Beautiful Night || Lashton ✔️

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Carter had hoped this wouldn't happen, and yet it did. The barricade that was Ashton's artist block, filled with all negative emotions you could name. His blinds and curtains were shut, his doors locked and the doorbell successfully removed from the exterior wall by Ashton himself. How didn't he electrocute himself? Well, Carter knew Ashton was better than he allowed himself to be. He was capable, yet due to running away from his problems he caused his glow to be a dying light bulb rather than a whimsical light similar to that of a star.

Ashton sat in front of a canvas, darkness filling the room aside from a single lamp near him so he could see his canvas, yet it truly did nothing if he was honest. Carter had given up on entering upon him not answering the door after about fifty knocks, barely an effort to get him to come out if the artist did say so himself. To say that Ashton lacked inspiration like Carter thought he did was simply false. The paintings he creates when locked away are gorgeous, ones that collectors definitely want upon their walls. Yet the art upon the canvas reminded Ashton of how much of an emotional wreck he was, as paint was rubbed on him from wiping his tears while having wet paint on his hands.

It was painting of his muse, the blond beauty himself who Ashton had snuck a peek through his own blinds to see practicing his piano ever so gracefully. His heart ached, longing to touch and embrace the blond who once belonged to him and yet threw away him away like yesterday's paper with much less than a blink of an eye. Going back to those who broke your heart the first time, that was something you just shouldn't do. It never worked out, right?

"Fuck," Ashton muttered as he stood up, going to wash the paint off his body with a shower when the knocking at his door began again. He thought Carter had left already, but his resolve must be stronger than the punk initially thought. He walked towards the door wearing only a white paint splattered tank top and black old ripped jeans he wore when he painted due to their age, and how worn out they were. He opened the door while running a hand through his curls. "Carter, if you're here to beg me to get out of my funk just leave."

"A funk? That doesn't sound fun," That voice stated, forcing Ashton's eyes to look up and be aware of the beautiful blond standing before him. That newfound confidence Luke acquired was killing Ashton, maybe even scaring him for never had he expected that three years could change someone as they changed Luke.

The blue eyes were staring at Ashton's many tattoos, before trailing down his entire body and back up to his tired hazel eyes. "Well I'm not in one, so it doesn't matter if it's fun or not. What do you want Hemmings?"

A reserved expression fell upon Luke suddenly, reminding Ashton of that same shy look he would have whenever they did anything intimate at the cabin.

"Will you paint me...or sketch me? You know how they have art students do those classes where they get to draw an actual living subject, I want to do that for you," Luke asked, his eyes carried hope yet nervousness, and his hands were held together before him in a self-protective manner.

Ashton almost wanted to laugh at such a question, what Luke was asking was a dream of his- but he knew better than to give in to such a desire. "Luke, are you even aware of what you did?" Ashton asked, his eyes digging deep into Luke, expecting an answer quickly before his patience ran out.

Taken aback, Luke's reserved expression only became more prominent, while the hope in his eyes flickered like a flame being pushed by a cool breeze. "I am aware of the mistake I have made Ashton, but I am in love with you- I missed you so much these past three years, all my songs have been sorrowful...and I'm sure you've noticed, you always did."

"Your love for me Luke is a hurricane, of course, it may push me down from the force of its winds, and embrace me only the way you could, but it will cease eventually and leave only destruction."