Catharsis || Lashton AU - boyxboy

1. release

"I spent my high school career,
Spit on and shoved to agree.
So I could watch all my heroes,
Sell a car on TV.
Bring out the old guillotine,
We'll show 'em what we all mean."
My Chemical Romance, Disenchanted ☯

l.h.

One year ago today, my father passed away due to a long fight with brain cancer.

Which means one year ago today minus a few days, I was handed hundreds of thousands of dollars as if they were to compensate for my lack of (now both) parents.

It was along the lines of, "I know you just lost your last parent, but at least he was a millionaire, right?" No. Not right. I'd give every last cent to have my dad back by my side.

But then again, who can expect anything different these days? In a world where money definitively equals power, is it really a shock that people can hand me my dead father's money with a smile on their face?

First thing I did with that money, was pack a single small suitcase of necessessities - essentially just a few momentos and a couple other things - and fly across the sea to live in New York City.

I got rid of everything else - donated it to anywhere that would accept it, mostly. Threw out what I couldn't get rid of. Everything I owned seemed to seep darkness from its edges, and I was having a mid-mid-life crisis that consisted mostly of me trying to clean up the dark patches. So in the attempt to find brightness again, I got rid of the things comprised only of the opposite.

It's kind of funny, in a way. Because as a kid, you adore your parents. You live in a world where, when asked the meaning of love, your definition starts with the words, "Mom and Dad". Then, a few years down the road, you hit the oh-so-pleasant teenage years. Where suddenly, the world flips on its axis and suddenly, it feels like your parents only live and breathe to make your life hell.

So there you go, you hit thirteen years and your parents become your worst enemies. It seems like they're constantly out to get you, and like they never have anything kind to say, and it feels as though they hate you as much as you (think) you hate them.

But once they're gone... Your whole world completely disintegrates around you. And you're just stuck in the dark. Like, you need the light but you can't find the light switch, and then everyone around you has the switch centimeters from them, they only choose not to turn on the lights. So it's like, you can't help how angry you are at the fact that there are people like yourself desperate for light, but some people have the sheer nerve to ignore the switch in front of them just because they don't need it the way you do.

Now that was probably a bit hard to follow, but that's not even the point. So get over it.

Anyways, once you find yourself in the world without your parents, suddenly you stop feeling so invincible. And the it doesn't feel like the world belongs to you anymore. And all your senses are completely misdirected. And you become a shell of a person.

And you have to just sit there and watch your family fall apart.

I have two brothers who I don't speak to, anymore. Ben and Jack. Ben kind of collapsed in on himself after Mom died. He had a mental breakdown and took off, the way I did a year ago, only, he broke off all connections with anymore. No one really knows where he is - if he is anywhere, that is.

Jack seemed to hold it together the most, though. I guess he felt like he had to be strong for the remaining family members. But with Dad's cancer worsening with every tick of the clock, no one expected him to. Yet he still tried.

And, well, that's the catch with my brothers. I don't talk to Ben, because no one knows where he is. Or if he's alive, or anything. That's why I don't talk to him. But I don't talk to Jack because I can't.

Talking to a gravestone just isn't the same as talking to a human being.

After my inner family collapsed, that's when the outer, distant family began to collapse, all because of the money.

Money.

Dad died and all they cared about was his fucking will.

I can't explain to you the kind of pleasure I felt when I found that Dad left his money to me and multiple charities, rather than any of my family.

If you could even call them that.

Anyways, I live comfortably, I guess you could say. I live in a high-rise apartment that overlooks New York City's skyline, which is rather beautiful. It's a nice apartment, and I work at a coffee shop down a few miles from here.

I don't necessarily need to work. I could quit my job right now and be fine. But it's the principle, you know? Like, I can't take advantage of Dad's money like that. I use that money only for things that cause progression. Paying my bills is surely not a form of progression. I pay my own bills.

An example - I used the money to move. That's progression.

And then there's something I do on the side with the money. My favorite thing. The one thing I practically live for these days.
Every evening, I'd say about 5:00 PM to 7:30 PM, I take my sign and I go sit on the corner across the street from my apartment building, and wait.

It's nothing fancy, just a piece of white posterboard with the words, "Tell me your story and I'll give you five dollars" scrawled in Sharpie across it. Not to mention it was in, well, not very decent shape anymore, but I refused to throw it away because I vowed to always keep this one.

And so that's what I do. I fill my wallet with fives and wait on the corner with the sign until someone takes up my offer.

It's amazing, to say the least. Take the best book you've ever read, square it, then multiply that by a billion and four. And that's how much better these stories are than books.

I'd go as far as to think I pretty much fall in love with a majority of the people that talk to me, because it just goes to show you how unsuspecting the human body is. You wouldn't expect half the things I hear to come from the depths of the people who say them.

I have no problem handing out money to people like that. I'd trade all the money I have to hear one of these stories.
I've talked a bit of shit about people, so far. I admit.

But I must say, the human race is absolutely wondrous.

These are real, genuine people who've done some shitty things, but a lot of good things to counterbalance those. People who've experienced real misfortunes and heartbreaks and suffering and it's amazing, because you never once see a stranger on the street and think about anything of the sorts.

This is the one thing that seems to suck all the remaining darkness away, even if for just a mere two and a half hours.

Horrible, horrible start to this story, but I have big plans for it. I couldn't not write this. I am, quite frankly, in love with this plot. It'll get better. Just you wait.

Ashton will arrive soon. Have no fear.

Does anyone actually like this lmao