#i am so exhausted i am gonna answer messages tomorrow i'm so sorry

[calumcest]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter seven

[ao3]

did i just pull this entire chapter out of my arse tonight? maybe! not that i don’t write these chapters all in one sitting at like 9pm-1am every single time don’t get it twisted i’m not organised i am a binge-writer

i always do my long ass a/ns on ao3 i dont know why feels more REVEALING to do them here because i know people actually read them and i think probably one person on the whole planet has ever read my ao3 a/ns its a safe haven so i’m just going to say my brief thank yous: thank you to @clumsyclifford for literally everything you do always, thank you to @ashesonthefloor for listening too me bitch about this fic and having the most wonderful thoughts and ideas about it, thank you to @kaleidoscopeminds for motivating me to keep writing this fic w your kind words, thank you to @allsassnoclass for always being so wise and understanding of authors dilemmas and encouraging me w your lovely words, and thank you to my spoiler anon for being so lovely about this fic and holyverse and also for asking about another chapter because i swear to u i would have kept putting it off were it not for u. also big thank you to noel and liam gallagher for writing the SMASH hits i wrote this entire chapter to and for being [redacted] and also to richard madden because i just fancy him and feel like i should thank him for existing and allowing me to perceive him 

It’s a twin room, thank God, because Luke would have rather slept in the hallway than shared a bed with Ashton for four weeks. 

“I’m taking the window bed,” he announces, before Ashton has a chance to say anything, out of pure spite, because he knows Ashton likes sleeping by the window. Or knew, maybe. He’s not sure anymore. 

Ashton opens and then closes his mouth, nods curtly, and puts his carry-on bag on the bed nearest the bathroom. Luke puts Clifford down on the bed first, muttering at him to stop fucking yapping (which Clifford, of course, ignores), and then drops his suitcases next to it with a sigh. 

“So,” Ashton says, and his voice fills the entire room, too loud and too much, a jarring reminder that Ashton’s here, in Luke’s space, and Luke’s got no option but to live with it. “Should we go out?” Luke blinks at him. 

“What?” he says. 

“Well,” Ashton says, with an uncomfortable shrug. “Study doesn’t start ‘til tomorrow, and it’s only nine. Thought we could spend the day exploring?” Luke stares at him. 

“Think I’d rather spend my last day of freedom alone,” he says, a little harshly. Ashton blinks, and Luke doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses his face, but then he nods again. 

“Have you still got my UK number?” he says, and Luke hesitates, and then nods. He’s not sure why it feels like he’s giving something away by admitting that he’d never deleted Ashton’s numbers; he’d been the one to text Ashton about the tattoos first, so clearly Ashton already knows that Luke still had his Australian number, at least. “Well. Text me if you need anything?” 

“Don’t think I’ll need anything,” Luke says, and Ashton sighs, and Luke feels a little small, a little stupid, like Ashton’s a patient parent putting up with a melodramatic teenager. 

“I’m going to head off, then,” Ashton says, a touch awkwardly, and Luke just nods, busying himself with getting Clifford out of his travel cage, thinking he’ll ask at reception for directions to the nearest park and let Clifford stretch his legs. He steadfastly doesn’t look at Ashton as Ashton gathers his things together, patting his coat pocket to make sure he’s got everything, and then slips out of the room, door clicking shut behind him. 

As soon as Ashton’s left, Luke suddenly feels simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, think a little clearer without Ashton in his personal space, making him feel like he has to be alert, on edge, but the hotel room feels strangely empty without him. Luke shakes his head, tries to get the latter thought out of his mind, focusing on Clifford’s insistent yaps to draw him back to reality and distract him. 

“Alright, little man, we’re going,” Luke mutters, fumbling around in his bag for Clifford’s lead. Clifford jumps around at his feet, already panting, and Luke rolls his eyes, clips the lead on, checks he’s got his room key and phone in his pocket and heads out of the room. 

He decides to take the stairs, since he doesn’t think Clifford’s got the patience to wait for the lift, which proves to be the right decision when Clifford’s straining at his lead trying to bound down the stairs, giving Luke reproachful looks whenever he tugs him back. They’re only on the second floor, so it’s not long before Luke’s back in the lobby, and Clifford finally pulls himself together and trots smartly at Luke’s heel, giving other people milling in the area imperious looks as they pass. 

“Hi,” Luke says, and the receptionist smiles politely up at him. “I’d like to walk my dog. Can you tell me where the nearest park is?” She nods. 

“Of course, sir,” she says, and pulls out a brochure. Luke mentally pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to look like a massive fucking tourist walking around with one of those. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get mugged. 

“You just need to turn left out of the hotel, take a right at the end of the road, take the second left after that, take two rights, and you’ll be at the park,” she says, trailing her pen across the streets and ending it with a flourish, circling a rectangle of green on the map and smiling at him again. Luke smiles back, having taken absolutely none of that in, thanks her, pockets the map and decides he’ll probably just walk around the nearby backstreets for a while until Clifford’s worn out to lower his chances of getting lost. 

Clifford, it turns out, is surprisingly tired, having apparently spent all of his energy on pestering Luke to take him out. He only manages about half an hour of walking up and down a few streets around the hotel before he’s flagging, sitting down and staring up at Luke beseechingly when Luke tries to pull him along. A passing couple throw Luke an amused look and titter to themselves, and Luke sighs. 

“C’mon, little man,” he says, tugging again. Clifford refuses to budge, just stares up at Luke with a look that Luke knows all too well. “Come on, Cliff, you’re embarrassing me. It’s two streets away. You can walk that far.” Clifford stays put, and Luke rolls his eyes, but bends down and scoops Clifford up into his arms. Clifford immediately nuzzles into Luke happily, licking at his neck, and Luke pulls back, wrinkling his nose. “Gross, Cliff, don’t do that.” 

