I Wish You Liked Boys // cashton

chapter nine

"You need to tell him."

"I can't." Calum snapped at the blond as he turned around to face him. "I can't tell him about this! Are you crazy?"

Luke scoffed as he followed him with quick footsteps. "And why not? He deserves to know!"

"He deserves to feel guilty for the rest of his because he didn't love me the way that I loved him?" Calum asked incredulously, jaw dropped at how torturous the idea sounded. "Do you hear yourself?"

"At the very least, he deserves to know why you're going to drop dead soon!" He hissed as he pushed him against a wall. "You won't do the surgery, you won't admit your feelings for the small slimmer of a chance he could reciprocate them given the opportunity, do you care?"

"Of course I fucking care! I don't want to die." Calum shouted, immediately resulting in a door opening behind them. "I can't just stop it, and it's not even his problem to worry about -"

"- he's your best friend!" Luke cut him off and Calum laughed in forced amusement.

"Boo-hoo!" He fake sobbed as he shook his fist in front of his eye. "We all have to die sometime, Luke!"

He stormed off of the tour bus and then wrapped his arms around himself as he felt angry tears fill his eyes. He's stupid, so fucking stupid. Why did he think confessing Luke would be a good idea? He was thick-skulled, and he didn't quite understand what it meant to keep a secret.

He was fucked if he tells him, but at the same time, he was screwed even if he didn't. It was truly a catch 22.

His medication was running low, only one lone pull laid in the orange bottle and after that he knew he was only going to get worse. How couldn't it? Every time he saw him, he thought about their shared night, and each time he imagined the feeling of their bodies pushed against one another it felt like knives raking through his organs. It felt like Hell, and it only got worse with each passing moment. Every mention, every glimpse, every accidental brush of skin, it killed him.

Why did he deserve this? All he did was fall in love.

-

The tension was unbelievable. Luke was glaring between him and the drummer of the band, the said member was glancing at him every couple of seconds, and Michael was whispering to his girlfriend, probably talking shit. He was probably confused, so confused that he was afraid to even mention it in fear of throwing fuel into a fire. He stared with wide, green eyes at them all before leaning into the woman beside him.

"Ashton, -"

Calum felt the familiar stab of needles in his chest.

"- how are your lungs?"

The man looked at the youngest member with furrowed eyebrows. "Mate, they're fine. What's this about?"

"Are you sure?" Luke pressed and Calum narrowed his eyes at him. "No butterflies? No pains? No fast heartbeats?"

"What's this about, Luke?" He repeated and Calum used his palms to push himself up off of his spot in a recliner. "I feel fine."

"How do you feel," Luke started and Calum caught his gaze. "- Calum?"

"Fine." He answered and when he accidentally caught Ashton's gaze he felt his heart throb in his chest.

It felt like he was punched right where the organ laid.

He gasped, fingers digging into his shirt as he fell back on to the recliner. "Hmm, you don't look fine." Luke angrily pointed out, and Calum looked at him.

"Luke, -"

"- does it hurt?" He asked, his voice breaking. "Does it feel like someone's tearing you apart?"

The eldest member stood up, "Mate, calm down. What's wrong with you?"

Luke snorted. "What's wrong with me? I'm fine! Why don't you ask him how he's doing?"

He looked over at him again and Calum held a hand over his eyes as he felt him stare. It felt like the sun on a hot summer day, and it burned twice as bad. "Cal?"

He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt it tickle the back of his throat. "Stop." He said weakly.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked and Calum screamed at the feeling of a hot iron being pressed against his skin.

He yanked his hand back and then looked up, finding his best friend standing there with a shaking hand only inches away. "Why do you do that?" He asked and Calum couldn't answer as he doubled over in pain.

He was gasping for breath, laying on his hands and knees as he coughed and wheezed. The eyes of four were on him, and he had to physically push Ashton away from him despite it feeling like he broke all bones in his arms simultaneously.

"Fuck, what's happening?" Michael shouted and he could see he tattooed hands trying to help him stand.

It burned. He felt handprints, hot and cold, littering his body from his scalp to his arms to his thighs and calves. Everywhere, one after another they were pulsating and throbbing with pain as they tried standing him up. He only crumbled back to the hard floor, the clash feeling like a cinderblock was dropped on to his body and his bones were made of paper.

"What is that?" He heard a small feminine voice, and his vision went blurry as he saw a tattooed wrist reach in front of him.

"It's a-a flower..."

"It's covered in blood." Michael pointed out and Calum felt like a thousand degrees all while feeling like he was below zero.

It came in flashes, the weight of his body on top of his. The pressure on his skin as he pushed his fingertips deep into his ribs. The heat of his breath tickling his neck. The chill of his voice that sent shivers up his spine. Hot, white flashes of blond hair, hazel eyes, and red lips all burned into different shades of purple and blue.

Until it went black.