organic. ➵ lashton

six>

[warnings: michael is a total dick because i'm introducing a subplot teehee, michael is also totes punk rock, ashton is r00d, he fucks a girl, oops, really confusing ending, just realized i intentionally lowercased the first two chapters but none of the others oh well, ending includes drunk luke and drunk ashton whee]

[ships: luke hemmings + ashton irwin, michael clifford + calum hood]

"Calum, and you must be Michael?"

Luke held his hand out, playing it off as swatting a fly when Michael stared at him.

Michael seemed like the kind of kid Luke had aspired to be in sixth grade. Blue hair, tattoos creeping up his neck, skin-tight black jeans and some band t-shirt he probably borrowed from his mom's collection of band shirts from the eighties.

He was nothing like Calum, who often re-watched the Brady Bunch just to laugh at the parts where one of the male Brady kids's voice cracked.

"You're skinny," was the first thing Michael said, Calum giggling at him and handing Luke the plastic bag with a white box inside.

"Chinese."

Luke smiled stiffly, because when he heard that Calum was bringing him something he had expected a yoyo or a bag of trail mix that he'd eat the cashews out of and discard.

Not carbohydrates, three times the recommended daily amount of grains, and fats.

Luke wasn't expecting that.

Looking back up and clearing his throat, he looked at Calum. "Do you have somewhere you need to be, or were you planning on staying?"

Michael played with his blue hair and rolled his eyes.

"Place's a dump. Let's ditch, Cal."

Luke, bewildered, tilted his hip to the side and watched Michael closely.

"Do you have some kind of issue with me?"

"You're an anorexic bitch. Probably just some attention whore."

Luke swallowed thickly, not used to his sass being shut down so quickly and so blatantly.

"C'mon, Mike. Let's go," Calum mumbled, stiffening when Michael glared at him.

"What did I say about calling me Mike?"

Michael raised his hand sharply, Calum cowering, and lowered it with a look at Luke, who was now absolutely horrified.

"Let's go, Michael, please," Calum murmured, tugging on his shirtsleeve, unable to look at Luke.

Luke closed the door after them with a forced "goodbye," and turned around.

He heard Michael yelling from beyond the door.

A slap.

The skinny boy broke down, sliding down the side of the door and to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

Why was it always Calum who didn't have nice things? He was a beautiful boy. He was worth more than an abusive boyfriend. Luke's mind was racing, but he stood up, and he called Ashton instead.

"Ash, can you come over? You know where I live, right? I just want a smoke or two with someone."

"Luke, I-I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Luke heard the high-pitched whine of a teenage girl and he buried his hands in his hair, smiling although he felt like lighting himself on fire.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Bothered you, haven't I? I'll just go."

Ashton didn't argue, he didn't even try to relieve tension, he just didn't reply.

"A-Ashton, are you s-straight?" He asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

"M'bi, Luke, now just go," Ashton growled, and Luke could hear the girl he was with begin to moan some more. He was screwing her.

Luke flinched, shaking his head. "Like I even thought I had a chance."

He hung up, throwing his landline across the room and watching as the back battery cover slid off and a battery rolled out.

Luke stomped his feet and cried and screamed, throwing his arms around aimlessly.

He was terrified, actually.

He wanted Ashton, or at least a Michael-free Calum.

Luke walked up the stairs to his top level, sitting on the kitchen table and lighting a cigarette.

His kitchen filled up with smoke, letting the cigarette burn until it burned his fingers trying to smoke the last of it.

"Fuck," he swore quietly, "Ashton, I love you."

He burned himself continuously, repeating the same sentence after.

"Ashton, I love you."

"I love you, Ashton."

Later in the night, when Luke had fallen asleep on the table, Ashton entered the house and sat next to him.

"Babe, wake up.." Ashton murmured, shaking the unconscious boy.

Luke roused from his cigarette-induced slumber, looking up at Ashton and swinging his arm roughly at him.

"I hate you!" He yelled. "You ruined my life... I hate you..."

Ashton watched him, sighing. "I just don't want you to asphyxiate yourself."

"That's all? You don't want to make me watch your little teeny-bopper quickie session?"

"She's a friend!"

"With benefits," Luke replied nonchalantly, "I always figured you were a shithead with a fetish for stupid pubescent girls!"

"Luke!" Ashton yelled, offended.

Luke stood up from the table and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of whiskey.

He drank a fourth of it before coughing and writhing away from Ashton's hold.

Ashton grabbed Luke's arm, prying the bottle from his hands and kissing his head.

"Ash," Luke smiled, tracing his lips with his forefinger, "y-you're pretty..."

He was chuckling giddily to himself after a while, wondering how the fuck he got drunk off of a fourth of a bottle of whiskey.

Luke was an affectionate drunk, unlike Ashton, who got angry and depressive while under the influence.

It appeared that Ashton had taken a drink of the whiskey as well, for they were laying in each other's arms and sharing the bottle between them after a while.

They were laughing, making out in each other's arms.

The only coherent thought Luke had was Ashton's name.