Luke pretty much speedwalks back to the hotel because little though Clifford is, he’s surprisingly heavy after a while, and Luke’s much weaker than he looks. He throws the receptionist a polite smile on his way back up to the room, unclips Clifford from the lead as soon as he’s in there and rummages around in one of his suitcases for the bed Michael had shoved on top of all of Luke’s warmest clothes. Clifford watches him patiently, and hops into the bed as soon as Luke’s unfolded it, curls up and closes his eyes. Luke can’t help but smile fondly down at him, bending down to press a kiss to the top of Clifford’s head and scratching behind his ears. 

“I’m going to go out again, little man,” he tells Clifford. “I’ll be back to give you your dinner, though.” Clifford just sniffs, which Luke takes to mean ‘yeah, sure, now fuck off and let me sleep’, and Luke straightens again, throws Clifford one final fond look and heads back out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. 

He decides it’s probably fine if he wanders aimlessly, since the brochure in his pocket has the name of the hotel on it and Michael had paid for his phone plan to cover the UK for six weeks so he can look it up when he inevitably gets lost. Having spent half an hour in the streets surrounding the hotel already, he decides to get on the tube and head somewhere new, picking a stop name he recognises - Leicester Square sounds vaguely familiar. 

Leicester Square, it turns out, sounds familiar because it’s a tourist hotspot. Luke’s ducking and weaving between people, mumbling apologies as he slips through gaps that he doesn’t actually fit through and splits up groups (but seriously, he thinks, slightly irritated as he smiles politely, who the fuck walks in a row of five?). There are countless little side alleys and back roads leading off the main street, but even those are difficult to walk through, filled with the native Londoners who know their way through the labyrinth of twisting streets and know better than to be anywhere near Leicester Square in the first place. 

Eventually, half to get out of the crowds and half because he’s actually pretty hungry, Luke ducks into a Costa and buys himself a ham and cheese toastie, balking at the price when the cashier rings it up. Five fucking pounds, what’s that, ten dollars? For one sandwich? Fucking hell. He’s definitely going to be demanding those reimbursements from the university. 

He’s waiting for his sandwich to come out of the toaster, only two baristas serving a queue of at least twenty, when someone taps him on the shoulder a little tentatively, making him jump. He whips around, wondering whether he’s in the way or something, and comes face to face with-

Ashton. 

“Are you serious?” he demands, before he can think about it. Ashton shrugs, and looks a little uncomfortable. “Are you following me?” 

“I was already here,” Ashton says. “I’ve got a table.” He waves his hand in the directions of an empty table in the far corner, and Luke can see Ashton’s coat bunched up on one of the chairs. 

“Oh,” Luke says. Ashton gives him a look, simultaneously sad and calculating, and for a brief moment, Luke thinks fuck, his eyes are pretty. Jesus Christ. Maybe he should have stayed at the hotel and napped. 

“D’you want to sit with me?” Ashton says. Luke hesitates - not particularly , is the first petulant thought to cross his mind, before his rational side kicks in and tells him sleepily that he won’t find a seat anywhere else - and then nods. 

“Ham and cheese toastie?” the barista calls, and Luke steps forwards, takes it from her hand and heads wordlessly in the direction of Ashton’s table, Ashton in tow. 

“Sorry,” Ashton says, when Luke picks up Ashton’s coat off the seat and holds it out for him. He takes it from Luke and his finger brushes against Luke’s, and something like liquid gold rushes through Luke, making him giddy from head to toe. It’s the sleeplessness, he tells himself, averting his gaze and snatching his hand away. God knows he’s felt even more unexplainable things on the same amount of sleep. 

“‘S alright,” Luke says, sitting down to avoid thinking about the warmth of Ashton’s finger brushing against his own and the way his finger is still burning from the contact. “You didn’t know I was going to be here.” Ashton hesitates, and then busies himself with tucking his coat behind him, like he’s looking for something to do that isn’t stare across the table at Luke. Luke’s not going to complain about that, and takes a bite out of the first half of the toastie so he won’t have to say anything else. 

They sit in silence for a moment, Luke eating his toastie, Ashton fiddling with the bracelet on his left hand. The silence is uncomfortable, oppressive, and Luke kind of wishes he’d just sat on the fucking floor or something. Nothing makes him wish that more, though, than when Ashton opens his mouth and says: “I wondered.” 

Luke swallows his last bite of toastie with a frown. 

“You wondered what?” he says. Ashton shrugs, tension and discomfort visible in the movement. 

“I wondered whether we’d bump into each other,” he says. Luke rolls his eyes. 

“Not this again,” he mutters, but it’s more tired than anything. Ashton sighs, and drops his hands onto the table. 

“Look,” he says carefully. “I don’t think us bumping into each other all the time is a coincidence.” 

“Fucking hell,” Luke says, but there’s no heat behind the words. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and squeezes them shut. He’s too fucking tired for this.  

“Luke,” Ashton says, like Luke’s being unreasonable. “We’ve lived in the same city for years-” Luke opens his mouth to interrupt, because Ashton was always away half the time when they were together, and he can’t imagine that’s changed much “-okay, on-off, because I’m in LA sometimes - but we’ve not once bumped into each other. Then we get the tattoos, and suddenly I’m seeing you every other week?” 

“What’s your point?” Luke says, a little irritably. “You think this is some grand plan from the universe to make us fall back in love? What, I’m Cathy, you’re Heathcliff?” Ashton bites his lip, and Luke’s mouth twists bitterly in a humourless smile. “This isn’t fucking romantic, Ashton. You leaving me was-” he cuts himself off. He’s not quite ready to tell Ashton that , yet. “Awful,” he says, eventually. “This isn’t part of some, like, big romantic redemption arc for you. You fucked up, and you fucked me over, and we’ve just got to find some way to live with the tattoos. That’s why we’re both here, isn’t it?” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and if Luke’s not mistaken, looks a little paler than he had a minute ago, and then nods. 

