the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// s e v e n t e e n //

Mike looked at his son, then at his phone, then back at his son. "But it's our night," he sadly said, a pout upon his lower lip.

"I promise you, I'm not gonna have plans next Saturday night either. Call Dad." Timothy furrowed his eyebrows at his own words, not sure he liked the way Dad came out instead of Ashton. Was Ashton considered his father? Legally, yes.

Michael didn't really hear Tim. He pressed the redial button and left to stand in the kitchen. He didn't want Timothy to hear any of it.

Little did he know, though, that their house was not soundproof.

"Ashton? Are you alright?" Michael asked quickly as the dial tone turned into static.

"Fuck, Michael." Ashton curled up into a ball as he closed his eyes, feeling the room spin around him. "I fucked up, Dude."

His words were slurred and stuttered as they came out from one line to the other. "What did you do?"

"Everything."

"Ashton," Michael said his name like it was swearing at a baby.

"I did coke and then some weed and a little bit of drinking and I think I got more coke about an hour ago, maybe five minutes ago." Ashton laughed, triggering another round of vomit to skew from his system. "Please, help," he coughed.

Mike sighed, he's had to do this before. He's had to literally clean up Ashton's mess then tuck him in and make sure he doesn't accidentally kill himself in the night. "Yeah, Ashton. I'll be there. Are you sitting up?"

"Kind of," he spat.

Michael grabbed his keys and slid on his slippers. "How many pillows do you have around you?"

"Two." Ashton rolled onto his back then began sputtering, coughing up again. He used every single molecule of energy to flip himself back over, spitting up over the edge of his bed once more.

"Fold those in half and lean them against your back. I'm gonna quickly update Tim while you do that, okay?" Michael couldn't hear Ashton agree, but he could hear him moving around and breathing like he just ran a marathon.

Mike kept his phone to his ear but moved the mic away from his mouth. He peaked his head into the living, seeing Timothy already looking at him with wide eyes. "Don't worry about anything, I just need to get him. Will you be okay here alone? It shouldn't be long."

Tim nodded, trying to be brave.

He liked knowing that Calum was a phone call away when his father wasn't, was that weird? He found comfort in having a real friend. If there was a spooky noise, he could call the older boy and calm himself down.

Michael sighed as he heard Ashton begin to vomit a lung between sputters of coughs. "I need to get going. I love you, Tim."

"Love you more!" He called back as his father rushed from the back of the house.

Ashton has never felt so dead in his entire life. Even when he was tripping LSD and his bad thoughts got worse, he never felt so low. Ashton actually felt although his body was about to give out on him and he didn't know what to do. He had no control.

Michael sped down his neighborhood faster than he has ever before.

He was at Ashton's front door ten minutes later, the older man still on the other line. "Do you have a spare key? I don't wanna break into your house." Mike looked around the bad neighborhood, making sure he wasn't about to get murdered or anything.

Ashton groaned and curled into a ball, "Look under the windowsill to the left, there's gonna be a bunch of needles then where there aren't, there's a key."

"That's really fucking stupid, Ashton." Michael stepped off the porch, bending down to make sure he didn't prick his fingers.

"Well, sorry, Mr. Valedictorian," Ashton choked on his spit, "this trick hasn't failed me yet."

Michael found the key and let himself in, making sure to lock the front door behind him. He hung up as he heard Ashton in the back room once more. He was angry now. Michael looked around the small apartment and saw it littered. There was garbage, bills, ash trays. Nothing was where it should have been.

He headed down a dark hallway, turning on a light. He got to Ashton's room, seeing the pathetic man curled up in his own vomit. "I hate this," Michael said, "I hate you." He got to his bedside, disgusted by the smell. Mike leant over grabbing Ashton's sides and pushing him back until he was adjacent to the wall.

"I know," Ashton whined, his eyes closed.

"You did this to yourself, you idiot." Michael took the garbage bag from his trash can and gave him the bucket, "Vomit in this."

"I'm done vomiting." Ashton's voice was weary and dry, every breath hurting his throat. "I'm sorry, please don't be mean."

Michael sighed, trying to control his temper. "How do you feel?" He turned around, grabbing paper towels from the en suite bathroom and kneeling on the ground. Even though cleaning up vomit in the dark was disgusting, Michael knew it had to be done.

"Nothing."

"You feel nothing, alright. That's pretty emo, Ash, even for you."

"I'm not emo."

Mike laughed, "Okay, Sweetie." He wiped at the ground, knowing he'd need to come back with bleach later on. "Do you think you can stand? I'd like to—."

Ashton interrupted Michael with another retching of his stomach. "I think I'm dying."

"Do you actually?" He stood up, his knees cracking. "Do you really think you're dying?"

Ash closed his eyes and leant his head against his poorly insulated walls as he thought about it. "No."

"Okay." Michael sat down on Ashton's bed, making sure to miss any small spots of spit up. "I think you should come stay with me tonight, I don't want you to die." He reached over, pulling a pair of sweats from the bed and starting to get them up Ashton's legs.

"What about Tim?"

"Don't worry about him, he's a smart, mature boy." Michael got up again, trying to look over the chain of coke still upon a wooden cutting board. He reached out his hands, his fingertips grabbing clammy hands. "Try to hold onto the garbage can, I'm not in the mood to get puked on."

"That was college, Mikey."

"You didn't go to college," he said, trying to hold his passive aggression in, "I went to college." Michael led Ashton outside, locking his front door once more.

Ashton didn't say another word. Michael got him to bed then finished his The Walking Dead marathon with Timothy. Mike would check on Ashton every commercial break until it was time for him, too, to go to bed.

Everything felt too familiar. Wiping Ashton's mouth, making sure he was sitting upright. He watched his breathing, staying up until 6 in the morning to make sure Ash would make it through.

Michael knew that he could get Ashton's rights taken away in a second, but something stopped him. 

THIS IS UNEDITED BC I'M ALREADY LATE TO WORK BUT YANNO U ALL COME FIRST

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