the pale and the dimpled ;; mashton

forty-five // ashton // part two

//an: never use the language in this chapter.//
//ps. idc if you don't like the artist/song but in a way it fits with the chapter.//

In the middle of the room was Michael, sat in a chair with both his hands and feet tied down, a gag in his mouth. He had a long gash on his cheek and blood dripped from his temple. My hand flew to my mouth as we locked eyes, seeing how dead he looked inside.

"Ashton," he croaked, his voice rugged and tired. "Please, don't come any closer."

"Michael I-I have to I have to help you need help oh my god I'm going to dial 000 just hold on -" I said, trying to step closer towards him when I felt something cold and circular and deathly press against the back of my neck and-

"That wouldn't be a smart choice, Ashton."

My blood ran cold and it was just silent and no one moved or spoke or breathed until I interrupted our deafeningendlessredundant silence.

"Joseph."

I could feel the smirk growing on his stubbled and ugly face as the metal pressed further into my neck, only hearing the sounds of heavy breathing and Michael crying. "Don't wear it out," He said, coming around so he was next to me, the small gun held under my chin as he stared at me with cold dark eyes. "Now, what are you, a good, mannered, educated young boy doing at this faggot's house?"

My jaw clenched and my eyes narrowed at the man whom I 99.9% loathed. "He is not a faggot, you're just a fucktard who I hope dies in hell."

Joseph sneered, and I felt the gun press harder against the bones in my jaw. "One more time. Say that one more time."

"What?" I asked innocently, letting the bitterness and hate I felt recognized in my voice. "Fucktard? Well, let me say something else too; if he's a faggot, I'm a faggot because goddammit do I love Michael and there is nothing, nothing, nothing you can do to change that."

His face went rigid and he searched my eyes for a minute before seeming to get an idea.

"Yes... You love him..."

The dark weapon was removed from my chin as Joseph moved towards Michael, holding the gun to the back of his head. Michael started to cry louder and I felt all the blood in my face disappear.

"No," I said, my voice shaky. "No, no don't I-"

Yet he

pressed

And he

pressed

And he

pressed

And he

p r e s s e d

And he

r e s s e d

And he

r e s e d

And he

r e e d

And I saw red.

"NO!" I screamed, my voice cracking with pain as I watched the bullet etch itself into Michael's head. "NO NO NO! MICHAEL!"

My chest ached and I felt the oxygen in my chest slowly disintegrating along with the love of my life. His eyes, once bright and green and happy, rolled into the back of his head as his eyes shut.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

I was shaking, loud sobs and cries falling from my mouth. I didn't care about Joseph or anyone at that moment as I rushed to Michael's side, clutching onto his limp body like my life depended on it.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered in his ear, still crying. "I'm so so so sorry and I love you so much. To the moon, Michael. To the moon and back."

Screaming.

Crying.

Fighting.

Hurting.

Shooting.

Nothing.

//an

fjocfkwodkowfpqpeptorivoe bye.//