𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 ⚣ 𝙘𝙩𝙝+𝙖𝙛𝙞 ✔

29

cal's fit. a month later.

{ tw: mentions self harm, suicide, rape }

y'all. ain't. ready.

-

The pain Calum had felt in the first couple weeks after Ashton left had been unbearable. He cried; he didn't sleep; he barely ate. But he had survived twenty-three years without him before they met, and another year even after falling in love with him. It had been two months now. He knew he had to move on. He knew Ashton's return wasn't guaranteed and even though he'd wait forever for him, he sadly didn't have that kind of time.

There were a dozen things he wanted to do with his life and he could accomplish at least a few of them by himself. So he was going to. He wanted to get married, but that wasn't possible. He wanted kids, but he couldn't make that happen. He wanted to travel, and that he could do on his own. A few nights before, he'd spun a globe, closed his eyes and stopped it with his finger. Wherever his finger landed was where he was going.

He was going to Belgium.

So he called his parents, his sister (who ended the call very quickly, claiming she had someone important she needed to speak to) and his friends. He told them of his plans. They knew how badly he was hurting, and despite their efforts to get him to stay, they knew he had to do this. Travel was his escape. New places, for him, meant he was healing. Meant that he was moving on. Even if the wound was still felt fresh.

He planned to leave the next day. He had everything packed. Money converted. Plane ticket purchased. And even though this seemed like a split second decision, it hadn't been. He did research. The languages of the country were Dutch, German and French. He spoke French. He learned about the food, the customs, what was considered rude and where he'd be staying.

The decision was sudden, but he had planned it well.

All day, he paced his apartment in anticipation, making sure he had everything he needed, going over checklists and feeling his stomach flip with excitement and anxiousness. Of course, he would've preferred to be traveling with a lover, but by now he was used to being alone. He might even go as far as saying he enjoyed it. Traveling alone meant that he got to go where we wanted, do what he wanted and whenever was convenient for him. He didn't have to compromise on anything or please anyone but himself.

Except Calum kind of enjoyed that inconvenience called love.

His day was boring and slightly stressful until around 6:30pm, when it became more of the latter than anything else. A knock sounded at his front door. He didn't rush to answer it. If it was Michael, Luke or his sister, they would've just walked right in. After another couple seconds, he stood and walked toward the front of his apartment. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands and slowly opened the door.

When he saw who was standing on the other side waiting for him, his heart skipped a beat, his eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He couldn't form any words. For months he'd planned what he would say if he ever saw him again and yet his mind was blank.

"Hi, angel." The man breathed out softly.

Calum couldn't do anything but blink repeatedly as his mouth opened and closed, trying and failing continuously to find his voice. They stood there and stared at each other for what felt like eternity. Neither of them knowing what to say next.

"Are you really here?" Calum finally asked, his voice cracking. He fiddled with his sleeves and looked down at the ground. "Am I dreaming again?"

Ashton's heart ached. His tone was shaky as he replied, "I'm really here."