“Can we at least be civil?” Ashton says, and then, seeing the look on Luke’s face, adds: “We’re stuck together for four weeks, Luke. I know you don’t like me, and I’m not asking for- for friendship, or anything. I’m just asking for you to be civil with me.” Luke exhales heavily. 

“Fine,” he says tiredly, before he has the chance to think too much about it. “Civil.” 

“Civil,” Ashton agrees. 

(Luke’s pretty sure civil doesn’t involve thinking God, I’d forgotten how long his eyelashes are, and the way you can see a hint of his dimple when he speaks, but he’s also pretty sure that’s entirely to do with the exhaustion, and nothing to do with him.) 

  -------

  Ashton talks Luke into going down to the Houses of Parliament, with a combination of a sincere look on his face, big, serious eyes as he says look, we don’t want to risk another bumping-into-each-other tattoo, and it’ll just be civil, and the fact that Luke just doesn’t have the energy to argue. Plus, he thinks, Ashton seems to know where he’s going, and Luke had forgotten to take his charger with him so he’s kind of fucked if he gets lost. 

The walk down from Costa to the Houses of Parliament is only about twenty minutes, but feels so much fucking longer, both of them all too aware of the awkward silence hanging between them, amplified by the noise of the city surrounding them. They walk through Trafalgar Square, and Ashton tells Luke something about art installations and the fourth plinth and Luke just nods along, trying his best to do this whole civil thing by quelling his instinct to snap I don’t fucking know what a plinth is and you know full fucking well I don’t care about art. Ashton seems to sense it from him anyway, though, because he falters and then says, with an uncomfortable laugh, “You probably don’t care about this anyway.” 

“Not really,” Luke admits, because they’d said civil, not dishonest. Ashton smiles wryly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he says, and Luke just hums, and they fall back into an awkward silence. 

It’s easier, Luke finds, when a man in a suit shoulders into him and keeps walking without so much as a mumbled apology and Ashton turns to him, outraged, and says Londoners really are cunts, if they interact with each other through their surroundings. Talking about people, things, even the fucking weather, adds a sheen of superficiality, a layer of removal that they can both look at and pretend there’s nothing more to it, no years of hurt and pain bubbling beneath the surface. 

“How is it this sunny yet this cold?” Luke grumbles, shielding his eyes and squinting up at Big Ben. 

“You should be here in April,” Ashton says, stabbing the button at the traffic light repeatedly. 

“I’ve got no intentions of being here any longer than I have to be,” Luke mutters. “What are we looking at, again?” 

“It’s parliament, Luke,” Ashton says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Luke. 

“So?” Luke says. “We’ve got a parliament.” 

“And? Have you ever seen it?” Ashton says shrewdly, and Luke scowls, biting back the scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. Civil and Ashton are two concepts that he assumes will take a while to marry in his mind. 

“Whatever,” he says, stepping out into the road as the light turns green. “Just don’t get why I’m supposed to care about some random country’s government, is all.” Ashton doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, jogging to catch up with Luke, and they walk the rest of the distance to the buildings in silence. 

It’s quite imposing, Luke thinks, up close. The buildings are sort of dirty - or maybe they’re meant to look like that - and incredibly intricate, bordering on fussy. It towers over them, looking more like a palace than a place of governance, Big Ben casting a long shadow across the road. He’s not sure he’d want to be governed from this place.

“I don’t like it,” he says. 

“Really?” Ashton says, squinting up at the buildings. “I think it’s kind of pretty.” You would, Luke thinks darkly. Old, ornate and overcomplicated? That’s exactly the kind of thing Ashton would get excited about and find unwarranted symbolism in. 

“Yeah, well,” Luke says instead, because he’s pretty sure that thought doesn’t count as civil. “Think it’s just a bit too elaborate.” 

“It’s Gothic Revival,” Ashton says, like Luke’s supposed to have a single fucking clue what that means. Actually, Luke thinks bitterly, he’s probably fully aware that Luke doesn’t have any idea what that means, and is hoping Luke will take the bait and ask so Ashton can demonstrate his massive intellect, or whatever. 

“Right,” Luke says, a little shortly. Ashton glances at him, looking a touch taken aback, but then looks back at the buildings. 

“We can go somewhere else,” he says, and it’s an offer. An olive branch. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, because annoyance at not knowing anything about architectural styles aside, looking at an old building is just pretty fucking boring. 

“There’s an aquarium not too far away,” Ashton says. “I remember you-” he stops himself, and Luke swallows. Yeah. He loves aquariums. He loves them so much that Ashton had taken him to the Sydney Aquarium for their third anniversary, a month or two before he’d broken up with Luke. 

(Two months on the dot. Not that Luke has both dates seared into his mind, or anything.) 

“Yeah,” Luke says again, to fill the silence of both of them thinking back to that day. “Let’s go to the aquarium.” Ashton hesitates, and glances at Luke like he wants to say something else, a sort of semi-pained expression on his face, and then he sighs, shakes his head, and throws Luke a tight smile. 

“Let’s go to the aquarium,” he agrees. 

  -------

  The aquarium, it turns out, is a much better choice. 

Despite the odd screaming child, the aquarium has a calming silence to it, an almost pensive quiet that pierces to the depths of Luke’s soul. It settles the air between him and Ashton, means they’re not silent for lack of civil things to say, but rather because they’re both caught up in the muted beauty of the ocean. 

They don’t walk together, because Ashton likes to pore over every single placard and study every creature in minute detail and Luke’s drawn to the pretty, colourful fish. It’s Luke, though, who’s always the last to move on, and Ashton waits for him before they head to the next room. It’s almost nice, Luke thinks, as he heads for the door and sees Ashton slip through it when he sees Luke’s ready to move on, that they don’t have to have awkward conversations about it, that they can just understand and fall into it. 

