5SOS Oneshots

He's A Scar, He's The Bruises, He's The Pain That You Brought

It's just a game they like to play, Ashton told himself, watching the snow melt off the window pane.

They like to scream and break things, see who's the loudest. Then whoever loses slams the door as loud as they can, and drinks as many drinks. Whoever wins starts the game with me. But I can't yell or cry or breathe too loud or-

Ashton stopped to suck in a breath, rubbing his nose with his sweater paw as he sniffled.

The game had been on for at least an hour, and it seemed as if neither of his parents had any intention of stopping.

Ashton's music finally faded into nothingness as his phone lost its battery, and sighing, he tugged the headphones out of his ears, nothing diluting the screams anymore.

He'd be fine, he promised himself, and instead busied himself picking the remnants of his nail polish off his toes. He would've liked to paint his finger nails, but his parents wouldn't have liked that, so instead he resorted to painting his hidden toenails, under his socks.

Just as he began working his big toe, he looked up.

There was a small purr at the window, and Ashton grinned widely, instantly cranking the window open to let the small kitten that always crawled up, in.

Maybe she left her family because they played the game too.

Frost was melting off her fur and Ashton swaddled her in his beanie, rubbing the fur between her ears as he tipped his nearly empty water bottle so she could lick the water out.

She meowed again, softer than before, and nuzzled into his skin.

It warmed him a bit, and Ashton was able to drone out the screams for just a moment.

When the front door trembled in its frame, and he heard mothers foul language, he knew his father lost that round.

It didn't matter who won the battles, in Ashton's eyes.

Because no matter what, the war kept raging.

I'll be ok, Ashton lied to himself, I'll be ok.
*****
Yesterday was the first time Luke saw him.

Yesterday Luke fell in love.

Although Luke had seen him before, today was the first time he properly took in the boy, from the tips of his scuffed vans, to the tousled honey on his head.

It was a boy from Luke's art class, a boy who today, wore nothing but a thin sweater and some pants, melting snow caught on the black denim.

The boy was smiling widely, holding a pair of thick, fluffy mittens, with pastel pink fluff as if they were the most amazing thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

But the boy himself was the most amazing thing Luke had ever laid his eyes on.

Luke wondered how he'd gone so long without immersing himself in the warmth looking at the boy brought.

Perhaps cause he always held his head down, never quite looking up.

But it didn't matter.

His tan was a little out of place for the season, and his curls were tumbling down his face, hazel eyes shining under the shop lights as he ran his fingers over the mitten material.

Luke watched him through the glass window, before slipping inside the store as well.

The boy was now pulling the mittens over his hand, still grinning as he examined his hands on both sides. He then seemed to realize he was inside the busy store, and he took them off.