#not even the decency of saying you just didnt want to reconnect when i would have been the most understanding guy in the universe about it.

[phlyaros]

oh so actually he knew what he did was wrong because he complained about the same thing happening to him recently AND identified the correct course of action about the situation! so you chose to do this to me knowing it was wrong to do to someone. awesome. any trace of any past respect for you is gone and if my friends ask me i will simply tell them the truth

[clumsyclifford]

Lashton? 34, 30, 36? In that order if possible? From the angst list because I like to cry myself to sleep ~ marriage anon

marriage anon i am not gonna lie to you: this was a little bit of a challenge ESPECIALLY because i really didnt wanna make it about relationship drama. so i’m sorry that this isn’t PRECISELY the angst you wanted but on the bright side it is still angst AND it’s in the emo lashton verse !!! so. i hope it does not disappoint

-

Ashton sometimes finds it hard to return Luke’s gaze.

It’s just about the way Luke looks at him. Wide-eyed, like he’s drinking him in. And it’s nice, in a way, to be watched so intently; it feels good to know someone is paying close attention. But they’ve known each other long enough that Luke shouldn’t look at him that way anymore, and yet still he does, doe-eyed and sincere like Ashton’s hung the moon. And Ashton doesn’t know what to do about that, because he’s pretty sure he looks at Luke the same way.

It’s Luke gazing at Ashton like that, Ashton later figures, that saves his life. That almost takes Luke’s.

A few minutes away from Ashton’s house — their house, at this point, really, and there’s no sense pretending they don’t share it — a crosswalk stretches over a busy avenue, and Ashton and Luke have crossed that road a hundred thousand times before. This moment should be just like any other, debating the merits and drawbacks of various Star Wars films. Ashton’s watching the light across the road. Luke is watching Ashton. The crosswalk light flips from the red hand to the white walk sign, and Ashton steps into the road.

There’s only a split second before Luke shouts something that Ashton will later recognize as his name, and then he’s shoved out of the way, and he lands, palms scraping the asphalt, and there’s a scream and then Ashton scrambles to his feet and whirls around and there’s a car in the crosswalk and Luke is — Luke is — 

“Luke,” Ashton stutters, the sting in his hands fading as he races over to Luke. Sprawled on the ground, leg bent at an awful angle, Luke groans loudly. There’s dirt across his cheek, and blood on his hands, and for a moment Ashton forgets where they are and how to breathe.

And then the panic response kicks in, and Ashton dials 911 as the driver of the car who’d hit Luke gets out, and horns are honking furiously from behind, and Luke is crying, moaning something that sounds like Ashton’s name or maybe an apology, and Ashton takes his hand and kisses his knuckles, which are pale enough to be see-through, and whispers, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, you’ll be okay, just hold on,” hands shaking with unmatched ferocity, heartbeat running rampant inside his chest.

-

Ashton doesn’t let go of Luke’s hand for the entire ambulance ride, and doesn’t cry until Luke falls unconscious, at which point he becomes entirely inconsolable and inseparable from Luke. He wants to call Michael and Calum and Luke’s family but getting words out through the tears is a task too great and terrible, so he sends them all brief texts and ignores all responses. They want to know what’s happened, how he is, will he be okay. I don’t know, Ashton thinks desperately. I don’t know anything.

Luke is situated in the ER and Ashton isn’t allowed in, so he spends that time in the waiting room, forcing himself not to cry, trying not to be crushed by the guilt of Luke pushing him out of the way and taking the hit in Ashton’s place. It should be Ashton here, right now. Luke should be fine. Luke should have never pushed him aside. Ashton is dispensable, but Luke is Luke, nobody like him in the world. The odds of Luke not being okay are slim to none, since he’d made it all the way here without dying, but Ashton’s still terrified, and still feels torn up to know that Luke is going to be in so much pain for a long time. Fuck.

When they let him in, finally, Ashton settles himself in one of the stiff plastic chairs beside the bed. The nurse gives him a knowing look, like she can tell that Ashton doesn’t plan on moving from this spot, but she just slips out the door quietly. Ashton takes Luke’s hand and rests his forehead against the edge of the bed and tries to breathe evenly, to avoid thinking about how much Luke must be hurting, or how much it will hurt for him to wake up.

Hours pass, and Ashton must fall asleep, uncomfortable though his position is, because he wakes to the sound of someone saying, “Ashton?”

Ashton would know that voice anywhere, in any crowd, at any pitch. He bolts upright and Luke is watching him through half-lidded eyes, face ashen. “You’re awake,” Ashton breathes.

“That’s good, right?” Luke says, obviously trying to tease. Ashton tightens his jaw.

“I can’t believe you,” he says furiously. “I can’t fucking believe you pushed me out of the way. You could have fucking died, Luke.”

“I didn’t die,” Luke says, which seems like a total dismissal of Ashton’s entire point.

“You could have. I don’t want — I don’t —” Grasping for something, anything to say, Ashton closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Luke’s hand is still in his, and his palm is uncomfortably warm from being pressed to Luke’s for so long. The salt from the sweat stings over the cuts on Ashton’s palms, heretofore forgotten. “Don’t fucking martyr yourself, Luke, Jesus Christ.”

“If they hadn’t hit me, they’d have hit you,” Luke says stubbornly. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“I can take my own hits, Luke! Why would you think I’d prefer this? Why would — I don’t understand.” Ashton rakes a hand through his hair. “What the fuck was going through your mind. What the fuck would compel you to do that.”

