the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// t w e n t y - s i x //

26. We get back to my house/ Your hands, my mouth/ Now I just stop myself around you +

Ashton has his lips on Michael's, his hands wandering down the body of his ex-partner. It's a quarter past midnight on a windy Wednesday night/Thursday morning, the lights in the master suite are off, the blinds closed shut.

It's a feeling of nostalgia as they stay dead silent with their movements against one another. Ash's hips grind down on Michael's crotch and the younger man's breath begins to pick up.

It reminds him of all those nights that they would creep down Michael's parent's hallway stairs, grab his parent's keys, and head out the backdoor. It was a nice reminiscing moment as Michael closed his eyes and felt the only lips he's ever known travel down his jaw, down his neck, and connect with his collarbones.

Ashton guides Michael down into the sheets, getting more comfortable in their straddled position. Ashton's hands were underneath Michael's sweatpants before Mike stopped him.

Ash removed his hands from Michael, not saying anything. He wouldn't dare continue if Michael wasn't feeling comfortable enough.

"I—I can't do this, Ashton," he said quietly, almost ashamed of himself.

"What's wrong?" He got off of Michael, sitting at his side and looking down at the bleached blonde.

"I can't be in love with you."

"Oh." Ashton got underneath the sheets, unable to say anything more than a single syllable. He laid at Michael's side, not saying anything more.

"I mean, I can, and I am." He pulled the blankets laying at his feet up to his chest, lazily resting them upon Ashton's body as well.

Ashton didn't say anything again, he was quick to shut himself out of the world.

"You said you were going to try to get better but I don't know if you are. I'm not repeating history, I'm not going to invest my love and care for a man who'll never love me or care for me back." Mike laid on his side, looking down at the brunette laying in his bed. He reached out his hand, bushing his fingers across Ash's cheekbones.

Golden eyes looked up at green, both eerily sad. Ashton could say that he was trying, but that'd be a lie. He could say that he's better, but that'd be a lie. He could confess that he's still a mess, but that would be metaphorical emotional suicide.

"I want to love you forever, Ashton."

"I want to be cared for," he responded, "forever and ever and ever and beyond."

Michael lowered his arm down the curve of Ashton's back, puling him closed until their legs entwined somewhere in the middle. "Let me help you, then. You cannot do this on your own."

"You sent me to rehab when I was 20 and it was never the same," Ashton said. "I'm not losing you two again."

Michael wanted to point out that it wasn't rehab that tore them apart, it was the inability to trust Ashton that tore them apart. "That's fine, you're a real adult now, you can make decisions. I need you to want to get help."

Ash swallowed a lump in his throat. "I want to get help," he whispered. It didn't sound like him. The voice from his chest was vulnerable, so weak and delicate.

"Let me get you a therapist, just talk it out for a bit. I go to a guy downtown every now and then and it really helps me out. It clears my dizzy head."

Ashton reached out, his hands traveling up Michael's pale skin. Everywhere his fingers crawled left goosebumps upon Michael. He rested his thumb on the high cheekbones of his partner. "Okay, I'll do that."

"I can bill it to my insurance, I can get you there and back, I can do everything for you."

The older man smiled a soft grin, "Okay."

Michael could feel his mouth beating as he opened his mouth again, "And you should move in."

"I should?"

"I mean, I want you to. If it's okay with the lawyers and social worker and, of course, Timothy," Michael scrambled for words.

Ashton's hand went back down to Mike's hips, slipping underneath his shirt until his cold hand met warm skin. "I should," he said again—this time as a statement rather than question. "We'll need to talk everything out in the morning."

"Promise me, for real this time, that you're in this for the long run."

Ashton nodded, squeezing the skin on Mike's back. "I promise, I'm going to be here for as long as you'll let me."

@ anyone who's read it's me: i thought about making the therapist dr. daisy wink wink

@ anyone who's read what do we do now: i thought about making the therapist dan

@ anyone who reads any of my stories: thank u