Chasing Ashton

18

Luke's POV

I looked in the mirror at the cut on my lip and the bruise under my eye. When Michael had pushed me into my dresser, a picture fell and the corners hit me. I heard the door bell ring.

"Luke, honey, can you get the door?" Mum called.

"Yep!" I yelled back.

I ran downstairs, adjusted my oversized hoodie, and opened the door to see Ashton holding papers.

"Ash, not-"

"Listen. Just... read this?"

He shoved the papers in my arms.

"Come in," I sighed.

We sat next to each other on the couch. I hit my head on the back of the couch and my snapback got messed up. I fixed it and began reading, Ashton watching me the whole time:

For my English assignment, I want to talk about one of my friends- or what we used to be.

He's really an amazing person, inside and out. He just doesn't know it yet. For starters, he has beautiful blonde hair, and it's really really soft. I like to watch him run his fingers through it. And his eyes. Don't even get me started on how beautiful his eyes are. They truly are entrancing. They're so blue. It's almost impossible to be as beautiful as this boy's eyes are. He's super tall and extremely handsomely attractive.

He's really caring. He gives the best hugs when you're sad and he always puts other people first. That's one of the things I love most about him. One time he drew me to show me how truly beautiful he thought I was. Then he accidentally called me beautiful and rushed off to class, which was really awkward yet cute. I miss those times.

Recently, well, actually for a long time now, we've been in a fight. We still are actually. I miss the old him, when we would accidentally touch hands or something. When he was happy and wasn't constantly getting hurt. When we weren't constantly yelling at each other.

Luke Hemmings, please forgive me. I love you, and I finally realize that now.

Ashton Irwin

I gently put the paper down and I looked at Ashton, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Luke, I-I... ummm... Never mind, I'll just go."

He gathered his papers and was about to go when I grabbed his hand in the middle of the living room and spun him around.

"How did you get those bruises?" he asked.

"Michael. We got in a fight and he pushed me because I still have feelings for you."

"You do?" he asked, shocked.

"Fuck. Um, yeah."

Ashton looked down shyly, and then stood on his tip toes and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. That's when I placed my hands on his hips and pulled him closer. He kissed me harder and I ran my fingers through his curly hair.

"Mmff, Ash," I smirked against the kiss.

He walked me to the couch without disconnecting the kiss and laid me down. My snapback tumbled off and I ran my hand through my hair. He straddled my hips and ran a hand from my thigh to my face slowly, then pressed his lips against my lips again. It only lasted a second, and he pulled away. His lips were swollen and red, and his eyes sparkled with a beautiful hazel colour. I didn't realize I was crying until he gently wiped his thumb across my cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Ashton," I cried. "I'm a fucking asshole."

That's when I started bawling my eyes out and I had to hug him, his body sprawled out on top of mine.

"Don't cry, Luke," he whispered as he twirled the hair on the back of my head around in his fingers. "It's my fault."

"You're not a slut, Ash. I'm the slut, and a lying one. I'm sorry."

He kissed me again and his thumb rested on the corner of my lips, as I stared into his eyes in my dim living room.

"I love you too," I said finally.