“To save your life?”

“See, you could have died! Even you fucking know that!”

“I would’ve done anything for you,” Luke says plainly. “Any way your life had been at risk, I’d have taken the fall. Come on, Ashton. You don’t know that by now?”

It makes Ashton jerk back, even though maybe he had known it. Still, it’s a big statement to make, and a heavy weight on Ashton’s shoulders. “I can’t be constantly looking out for you trying to take my hits,” he says desperately. “Fuck you, seriously. I was so scared. You — you looked —”

“Hey,” Luke says uneasily, “don’t — don’t do that. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not sorry for getting you out of the way but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just — I reacted quickly. I wasn’t thinking about anything. You were in the path of a moving car and the only thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of it.”

Ashton chews on his bottom lip, looking away from Luke for a moment so he can’t see the openness, the vulnerability stacked up on Luke’s wan face. Sterility greets him; Ashton realizes that though he’s spent hours in this room he’s hardly looked around it. Not that there’s much to see, but at least the clinical equipment is a reprieve from the way Luke winces every few words, like it hurts him just to be awake.

“You’re hurt,” he finally says, eyes still cast away from Luke. “You’re seriously hurt, Luke.”

“Well, yeah,” Luke replies. “I risked my life for you.”

“It’s not fucking funny.”

“I’m not fucking joking.”

He had been, Ashton’s sure, but now Ashton returns his gaze to Luke’s eyes and Luke is somber as anything. “You’re such a fucking,” he flounders, shakes his head, looks down at the blanket, “I don’t know. I can’t believe you. I’m really fucking mad at you, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” Luke complains. “I’m on death’s door and you’re gonna be cross with me?”

“Stop saying that.” Without meaning to, Ashton’s grip on Luke’s hand tightens, and Luke glances down at where their hands are joined, raising his eyebrows. “It’s not funny to me, Luke. You really could have — you can’t joke about that. You need to be here. You need to not die. Ever.”

“Ever?”

Ashton swallows more air than he needs and breathes it all out in one go. “Don’t joke,” he repeats.

Luke has the decency to look apologetic. “I won’t joke,” he says quietly. “I’m here, though, you know? I could have died but I didn’t. I’m fine.” Ashton doesn’t say anything. “Ashton,” Luke says, a little more firmly. “Look me in the eyes.”

When Ashton meets his gaze, Luke squeezes Ashton’s hand and slips his own hand free, only to reconnect them a moment later, this time interlacing their fingers. Luke’s eyes are bluer than any sky Ashton’s ever been under, flitting back and forth over Ashton’s face, the pallor of his skin creating an even sharper contrast. They’re alive, is Luke’s point. Ashton breathes out slowly.

“Okay, you’re alive,” he says under his breath. “I know. I know.” But you almost weren’t. You were so close to not being alive anymore.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Luke murmurs. 

“No, I’m —” Ashton shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He pauses. “I should text your parents, probably. And the boys.” 

“I’d do it again, you know,”  Luke says as Ashton retrieves his phone. “Rather you be scared than dead.” 

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Ashton says, although he knows that he would do it for Luke, too. “God, you know, Mike and Cal, they warned me about this.”

“About what?”

“You. Your hero complex. Martyr complex, whatever. How you don’t value your own fucking life. Just keep yourself alive, Luke.” Ashton stares him down. “Rather you be sad than dead.”

“I’d rather die than be alive without you,” Luke retorts, and then his mouth snaps shut like he can’t believe he’s said that and wants to take it back. Ashton wants him to take it back, too, because he can tell from the delivery that it’s true, but Ashton wants it to be a lie. The worst part is that it goes both ways. The codependency between Luke and Ashton runs deep and abiding, and Ashton thinks that this, what’s happened to Luke, is the best possible scenario. Anything else might be a disaster of epic proportions, and Ashton doesn’t want to be there when it hits. 

Luke tears his gaze away, but he doesn’t take it back. Ashton inhales deeply, tightens his grip on Luke’s hand.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“Ashton,” Luke sighs, “you’re all that matters.”

There’s nothing that could convince Ashton that Luke isn’t everything, the whole world, sun moon and stars, which makes Ashton relatively confident that there’s no way to change Luke’s mind, either. They dance around each other like this, lifelines hooked on each other’s heartbeats, trying desperately to untangle the other’s anchors from their own hearts while simultaneously driving their stakes deeper. Ashton wonders if one day Luke will be listed for him under cause of death, if he’ll be that for Luke, if it’s possible for either to die while the other lives. Maybe they really are just twin hearts and nothing else, two halves finally rejoined, proof of Plato’s outlandish hypothesis.

It would explain a lot, if he and Luke were split down the middle from birth, fulfilling their destinies by finding each other. But Ashton doubts that’s the case. He clings to Luke not because of some divine explanation but because Luke is…because Luke is Luke, and he fills in where Ashton comes up short, and his smile slowly seals the cracks in Ashton’s heart, the wear and tear to his mind from life being what it is. Ashton prefers to think that he chooses Luke, and Luke chooses him, again and again, for love or for desperation. A fate he commits to is far more appealing to Ashton than a fate he’s shoehorned into. 

If Ashton had to pick a way to die, anyway, it would be for Luke. He shoots Luke a small, apologetic smile, and Luke returns it, and Ashton thinks that there is no way to stop Luke putting Ashton’s life before Luke’s own, because nothing could make Ashton prioritize his life over Luke’s. In this way, maybe they’ll save each other; simply by saving themselves.