fire ;; lashton

strangers.

are we wasting time,
talking on a broken line?

-

Ashton was waiting for him when Luke came back into the room, the box of cigarettes and a lighter in his hand. Yet the room smelt like Ashton (and raspberries), which was inevitably intoxicating.

The Evan Peters doppelgänger stood up immediately when Luke walked in, his eyes filled with a misty kind of blue emotion Luke couldn't describe. "Hi." He breathed quietly, feeling as if he spoke louder everything

would

break

and

shatter.

But Luke didn't answer.

"I--I'm s-sorry."

"Put it away."

Luke's voice was like gravel and it crunched with emotions, feeling like it was being walked on by Ashton.

Yet he, instead, moved closer, so he and Luke were a foot apart. "I--I want to help. You. Get better."

Luke scoffed.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Ashton shook his head, his sandy hair falling into his face as Luke noticed it was straighter than earlier. "And I know that it's partly my fault. So, I'm going to help."

Luke's gaze was fixed on Ashton, from his eyes that were a little like mint today to his nose to his blossom-pink lips to the stubble growing on his face.

"How?" He asked tentatively, his eyes searching for any trace of insincerity in Ashton's face. He did not find any.

And then a Marlboro box was in his hand.

The blonde froze, but he could still feel his hand twitching. Ashton saw the dark fear and panic in his eyes, slowly growing until he took his hand and just

held on.

"It's okay," He whispered, holding Luke's hand against his chest. "I don't want you to do anything except throw it out."

"W--What?" Luke stuttered, his feet shuffling over one another. "Why?"

"Because..." Ash sighed, dropping his head. "I feel horrible. And--and I know it wasn't right. But Luke, I'm addicted. I need your help to help me to help you. We're strangers, yes, but I want you to help me start over again."

Luke just held on tighter, before letting the box drop.

-

it's only 6 but im tired af .-.