We can call it a mistake when it's already done » [cake/cashton]

how many hail marys will absolve this sin?

By the time Calum stumbled down the steps, the fact that he was still drunk became clear, perhaps even drunker than he'd thought. The steps and the moonlight were quick to assure him that getting home by himself was still going to be a challenge, and he stopped his descent, going to a set of steps that led toward the empty pool area instead and taking a careful seat on the top one. At least alcohol will make it easier to lie, he reasoned. Maybe he should have gone back in for another drink; it didn't matter. He blinked to clear the tears from his eyes; he was fine; he was the one that had fucked up, he alone; there was no crying; he hadn't earnt that.

"You look like you're in a good mood," came Ashton's warm, sarcastic voice.

Calum whirled around, slipping slightly as he tried to lean on his hand, and his eyes landed on Ashton, who was looking at him with soft, warm eyes; he seemed tired and ready for bed. He wanted to crawl into those arms, fall asleep in them and pretend this never happened, but Calum needed to shower, he probably smelt terrible, and he had Luke's come inside him still. He had someone else's come inside him.

The first tear slid down his cheek, "Hey, woah, what's up? What happened?" Ashton drew close, joining Calum on the steps and taking his face in his hands; they weren't supposed to be seen together like this.

Calum tried to pull away, words choking in his throat; he shook his head; how had he thought he could lie about this? Not with Ashton looking at him with so much love and concern; how had he thrown that to the side like it was nothing? He loved Ashton, and Ashton loved him more than anyone ever had, did that really mean so little to him?

"Calm down," Ashton said, "whatever it is, we can talk through it, okay?" he was searching Calum's eyes, trying to tell if this was a panic attack or something else, "let's go back to mine?"

He shook his head again; there was no way Ashton would want him in his house once he knew what he'd done.

"You won't want me there when I tell you," he let it out just above a whisper; surely Ashton would know what he needed to say now; there was nothing else that could repulse him the way this would.

"There's nothing in this world you could do that would make me kick you out; you are always welcome even if, for some reason, I don't like you very much," he was firm, and Calum felt like he was a child again. The way the older man spoke reminded him of a mother promising her love was unconditional, which made Calum feel worse. Ashton had given him all the power, and he was about to throw it in his face. When he didn't reply, Ashton spoke again, lower, "you're really drunk; I think it would be good if you came home with me, we can talk about whatever it is in the morning," he'd let go of Calum's face now, seemingly sure the younger man wouldn't run.

Calum shook his head, "no, I can't sleep next to you unless you know; I won't sleep a second tonight until I tell you," his words were coming out fumbled and misshapen, and Ashton made to touch him again, and Calum pulled away. The quick movement must have disturbed something in his stomach because he scrambled to the edge of the steps, leaning over into the shrubs and letting what little there was in his stomach come up. His throat was burning and breathing heavy as he looked at what he'd managed to bring up; it was all liquid, no chunks; he hadn't had anything to eat since the morning. He felt a hand on his back, and he leaned into Ashton's chest, still trying to catch his breath.

"This is what I mean; it can wait," he reassured, rubbing warm circles on Calum's back.

He shook his head once more, starting to feel better, maybe even a little clearer, "I slept with Luke," he breathed out, band-aid ripped off.

"When?" he asked quietly, hand slowing but not leaving his back.

"Uh- like, I don't know, ten minutes ago, right before I text you," he couldn't bring himself to look at Ashton, eyes fixed on his own vomit.