow with an oral presentation the day after. But of freaking course, the computer's not working since my mom tried to mess around with it. On top of that sh*t pile, the printer is out of f*cking ink, and that stuff's expensive," Ashton ran a hand through his hair, only kept back by his green bandanna. "Goddammit Mikey what do I do? I'm freaking out. I can't fail French, my mom is going to kill me. I'm going to kill me."

"Hey, it's fine, okay? You can type it up here. I'm sure Nanie's got a good computer you can use." Michael said, sitting up and placing a hand on Ashton's knee in an effort to calm him down, seeing as he was breathing extremely heavily. "Calm down, Ash. You're okay."

"No, Michael, you don't understand. I'm not okay. This isn't freaking okay," Ashton said with a shake of his head before placing it in his hands, his elbows on his thighs. "This presentation is worth 25% of our marks, if I fail this I lose that. Do you know how f*cking humiliating that would be? How disappointed my mum would be? Do you f*cking understand?"