DeadBeat [cashton + Muke] ✔️

[4]

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Luke swore he was utterly in love. Everything felt surreal, an undying sense of content serenity flooding his senses each morning he woke in what was once only Michael's bed but had now become their shared rest.
He found solace in his new home, safety and care always around him. Michael was like a man from his dreams, a man straight out of a fairytale, and maybe he wasn't entirely perfect and sometimes he could be a little arrogant by cause of a job that cost him a piece of his soul, but by god he was still dreamy in every way.

He cooked for them most nights, something Luke had never had before--he'd always cooked, Ashton was always too busy to stop for dinner--and he had willingly agreed to help Luke set up a space in his study room for the blond to take up a new hobby.
Although Michael wasn't entirely captivated by the idea Luke wanted to be an online videographer he didn't argue against it upon seeing just how excited Luke had become for something new; a career, a fresh outlook on life the man had never had before.

After a few more weeks, Luke felt at home in Michael's world; the apartment became shared, a togetherness he couldn't explain but felt from the deepest level of his soul to the gentle surface of his heart.
He felt alive, in love, happy. He felt like he didn't have to be the trailer trash pocket-Barbie everyone had insisted he was. He didn't have to be the pretty doll crumpled in the corner of a dank room with his phone and a mirror coated in cocaine lines. He didn't have to spend his life dying anymore. He could exist, grow, thrive, and Michael was more than happy to be by his side.

Ashton, however, was far from the place of serenity Luke had grown into.
If anything, he had become much, much, worse.
He didn't see the light any longer, didn't care for the sun or the stars, nor for the kindness in a stranger's smile or the scent of a rose garden, all he cared for was agony and pain.

He had grown tired and weak for too long, wasting away in despair and falling into a hole so dark and depressing he swore he would never make it out again. He had lost everything he loved, his heart had been mercilessly ripped from his chest and crushed, but there was still a piece of him desperate to continue on.

Anger. Hatred. Rage.
Pure unadulterated spite.

He wanted those around him to suffer as he did, he wanted abusive fathers to die to their son's hands and neglectful mothers to cry over their runaway children.
He wanted sweetheart lovers to bare nothing but excruciating agony, he wanted romance to die like a rose torn from its bouquet. He had never felt the touch of true love, had always longed for Luke to love him like storybooks promised, had always hoped one day Luke would turn around and ask his violence to stop.

And yet... he didn't. He left. Instead, he abandoned Ashton, left him to rot away like he were nothing.

But eventually there was someone who did care.

Though they were vile and perturbed, sick in the mind and even worse in the soul, they cared in their own sadistic inhumane way; reaching out to the fallen organ trafficker with a proposal.
Where Ashton had looked in the mirror and seen nothing more than a waste of life, a miserable excuse, his new found accomplice had seen true and unwavering promise. A vicious man willing to destroy humanity for his own gain.

A man they could twist and turn and force into love. A man they could make bow down to their every whim, obedient, loyal. Unstoppable.

His name was Calum, and quickly--through seemingly endless nights of slaughter requests and offers for Ashton to join his own criminal blaze of destruction--he had become Ashton's reason to fight once more.
He was a saviour. A god. And Ashton never wanted to lose him.

With a casual sway of a bloodied knife, Calum cast a vile grin toward Ashton's figure; the pair standing downtown together in a quiet street beneath moonlight and misery.

"You did swell, babe." Calum praised effortlessly, pleased by the dead man now lain by Ashton's bloodied shoes. "Now come over here," he instructed, placing his knife carelessly into the small black handbag over his shoulder, "lemme get that blood off your gorgeous face."

Calum was far unlike Luke, a love Ashton had never thought he would ever find.
The tall brunet was villainous, chaotic and evil yet devilish and sly. His smile was cruel but when he looked at his partner it always became  filled with a sense of divine love only Ashton could understand; brown eyes gleaming with secrets he would whisper to Ashton late at night while they lay together.
Whispers of blood, of murder, promises of sacrifices he would gift Ashton until the end of time.

He was never violent, never pushed Ashton's buttons for hope of a explosive response. In fact, it seemed, he tamed Ashton's anger in a way the criminal had never believed could be possible.

His fingers were soft, combing through the tangled wires of Ashton's mind and gently prying them free from one another; undoing the madness Luke had unwittingly helped create.
He was Ashton's elixir of life. He brought Ashton back to reality, and even though their world was dark and demonic--blood spilled daily, scathed knuckles and illegal burials in the midst of pouring rain--Ashton had come to love it.
Accept it.

He didn't care that Calum was evil. That the beautiful brunet hurt people, stole people's lives for cash and infamy.
No. Not as long as he had Calum there to hold his sore hands and promise they would be together forever.

Ashton's brow creased in slight annoyance, not used to being fussed over as Calum gently wiped his thumb across a smear of blood on Ashton's cheek.

"Maybe we should get matching masks?" Calum suggested, clasping Ashton's hand in his own before squatting down and snatching the dead man's wallet with his other hand; standing up once more with a grin.
"Wouldn't we be sweet? Matching serial killers."

"What kind of mask?" Ashton was curious, always intrigued by whatever thought Calum would come up with, as they walked along the street.

"Hm. How about Jason and Ghost Face?" Calum suggested. "I could be ghost face." He then offered a short giggle, a hand gesturing to the pitch black of his chain-decorated skirt. "I have the fanart body for it."

"That you do." Ashton complimented, his heart warmed as Calum pressed a kiss to his cheek in response. "You're very beautiful."

"So sweet, you are." Calum swooned, adoring. "My darling killer."

Where Ashton saw misery and waste, Calum saw beauty.
Calum truly made him feel worthy of love.

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Cashton is just beautiful *wipes tear*
am I right? Or am I right? 🤧💗