(He tries not to think about why.) 

They spend hours in the aquarium, dawdling in every room, because they spent so much fucking money on it and they’re both going to be damned if they won’t milk it for all it’s worth. Luke spends an extra long time looking at the clownfish, for some reason, hypnotised by the way they can weave in and out of the anemones. There’s some kind of symbolism to be found there, he thinks, something about toxicity and safety, but he’s too tired to come up with it himself. Ashton would probably correct him if he tried, anyway. 

Ashton’s particularly taken by the sharks, it turns out. He’s already staring at the huge tank in awe when Luke gets into the room, barely even blinking as his eyes follow one shark after the other. The room itself is dark, like the rest of the aquarium, but the tank’s so huge that Ashton’s bathed in light, rippling and shimmering and Luke, for the briefest of moments, feels something sharp stab at his heart, something he remembers feeling the last time he’d stood in an aquarium with Ashton. It makes his stomach clench, twist in on itself, because he knows exactly what he’d identified that feeling as before. 

“They’re fucking beautiful, aren’t they?” Ashton says, interrupting Luke’s train of thought before it can take the leap off the cliff edge of panic, and Luke looks up at the sharks. 

“I guess?” he says, because he doesn’t really see it. 

“You used to like them,” Ashton says, sounding a little surprised. 

“I used to like a lot of things,” Luke says. I used to like you, he adds spitefully in his head, and sort of hopes Ashton’s telepathic. 

“Guess I’ve got to get to know you again,” Ashton says, and it’s a little wistful, a little sad. Luke doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what would sum up I’m not sure I want you to, I don’t think I’ll give you a chance and Good fucking luck in a civil way. 

They stand there for a while, watching the sharks, and people filter in and out of the room behind them. It feels oddly hypnotic, being stood there with Ashton, the only two static parts of a moving whole. He wonders if the sharks feel the same, swimming aimlessly in their tank, watching the world pass by and powerless to move with it. 

“I’m sorry,” Ashton says quietly, after at least ten minutes have passed. It’s so quiet that Luke thinks he might have misheard it - maybe it was the family behind them, or just the sound of the tank - but he can sense Ashton stiffen next to him, like he’s preparing for backlash of some sort. 

“What?” Luke says, just to make sure he’s heard right. 

“I’m sorry,” Ashton repeats. Luke pauses, waiting for Ashton to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t really have to, though, Luke finds, because he knows what Ashton means. 

“I know,” Luke says eventually. Ashton swallows, but says nothing, just carries on gazing at the sharks, but out of the corner of his eye Luke can see that Ashton’s gaze is fixed now, not following the sharks around.

They stand in silence until an announcement blares through the system telling them that the aquarium is closing soon, making them both jump. 

“What time is it?” Luke asks, just for something to say. 

“Uh,” Ashton says, pulling his phone out. “Five.” Fucking hell. It feels much later than that. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Ashton adds, like he knows what Luke’s thinking. Luke nods. 

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he admits, as they head back up the steps away from the sharks and towards the exit. 

“Me too,” Ashton says. “I wanted to stay up until at least ten, but…” he trails off, stifling a yawn, and Luke can’t help but snort. Ashton smiles, small but genuine. “Fuck off,” he says, but it’s good-natured. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, as they traipse out into the little shop. “Think I’m just going to crash when we get back.” Ashton nods, pushing open the door to the exit. Luke’s expecting the glare of brilliant sunlight to hit him, squints in preparation for the onslaught of light, but it’s pitch fucking black. 

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding kind of perplexed and kind of outraged. 

“What?” Ashton says. Luke gestures up at the sky with one hand, and uses the other to pull his coat in closer towards himself, because fucking hell, it’s freezing.  

“It’s five o’clock,” he says. Ashton looks up at the sky, and then at him, an amused expression on his face. 

“Wrong hemisphere,” he says, and Luke rolls his eyes. 

“Fucking miserable place,” Luke grumbles, tucking his arms in and huddling in on himself. “No wonder they invaded the rest of the fucking world, Jesus. I wouldn’t want to stay here either.” Ashton says nothing, but when they pass under a streetlight, Luke sees the corners of his lips tilted upwards, and something warm and pleasant spreads from his stomach outwards. 

“D’you actually know where you’re going?” he asks, when Ashton takes a sharp right turn onto a bridge. 

“Of course I know,” Ashton says, in that infuriating, I’m-Ashton-Irwin-and-I’m-an-intellectual manner that Luke had never liked. Luke rolls his eyes, not entirely playfully, and jogs to keep up with him. 

Ashton leads them across the bridge, past the parliament buildings again, up a long road that a lot of people are ambling down, and then cuts into a small alley on the right. 

“You definitely don’t fucking know where you’re going,” Luke says, standing at the mouth of the road, something uneasy in his stomach. “I’m not going down here.” 

“I know where I’m going,” Ashton says. 

“Where are you going?” Luke says sceptically. 

“Charing Cross.” 

“Why is that down an alleyway?” 

“It’s just a shortcut.” Luke stares at him, narrowing his eyes. 

“Why can’t we walk on the main road?” he asks, because it feels right. Something about the alleyway feels wrong. 

“We can,” Ashton says. “But it’ll take longer.” Luke makes no indications of moving, and Ashton sighs, and it’s tinged with sadness. “Come on, Luke, are you serious? You think I’m going to, what, murder you in an alley in London?” Well. Not specifically, but something’s telling Luke not to follow Ashton into that alley. Much more than that, it’s telling him not to let Ashton into that alley, but Luke’s trying to ignore that part of it. 

“I just don’t want to go that way,” Luke says stubbornly. “Let’s just go on the main road.” 

“It’ll take much longer that way,” Ashton says. 

