fire ;; lashton

shells.

”i wish i was a turtle.”
“why?”
“so i could hide in my shell when i get scared.”

-

Ashton’s sandy blonde hair came into view finally, his mouth portraying a frown. “How did he die?” He asked solemnly as he took a seat next to Luke.

Luke’s knees were pulled to his chest, his chin resting in between as he stared straight ahead. “He was stupid. Eleven years old. Wanted tea. At twelve forty-one in the morning. Forgot to turn the stove off when the water boiled. Fire. Fire fire fire. Parents; dead. Luke; wishing he was dead. His fault.”

The older boy didn’t say anything as he watched tears roll down Luke’s pale cheeks. “I--I’m so--”

“Don’t,” Luke said angrily. “If you’re going to be sorry, do it when you’ve done something wrong. You can’t be sorry about my stupid mistake. I fucked up. I always do. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Ashton licked his lips as he watched Luke; Luke was--Luke was--Luke simply was. But Luke was--

What?

“What’s your favourite smell?”

Luke looked at him with a quizzical expression, confused and surprised by the question. “Raspberries. They smell nice,” He answered after a moment. “Why?”

Ashton shrugged, a plan already forming in his head. “No reason,” He vaguely responded, trying to hide the smile forcing its way onto his face. “Just curious.”

“But wh-”

“Boys! To your rooms; now!”

Luke’s heart clenched at the command.