°⁂ [ 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 SPENT WHAT felt like hours rummaging through his belongings, Ashton's belongings, random items scattered about — anything. He desperately tore apart every square inch of his hospital room. But, per his luck, he came up empty. Every item he thought he might have a chance with didn't even break skin. He was honestly beginning to become frustrated. If he didn't relieve the building restlessness within him, he felt he'd literally go insane and punch a hole in the wall.
He couldn't sit still. He couldn't lay down, he couldn't stand. He couldn't function. He needed — craved — the sensation of pain to bring him back to Earth. To ground him. Without it, he didn't know what he'd do.
Just when Luke was about to scream out of anger, he heard that honey-smooth voice behind him laced with sweet concern.
"Luke? Are you okay?"
Luke had never been so happy to hear his name ever before in his life. He whirled around, thankful Ashton had shut the door behind him when he entered, and rushed up to the red-haired boy, enveloping him in the biggest, most comforting embrace he could muster. Not just for his own sake, but for both of theirs'. For some reason, he knew Ashton craved the contact as much as he did.
Luke buried his face in Ashton's neck and finally felt his pounding heart begin to slow as Ash ran his fingers up and down his back and whispered reassurances softly before his voice became low and sincere and he uttered, "I'm so sorry about your mom, Lu."
"I'm sorry about getting you in trouble," Luke whispered into the embrace, taking in the scent of sandalwood and weed that oozed from Ashton's black crewneck. It was oddly comforting. It made him feel safe, like nothing could hurt him.
"It's fine, mate. No one's in trouble. We're all just worried about you, yeah? We want you to be okay. I... want you to be okay."
Luke finally pulled back, Ashton's hands lingering on his hips as he stared at the red-haired teen, his vision blurry from emerging, unshed tears. One finally began to fall down his cheek, but Ashton quickly reached up and brushed it away, his touch leaving a line of electricity on Luke's skin. Suddenly, he didn't feel restless anymore. He felt alive, and, god, the difference was unbelievable.
"I wanted to hurt myself," Luke revealed softly, and Ashton didn't look surprised. He just listened, taking Luke's hand and holding it tightly. His palm was warm, dry, and rough, as though he worked with his hands every day. It felt good. It felt like being home sick from school and having his older brother run his fingers through his boyish curls as he felt for a fever. It felt like chicken noodle soup on a cold, winter day. It felt like a hot shower after playing in the snow all afternoon. It felt, amazingly, like home. "I didn't, though. I mean, I couldn't find anything. But, now... I'm not sure I want to anymore."
