I Wish You Liked Boys // cashton

chapter five

Calum snuck out of their dressing room after their next concert, unable to watch Ashton and Delilah cuddled up on a recliner after having dreamt of them having a happy ever after night after night. They had kids, a house, and were married. They were happy.

He could sob if he wasn't afraid of hidden fans or anyone else out on their break.

And it's not that he wasn't happy for them, he was glad Ashton had someone to give his huge heart and love of romance to, but it ached to know it would never be him. It couldn't ever be him. They could never have the dreams his imagination makes up because he just isn't into boys. He can't help that, just like Calum can't help his feelings.

He rubbed his temples and then sighed as he leaned against the wall of the building, the cold outside air fanning his heated skin. He was sweating more than usual, and although he wants to blame his jacket and thick slacks, he knows it isn't. He knows it's what's growing in his chest that's effecting his body in a negative way, digging into places roots should never go and burrowing into spots flowers should never bloom.

It only got worse with each passing night. Little coughs turned into winded lungs and red faces, straining for breath after minute long coughing sessions. Small aches turned into burning sensations that left him swallowing hand fulls of pain killers, and the hallucinations, he could feel the panic that would fill his veins just by thinking about them.

If falling in love hurt this much, he never wants to fall in love again if he survives this.

He scoffed to himself.

If.

Who is he kidding? He'll die before Ashton ever loves him back, and he'd rather die than forget about him.

"Why me?" He asked himself as he looked at the flower petals in his hand from a previous coughing fit. "Of all the lovers in the world, why me? No one else has had this."

Unless...

Maybe they'd rather die than forget about their loves too.

He hates being sentimental sometimes. Why can't he be cold hearted? Why couldn't he take control of his emotions?

He dropped the petals as the wind blew and he looked over the tour bus, catching his reflection in the shiny black surface. He was lost in his thoughts, lost in what the future would hold for him. It was bad.

He could imagine flowers blossoming out of his chest, vines wrapping around his arm as his body became a garden, a home to the forget-me-nots within him. He can envision himself engulfed in greens and blues and lavenders, just disappearing into nothing. He'd just be one with nature.

Would it be that beautiful? Or would it be worse? Would it be bloody?

Would the flowers rip through his skin? Would they pierce through his muscles and navigate through his bloodstream? Would roots dig into his heart and wrap around his organs like a snake with it's prey? Would he feel each and every movement as they filled his body and reached from his chest to his toes?

He felt a cold shiver run up his spine as he caught himself slipping. He had to stop thinking about it. He had a family, friends, a fortune to think about. He had a life to think about instead of this disease that's found a home in him.

Should he give his money to his parents? Should he donate his clothes? Should he give his car to -

"Shut up." He snapped at himself as he pressed his palm to the side of his head. "You're not dead yet. Stop it."

Yet.

When will he know when it gets bad enough? When his death bed is just moments away?

He crossed his arms over his chest and then shook his head, wondering why he couldn't just let it go. Maybe he's just curious about it. He's never heard of someone dying from something like this.

Would his death make the news? Not just because he's a celebrity, but because of the way he was being taken?

"Oh my God." He groaned as he walked to the bus, opening the door and then shutting it angrily behind him. "Calum, stop."

He stomped to his bunk to try and find some relief in his sleep, but then stopped when he found an orange prescription bottle there. He looked around the empty bus and then picked it up to read what was on it.

They were for anxiety?

These weren't his anxiety pills. He never went to get a refill. But before he could toss it away, he noticed an uplift in the corner of the sticker. He slowly pulled it off to find that these weren't for anxiety at all, but for something much more important to him - his sickness.

Take one every night, it said. There were no refills, it also read. Whatever was in here was all that he would get, but who gave them to him? Who knew?

He opened the bottle and then rolled the smooth tab around between his fingers. Bright red and blue, oval, at least a quarter of an inch long. Could he trust them?

"Do I honestly have a choice?" He asked himself as he eyed the bottle. "Fuck it."

I'm dying anyways.

He hid the bottle in his bunk and then went to the kitchenette of the bus. He turned the faucet on and then placed the pill on his tongue before swallowing it down along with a handful of tap water. It felt rough when it went down, but when it finally was he could feel something happening. He wasn't sure what it was, but it felt nice to have have that pain in his chest and that ache in his lungs.

He heard the door open and he smiled at the man who walked in. "Hey."

"Hey man, how you feeling?" He asked and Calum shrugged as he looked around. "You ditched early."

"Just a little tired. I haven't been sleeping much." He answered half heartedly.

"Anxiety?"

"Yeah, maybe." He nodded, and to his surprise, the arm around his shoulder didn't make his heart skip a beat.

"Do you maybe wanna catch up on our show? The others are going out, and I don't wanna sit in a bus and do nothing." He asked and Calum chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"We have one bowl of popcorn left." He told him.

"We can share, we always do." He smiled.

Where's the butterflies? Where's the jittery feeling of a school crush? Where's the love he has for him?

"I'll set the show up, Ash. You pop the popcorn." Calum rushed and the drummer nodded.

"You're excited." He commented and the bassist paused as he nodded. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I think I am." He grinned because now he can finally be close with his best friend again and not have to worry about the pains of being in love with him. He doesn't have to worry about hurting his feelings by avoiding him.

He was over the moon right now.