𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝟷.𝟸

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𝚝𝚠𝚘
𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎
'𝚖𝚎𝚑, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝'

As it turned out, Ashton had been right about the street dogs, they were the things that had caused them to begin coughing violently and throwing up

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As it turned out, Ashton had been right about the street dogs, they were the things that had caused them to begin coughing violently and throwing up. When the four band members floated out of the rescue ambulance that had been called for the teenagers, they all looked around the place their souls had taken them. It was black, just a huge room of nothing for them to stay. Ashton looked over at the boys who were equally as confused.

"I swear." She scoffed, marching up to Luke with her arms crossed against her chest. "How many times?!"

"Here we go." He sighed as she approached them.

"How many times did I tell you that street dogs weren't a good idea! I told you each and every time you boys wanted to eat those... things!" She cringed. "I always told you no. no, Luke you cant. But you couldn't stop yourself, could you? You couldn't have got a burger from a licensed food truck on the strip? You just had to get the street dogs. Of course you did. I can't believe it. The one time I trusted you to share those poisonous hot dogs, they kill us! That's it! We're dead!"

"You done?" Luke looked her up and down, waiting for her to finish her rant.

She shook her head and stepped closer, "You know what? No, I'm not done. This was our chance, Luke. We were playing the Orpheum! It took us years to get that gig, Luke! And then you guys made me eat that street dog and I died!"

"Now?" He asked, moving back to give her space. Ashton and Luke were the two that were provoked easily. The band could only deal with one of them angry at a time, and Luke decided that Ashton had every right to be unhappy with him. She exhaled and nodded. "Right, I'm sorry that we're dead now, but it was gonna happen eventually, whether or not it was my fault is debatable. So we cant do anything now, we've just gotta live like this."

"We cant live anymore!" Ashton spun around. "You killed us all!"

"Fine, then we've gotta... after live like this!" He shot back. "Go talk to Alex or something." Ashton took his advice and walked over to the boy in the pink shirt, who was hugging his knees in a dark corner sobbing. She knelt down beside him, and placed a hand on his knee to make her presence known to him.

"You good?" She asked as he looked up from him. Judging from the redness of his face and the deep, unrhythmic intakes of air, Alex was not good. "Oh come here." She pulled him into her chest, hugging him tightly. Being two years older than the boys meant she was always the one who was cried on – the mother of the band. Ashton didn't mind it, she found comfort in the responsibility of the band's happiness. It also meant that she had nobody to cry to, they always expected her to deal with her own emotions, apart from Luke, he always understood her since he moved into the Brooks' garage out back.

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 - ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴏɴ Where stories live. Discover now