the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// t h i r t y - t w o //

32. For crying out loud!

Michael was late coming home from work almost every day for the last two weeks. Sometimes he was ten minutes late, sometimes he was three hours late. Ashton had some paranoid fear that one day Michael wouldn't come home at all.

Ashton hasn't got a lot to do since he quit his job. He found some hobbies but nothing takes up enough time. Always being home gave him the chance to spend so much time with Tim, though.

Traveling soccer tryouts are coming up soon and Ashton is a good enough goalie.

Today, Michael was fifty-one minutes late. Ashton was annoyed and Tim was annoyed. They both sat at the dinner table eating their dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and whole wheat pasta angrily.

"I'm home!" Mike called, kicking off his shoes. He passed the kitchen on the way to his home office to be greeted with two angry faces. He dumped his briefcase on top of his desk and started up his computer, giving his email a few minutes to refresh.

Owning more than half the firm was exhausting. Everything depended on him and he was way over his head.

"Dinner is on the oven, it's cold," Ashton said, biting the head off of a tyrannosaurus-rex-shaped chicken nugget.

"Sorry, you know how work is." Michael grabbed a plate, grabbing the cold meal and placing it next to Tim. He stripped down to his undergarment white shirt before sitting down, he figured it'd be a little inappropriate to take off his khakis at the dinner table even though that's all he wanted to do.

Ashton rolled his eyes and Tim followed his lead. "It's okay, Ashton, at least he came home before we're both asleep."

Michael low-whistled, "Damn, you're pissy. How was school?"

"I got honored for my hours in volunteer work and you were supposed to be there. You weren't." Tim stabbed his fork into his pasta, twirling it around his fork and shoving it into his mouth before he could harass his father more.

"I was," Ashton pointed out, "Tim looked great."

Michael pouted out his lower lip, "Aw, I'm sorry. I completely forgot."

"I thought Ashton was supposed to be the deadbeat," Tim said before looking up at the brunette, "no offense."

Ashton shrugged, knowing it was true.

"I'm working the job of seven people, do not start with me, Timothy." Michael's attitude changed fast. He was not in the mood to react to Tim's teenage rebellion. He was tired and he was hungry. He needed a good Netflix binge and nap before he was ready.

"All you do is work," Ashton complained, not looking up at his partner.

"Wow, alright. Just keep tearing me apart, really, it's my favorite part of the day."

Tim took that as an open invitation, "Can you just pretend to love us? For, like, three seconds?"

Michael put his knife and fork down, looking between his two family members. "You know I love you guys more than anything, do not start with me." Mike targeted Ashton, "You haven't been here for nine fucking years, you, of all people, don't get to say shit."

Ashton raised his hands in defense, "I barely said anything!" Ash was the first to raise his voice and Tim knew it was downhill from here.

Tim was angry, though, and he mimicked his maternal father's anger, "At least Ashton tries to care for me! He knew I hated him and he still fucking loved me to death. What about you, Dad?" The way Tim said his father's name came out so bitterly, almost like it was a curse of their Lord.

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

"I've know Ashton for, like, a year and I can trust him more than I'll ever be able to trust you."

"He's a lying, manipulative psychopath!" Michael yelled.

"Wow, fuck you," Ashton said, disgusted with his love. "Let's tear you apart, yeah? You worked you ass off for a stable family, you worked until you mentally bled to get us all through your degrees. You tried to make me the little, last piece to your puzzle of a perfect family! That's not me! But, I try, Michael, I fucking try."

"I'm trying, too, Ashton!" Michael yelled. His voice echoed through their empty house as he yelled at the two boys sitting two feet apart from him.

Ashton raised his eyebrows and formed his lips into a straight line, "Alright, Mike, whatever helps you sleep."

"Oh, fuck off!"

Tim returned to the calm reason of the three, "We're just trying to tell you that you work too much, way too much."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I'm saying that you have never taken a single breath and looked back at us. We're fine, Dad, we're more than fine."

Ashton butted in, "We're not perfect, Mike, we'll never be the perfect family. Accept that already."

"Why, Ashton? So you can leave again? Yeah? You have nothing to lose! You can leave and I won't allow it to affect me again! You can screw over my son and I'll have to fix him again!" Michael had so many emotions bottled up, for all those minutes he was pushed around and displayed as weak.

"Bullshit! I've got everything to lose! I've got 8 months of sobriety and a son and a lover to lose! I've got an entire life to lose! I'm not some child anymore!" Ashton's voice became hoarse as his face became red, "Pay attention to us!"

Michael was suddenly crying, his elbows on the table as his hands held his head. He didn't speak, he sobbed. He sobbed like a child crying for his mother. Like scabbed knees and broken arms.

Tim looked at Ashton and Ashton looked at Tim.

"I do love you," Michael said between huffs of inhales, "I just want the best for you two, I'm so stressed out." He looked up with puffy, glassy eyes.

Tim's breathing was shallow as he leant closer to his father and rested his head against his shoulder. Michael wrapped his arm around his son, burying his head into his dirty blonde hair.

Ashton got up, wrapping his arms around Michael's tense back. He leant his own head in the crook of Michael's neck. "We're both here forever," he promised, and he meant it.

This was their life, this was their reality.

THE END