“I don’t care,” Luke says. “We’re not exactly fucking wanting for time, are we?” Ashton takes a step further into the alleyway, almost out of Luke’s line of vision. 

“Come on , Luke,” he says, and takes another step, and Luke’s stomach tightens uncomfortably as he does. 

“Don’t,” Luke says, before he can stop himself. 

“Why?” Ashton says, sounding exasperated. “Look, the longer you stand here arguing, the longer it’ll take us either way.” 

“I’m taking the main road,” Luke says. “Just- let’s fucking walk on the main road.” 

“You don’t even know the way,” Ashton says. “I know the way.” 

“I’m not going that way.” Even in the darkness and despite the distance, Luke can see Ashton roll his eyes. 

“There’s nothing fucking down here, Luke,” Ashton calls, taking another step into the alleyway, and Luke edges forwards without even thinking about it, needing to keep Ashton in sight. It’s not really working, though, because Ashton’s walking further in and Luke’s at an angle to the alleyway, and it’s making him panic a little.

“Don’t fucking go down there,” Luke says, through gritted teeth. “Ashton, seriously. Just fucking come on the main road with me.” 

“What’s your problem?” Ashton says, and even though he sounds genuinely surprised and curious, it makes a flash of anger flare up in Luke. 

“Can you stop being a cunt for, like, two fucking minutes?” he bites out. 

“Luke, I-” Ashton cuts himself off with a shout, and the anger’s gone, replaced with pure fucking fear and panic and protect protect protect running through Luke’s mind, and Luke’s barely even aware of his surroundings as he takes off, sprinting as fast as he can to the alleyway, getting to the entrance to it just as Ashton comes running out, wild-eyed. He doesn’t stop or say anything, just grabs Luke’s hand as he passes and tugs him hard in the opposite direction. They run to the main road, Luke’s heart pounding in a way that definitely isn’t just from the exercise, and then they run up it, and they don’t stop running until they’re outside the station. Luke doesn’t even realise that they’re still holding hands until Ashton drops his hand to lean on his knees, panting, hair completely windswept as it falls into his eyes. 

“What the fuck was that?” Luke spits, fury beginning to set in between the racing heartbeats and gasped breaths. 

“Someone fucking-” Ashton waves a hand, like it’s going to explain what ‘someone’ did. It doesn’t fucking matter, because those two words alone are enough to make Luke’s heart tighten, to make his stomach clench

“I fucking said-”

“I know, but it’s fucking five p.m., and I always go that way-”

“I told you-”

“I know, Luke,” Ashton says, breathing almost back to normal, and he straightens and gives Luke a look that looks almost sad. “Why d’you think that was?” 

“Why do I- are you fucking insane? Because it’s a creepy fucking alleyway? Anyone would fucking know not to go down there!” Luke says, throwing his hands in the air. 

“You were so fucking adamant,” Ashton says. 

“Yeah, and if you’d fucking listened-” 

“Luke,” Ashton interrupts. “I didn’t sense fucking anything.” Luke stops.

“Are you trying to say this is another fucking soulmate experience?” he says. “We don’t have three. Most people don’t even have one. ” 

“No,” Ashton says. “I think it’s the same one. The first one. The protecting one.” 

Oh. 

Oh.  

It’s kind of a blur already, even though it’s only been like, three minutes, but Luke remembers the haze of protect protect protect that clouded every single other one of his thoughts, that stopped anything and everything else - including his own safety - from mattering, that made him move without even thinking, running straight fucking into the alleyway he’d been so uneasy about because nothing mattered more than Ashton. 

“Fuck,” he says, and Ashton nods grimly. 

“Yeah,” he says. Neither of them need to say didn’t realise it went both ways, because it’s both written clearly across their faces. 

“You got this on the fucking phone?” Luke can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says again. Luke rakes a hand through his hair, trying to organise his thoughts. All he can really focus on is the what the fuck and Jesus Christ and fucking hell swirling around in a mess in his mind. 

“Well,” he says. “Shit.” Ashton huffs out a shaky laugh, raises his eyebrows, and nods, and Luke thinks that about sums it up. 

  -------

  They don’t talk much on the journey back to the hotel. Luke snipes at Ashton when Ashton tries to show him how to use his contactless card on the barriers, because he’d much rather use a paper ticket, thank you very fucking much, and Ashton calls Luke back when he heads down the wrong escalator. Luke asks once what their stop is and nods when Ashton answers him, and then they don’t speak again until they’re in the safety of the brightly-lit hotel lobby. 

Luke’s not entirely sure how to take the silence between them in the lift up to the second floor. It still feels awkward, stilted, uncomfortable, but there’s something grander now, something bigger than the both of them that they can both feel but neither of them want to acknowledge. 

Luke fusses over Clifford when they get back into the hotel room, pulls out the pack of dog food he’d brought with him because he hadn’t been sure what brands the UK would have, and Clifford munches his dinner happily while Luke carefully removes his coat and plugs his phone in to charge, not looking at Ashton. It feels overcrowded, even though the room is made for two people and certainly big enough to accommodate both of them. 

He takes his time washing up Clifford’s bowl, refilling his water, but Clifford seems perfectly content to doze back off to sleep after his meal, leaving Luke with nothing to do but think about how fucking tired he actually is. 

“I think I might sleep,” he says, even though he doesn’t really have to announce it to Ashton. Ashton looks up from where he is on his bed, book in his hand, and nods. 

“I think I might too,” he says. “Do you want the bathroom first?” Luke blinks at him. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.” Ashton nods, and turns back to his book, but when Luke turns his back to get his things out of his still-packed suitcase, he can feel Ashton’s eyes on him. 

He makes quick work of putting his pyjamas on and brushing his teeth, only hesitating with his hand on the bathroom door handle to leave as he throws a quick glance at himself in the mirror, because he looks so fucking disarmed in his pyjamas, so strangely small and vulnerable. Whatever, he thinks, forcing himself to push the door open, because what the fuck else is he going to do, sleep in the bathroom? 

