°⁂ [ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒! ] ༄
-', ( lashton )
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
in which - two teenaged boys
sent to a mental institution find
comfort in one another 🥀 🚬
❝ blacking out in my room
...
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LUKE LAID AWAKE on his third night in the hospital, unable to sleep for some odd reason he wasn't aware of. Perhaps the bed was too stiff, perhaps the air was too cold, or perhaps Luke's mind was too polluted. It didn't matter, though, because the end result was the same — Luke was awake, and he didn't want to be.
After awhile, he decided to try counting sheep, then making up fantasies in his head, then cursing God, then he finally reverted to the thing he would, ultimately, always turn to — Ashton.
"Are you awake?" he asked softly, not hearing the rare sound of Ashton's quiet snores that Luke had come to love hearing. He knew Ashton didn't sleep much, but he was afraid to ask why. He didn't want to know the answer. So, instead, he reverted to different methods of comforting the redhead, such as playing with Ashton's fingers, or letting the redhead draw on his arms, or humming softly to him when he had a sad spell.
Sad spells seemed to happen more and more often as Ash got comfortable with Luke. He would just go quiet and frown as he stared off into space, sometimes pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head against them. Luke hated it — so much. He felt an odd connection to Ashton — a truly once-in-a-lifetime connection. So, when Ashton was sad, so was Luke. When Ashton was happy, so was Luke. When Ashton was mad, so was Luke. He knew it wasn't exactly the most healthy relationship, but the blonde didn't have the heart to put a stop to it. He loved it — craved it — far too much for that.
"Yeah."
Just from that one syllable, Luke knew it was a sad spell. Usually, Ashton was so bubbly and upbeat, but, when he was down, it was clear as day. He couldn't hide it, no matter how hard he tried. He was constantly bursting with emotion — good or bad.
"Are you okay?" Luke asked, knowing the one-worded answer he would get — the answer he always got. He still tried, though, relentlessly.
"Yeah." His voice was low and dull, it's usual spark and joy nowhere to be found. "Are you okay?" Still, though, he found it in his heart to check on Luke, which filled Luke with an endless warmth.
"I'm sad, and I want to go home. But I'm happy to be here spending time with you," Luke answered honestly, hoping to set a good example for his existentially fucked roommate. "I'm very grateful for you, Ash. Without you, I'd still be the anxious mess I was when I got here. You really helped me, you know. You single-handedly made me feel better."
"Good." Slowly, almost unnoticeably, warmth began to creep back into the red-haired boy's sweet voice. There was hope after all, and maybe that hope just happened to be Luke — he wished it was, anyway. He wanted to be the light in Ashton's life like Ash was for him. He wanted to return the generous favor Ashton had given him.
