Over and Over (Lashton)

Arms

The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved

I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone.

You put your arms around me, and I believe

That it's easier for you to let me go

You put your arms around me and I'm home.

~Christina Perri, "Arms"

 

Luke's POV

It’s hardly a week later before anything bad happens again.

It’s an innocent enough trip. We wanted to go songwriting together, the first time since the day before the incident. I was pretty certain that this trip was not going to be as tragic in result, but I guess making Ashton feel suicidal isn’t the only risk at hand when we go songwriting.

We’re walking down a mostly empty street, hands loose in case of cameras, when Ashton freezes next to me. Startled, I back up a couple of steps.

“Ashton? Are you okay?” I ask, waving my hand next to his face to get his attention. He’s paper white, like he’s seen a ghost, his hands clenched into fists. His eyes are wide with abject fear, and he’s starting to shake.

“I need to get out of here,” he says under his breath, and takes off running.

I really wish he wouldn’t run, because it makes it harder for me to track him down and calm him. I launch myself after him, muttering out apologies as I weave through people and leave them staring after me in utter bewilderment.

Ashton ducks into an alley and I follow. I find him facing the brick walls, hands braced above his head on the wall and his head bent down. I tentatively put a hand on his back and he flinches, whipping his head toward me in one sudden motion.

“It’s just me,” I say forcefully. “Calm down, it’s only me.”

He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck, breathing hard. For a long time he doesn’t say a word, just grips onto me.

“Breathe,” I tell him like I always do, rubbing his back to relieve some of the tension. He mumbles something into my shoulder. “What?”

“It was him,” he says quietly. “I swear, it was him.”

“Who?” I say, concerned. Is someone stalking him? Is he hallucinating? “Who is ‘he’?”

“Carver,” he breathes out, and then it makes sense.

“Ashton,” I say, pulling away and leaving my hands on his shoulders, “think, okay? Carver lives continents away. We’re in America. Carver was back in Australia.”

“It looked like him,” he says, eyebrows pinching anxiously. “I swear, it looked just--just like him.”

“It’s impossible,” I tell him, even though it isn’t, but I’m hoping he didn’t really see Carver. “Even if it was him, I’m here, okay? I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

Slowly, he nods.

“Let’s go home, huh?” I suggest. He looks shaken.

“Yes, please,” he whispers and lets me take him by the arm and lead him back out onto the streets and back in the direction of the hotel.

---

As soon as we get home, Ashton goes and locks himself in his room. I let him go, mulling things over in my mind. I start to make myself a coffee. Did Ashton really see Carver? If he did, why is Carver here? I don’t want Ashton getting hurt. He escaped those kinds of people when he joined the band, and to think that they’re back makes me extremely anxious. But if it wasn’t really Carver, why did Ashton think it was, and why did he have such a strong reaction?