he dies at the end / l.s. + m.c.

5. the last regrets of a dying man

𝙰𝚜𝚑𝚝𝚘𝚗
𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟷:𝟹𝟽𝚊𝚖

The longer Ashton spent with Michael, Calum, and Zayn, the more he seemed to realize how they danced around him. How they'd start to say something, but catch him out of the corner of their eyes and shut their mouths like a kid gossiping in front of their parents. He felt like baggage - which, really, wasn't something he hadn't experienced before. It was his whole existence with Harry and Louis; just a spare part that they don't really need, but keep along anyway. He really shouldn't have been so offended by it. Hell, maybe it wasn't even offense he was feeling. Maybe it was just plain guilt. It was Michael's last day on Earth and Ashton was apparently ruining it. The guy couldn't even have a regular conversation with his friends. Well, Ashton wouldn't stand for it. He knew when he'd overstayed his welcome, even if it was in his own kitchen in his own house, drinking his own tea. Fuck tea anyway. There were other calming substances that would do the job a hell of a lot better than tea. Maybe he'd get lucky and overdose. The day would be over before it even started, and Ashton would be none the wiser. Sounded lovely, to be quite honest.

He watched the boys around him a moment longer. He wasn't close with them, and he wasn't too blissfully unaware to know that that was of no fault but his own.

He could remember the first time he set foot in this house. Zayn had been the one to greet him. It was beginning of a strange, unlikely friendship between the two of them. He'd been new to the job at the time. A young man, fresh out of school. He gave Ashton a high-five and offered him a snack; told him they were going to get along great. And they did. Until they didn't. Ashton couldn't recall when exactly it'd happen, but somewhere along the line, Zayn's kindness to him faded to tolerance, then tolerance to annoyance, then annoyance to spite. Much like everyone else. He regretted it, though, not treating the man with respect. He'd been one of the first people to ever give it to Ashton, but he never returned it.

Calum. Ashton didn't know him at all, really. He'd only been on the job for a little over a year. Unlike Zayn, though, he knew what he was getting into with Ashton. By then, the town had been filled with rumors of the strange, mischievous boy living with the infamous recluse, Harry Styles. The boy no one knew anything about, other than he came into town with drugs most of the villagers had never even heard of and that he had the confidence of a man twice his age. Ashton recalled the first week Calum had started; the new hire had asked him probing questions disguised with innocent small talk, no doubt to run back and gossip with his friends about it. No one knew anything provable, though, because, as much as he never tried to get to know anyone else, they never tried to get to know him either. Not really. Not where it counted.
Calum had covered for him with Louis once when he was sixteen, though. So, if nothing else, Ashton knew Calum had some sort of morality, sympathetic for a spoiled brat coming home at three in the morning, smelling of whiskey and expensive cologne.

And Michael. Michael was... confusing. He'd been hired as a green eighteen-year-old with no experience. Ashton could remember his first day like yesterday. He'd been out on a date, but it'd gone considerably less well than anticipated. He came home in a funk, hoping to pick a fight with Louis, only to find Harry giving his little 'family rules' speech to a cute guy with bright red hair and an eyebrow piercing. And, by God, Ashton flirted himself into a hole that afternoon. He flirted until Harry finally kicked him out of the room and he went upstairs to think about how much better life had just gotten. Only, Harry came up a little while later and told him employees were off limits. Whatever. Like that had ever stopped him. He continued to flirt every time he saw the new guy and, at first, Michael flirted back. For the first month or so, they had a sickenly cute repor going. But then, like the flip of a switch, it all stopped. Ashton came home one late night, perhaps a bit tipsy, and went about his usual routine of showering Michael with affection, only for the annoyingly cute new guy to back away and leave the room. Ashton never tried again after that, even when Michael would approach him. He knew what it was like to be harassed by someone you have no interest in and he wouldn't be the one inflicting that. Still, though, even after everything that had happened, Ashton hated that Michael Clifford wouldn't be awkwardly shuffling around this big old house anymore. He was the only interesting part about it, with his constantly changing hair colors and weird laugh. It was a shame he'd be gone.

Ashton felt a certain regretful melancholy as he watched the three men huddle together, whispering softly to themselves while he stood across the counter, occasionally sipping on the cooling tea Calum had passed him fifteen minutes ago. He was quickly growing tired of feeling like an outsider - someone that receiving nothing but side-eyes and murmured 'Why is he here again?'s - so he wasted no time in standing up and starting to leave the room. He didn't think they'd noticed and, even if they did, they certainly wouldn't care to stop him. He'd go chat with Harry and Louis, maybe have a smoke, or maybe just go to sleep. If he was really lucky, he wouldn't wake up again. Only, to his complete and utter surprise, not only did they notice him leave, one of them rushed to stop him.

"Ashton, wait!"

It was Calum, Ashton deducted, more confused than anything as he timidly turned back to find three pairs of eyes on him. He quirked a brow at the brunette standing in the middle of them, urging him to explain himself because, clearly, he wasn't wanted around for conversation, so unless he was just there to look pretty...

Calum seemed to fumble for a moment, stuttering over his syllables and turning to an equally as lost Michael and Zayn. Finally, he walked around the counter and stopped just a few steps from Ashton.

"I mean, you don't have to leave. Like, you can if you want to, but you don't have to. If you're just gonna go be alone in your room, you can- y'know, you can stay and hang with us. We don't mind. Besides, you probably know better stuff to do around here than we do. All we've ever done is watch security footage." He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. "Sorry, I'm being an idiot, aren't I?"

Ashton almost let himself smile before he caught himself and quickly shook it away. He avoided Calum's gaze, unaware of why it looked so utterly desperate.

"I'm just gonna go talk to Harry. Make sure he's still alive, y'know?" he joked weakly, but Calum didn't seem to find it funny. If anything, it brought down his demeanor even more, but he was fast to cover it up with a weary smile.

"Alright. Well, we'll be around if you change your mind. Obviously. We can't really go anywhere even if we wanted to, I guess."

Ashton was sure this random burst of camaraderie had everything to do with his impending death, but he still let himself be pleased that he was even invited to join the group of tight-knit friends. He glanced over at Zayn and Michael, finding that they looked nowhere near as hopeful for him to invade their clique. It would seem that Calum had been silently outvoted, and Ashton was nothing if not respectful to democracy.

"Maybe later." He turned on his heels and hurried from the room before Calum could say anything else, but didn't miss the hushed whispering between the trio as he exited. He caught his name and Harry's, but that was all he cared to overhear. When people don't like you, it's best to not listen to what they say about you. It was a shame, though. Maybe he could've made some real friends on his last day and not felt so utterly alone for once.