Chapter 48

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Luke had spent the rest of the weekend drinking. He didn't mean for it to happen, it just did. Kind of like that time he went out clubbing his freshman year of college and ended up in bed with an old high school history teacher of his.

After Ashton walked out on him at the party, he panicked. His head was swirling with a million and one different worries, all of them pulsating around one mutual thought: Ashton.

Luke had never considered himself an emotional person. He could count on two hands the number of times he's ever cried around other people, and nearly half of those times had to do with Ashton. That should have been his first hint that he was already in too deep. His head pounded in pain but his heart swelled, and he knew if he stuck around that house any longer, he'd break down and grovel at Ashton's feet. He'd spew every damn thought that was swirling around his head before he even got a chance to make sense of them himself. He couldn't do that. He owed Ashton more than just some half considered declaration of love.

Ashton deserved the sun and the moon and all of the stars in the sky, and Luke would be damned if he gave him anything less than a galaxy.

So with a heavy heart and spiraling brain, Luke left the party. He knew he should have at least said goodbye, he knew he was just feeding into all of Ashton's negativities and self doubts by walking out, but he just couldn't take another second of being around the beautiful boy without telling him. The thought terrified Luke, but he knew he had to tie up his loose ends before he could begin to unravel new threads. He owed Ashton that much.

Luke really wasn't sure how he got through the phone call without puking to be perfectly honest. Even just replaying the conversation in his head as he drove away was enough to make him nauseous. He needed a drink after that, and he needed one bad.

That's how he ended up being dragged home by Michael, both Saturday and Sunday night, his arm dangling over the red haired boy's shoulders as his feet attempted to keep up.

"Fucking hell, Luke," Michael groaned as he threw Luke's body down on the couch. The blonde whined as the back of his head hit hard against the arm rest, and he curled in on himself. "How did you even manage texting me? You're trashed... again."

Luke just huffed, squeezing his eyes shut as his vision swirled. He felt the familiar lurching in his stomach and scrambled to his feet. Relying on muscle memory, Luke threw himself down the hall and into the bathroom with just enough time to haunch over the sink before he emptied the contents of his stomach.

"Luke? Lu- ah god damnit." Michael huffed as he turned the corner to see Luke, knees buckling under his lanky frame as he vomited into the sink. "God, you're a mess. I'm calling Ashton."

The sound of his name brought Luke back to his senses "No! No, I," he leaned over again, dry heaving once before turning back to his best friend. "M'okay, I jus- I," He heaved a couple more times, grimacing at the horrible burning in the back of his throat and the acidic smell in the air.

"You're clearly not okay! I haven't seen you this drunk in years, dude. Jesus, what did you do, chug a bottle of vodka?"

Luke shook his head, groaning as his legs gave out and he slid down against the counter. "Tequila."

"Fuck, man." Michael huffed a laugh of disbelief, turning on the tap to wash out the vomit staining the basin. "What the hell happened? First you ditch the party, then you ignore all of Ashton's messages, and now you've spent the whole fucking weekend drunk off your ass. Do you even know how concerned we are? How concerned Ashton is?"

"Please don't," Luke sighed, running shaky fingers through the tangled mess of curls on his head.

"Don't? Fuck, Luke I thought things were going well between you two! Why are you fucking it all up like this? What could have possibly happened to make you self sabotage like this?"

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