“Bathroom’s free,” he says, because it feels like what he should say, turning his back to Ashton and making a show out of putting his clothes in his suitcase. He should probably just unpack it, he thinks - he is going to be here for four weeks, after all - but not tonight. He’s too fucking tired for that. 

“Thanks,” Ashton says, and Luke hears the sound of a book closing and then feet shuffling as Ashton heads for the bathroom. He waits for the door to click shut behind him before tucking himself into bed, drawing the duvet close to his chin to try and keep the cold out. Why the fuck is it so cold in England, seriously? 

Ashton doesn’t take long, or maybe Luke falls into microsleep, or something, because it feels like it’s about two seconds before he’s coming out of the bathroom, placing his clothes on the chair opposite his bed, and getting into bed. He’s got plaid pyjama bottoms and a casual t-shirt on, and he looks just as disarmed and vulnerable as Luke had in the mirror, which makes Luke feel simultaneously better and worse. 

“Can I turn the light off?” Ashton asks, and Luke nods. Ashton reaches over, clicks the light switch, and they’re plunged into darkness. 

“Night,” Ashton says after a moment, and there’s a shuffling sound from his bed. 

“Night,” Luke says, suddenly wide awake. He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall opposite him, willing the exhaustion that he’s felt all day to return. Even if he hadn’t slept, like, three fucking hours, he should be tired; it’s the middle of the night in Sydney. 

He feels the time passing, times it by Ashton’s shuffling and Clifford’s even breathing and the noises from the street outside, and he’s sure it’s been at least an hour before there’s what sounds like Ashton flopping onto his back and sighing. 

“Are you awake?” he whispers. Luke debates saying nothing, but knows if he evens his breathing out now it’s going to be pretty fucking obvious he wasn’t. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little reluctantly. 

“I can’t sleep,” Ashton says. 

“Me either.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Ashton says- 

“We could push the beds together?” Luke squeezes his eyes shut, and Ashton takes the silence as hesitation. “Just for tonight. We’d sleep much better, and we probably need it for tomorrow.” 

“No,” Luke says. Civil is one thing, but spending an entire night pressed up against Ashton? That’s something else entirely. 

“Luke, I-” 

“Ashton, I said no.” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and then sighs. 

“Okay,” he says, and it sounds a little small. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like. Push.” Luke inhales deeply, exhales heavily, and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It’s fine,” he says. 

Ashton says nothing, but Luke doesn’t hear his breathing even out until Luke himself falls into an uneasy, dreamless sleep, and when he wakes up in the morning, exhausted and grumpy, Ashton’s staring up at the ceiling again (or maybe still).

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[mochiable]

— enough. (a)

REQUESTED — hello!! i really like your work and how you write. could i request a scenario about han jisung cheating on reader and her forgiving him every time but then she can’t stay with him anymore and they have a big fight? sorry if it’s so specific, but i think you’d do a great work with this! i’ll understand if you don’t want to do it though, have a nice day!

wc: 1.7k

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, swearing, emotional pain

requests are open!

you were fed up. jisung kept shouting your name in the distance, but you didn't want to know any more, you didn't want to hear any more. you were tired of everyone taking you for a naïve fool who didn't realise what was going on around you. ‘poor thing, she has no idea he slept with five other girls’, ‘i feel so sorry for her, how come she's still with him?’ you didn't know, you really didn't know how you could still be with him. maybe they were all right, you were a sucker, but that was going to change, you weren't going to put up with any more humiliation, and much less coming from him.

as soon as you arrived at the flat you shared with your now ex-boyfriend, you locked yourself in your room and took your suitcase out of the wardrobe to start storing your most necessary belongings. you didn't know where you were going to go, you didn't want to bother anyone, but it was either that or sleep in the street or stay in a forty square metre flat with the person you least wanted to see right now. either of the first two options was better than the third one, anyways.

when you finished putting all your clothes away and headed to the bathroom to pick up your make-up and all your creams you heard the front door open loudly and as hurried footsteps followed by several curses headed towards the bedroom.

“what are you doing?” the dark-haired boy asked watching you from the bathroom door, looking through the mirror as you put all the products in your vanity case, hands trembling and clutching things tightly.

“dancing a tango, wanna be my partner?” you replied sarcastically, taking all the courage you had left and turning around to face him, “what the fuck do you think I'm doing, jisung? i’m leaving,” you spat angrily, moving towards the door and bumping your shoulder against his to walk back into the room.

“no, no, no,” he repeated, shaking his head repeatedly as he moved closer to you and tried to get your attention, “listen to me, please listen to me," he pleaded, reaching up to you and turning your face to his with his hands on your cheeks, “it’s not what it looks like, i swear.”

“isn't it? let me guess," you began, bringing your hands up to his and roughly pulling them away from your face, “was it her who kissed you? or maybe, oh, i know, you drank too much and couldn't control yourself?” you roared angrily, pushing him hard in the chest, pushing him two metres away from you, “fuck you, jisung! i’ve had it. you've done nothing but humiliate and despise me. fuck, why can't you take me seriously for once? am i a joke to you, huh? is that it? do you think i’m so deluded as to cheat on me not just once but five times? do you enjoy watching me being mocked and laughed at behind my back? ‘oh poor girl, her boyfriend cheats on her and she keeps chasing after him like an idiot because she can't stand on her own two feet’!”

at first, your age difference was the reason for thousands of messages and threats directed at you. you were only three years older than him, and he was already an adult, you didn't see the problem, you both loved each other, or so you thought. the comments soon went from ‘old predator whore’ to ‘dumb slutty little girl’. you had to put up with how they came on to your boyfriend, and how he did nothing, smiled and even flirted back. however, when a boy came up to you, he seemed to wake up and didn't hesitate to shoo him away.

