inevitable entanglements » a.i. + l.h.

38

To get to Luke, they had to make their way through a maze of broken glass, wincing when a missed shard got crunched underneath the soles of their shoes. Ashton tried to ignore the blood on his boyfriends hands, despite everything that had happened, he was not a fan of blood, and focussed on his softened features instead. The near-expressionless look on Luke's face contrasted with what had been a look of panic only seconds prior. It calmed Ashton down a little bit, although he was used to seeing an absent smile on Luke's lips while he slept. Now they were pursed together in a thin line. His eyes travelled to his wet cheeks, unconsciously quickening his pace because of his desire to wipe them clean with his sleeves. He was about to reach out for him when he noticed that one cheek was slightly more red than the other.

"What happened to his cheek?"

Michael seemed bothered by his question and looked up from where he had previously been trying to find a way to lift the younger boy up without pressing any broken shards even deeper into his ivory skin.

"I slapped him," he muttered, his gaze pointed elsewhere on Ashton's face, avoiding looking him in the eye, "I thought it would help him snap out of his state."

Ashton pulled his hand back in shock, tearing his stare away from the crimson-coloured skin. He felt his rage make his stomach churn and bit his lip to keep himself from yelling. Luke might have been passed out, but Ashton believed in this thing called negative vibes and if anyone would be sensitive enough to feel them, it would have been Luke.

"You slapped a victim of abuse?" He whispered angerily.

"It worked on a lot of my patients," Michael shrugged half-heartedly, making Ashton question his skills. What kind of doctor hits his patients? "Besides, who the hell kisses a victim of sexual assualt?"

It was a good comeback, but Michael regretted saying it when his older brother looked away sadly, murmuring something along the lines of: "I thought my kisses calmed him down."

He didn't respond and instead pushed some more broken pieces away with a broom he'd found laying around. (Michael was the perfect proof that one could be a good doctor without being very neat.) Ashton slowly slipped his hands in between Luke's back and the floor, careful not to touch any shards that had pierced his shirt. Despite the situation, he smiled to himself upon noticing that the blond had gained a few pounds when he lifted him up. He carried him to the iron examination table, holding him upright so Michael could take off his shirt and trousers, leaving him in his underwear. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, but Luke looked particularly vulnerable laying there on his own. Ashton layed his hands next to his hips after realising that letting them dangle off the edge made him look kind of dead.

"This is quite a mess he's got himself into," Michael commented, while carefully getting the glass out of his wounds. There were more pieces than they had originally thought.

Though Ashton didn't say anything, his silence said enough. It was never pleasant to see your boyfriend covered in blood, but seeing his gracefully closed eyes flutter open made it even worse. It didn't take more than a few seconds for his nerves to send signals to his brain and before he had opened his eyes decently, his face twisted in pain.

"Luke, it's me, Ashton," he said, not wanting the blonde to panic again.

"I'm just trying to get the glass out, okay?" Michael added. Luke nodded sleepily, his head was clearly still spinning. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but quickly closed it again.

"What is it?" Ashton asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Needless to say, he felt a little itchy with Luke's cerulean eyes taking in his every feature. They were still clouded with unshed tears and Ashton couldn't help but gently put his hands on the blonde's cheek, feeling a little reassured when he leaned into his touch.