Sparkle (Lashton)

Chapter 7: "Mind if I Smoke?"

(A/N: Literally just finished Coming Up For Air and it was literally the best thing ever. I highly suggest you go check it out if you have not already because it is hands down the best Lashton fanfic I have ever read, and the author seems so sweet aw. Okay pic on the side is the most adorable gif of Ashton ever, and I literally can't. Lots of love Xx.)

        Ashton lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He exhaled the smoke into the air gently, trying to calm himself down. Michael hadn't come home at all since he had gone out for a dinner date with Lissa last night. Usually Michael not coming home after being out would mean he got laid, but since Lissa seemed so odd about fucking, Ashton was worried. An hour went by, Ashton smoking cigarette after cigarette, waiting for Michael's return. It was frustrating for Ashton. He was most likely going to run out of cigarettes, and he knew Michael would yell at him for it. It was Michael's fault, though. He should be blaming nobody, but himself.

        "Ashton?" He heard a familiar voice whisper, as his eyes shot open. It was Michael, and boy was Ashton pissed. "Dude, why are there so many cig butts on the floor? Did you really smoke that many?" Michael asked, seeming concerned. His firetruck red hair --which really wasn't firetruck red but a muted orange-- was all messy, and matted looking. Michael looked awful. Guy-liner was smeared under his eyes, and the clothes he wore last night stunk of cheap perfume.

        "Where the hell were you?" Ashton asked, a bitter tone evident in his voice. Michael seemed taken aback, but then shrugged.

        "I was out with Lissa." Michael said, which made Ashton even madder. Ash huffed before trudging into the kitchen to get a bottled water out of the fridge. He opened it and took a sip of the cold liquid, glaring at the confused looking boy wearing a pleather vest and skinny jeans that were much too tight for him.

        "Listen here, Michael; I was sitting in that very chair.." Ashton spoke, pointing towards the black leather beanbag chair in the middle of the cramped living room, surrounded by cigarette butts, and a few bottles of beer. Michael cringed at the sight of the bottles, knowing what was in them before Ashton had downed them last night. "..waiting for you to get home to see if you would care if I went out today with Luke. You didn't ever come home, which had me fucking worried out of my mind!"

        "Why the hell do you care so much, Ash? Go out with Luke! Why the hell would I care?" Michael tried to chuckle, but got the signal not to laugh from Ashton's death glare. Michael raised his hands in defense and walked out of the kitchen. He figured Ashton was just a little pissy today because he stayed up late. That's what normally happened. Michael sat down on the couch, and wrapped an arm around Ash. Ashton was just a little tired, that's all.

        "Hey, you should get some rest. Get that shit off your face, get out of those horrendous looking clothes, and just sleep the day away." Ashton suggested, in a much nicer tone. Michael was on board with Ashton's idea, and immediately jumped up and ran into his bedroom like a five-year-old, who was just told that they'd need to bathe.

        After deciding that eleven would be a reasonable time to call Luke and tell him it was okay with Michael if they hung out, Ashton got some breakfast. It only consisted of toast and a glass of juice, but it was better than nothing. After, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his dresser drawer, and went in his room for a smoke.

        Meanwhile in Luke's apartment, Luke had just awoken.

        "Fuck." Luke yawned. "What time is it?" Luke asked himself, as he rubbed his eyes. He grabbed his phone off his white nightstand, and saw that it was around ten-thirty. He saw a text from Ashton from the previous night, making him giggle. He sent a quick 'Hi, sorry, I must have fallen asleep right in the middle of our conversation!' text, and got a reply shortly after the message sent.