Definition [ot4]

seven

The only thing Calum's thankful for in life is that he has golden boys like Ashton to fawn over him.

Ashton, who stands behind him,grabs his waist tightly, and presses soft little kisses along his spine, whispering things like, "You're so fucking beautiful, Cal," and "I love you so much, you're perfect the way you are," and (Calum's personal favorite) "You'll always be my princess."

Ashton, who hands him a dark beer, puts on Transformers or Terminator, and says, "Damn, did you see that girl during the Meet and Greet today? I'd cuddle the fuck out of her."

Ashton, who cuddles him in the dead of night when everyone else is sleeping and Calum can't quite understand why genders exist, whispering quietly in his ear, "I love how warm you are. I love how snuggly you are. I love how soft you are. I love you."

Calum's like, seventy three percent sure Ashton is a god sent straight from the heavens, with the soul purpose of protecting Calum. Ashton is a fucking saint, basically.

Michael notices too. With his arm pulling Calum closer by the waist, he regards Ashton carefully, taking in every sharp point on his body. Ashton glares right back, until Michael says, "Why are you so protective of Calum? He's an adult, he can fend for himself."

Ashton laughs bitterly. "You're so naïve, Clifford."

"I'd like to think I'm not," Michael shrugs, pulling Calum even colser so their hips and ribs knock together.

"Well, you are," Ashton informs him. "You naïve and oblivious and ignorant if you honestly think that Calum's carrying himself through life without any problems."

Calum frowns, but he can't tell if its because Ashton's making him sound useless, or because Ashton's right. Probably the latter. He keeps his mouth shut though, because this isn't his argument.

"You're going to have to stop babying him at some point," Michael responds sharply, like he's trying to hurt Ashton.

"I don't want to be attending his funeral, but thanks for the suggestion," Ashton responds. He stalks off then, towards the bunks, slamming the door behind him.

Michael huffs at that and glances down at Calum, who instantly shrinks under his gaze. He doesn't like the way Michael's watching him curiously, he doesn't like the way Michael's hand loosens around his waist.

Michael frowns, presses a soft kiss to Calum's cheek, and mutters something about Luke before walking away.

Leaving Calum alone in the front room, confused and sad and angry.

°°°°

If there's one thing Calum's jealous of in life , its Luke Hemmings.

Luke, with his little upturned nose and straight teeth and smooth skin. Luke, with his long legs and thin build and broad shoulders. Luke, with his golden boy voice and skilled fingers and charismatic gestures.

Luke has it all. He has girls and boys alike fawning over him, no matter what he does. He has the perfect body and face and voice. He was practically made to be the star, the center stage, the "popular" one.

And, overall, Calum's jealous of Luke's transition. He's jealous at how Luke realized he liked boys, came out to his family, friends, and fans, and sailed through life like nothing. Calum's jealous that Luke didn't have a period of panic and anger because he didn't think there was a term for his sexuality. Luke got a commercialized one, everyone knows what gay means. Calum's jealous that Luke didn't have to scour the internet like he did, searching for anything that would make his feel normal and accepted.