𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 ⚣ 𝙘𝙩𝙝+𝙖𝙛𝙞 ✔

10

the hair the shirt the stubble i need to lie down

-

When Ashton first woke up, the headache was the first thing to hit him. A throbbing, unbearable pain behind his eyes and in the front of his skull. It was all he could think about, all that his brain could comprehend. It was as if he'd been listening to nothing but the scraping of metal all the while being hit on the head with a hammer for the last few hours. It was some of the worst pain he'd ever felt in his lifetime.

The second thing he noticed was his clothing. He wore a loose t-shirt with what he was sure had song lyrics on it, but he couldn't read what it said, so he couldn't be truly sure. He was also wearing a pair of baggy shorts. He knew it wasn't his, but he had no idea who's it might've been.

The third and final thing that Ashton noticed was his surroundings. He did not recognize where he was. There was a comfortable duvet that pooled around his waist when he sat up, and pillows that seemed to be actually made of clouds. He glanced around at the room, noticing vinyl records, polaroid photos and what looked to be book covers on the walls. He loved it; it was beautiful and edgy and a certain level of sophisticated that he had always wanted in his bedroom.

And he knew this wasn't his bedroom, but he honestly hadn't a clue as to who's it was. Rubbing his head in hopes of relieving some of the pain, he looked down at the nightstand and saw a glass of water and a small bottle of pills. A small note was attached. It read:

i gather your head will be hurting after last night, so i've left a glass of water with the pills for you to take. i don't know how long you'll sleep, but i'll probably be in the kitchen when you wake. i do hope you slept alright, ash. leave the bedroom when you're ready. you'll likely be sore.

And that was it. No name signed, so no indication as to who it might be. Just a suggestion to help with his headache and a halfhearted wish that he had slept well. Sighing, he reached for the glass of water and the pill bottle. Making such a large movement so soon after waking up caused him to wince and hold in a soft cry. He had no idea what he'd done the night before, but his body ached like he had been hit by a bus.

After placing a pill in his mouth and chasing it down with a gulp of water, he reluctantly began to drag himself from the comfort of the bed. He knew that he wouldn't find out whose home he was in by staying in the bedroom forever. But his brain began to work against him, as it almost always did. What if he had cheated on Dylan? He knew he'd never forgive himself, and knew he'd never be forgiven. He knew how it felt to be cheated on, and he didn't want to be the one who caused that pain for someone else.

Before he could overthink and send himself spiraling down a path of panic attacks, he threw the blanket off of his body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Instantly, he yelped. The note was right; he was sore. He was sore and he was stiff and he needed to know why. Almost shyly, he tucked his hands into his shorts pockets, beginning to walk out into what he assumed would be the kitchen.

He moved as quietly as possible, hoping not to draw attention to himself so that he could see who was in the kitchen before they saw him. Thankfully, the floor did not creak, and he made it successfully into the kitchen without making any noise or waking into any walls. The medicine wouldn't kick in right away, and he knew that, but it didn't stop him from hoping.

The open space was bright, as many of the windows curtains had been pulled to the side. The sunlight hurt his eyes, but he thought nothing of it in that moment, because sitting on the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a book, was none other than Calum Thomas Hood.

"Good morning." The younger man greeted, his tone sweet and almost melodic. He set his book down, waiting for Ashton to respond.

"Um, good morning?" Ashton mentally cursed himself. He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question. "Why...why am I sore?"