“no, that's not true. please, y/n,” he came back to you with a desperate expression on his face, managing to cradle your cheeks again and wipe away the tears you hadn't realised were falling from your eyes, “of course i take you seriously, darling. you're my everything. they're lying, i swear, y/n. i’d never do that to you, you have to believe me.”

you pushed him away from you again, and ran your hands through your hair, tousling it and burying your face in your hands. the moment you looked up again, you found your face reflected in the small mirror of the canterano in the room. a haggard, weak, sultry face. you dropped onto the bed, you were exhausted and you knew that this argument had only just begun.

“enough, enough,” you murmured, holding back the sob that was about to escape your throat, “stop lying, just stop! you don't love me, jisung. you never have and you never will. why do you want to keep me here if all you do is make me suffer?”

“no, that’s not true. i do love you, y/n,” he replied softly, crouching down in front of you until his eyes were level with yours. he brought his hands to yours, but you pulled away and stood up again, laughing bitterly.

“you have a terrible way of loving then,” you said, turning around and reaching for your suitcase, but jisung was quicker and wouldn't let you.

“i’m not letting you leave, not without sorting this out,” he said resolutely, snatching the suitcase from you and setting it in a corner, “it’s after midnight, you're not going out at this hour.”

“so now you care? where were you all those times i had to come home alone in the middle of the night because my boyfriend preferred to cheat on me with someone else?” you asked, moving forward again to grab the suitcase, but he got in the way and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your things. you tried to pull away, but you knew he wasn't going to let go until you two fixed this, so you decided to continue, “you don't have to worry, there's no one out there who's going to hurt me more than you. you can stay calm.”

“tomorrow you can leave if you want, but tonight you're staying, okay? i can't let you leave at this hour, i’m not gonna let you," the grip on your arm was beginning to intensify, but he released you immediately when he saw the expression of discomfort on your face. he unhesitatingly wrapped you in an embrace and pressed you against his body, stroking your hair and resting his head on top of yours, “please stay, love. stay with me tonight.”

“how many others have you told this to? huh? how many others have you told to stay the night with you?” you asked between whimpers against his chest, clutching the sides of his t-shirt tightly in helplessness, “you treat me like shit, you cheat on me, you humiliate me and then you have the balls to tell me you love me.”

jisung, seeing that his words were having the opposite effect to the one they were intended to have, lifted your face and brought it close to his. he brushed your noses in a gentle but subtle gesture and, caressing the lower part of your eyes, he leaned towards you until your lips made contact.

however, the butterflies in your belly that you once wished would never disappear had, indeed, died. none of them was left. because jisung, with his lies and deceit, had killed them off one by one. until the last one that had remained until tonight couldn’t stand it anymore and vanished just like her sisters, leaving an empty hole in your stomach that resembled the one you had in your heart.

still wide-eyed, you brought your hands to his, which rested on your cheeks, and lowered them. jisung gradually broke the contact of your lips, until finally he rested his forehead on yours and let out an agitated sigh.

“you’re staying, right?” he asked once he’d pulled away from your face, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. but you no longer believed anything, you no longer trusted him.

“what would i gain by staying, jisung? i can’t stand any more humiliation,” you answered with a broken voice, trying with all your might he wouldn’t see you cry again. you hated showing weakness in front of him at times like this. you felt that if you did, he’d won again and you were tired of losing.

“please, y/n, please. you can't do this to me,” he growled desperately when you pulled away from him and went to pick up your suitcase. he tried to catch you when he saw you walking towards the door, but you turned and raised your hand, putting it in front of his face and telling him to shut up.

“i can't do this to you? i’m not the one who sent our relationship to hell, jisung. you decided to flirt with other girls, you decided to make out with them and you alone decided to fuck them. you’re the only son of a bitch here, and i’m not going to put up with you treating me like rubbish anymore,” you finished, taking the keys off your key ring and leaving on the front porch the one that opened the flat that was no longer yours. then, you turned to him and started to memorize all the details of his face, before saying your last goodbye, “have a nice life, han jisung.”

you left that apartment putting an end not only to a relationship, but to a lifestyle that had been destroying you for months. you didn’t know how you were going to overcome everything that had happened, but what you were sure about was that you weren’t going to go back and, evidently, you weren’t going to let anyone else treat you as if you weren’t a human being.

jisung’s punishment would be to wake up and remember everything he had and everything he could have continued to have if he hadn’t screwed everything up. now, when he got home he’d only find a cold and empty apartment. but that didn’t compare to how you’d felt during the last months of your relationship, and now it was his turn to feel the worst that can come from a toxic relationship, helplessness and resentment.

[xmarveled]

Stressed

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Exam season is coming up and to that you’re stressed would be an understatement. Luckily, everyone’s favorite friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is there to save the day!

Request: Requested by the lovely @waiting-for-motivation. Heyyy honeyy🌞 I don't know if you write for Peter Parker but could you maybe write an imagine where the reder is really stressed about her exams and breaks down because she think she can't do it and Peter cheers her up? Because I'm soooo afraid of my coming exams and I need fluffy Pete❤ Hope this makes you feel a little less stressed! And dw honey, you’re gonna ace that test!!

Warnings: FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFFFFF

A/N: Writing this got me all excited for Far From Home again!! If you want to request an Avenger x Reader, feel free to drop an ask, leave a comment below or send me a message! ^^

It’s been 3 hours since you started studying, and you were nowhere close to done. For the last 20 minutes, you’ve been staring at one page in your textbook, looking at the words over and over again until they became jumbled together in your useless brain.

Right now, you were staring at one particular formula that refused to commit itself to your memory. You were getting frustrated, especially since math was NOT your strong suit and you had an exam early tomorrow morning. “God damnit.” You muttered under your breath. “I am sick and tired of trying to find your “x” math. Just accept that she’s gone and move on!!” At that moment, your phone rang and you reached over to pick it up.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone. “Y/N, where are you?” Came MJ’s voice. In the background, you could hear Ned talking excitedly about something, but you couldn’t make out what it was.

