Definition [ot4]

Twenty Three

((I just took some hardcore NyQuil for my cold so if I pass out and accidentally post this halfway through.... Blame that snotty ass little fuck at my school that kept coughing on me.

-Mel))

Calum wakes with a start, confused and startled. He squints, trying to make out Michael's figure in the bed next to him in an attempt to see if he's fucking around or something. Michael's breathing is even and deep, though, so he's obviously asleep and not the reason Calum had woken up. The bright red numbers on the clock say that it's 2:46, which confuses Calum and even more.

He crawls out of bed, stretching up onto his tip toes to pop his joints and stretch his muscles. Once his head stops swirling and his eyes adjust to the dark of the room, he makes his way towards the door, trying to be as quiet as physically possible. The hallway light isn't on, but the one in the bathroom is. Calum pads his way towards the cracked open door, rubbing a hand sleepily down his face.

Calum reaches his arm out when he gets close enough and slowly pushes the door open. Ashton's sitting on the floor with his knees bracketing the toilet bowl, trembling like the room is freezing. A violent shudder racks his body suddenly, and he's sobbing then gagging into the toilet. He coughs a few times, Calum's nose wrinkles up a bit, then sobs loudly and continues trembling.

"Ashy?" Calum says softly, frowning at the sweat beading up at the back of Ashton's neck and the curve of his shoulders. Ashton cringes and goes to turn around, then starts gagging again. Calum's quicker this time. He closes the door behind him and darts forward to rub Ashton's back. His hand stops a centimeter before the boy's back, instantly freezing up when seeing Ashton retch something vile into the toilet again.

"Can I touch you?" Calum asks gently.

"No!" Ashton jerks forward, away from Calum, and presses his chest to the toilet forcefully. Calum holds his hands up in surrender and steps over to sit on the lip of the tub, watching as Ashton's giant eyes follow his every movement. He crosses his ankles and looks back, observing how sick Ashton looks.

His face is covered in sweat, practically dropping and making his face shine. His skin itself is ashen, almost pale and flooded with a dark, dangerous gray color that makes Calum cringe. There's pink splotches on his cheeks and forehead, though, small spots of blush to remind Calum that Ashton still has blood pumping through him.

"God, I'm so- so fucking- I'm just so disgusting!" Ashton rasps out, voice rough and cursing.

"Hey, it's fine," Calum amends gently. "You're sick, baby, everyone gets sick." Ashton mutters something angrily under his breath that Calum can't quite hear. Calum tries to sort out all the questions he's got swirling in his brain, deciding to go with the easiest one first. "Why didn't you use the bathroom in your bedroom?"

Ashton shrugs, leaning his face against the side of the toilet and closing his eyes lightly. His lips drop open for a second before he whispers, "Didn't want to wake up Luke." Calum nods in understanding. His fingers ache with the need to hold Ashton or rub Ashton's head or kiss Ashton warm cheeks.

"Did you eat something bad?" Calum asks after a few seconds of silence.

Ashton shakes his head, eyes squinting as more tears cover them suddenly. He turns his head so his nose and forehead are pressed against the toilet bowl (Calum cringes), and let's out a loud sob. He's still trembling and shaking uncontrollably, but now thick sobs are racking his body as well.

Calum sighs, feeling a bit like crying himself, and slouches down. He places his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "Oh, Ash," he whispers.