the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// t w e n t y - f i v e //

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

Michael is sitting at his desk, watching Timothy kick a soccer ball up and down the deserted hallways. "Please don't break anything!" He calls, as the teenager makes another loop close to Mike's office.

"Too late for that!" He calls back, already by the marketing department.

Mike rolls his eyes as he looks back down, signing a few papers and making sure they were going into the right folder. The worst thing ever is when one of his lawyers show up to a case with the wrong file.

Tim stops at his father's door fifteen minutes later, out of breath with sweat dripping down his neck. "Where's Calum's desk? I wanna mess it up."

"Do not mess up his desk."

"Dad, please." The dirty blonde boy begged. He pushed his soccer ball into the room, aiming it towards his school bag. It landed perfectly on top of his coat as he smiled to himself.

Mike sighed. "Fine, I don't care. Just, don't ruin any papers. Those are important."

"You're the best!" Tim shouted, already turning the corner and looking through the sea of desks.

Michael went back to his after hours work, undisturbed for another half hour until his cell phone began to ring. He continued to type on his computer with one hand as he grabbed his phone with the other.

He brought it up to his each after accepting the call. "Yeah?" He answered, not really paying attention. Mike rested his phone in the crook of his neck as he brought his other hand back down to his keyboard, clicking away on a file.

"Hey," Ashton's voice said quietly, "it's me."

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

Ash curled closer to the wall of his bedroom, he doesn't know when he go to the floor but somehow he did. "I'm not feeling too great."

Michael closed out of a file after making sure to save. He turned away from his computer and gave his phone his full attention. "Do you know why?"

"I'm trying to stay sober," he said, his voice still so quiet and weak, "but I'm so, so sad and so, so alone. I physically feel sick."

Mike's hands grabbed the edges of a few papers, nervously folding them over a few times. "Does it feel like withdrawal? I'm at work right now, do yo—?"

"You don't need to save me."

Michael rested his head in his hands. "Let me help you, I care about you." Mike figured that Ashton wouldn't call him if he didn't want help.

Ashton closed his eyes and rubbed at his headache. "Is Tim with you? I don't want him to see—."

It was Michael's turn to interrupt, "Tim knows everything, Ashton. Stop trying to hide your problems from our son." Mike rubs at the sides of his head, "I'm sending an Uber your way, alright?"

"Okay," Ashton responds.

The line goes dead as Michael stands up, waiting for Tim to loop around the office. He watches the dirty blonde running around with a soccer ball at his feet, nothing has changed in the last ten years but everything feels so different.

"Your dad is coming by," Michael says quickly, causing Tim to stop dead in his tracks.

The soccer ball that was once at his feet goes rolling down the empty corridor as Timothy doesn't move. "I don't want you calling him that." He turned around, all emotion of happiness gone from his face.