Ashton woke up to the unpleasant sound of his alarm blaring. Groaning, he rolls over and switches it off. He checks his calendar. Today is Thursday. He quickly reads all of the sticky-notes on his wall, and then checks his journal for the entry from yesterday. The dream, the vision, was still playing over and over in his head.
Michael is going to die.
Well, of course he's going to die. Everybody dies at some point. But Michael is going to die soon, as a teenager, maybe. He didn't look any different in the coffin, still as tall and as pale as ever. Except he was dead.
Ashton drags himself over to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, washes his face, and tries to fix his hair. He wasn't in the mood to take a shower, so he sprays dry shampoo in his hair and brushes it out. He shuffles over to his closet and pulls on a shirt that reads 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. It's his favorite song by Nirvana. He shimmies into a pair of skinny jeans before heading downstairs.
"Are you okay?" Hannah asks, taking in her son's appearance. She checks up on him regularly during the night, and despite the fact that he was asleep the entire night, he still looked exhausted. Like he hadn't slept for days.
"Yeah," He didn't want to say anything. Michael was like a second son to her. She always gave Ashton extra lunch money so he could buy Michael some food too. Also, she was close to Karen, they were in a book club together. Ashton couldn't tell her about his vision. There was no way he could crush her heart like that.
"Okay, sweetie. I made you some cheese toasties," She kisses his forehead and hands him a plate. He smiles and thanks her, sitting down at the table to eat. He finishes quickly, chugging a glass of milk before sticking the plate and cup in the sink. Ashton grabs the money from the counter, kisses Hannah's cheek, and heads out the door.
He's not walking today, he doesn't have the energy for that. He waits for the bus to arrive at the stop and when he climbs on, the driver smiles at his sympathetically. He can't bring himself to return the gesture so he nods weakly and collapses into the first empty seat he could find. The bus ride is long and painful, his head was pounding, and everybody was too loud.
He takes his time navigating through the corridors to get to his first class, Algebra. He sits down at the table, and it feels wrong. Michael's seat is empty. Ashton sighs when he's handed a work sheet, and stares at the question. The words seem to blur and fly around, and he blinks repeatedly in order to read the question.
The length of a rectangular field is 7/5 its width. If the perimeter of the field is 240 m, what are the length and width of the field?
Ashton sighs again. It's hard to focus, when his best friend is in the hospital and he's going to die. He wonders if it's possible that maybe, he could save Michael. He just might be able to. He shakes his head and picks up his pencil, writing down the answer.
2L + 2W = 240, 2(7/5)W + 2W - 240
W = 50 m L = 70 m
He taps his pencil on desk whilst reading the next question. He's working slowly, Ashton can't get the image of Michael lying in the coffin. He blinks and re-reads the question.
It takes Ryan 3.5 hours to drive from city A to city B. On his way back to city A, he increased his speed by 20 mph and it took him 3 hours. Find the average speed for the whole journey.
Ashton is frustrated. Why don't these cities have names? He sighs, realizing he's concerned about something totally irrelevant. All he think about is Michael. Dead. His eyes are always sparkling and full of life. He can't die. Michael and dead shouldn't even be in the same sentence.
"Ashton? You're still here?" Mr. Todd peers at him over the frame of his glasses. Ashton looks up from his worksheet. Everybody else is already gone. He's late for PE.
"Oh," He says aloud.
"Are you having trouble with your worksheet?" Mr. Todd asks, surprised.
"I'm having trouble concentrating on my worksheet," Ashton groans, rubbing his face. Mr. Todd walks over his his table and sits down in Michael's chair. That's Michael's chair, he wants to say.
"Is something the matter?"
"My best friend is in the hospital," Ashton whispers weakly. He can't say anything about Michael dying, because Mr. Todd will ask him how he knew, and Ashton wouldn't be able to reply.
"Ah, Michael, right? I'm sorry lad," The teacher says. Ashton folds his arms and rests his chin on them, tears threatening to fall.
"I'm gonna be late for class," He mumbles into his sleeve. He jumps up and grabs his bag, running out of the classroom and to the gymnasium. Ashton is late, but the teacher doesn't say anything.
The rest of the day drags on, seeming to last forever. Lunch was so boring, and lonely, without his best friend. He sat at Niall's table, and this boy with blonde hair kept on trying to talk to him. He didn't reply, couldn't reply, when his best friend was going to die.
When the bell rings signaling the end of the day, Ashton immediately got his stuff and ran out of the school. He caught the next bus to the hospital and sat anxiously, tapping his foot. Would Michael still be alive? Yes, he had to be. Next week he would be at the skatepark laughing at his skate failures with Ashton. Or would he?
Ashton was the first one off the bus, much to the protest of many others. He sprinted across the street, directly in front of busy traffic, may I add, ignoring the loud honks and shouts of drivers. He slows down when he nears the building and enters calmly, although on the inside he was anything but calm.
He walks to room 214, breathing deeply and exhaling slowly, trying to calm down. Quietly, he eases open the door. Michael's room is dark, blinds are shut, and the lights off. Faint sunlight trickles in through the cracks lighting up Michael's face. He's lying on his back, hair splayed across the pillows, skin ivory white. His eyes are closed, and he's snoring lightly. Ashton can't take his eyes off the rise and fall of his chest. He's alive.
A wave of relief washes over him, so hard he stumbles back, collapsing into a chair, which clattered across the floor. He winced, when Michael made a small noise and sat up, rubbing his eyes. It took him a while to adjust to the dark, and he squints to see Ashton sitting in a chair.
"Ash?"
It's so good to hear his voice. Something broke in Ashton an he flung himself across the room, sobbing into Michael's chest. His skin is scorching, and it makes Ashton cry harder. Michael held him in his arms, rocking him back and forth. Ashton felt like a little kid.
"You might get sick," Michael croaks.
"Don't care," Ashton sniffles. "What's your temperature?"
"42°C (109°F)" Michael replies quietly. Ashton's breath hitched. His fever was increasing. His body temperature was rising. Fuck. Fuck.
"God," He chokes out, it's all he can manage. Michael shifts and holds Ashton tighter on his lap, resting his head in his caramel hair. His skin is so hot, that it hurts Ashton to feel it but he can't let go, not after that vision. He doesn't want to let go of Michael, doesn't want to lose his best friend. Michael meant everything to him.
" 'S okay. I'm gonna be okay," Michael whispers.
"No," Ashton cries. "No you're not."
And he tells Michael, about his vision. It's hard, because he repeatedly stops to cry and then has trouble getting the words out. He feels Michael tense, but he doesn't say anything He just listens, until Ashton's finished.
"It was you, Michael. You were- it was you in the coffin. You were dead."
"I'm not going to die. Promise," He says.
"You can't promise that," Ashton sobs. "You can't."
"I can," Michael says firmly. "I can, and I will, and I am. I promise that I won't die. Not yet anyway."
Ashton sniffles and wipes his eyes. He kisses Michael's cheek lightly and smiles because Michael never breaks his promises. He repeats that in his head again and again, until it sounded like a broken record playing. Assuring himself that Michael couldn't die. Because.
Michael never breaks his promises.