the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// e i g h t e e n //

18. For crying out loud, settle down!/ You know I can't be found with you

Michael doesn't think Ashton has ever loved him. He's pretty sure Ashton just went along with the moment and hoped it was all going to be alright in the end.

Michael isn't okay with that, but Michael's thought process doesn't go that far.

When bad floats begin to float through Michael's head, he shuts his brain off. He doesn't like thinking about bad things, he doesn't like thinking about reality.

He wakes up with his face pressed to Ashton's clothed chest, his mouth open as a puddle of drool is filling his cheek. Michael sits up, Ash's hand falling from the top of Mike's hair. Ashton rolls over once his subconscious feels his ex-fiancé leave his arm.

Mike gets himself up, his body aching with every step he takes. He looks over at Ashton, seeing a healthy color to his skin once more. The vomit bowl is empty which means between 6am and 10am Ashton didn't throw up again.

Michael still goes over to the right side of the bed, pressing up another pillow. Mike's biggest fear is probably Ashton choking on his own vomit and dying in bed.

Actually no, his biggest fear is probably something about Timothy dying or getting knocked up at fifteen, but the fear of Ashton is probably number two or three.

Mike flattens out his cream colored sweater and black track pants before heading out. He closes the bedroom door behind him and makes his way down the grand staircase. The wooden floor is cold underneath his bare feet, the house is creaking with each step.

Timothy is sitting in the kitchen, his fingers tearing apart a toasted waffle. "Good morning," he says, not looking up from his phone.

"Hey, how was your sleep?"

"It was fine. How was Ashton?" Tim saw Ashton being carried up the steps by his father less than 12 hours ago and Tim decided that Ashton didn't deserve the title Dad. No responsible father would do that, Timothy doesn't want that in a father.

Ashton can be in their lives, but Timothy will never call him 'Dad'.

Tim is able to see what Michael refuses to see.

"He's still sleeping. We'll have a chat when he wakes." Michael reaches up in a cabinet, grabbing himself a plate. He debates making Ashton breakfast but he doesn't quite know when he'll be awake.

"Was that what every night was like when he was around?" Timothy asks. Somewhere in a few sleepless nights, Tim figured that enough was enough. He had questions and Michael had answers.

"No," Michael responds as he places two Eggo waffles for himself in the toaster. He leans against their granite countertops, facing his son straight on. "He had his bad nights, though."

Timothy nodded. "I understand why you kicked him out."

Mike gave him a half smile. "It was hard, Tim. I don't want you to think of me as an evil mastermind or something—."

"I don't," he interrupted, "I don't know what I feel."

Ashton made his debut half an hour later, seeing his two family members sitting at the kitchen table in silence. "Good morning," he said, his voice rough.

Michael watched him squint at the light their French doors were giving off. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really, I feel a bit queasy still." He sits down next to Michael, resting his elbows on the oakwood tabletop.

"I thought that maybe we should have a good ol' family meeting about everything. That's what normal families do when there's a problem, I think," Michael says. He's looking down at his empty breakfast plate, too nervous to look up.

"About what?"

Michael is so close to screaming at Ashton, but he stops himself. Mike always stops. "About you almost overdosing, Idiot."

"Hey, don't call me that." Ashton rests his head on the table, running a hand through his greasy locks of hair. "I didn't mean to, it just got away from me."

Michael rolls his eyes and counts to ten. "You are supposed to be 100 percent sober. I could report you so fast, Ash. Do you seriously not realize why this is bad?"

Ash looks up at Timothy and speaks directly to him, "Don't mess around with lawyers. they're just gonna nag on you."

"Oh, my God," Michael's voice is raising with each word, "you're acting like a teenager! Get over yourself and act like an adult! Like a father!"

"It's hard, Michael!" Ashton sits up, his movements so frequent as if he's truly not able to sit still. "You know how hard it is!" His sleepy face turns to look at Michael, blinking his eyes a few times, a pout upon his lips.

Michael rubs at his eyes, counting to ten again. He counts to ten once more, then once more. It's half a minute of silence but Michael has controlled his temper. "Promise me right now that that will never happen again or I'm getting you out of my house and out of our life."

Timothy didn't speak. He felt so uncomfortable, he was on the verge of tears. He didn't like confrontation, he's never had to deal with anything like this.

He felt the same way he felt when his friends parents scolded his friend in front of him. It was comfortable, Tim hated it.

Tim hates Ashton.

Timothy can see everything, he sees the way Ashton gets Michael so weak. Tim loves Michael more than Tim will ever love anyone and Ashton has the nerve to screw with Mike like that.

How dare he?

"I'm going to try—."

"Promise me, dammit!" Michael never screams, even in his fit of rage it's more of a loud spoken word.

Ashton licked over his chapped lips, as his shallow breath breathed out into the cold air. "Okay," he said softly, "I promise."

Why can Tim see more than Michael?

Do you think Ashton is still just playing games?

Are you guys enjoying this story? I'm currently editing an old story (The Boy With The White Eyes, if you wanna be specific), and, like, my writing has improved a lot since then. You guys don't seem to be enjoying it, though. 

Love me like i lov e u.