“Oh shit.” You say, suddenly remembering that you were supposed to meet up with the gang at the coffee shop down the street. “Sorry MJ, can’t today. Math is kicking my non-existent ass right now.”

“Oh...” Said MJ and you could almost picture her scrunched up eyebrows. “You sure you can’t make it? You could come later if you want.” You really did want to go down and see her, Ned and of course, Peter, but alas, math beckoned.

“I’d love to, but if I want any chance of passing this exam, I’ve gotta study. I’ll see you at school tomorrow!” You say, before hanging up.

MJ signed as she finished her call, walking back into the room Peter and Ned were in. She could hear them from the hallway and as usual, they were arguing about you.

“C’mon man!” Said Ned, clearly exasperated. “When are you gonna ask her out?”

Although she couldn’t see him, MJ could picture Peter’s face turning pink. “I told you! She doesn’t like me like that.” He said.

“Parker, have you seen the way she looks at you?” Ned demanded. “Ask her out and do it soon, or else some other guy will snatch her up.”

“What!? Who!?” Asked Peter, clearly panicked. “Alright, alright! I’ll ask her when she gets here.”

Before Ned had the chance to respond, MJ stroded into the room. Peter turned and looked at her with hopeful eyes, asking “Is she coming?” MJ shook her head. “She can’t. She has to study for her exam tomorrow.” The cheerful atmosphere in the room was instantly deflated by the news and Peter looked away, trying to conceal his disappointment.

“Oh...” He said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Did she say what exam she’s studying for?”

“Math I think.” Answered MJ.

“Math?” Said Peter, sitting straight up. “Did she say if she needed help or anything?” He asked, eyes starting to shine again.

“Nope.” Said MJ, propping herself down next to Ned.

Peter started to inch towards the door. “I’m-I’m just gonna go give her a call. See if she needs help. I’ll be right back!” He said before darting out the door, leaving MJ and Ned to exchange knowing smirks.

Half a hour later, you had still barely moved forward though your revision sheets. Finally, accepting that it was going to be a long night, you stood up to make a cup of coffee when your phone rang again. Your heart started racing when you saw that it was Peter and you picked up immediately.

“Hey Y/N!” You heard Peter say with his usual cheerful voice, making a smile appear on your own face despite your exhaustion.

“Hey Pete, what’s up?”

Peter felt his own heart skip a beat when you called him “Pete”, making his cheeks warm up again.

“I uh-, I heard that you were struggling with math.”

You signed, mentally cursing MJ for selling you out.

“Yeah. Math is really not going that great right now. It’s why I couldn’t come with you guys tonight.”

“I um-” stuttered Peter. “Do you um-maybe need some help?”

“Thanks for offering Pete, but it’s fine, if I go down, I prefer to go down alone.” You say, wondering if you were imagining how flustered Peter sounded.

“Oh well um-. It’s kinda too late for that.” He says.

You frown, confused. “What do you mean?” You ask.

“Well... I’m kind of outside your window right now.”

You spin around and see him exactly where he says he is, outside your window on your balcony, one hand holding his phone up to his ear while giving you an awkward wave with the other. You drop your phone and dash to unlock the door.

“Peter! What are you doing here?” You exlaimed.

“I’m your personal math tutor!” He says, laughing at your shock at seeing him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with MJ and Ned?” You asked.

“You’re more important.” He says, not realizing that he said it out loud before it was too late. Blushing furiously, Peter quickly asked “so what do you need help with?”

“Everything.” You groaned, heading back towards your chair. You felt him come up behind you and pointed at the question that was currently driving you insane. He leaned forward, taking a look at the sheet.

“Alright, so imagine this. Thor has 362 pop tarts. He splits them evenly between himself and his 3 friends and eats 3/4 of the remaining pop tarts. What does Thor have now?”

“Diabetes.” You mutter. Peter laughed, his breath fanning out on your neck, making goosebumps appear. Both of your laughs died down and you’re left staring at each other, noses almost touching. Up close, you could see the freckles dusted across his cheeks and his slender eyelashes that most girls only dream of having. Both of you looked away, cheeks flaming as your hearts pounded.

“This Thor guy must be really big.” Muttered Peter, drawing another laugh from you and he swears, it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

2 hours later, you and Peter were sprawled across your bed, both of you exhausted. With his help, you had (unbelievably) finished studying. Looking over at Peter, you whispered “thanks for helping me tonight.”

“No-no problem Y/N.” Peter whispered back, tripping over his words a little.

You gave him a drowsy smile back, closing your eyes as you felt exhaustion take over you. Meanwhile, Peter could only stare at your beautiful, sleepy face as he felt something warm spread through his chest. This close, he could see the little dimple in your cheeks that deepened whenever you smiled, which was often. He could see the birthmark on your forehead that you were so self conscious about, but to him, it didn’t matter. To him, you were perfect. The last of his self-control shattered when you sleepily nuzzled into his chest and he whispered “I like you Y/N, I really, really like you.”

Your steady breathing halted for a second before you looked up at him with glazed eyes. “I really, really like you too Pete.”

His eyes lit up like stars shining in the light sky and slowly, as if giving you time to pull away, he leaned down. You tilted your lips up and after months of shy glances and secret longing, your lips finally touched.

Fireworks exploded between both of your closed eyelids and both of your hearts felt so full that they might burst. Peter pulled you into his chest and you snuggled into him. It felt like coming home after a long day.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight Peter.” You whispered and thought that maybe, math tests aren’t so bad after all.

Ahhh!! I think I might have overdone the fluff a little. Hope you guys liked and good luck to those who have exams soon!!💜

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