Imprinted → lashton [book one]

3.2

a/n: I would like to say: i'm so sorry

Ashton's P.O.V.

It took Luke a while to answer my texts, but when he did, all he said was I couldn't do it. I understood. Of course I understood. It was a hard thing to do, coming out.

It's okay, babe. I understand, wait a bit, is what I replied. I wasn't shocked when he said he would at the game. In front of all those people? No he wouldn't.

I asked him to come over, which he complied to. He was outside my door within 5 minutes, in his old Ed Sheeran t-shirt and sweatpants. "Hey, baby," he grinned. I stepped aside so he could walk in.

"Where's your dad?" He asks as we made our way up the stairs to my room, taking our time. Luke was probably sore from practice, so I kept his pace. I shrug, "Think he's out with his boss. He probably won't be back 'til 10." He nods at my reply as we finally walk into my room.

I close my door behind us as a force of habit, making him chuckle at me. I wasn't shocked when his lips pressed to my neck, making me giggle. "No mark," is all I said, tipping my head to the side ever so slightly.

He obviously didn't want to listen to my request as he turned me around to press me against the door. His lips moved down to where my neck met my shoulder. His teeth nipped at the skin, sending a pleasurable chill up my spine and a groan to leave my lips.

His hands trace my thin sides, then I remember. He looks at me with a confused expression. "Have you lost weight?" He asks, a dumbfounded expression in his eyes. I shrug, "I don't know. I could've."

"When's the last time you ate?" He presses on.
"Yesterday, maybe the day before," I reply.

He frowns at me before sighing, almost like he was relieved. He pecked my lips gently. "Baby, I'm not mad," then he fully presses his lips to mine, body doing the same. I ran my fingers down his arms slowly, feeling the goosebumps that appeared in their tracks. I still couldn't believe I had this effect on him.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. He gave me a fond smile before he stepped back. "Shirt off," he ordered, surprising me. I comply, pulling his shirt over my head, letting it hit the ground. He looks me up and down, before giving me a sad glance.

He reaches forward, his hand pressing to my chest. His cold skin made me shiver, but my eyes never left his. "I'm so sorry," is all he said. I knew what he meant.

-

I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay and hold me. I wanted him to stay and keep me warm. He smirked at my request before kissing me gently as a goodbye.

We had walked down to the living room now, I continued to pout, but let him go after a long, long hug. He kissed my forehead before walking out the front door with a wave. I stood there for a bit, his scent lingered. It was kind of strange. You could tell if Luke walked anywhere, because you would smell his cologne. It has a scent I can't describe, but I love.

I sat on the couch, hugging a pillow. He knows about my fasting. He was upset about it. I mean, honestly I've only lost probably 10 pounds. I can just eat a lot these next few weeks and get to 140 or 150. My ribs are just starting to show, it was a small dip from them to my abdomen. I've missed this look, but Luke hates it, so I'm going to get rid of it. I have to.

I headed to my restroom to step on the scale. I stripped from my clothes where I was just in my boxers. Right foot first, I stepped on. I breathed a sharp intake of air. I haven't stepped on the scale in a bit, so the clear glass was cool on my warm feet. I glanced at the number, before closing my eyes.

125.

9 pounds. 4 weeks of not eating except for maybe 2 apples a week, and I've lost 9 pounds. I rested my head on the wall in front of me, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind.

They wouldn't stop. They kept screaming at me to keep trying. I stepped off the scale quickly so I could side down the wall, falling on the hard, cold tiled floor. My head raced, screaming words at me that they wanted me to believe.

**TRIGGER WARNING!! PLEASE DO NOT READ UNTIL YOU SEE THREE ASTERISKS (*) IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED**

"Shut up, shup up, shut the fuck up!" I didn't realise I was screaming it repetitively until my throat was sore. I was crying, shaking, hyperventilating. I couldn't move. I wanted to scream for Luke, but I knew he wasn't here. I knew it wouldn't work. My vision started to blur, the muffled sounds of the TV downstairs disappearing. My head started to hurt as sweat dripped from it.

I climbed into the bathtub, my vision still hazy, my head still in pain. I sat in the empty bath for a few minutes before I could finally stand up. I stripped from my boxers before turning on the water. I sat back down, letting the warm water cover me. The thoughts were still there, haunting me. Then they said something I wanted to refuse but sounded so good at the moment.

Get the blade, Ashton.

So I did. The metal was now dull, but not rusty. It was small, so I could hide it for this long. I almost forgot about it. I swore to myself I'd never break this streak, I'd be forever clean. This day escalated quickly, and now I was surrounded by water, and I don't know why, but that pushed me on.

I rested the metal against my skin before letting it dip into it, blood seeping. 4 months, gone. I didn't care. I couldn't care as I drug it across my skin, letting the blood run down my arm. I repeated this a few times, trying to regret it. I couldn't. I wanted to have an emotion at the moment. Sadness, loneliness, I don't care, something.

I was numb, all over. No pain, no tears, no nothing. My mind slowly became a void upon itself. I tried to think, but all that came of it was nothingness, just what was in this moment, watching my blood drip into the water making it turn pink.

I started crying again as I lay there in the water, dyed with my own blood. This entire thing was shitty. I shouldn't have thought about this, but I did and there's no turning back now.

4 months, gone.

***

I eventually calmed down after about 20 minutes, so I pushed myself up, dried myself of the best that I could before I cleaned my cuts off lazily in the sink. After they stop bleeding, I rushed to my bed to cuddle into it, picking Luke's shirt up along the way.

I pulled on the baggy material over my frail frame once I was on the bed. It didn't smell like him anymore, since I've been wearing it, but it still comforted me somehow.

My dad came to ask how my day was as he was on the way to his room. I just rasped out a "fine" so he would leave. He did. He always did. I'm still shocked that he took Luke and I to London. I mean he did look at the college there for me, that's probably why he did it.

Then I remembered.

I quickly leaned up out of the comfort of my duvet, before saying to no one, "I haven't told Luke about Manchester yet."

I was too caught up in everything to remember. My grandmum -- who's doing pretty good at the moment -- in the hospital, Luke and Elisa, my weight, Carter and Luke being friends. I was too caught up in my own thoughts I forgot to tell my boyfriend I was moving almost 4,000 miles away for 4 years because of UNI.

Now I was sitting here with a bleeding arm. I shook my head. I didn't fucking do this to myself. No, I didn't. I started hyperventilating again before I screamed out for my dad, someone. Pain started to erupt from my arm as I held it, the numbness was gone.

My vision started to blur once more, but this time I knew it wasn't because I was having a panic attack. I'm losing even more blood than before. My dad ran in to see what was happening. It didn't take him long to realise.

The last thing I saw was him running towards me.