Ashton Enchanted » [cashton] √

2.0

The party the weekend before had put Ashton in a terribly good mood; despite all its awkwardness at the time, it was exhilarating knowing that maybe, just maybe, he and Calum could work. There was also the bonus that nothing had gone wrong at the party, and his mother had been all 'i told you so's' when he'd come home in the wee hours of the morning. 

All of these happy thoughts were buzzing around in Ashton's head as he made his way from one class to the next. He was thinking about maybe asking the others if they wanted to go for smoothies after school. And wondering if perhaps sometime in the next week he would get to be alone with Calum, in an organic way, that might lead to him being able to ask a couple more questions, maybe secure a date. He couldn't believe he'd been so caught up in the impossibility of it all when really, there were ways he could protect himself, and Calum was nice; that's why he liked him, wasn't it?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were avoiding me fuckface," called a voice across the hall, and Ashton's head spun as if he were being called by name. It was the asshole that had been the cause of that fight so many weeks ago. He couldn't help but roll his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for a beating today.

The look on the taller boy's face was a sneer, as his eyes looked Ashton up and down, his expression unchanged and unimpressed. His blood was boiling, he had been having such a good day, and now someone had to come along and try and start something with him. 

On day's when Ashton was more level-headed, he would have turned tail and ran, but not today; he had the full force of hope behind him. If only he'd learnt from his last bout of overconfidence, maybe he could have held his tongue, "you'd be right then, you fucking dickhead," he told him, a bite in his voice he'd never heard from himself before. 

He shook his head back and forth, a  sarcastic smile on his lips, "you don't know when to pull your head in; you know last time was a fluke," 

And he couldn't stop himself, "If that's what you've got to tell yourself," 

"Oh, fucking kill yourself you faggot,"

Ashton's stomach dropped, that was it, his mother's biggest fear brought to life. His body turned walking himself back the way he'd come, he heard a call of 'yeah that's right, get out of here' from behind him, but he couldn't focus the blood was rushing to his head, his ears and eyes felt like they were blurring and tingling. He couldn't feel his legs as they moved underneath him without permission; he could sense himself moving closer to his target despite barely being able to see through his blurred vision. Each step lessened the burning feeling in his stomach; the tug he usually felt was amplified a million times, his brain supplied his destination for him, the roof. 

He felt even sicker. Because he hadn't told him how to kill himself, the curse, ever helpful, had supplied the closest and fastest method. And just because he couldn't control his body didn't mean he couldn't sense where it was taking him; he was still part of it after all. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest, and he felt an immense weight in his stomach, Ashton knew that he was going to die today. The only solace he could take in his impending death was that people had heard what the cruel boy in the hallway had said and that he would be blamed for his death.

It was taking Ashton a lot longer to get to the roof then he'd thought his body was tormenting him with the knowledge that once he stopped walking it would all be over. The steps dragged on; he was both thankful and thankless that he had been subjected to the long way to the roof. Ashton began to shake as he came to a door; again, he didn't need to be told. He could just tell that it was the only thing standing between him and the roof. His knees knocked as he walked, and sobs wracked through him; even with the curse pushing him on, his body was still responding to the immense amount of adrenaline coursing through him; it was overwhelming. 

His vision blurry, both from the hot tears, punctuated by sobs that wracked through his body like dry heaves, and the ringing sensation in his ears, he could still tell when he opened the door where he was. 

The wind whipped his school shirt, trying to tug it, take it off into the breeze and away from this moment and how Ashton wished the wind were strong enough to take them both. He was standing on the highest floor of his school. The thing he worried about most was that the building was high, but not sky scaper high; what if- if well he didn't die straight away, would- would the curse make him keep going until someone found him and physically stopped him? 

The tears came faster and more freely as he sobbed, hoping dearly his mother and Crystal would know the truth, see that he hadn't done this because he'd hated his life. Hoped that they wouldn't think there was more they could have done or more they should have said. 

Ashton didn't want to die.

Maybe six months ago he wouldn't have cared, he would have thought it was an easy escape because he'd never been able to do it himself. Now though, he had these amazing friends, he had Crystal who was always on his side, still fighting for him. Luke who just wanted to care about him and who would be devastated to think Ashton hadn't come to him in his hour of need. Michael who he knew despite his suspicions didn't mind Ashton all that much and Calum. Fuck. He'd wanted so badly to beat this, to fall in love with that goofy, overly friendly boy who always seemed to know what to say. Ashton's heart was aching in his chest, mourning a life, a thousand lives that he might have lived, and the tears weren't individual tears anymore they were streams that never finished because Ashton didn't want die.

His knees buckled from underneath him and he fell.

His heart was in his stomach for the two milliseconds before his knees hit the concrete, and they hurt but not like a three-story drop. The burning in his stomach left, but the adrenaline still coursed through his veins. Every breath felt laboured, and his tears came still, choking on his breath as he tried to steady them. Until finally, he became able to breath deeper, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth. Vision clearing and he saw where he was, two feet from the edge of the roof. His knees were skinned and starting to weep a small amount of blood, and he was sure there would be bruises; he'd hit the concrete hard, and as the adrenaline left his body, the pain started to appear. Leaving Ashton to grapple with the fact he'd survived.