The Real World |5sos fanfic|

Part 31- Hospital

'Michael?' Ashton said again.

'I was...' he continued to look at me, there was nothing he could say.

'What? What were you doing?'

'I was... looking for the bathroom, I got the wrong door. Please continue doing whatever the fuck you were doing,' he spat pulling the door shut, leaving Ashton and me alone again.

I shut my eyes. This was not how I had planned this to happen. I didn't want him to see this. Ashton didn't notice my pained expression. 

'Where were we?' he continued to pull my dress over my head. He was nibbling on my neck, his hands were toying with my bra clasp desperately trying to unhook it.

I felt terrible Michael had seen me and Ashton like this. A couple of days ago I would have had a part of me willing me to run after Michael but right now I was so focused on Ashton.

He pushed me up against the wall, finally unclipling my bra. Our bodies twisted and moulded together as we closed all the gaps between us.

I knew I had made the right choice by picking Ashton. We stayed in that little room for a long time. We explored one another's body and brought each other to places we'd never been before.

This was real love.

*

Michael stormed out. His urge to use the bathroom had passed after what he'd seen. Now all he wanted was to be sick. He knew in his head I wasn't going to leave Ashton for him, but deep down he had a glimmer of hope. The fact I had ran off last night after Ashton had said he loved me gave him a flickering feeling that maybe there was a chance for us. Michael had really considered that maybe I had changed my mind.

He pushed open an emergency exit and pulled out a cigarette. The icy air stung his face but he didn't care. He closed his eyes as he took a long, hard drag. He choked as the smoke hit the back of his throat. He coughed and tried to fight the tears back. It was futile, they appeared. He loved me. He really, really loved me.

The image of Ashton and me pulling of each others clothes hurt more than anything he'd ever felt. He would have preferred to be punched in the nose a million times over. He loved us both but he'd never known it was possible to hate people you loved at the same time. He'd never experienced this level of hatred before in his life.

He hated himself for loving me, his best friend's girlfriend. He hated me for not loving him back. He hated Ashton for taking away his chance of loving me. He ached to the marrow.

He couldn't bare to be in the same building as us. He knew exactly what we were doing in that storage room. It was haunting him like a ghost that held a grudge. It was ripping everything inside him to shreds.

He began walking. Where was he going? He had no idea. He couldn't even see where he was going, his vision was blurred with tears. He didn't care if he tripped or walked into something. Maybe the physical pain would balance out the excruciating mental anguish.

He lit another cigarette in quick succession because it was the only way he knew to calm himself down. He poisoned his longs with the toxins, wishing it would kill him right there and then. His feet kept moving, carrying him further and further away.

'Fuck you Jess,' he shouted repeatedly. He didn't care if anyone heard him scream. They would probably think he was mentally unstable. The truth was, in this moment in time, he probably was. 'Fuck you, I hate you so much,' he whispered to himself now. He wasn't sure who he was talking about.

He kept walking. He had no idea how far he'd come from the theatre but he didn't care. If anyone needed him he had his phone. He pulled it out to see if anyone had noticed he was gone.