The day had already been monumentally shitty. The worst of the worst days. An absolute steaming-pile-of-crap day. So, really, it was only natural to finish it with a perfect cherry on top - his call from Death-Cast.
He was alone when the unmistakabl...
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𝙰𝚜𝚑𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟷𝟸:𝟺𝟾𝚙𝚖
Ashton had never felt like more of a jackass in his entire life than he did after talking to Michael's father. Of course he wouldn't want his son hanging out with a degenerate, spoiled kid like Ashton. Why would he? What could Ashton offer? It was so obvious that he was the problem. All day, Ashton felt a nagging guilt in his gut but he could never place it. Not until Mr. Clifford clicked the pieces together like a puzzle.
Ashton was dangerous. He was toxic. And what do you do when a toxic fungus is growing somewhere it shouldn't be? You cut it out.
Ashton's vision was red as he stormed through the house, every memory of the day playing again and again in his mind, getting louder and louder each second. Luke had nearly hurt Michael. He'd come into the garage with the intent of hurting Michael. What if Ashton hadn't been there? What if Michael had died because of Luke? Because of Ashton? He couldn't let that happen. He had to stay away, hide in his room or run into town or something to keep Michael safe. Maybe he could find a nice hole in the wall café to spend his last hours in. Maybe he could die in peace there, sipping on a hot tea and drowning in his own self-pity.
"Ashton, there you are!"
Ashton froze, halfway to the staircase with his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon. He pasted on a grin and put on his all too familiar mask before turning around to see his brother. He was too good at it. Harry had no clue anything was wrong if his beaming smile was any indicator.
"Where you off to?" Harry asked, closing the space between himself and Ashton.
Ashton played nonchalance, shrugging and gesturing towards the stairs. "Just gonna go change. These clothes are all damp from the snow."
Harry nodded, still pleased as ever. "We were just about to turn on a movie while lunch cooks. You wanna pick? Just- please, no sex scenes. I don't think I can handle that today."
Ashton scoffed softly, shaking his head to himself. He scratched the back of his neck. "Shit, I don't know, Harry. You hate all of my movies. Let Michael pick or something."
"Do you know what movies he likes?" Harry asked and it was such an obvious question but Ashton had no fucking clue and that only made him feel worse because how could he not know what Michael's favorite movie was? It occurred to him that he knew nothing. Not his favorite color, not if he had any pets, not even his middle name.
Ashton squeezed his eyes shut, just thinking. He'd spent all day with Michael. He had to know something - something small that was intimate to just the two of them. He thought and he thought until he felt a migraine coming on and, then, it finally clicked.
"He's got a tattoo behind his ear. It's covered up by his hair most of the time but I saw it when he was talking to his mum and dad. It's from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, I think. A quote or something, I don't know. Just- play that, I guess. I think he'd like it."
