War ⇔ Cashton ✓

I Will Keep You Safe

A/N: everyone go check out my new story "Ghost" please, and tell me what you think about it when you do! #shameless #self #promo

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ASHTON

In a way, I feel like every human being should have to experience war. Just the atmosphere of it, the terror that surrounds it. Everyone should be forced into that situation, but without getting hurt, without dying, because every single soldier learns one valuable lesson during their time on the battlefield, whether it be at the very beginning or at the very end.

Ordinary people, those who live their lives with smiles and lipstick stains on their cheeks, don't get that feeling, that realization, that life is one huge mass of energy and movement, and it will push along whether or not you are here for it.

To appreciate the world, you have to be able to imagine yourself not in it. And nobody can do that until you've been forced into painting the black picture inside your mind with blood coating your skin. It's not something you just commonly know, it's something you have to experience. It's like trying to imagine the sound of one hand clapping.

War destroys a lot of things in people's lives, but I think it destroys your mentality the most. Your outlook, the way your eyes perceive things. I see everything with black ink filling the insides like an ocean of oil, drowning anything and everything with a throbbing heartbeat.

I'm sitting on the couch, watching a shitty reality television show, when Luke bursts through the front doors of my house, clambering inside with his familiar limp as he hobbles toward me where I sit in the den.

"I can't fucking do anything!" Luke snaps, collapsing in a chair beside me as he runs his calloused hands over his face, where stubble has begun to grow along his jawline.

"What do you mean?" I ask tiredly, turning away from the show and curling my legs underneath me as I focus my attention on the frustrated boy beside me.

He looks exhausted, his cheeks red as his eyes clench shut, one hand pulling on the strands of his hair while the other rubs his face.

"I used to skateboard all the time, and I tried today, but I can't do shit because I have one fucking leg." Luke tells me, and I can't help but notice that it's the first time Luke has said anything negative about his amputation. He's always been passive about it, waving it off like it was a paper cut and not an amputated limb.

Luke huffs and continues, "And then a bunch of little kids laughed at me, so I took off my leg to scare them away."

"That would do it." I nod, and Luke frowns unhappily while he carefully inspects his leg for any scuffs. A comfortable silence fills the air as Luke rubs his thumb over a scuff mark on his prosthetic, and I continue watching the shitty television show.

After a moment, I release a sigh and glance back up at Luke. He looks a bit irritated due to his inability to get rid of the skid mark, and I wait until he's given up to get his attention.

"Do you ever feel bad? You know, about the war?" I ask, and Luke looks up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? About the war?" Luke clarifies, and I nod. Luke sets his jaw, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging halfheartedly, leaning back against the pillows.

"Yeah, I guess. Sometimes. Mainly just about Michael." He says. My heart sinks into my stomach. It's not the answer I'm particularly looking for, but I accept it anyway.

"It wasn't your fault." I say, more for formality's sake than anything else.

"Michael dying?"

"Yeah."