5SOS AU's

art student!ashton

cause who doesn't love ashton as a art student.
————

there was something about the curly haired, pretty eyed, shy boy with nerd glasses that came into the art studio at  every morning at dawn then at dusk every evening.
wether it was the fact that he always had to push his glasses up because he was constantly looking down at his sketch book or the fact that he always had the same order from the coffee shop i worked at, he seemed so caring and he was so beautiful.

when ashton wasn't there, i peaked at his desk as i walked past.
it was covered in paint covered paper towels, brushes, and all sorts of sketches of random things.
he also had a journal labeled "poems" but i didn't opening it, respecting his privacy. however, i did see a drawing of a girl, and the more i looked at it, the more it began to look like me.

ashton comes in about ten minutes later. his face is tear stained, his eyes red. he's holding to his chest a wrinkly page of tan paper, along with wet notebooks.
he sits down at his desk, putting his head down in defeat. i see his shoulders shaking; the sight hurts my heart.
i quietly walk over to his desk and i crouch down next to him.
i put a hand on his back, "hey, are you okay?"
ashton turns his head, his hurt filled eyes looking into mine.
"'guess." he mumbles through tears.
i give him a sympathetic look, "what happened?"
a tear falls down his cheek and he wipes it away with his sweater paw, "someone knocked down my stuff into a puddle and now it's all ruined."
his voice just breaks me.
"oh, love, i'm so sorry. you don't deserve that, i'll beat up whoever did this to you. maybe your art was just too perfect for this cruel world."
he smiles weakly, "you don't have to do that....and thanks....w-what's your name?"
i push his hair out of his pretty face,
"y/n."
"i'm sure my artwork wasn't as pretty as you." he says.
the giggle that slips from ashton's lips was the reason of the start of something beautiful.
—
two weeks later and we're both sitting in the art studio, side by side.
he's been working on something, but refuses to show me.
"ash, come on."
he looks up at me, confused.
"why can't i see?"
he rolls his eyes at me, "cause you can't, pretty girl."
"you know i saw it, right?"
he raises an eyebrow, "saw what?"
"the drawing of me. i saw it about three weeks when i was cleaning up the studio."
his naturally pink cheeks turn almost as red as his jacket, "it doesn't do you justice, your nose is a lot cuter than that." he blurts out, blushing even more.
i giggle and kiss him, "cutie."
"there's no way that i could ever paint something as beautiful as you, promise."

i wrote something for him that i gave him the day i got the painting:

he liked deep poetic quotes because his mind can't process the rush in his veins when he hears her name. she liked sad love songs because she can't describe her lonely world without him by her side.

he said to me one night as we were laying underneath the stars on the roof, "the poet and the artist, hm?"
i nod with a smile.
"im going to attempt to paint things as exquisite as you."
he gives me an eskimo kiss, something i've learned he loves to do.
"and i will try to write poems as beautiful as you, even though that's impossible."
"well, you're already a masterpiece.."
"and you're already as perfectly written and as memorable as edgar allen poe."
—