dear teacher, :: lashton au

chapter forty-four

It was two days after finding the note in his locker, that Ashton Irwin finally found the time to visit the address he was given. Initially, when Ashton found out Mr. Hemmings wished to speak with him, he sure as hell was not expecting the sight before him. As he stood in front of that house, knocking on the door, he was not prepared to see the mess on the other side. Not only this, but he wasn't prepared to deal with any of the information he was going to be fed.

But, despite the lack of preparation, Ashton was soon given insight on a sliver of Luke Hemmings' life. As it appeared, the man's life was broken. Luke's life was drowned in liquor and hungover. Ashton did not need to read an informative essay to know his teacher was in a bad position. Just based on appearance and overall look, Ashton knew Luke was dealing with a hangover, and the man clearly was down at least twelve hours of sleep.

"You came."

Ashton tried to avoid rolling his eyes, he really did. But he could not stop the slight attitude that radiated from him to his teacher. But even though he tried to avoid the tension, a small part of his brain knew well that the relationship between them should be kept formal. However, going to a teacher's house upon demand was not formal.

Luke ignored the attitude, taking a step back and opening the door wider. The invitation was soon taken, and Ashton stepped across the threshold without giving himself a moment to think.

After breathing in the scent and taking a brief moment to drink in the interior of the home, Ashton made the decision to walk over and take a seat on one of the leather couches in the living room. As he did this, he did not speak. He simply walked past the taller figure and leaned back against the cold, comfortable furniture.

"Why am I here?" Ashton finally asked, letting his eyes wander the room, evaluating the paintings and photography that littered the walls. He took surprise to the fact that everything was extremely neat. Aside from many stacks of papers, the house was well-kept, unlike the person who owned it. "Where have you been?" The previous question was soon replaced, for Ashton found the prior to be more important.

Wordlessly, the broad-shouldered teacher sat down in the loveseat across from Ashton. He folded his arms across his chest, sniffling a little. "I really need to talk to you. I just really need to talk to someone, you specifically." His eyes were red-rimmed with regret and remorse; Luke was a wreck, and that was by far the worst condition Ashton has ever seen him in.

"What is it?" As much as the boy knew he should have trod carefully, he needed to ask. They needed to get everything out in the open.

"I did something bad. I've done a lot of bad things, and I don't know what is happening. I didn't mean to speak that way to you." Luke paused, gulping and rubbing his pinky finger. He had been paying a lot of attention to the finger where his purity ring had once been. "I didn't mean any of it."

"You didn't make me come here just to apologize." The student prompted, raising his eyebrow as he waited 'patiently'. He gulped as well, trying to swallow the nerves within his brain, knowing well the physical action would do absolutely nothing with his feelings.

"I need to confess, Ashton. Please." Luke's eyes were watering, and it was clear tears were pooling patiently, just waiting for the man to finally blink.

If Ashton had not caught on to the desperation, he would have insisted his teacher go to confession in a church. But by the looks of it, Luke was not joking around. Luke was falling apart, and the thought had most likely already crossed Luke's mind. Therefore, confessing to a priest must not have been an option.

Ashton allowed his head to dip slightly, gesturing for the teacher to proceed. "Go ahead."

Luke breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his pinky again as he spoke. "Three nights ago I got really drunk. Really, really drunk. I was at a bar down the street and I guess things got a little blurred or distorted." Guilt was all Ashton could hear just from those few sentences. "I didn't even know she was chatting me up. But this woman, uh, she was talking to me and I couldn't think."

That's about the point where Luke Hemmings, the grown Advanced Placement English teacher, began to cry. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks, creating a wet path of pure guilt.

"We took a cab and I went to her place, and," Luke sighed, breathing rattly, "and we had sex, I guess." Luke was cringing as he spoke, as if his own words were some type of poison. "I was so drunk and I felt so full of those unholy thoughts from earlier that day and I just wanted to forget, but I didn't think." More tears fell.

"Why are you telling me this, Luke?" Anger, irritation (jealousy), and pure confusion laced the question in copious amounts.

However, Luke continued. "I didn't even finish, I couldn't even come. It was all just wrong. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about how disgusting it was. I wasn't thinking about that fu-fricking ring," the man glared at the inanimate object on the coffee table between them. "You don't understand, Ashton. I cannot tell anyone else this."

Again, Ashton repeated, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I was scared. I wanted to stop thinking about you. I wanted to stop thinking about homosexuality. I kept drinking. I keep drinking," Luke ran his fingers through his hair, wiping away his tears and snot afterward.

"You wanted to stop thinking about me?"

"I wanted to stop thinking about how I felt when I read those notes." Luke sniffled one last time, somehow managing to regain his posture once again. "I wanted that fucking feeling to go away, but it just kept reappearing."

After processing all of the information that was being given, Ashton spoke out again, "I'm sorry."

"No," Luke shook his head, "nothing is your fault. I just– I couldn't deal with the feelings, and I pushed them away. I convinced myself it was wrong, and I tried to convince you this was a sin. But they– they wouldn't go away. So, one night, I drank. I drank so much, and it just kept going on. Every time I thought about a guy... I just drank. Then I went to a bar for the first time, and that's when all of that happened." Luke was crying again, but this time it was more discrete. "I had meaningless, almost-sex with some woman whose name I don't even know. It's all just wrong. It was all just a sin, Ash."

"It's not really your fault, either." Fuck. Ashton was never one to comfort another, but it was obvious he had to try. "I came onto you, and I wasn't thinking about you. I wasn't putting myself in your shoes."

"I'm just pathetic. I couldn't handle it. And then you talked about your father. I just, I had to– like – look at myself, and that just made me cry and I couldn't sit there in front of the mirror thinking about what could go wrong when I drank. It is killing me. Knowing what you have been through and knowing what I did was wrong. Everything is just so fucking wrong. I just don't know what to do, Ashton." The words were a mess. Sentences were jumbled, but the previous was the obvious majority Ashton was able to pull out from Luke's short monologue.

Finally, Ashton grabbed the ring from the table. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

The student held out his hand, palm open. Eventually, the teacher's hand slid timidly into his. Ashton calmed himself down enough to stop his shaky fingers; he evaluated the purity ring in his hand, then finally slid it on to Luke's left pinky. After that, the student seemed to think he was holding Luke's hand too long and pulled back.

"I don't understand." Luke murmured.

"As you said, you weren't thinking. But it happened, Luke. It happened. However," Ashton tried his best to meet those wide, light blue eyes, "it was not the Luke you are right now. It was your body, but it wasn't you. It was an influenced decision, and just because it happened does not mean you, solely, are responsible for it. I am not saying that it doesn't count, because physically, it does. But some drunken mistake isn't allowed to take this choice from you."

It was almost as if, in that moment, the student had taught the teacher something worth remembering for the rest of his life. Choice.

There were choices outside of those outlined by Him.