(F)lawless [lashton] ✔️

Twenty One

"Ashton! Get your head in the fucking game you dipshit!" Miss Eugene spat, standing right against the ring's outer edge as she watched Ashton practice sparring with another one of her fighters in the underground ring.

"Fuck sake kid!" She climbed over the ring barricade and slapped him on the arm. "What's gotten into you? Get your head out of the clouds and focus!"

"I'm trying." Ashton grit his teeth, soaked in sweat and riddled with bruises. His knuckles were scathed, bleeding slightly from the force he punched with, but it was nothing compared to the damage he'd done to his opponent.

"Try harder." Miss Eugene spat.

"I've been going since six this morning." He stepped back from his opponent. "Can you cut me a break?"

"You've got a big city match coming up and you want me to cut slack for you?" Missy scoffed. "Yeah right kid."

"I've got school and shit." Ashton lied, more so desperate to go search for Luke.

That damned blond had been on his mind since Calum blocked his number and he couldn't help but worry. What if Luke really was dead? Or even contemplating ending everything right now, in this very moment?
Ashton couldn't let the one good thing in his life go just because he was too stupid to tell the truth. Too stupid to just tell Luke Angela's mum was getting on his ass again.

"Oh oh I'm sorry-" Missy mocked and Ashton gave up trying to reason with her.

Instead he climbed over the barricade and snatched his black jacket from the floor; throwing it on even though he was sweating something chronic, and zipping it up.

"Um excuse me, where the fuck do you think you're going?" Missy growled.

"Out." He slipped through the exit.

"Get your ass back here, boy! Or so help me you ain't getting paid shit!"

He snorted, but didn't turn back; pacing himself out of the underground and climbing up onto the street's surface before dialling Luke's number.

It was chilly, free hand in his jacket pocket as he prayed he didn't freeze in black sweats and a pair of tattered sneakers. He hasn't bothered dressing up for a mere practice session, but now he kinda wished he'd worn warmer clothing.

"Come on Luke, pick up your phone." He left a message each time he called only to wind up in the message bank.

"Answer my calls, Blondie. I'm serious. Calum's worried about you."

"Luke seriously, answer. You're worrying the lot of us."

"Don't be selfish, pick up your damn phone. I know you're getting these. I just wanna talk."

Ashton was starting to get desperate, scared as to how far gone Luke already mentally was.

"Luke please answer. Don't do anything stupid, got it? Just answer your phone."

"Luke, where the hell are you? Answer me. You're worrying me now."

Ashton didn't give up, and when he finally got through to Luke he could almost feel the relief flood his body as he walked briskly through the streets late in the afternoon.

"What'd you want?" Luke mumbled into the phone.

"Where are you?"

"S'mwhere."

"Where is somewhere?" Ashton huffed.

There was a long pause filled with concentration noises before Luke slurred "playgr'nd."