Constellationn

This blog is full of anyone I find attractive, plus a bunch of snippets and flash fiction. Requests are always welcome and read the warnings before you continue ;) MASTERLIST

[constellationwrites]

New fic pending…..

[constellationwrites]

Slowly, Carefully || Part 1 🌱

A/N: It's me again, I love this and I hope you do too. I know it’s been a while so I hope you’ll stop and read. Feedback always lovlies xo

Part Two

“Don’t do this.” Tears are gathering in your eyes as you pace back and forth across the living room. “Don’t do this.” The only thing that stops you falling to the floor is this, walking across the room and pretending your world isn’t caving in. 

Miles sits on his side of the sofa, hands clasped together as a single tear slips down his cheek. His eyes are lowered to the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

You rake your hands through your hair, barely holding yourself together as you try and breath around your grief. This is the end and you know it. This is the end but you can’t bring yourself to accept it and he can’t bring himself to say it so you stay here, stuck between these walls as the space between you fills with rage and betrayal. “Just think about this.” You turn to face him, dropping to your knees and resting your head on his leg. “Think about this. It’s me.” You say desperately, “It’s me.”

Miles twists the ring on your finger as he takes your hand, “I know.”

And something deep within you cracks wide open. 

“You’re saying,” you can barely get your words out around your tears. “You’re saying that you don’t ever want to hold me again? That you don’t want to kiss me again or be with me again? That’s what you’re saying. You know that don’t you?” 

He won’t even look at you. And you know you’re begging, something your mother told you never to do, and you know Mile’s will probably never look at you the same now but you can’t stop yourself. The rational part of your brain, the tiny bit of it that’s left, is screaming at you to let him go and let him leave with grace. But the rest of you, that heartbroken and hurt girl you were when he found you can’t let him go. Won’t let him go, 

“I’m sorry.” He says again. 

You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say? What - what are we then? Are we done? Just like that?” You can feel your voice rising and that sickening feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach. “Are we done?” You say again and this time you can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks. 

“I just,” he pauses and wipes a tear that tracks its way down his face. “I just think it’s for the best.” 

“For the best?” You whisper and your voice is so hoarse and there is so much pain. “For the best?” You look up at him once more. “Please don’t do this. Please. Whatever it is we can get past it. I know we can.”

Miles shakes his head. “I can’t.” He says, “I can’t.” 

He goes to stand and you shook to your feet, furiously wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t go. Please. We can just go to bed and talk about this in the morning. Please.” 

He shakes his head again, “that’s not how it works.” 

“But it can be.” You plead desperately. “But it can be. Please. Let’s just go to bed.” You know it’s done, you know you have seconds before he walks out the door but you want one more night with him before it ends. You want one more night tucked up beside him, feeling his arms around you, listening to how your heartbeats fall into sync when you’ve been beside each other long enough. You want to wake up before him and trace the lines of his face and kiss him until he’s awake and laughing. You know it’s over, you know that. But You want one more night, just one before it’s over for good. Just one. 

“I can’t.” He says again. It seems that all he’s got to say to you now. Like he’s already removed himself from you while you stay stuck, entwined in someone that has no interest in you anymore. Trying to hold on to him while he’s already severed the tie. 

He stands and makes for the door of the apartment and you can’t move, can’t follow him. The grief and the rage and the heartbreak is too much and it crashes into you again and again, relentless in its attack until your knees buckle and your sobbing on the floor, screaming into the silence as the door shuts and Miles disappears. 

You vomit a few seconds later, tears burning as you tuck your knees to your chest and cry into the silence. You stare at the place Miles sat a few seconds ago, begging to someone, anyone, that hell reappear and you’ll crawl into his lap and tell him all about your nightmare. He’ll stroke your hair and kiss your forehead, telling you that he’d never do that to you, that he’d never leave you, that nothing could ever take him away from you. 

Until now. Until he wanted to leave. 

So when you open your eyes and find that his seat is still empty and the house is cold and his footsteps are gone, you take the photo frame nearest to you and hurl it across the room. The glass shatters, the frame with it and drops to the floor with a dull thud. You glare at the broken pieces, wiping away more tears. The photo is still intact and you force yourself off the floor to pick it up and meet the eyes of someone who is unquestionably in love with you. Twin smiles, a casual arm slung around your shoulders as you both grin toward the camera. You had framed this when you moved into the new apartment. It was the first thing you’d put up, before bringing the bed in or the toaster or your underwear. This photo, these smiles. This had been the most important thing in the world to you. 

“Miles.” You sob, curling up against the wall and clutching the photo to your chest. You whisper into the empty room and hope he hears you from wherever he’s gone. “Please come home.” 

But he doesn’t. The lights stay off and the hallway stays empty and you’re left with your grief and your rage, clinging to your heart and wondering if you’ll ever be okay again. 

***

It takes you an hour to force yourself up and off of the floor. You leave the photo, letting it fall to the ground and any hope of Miles coming home with it. The next step is the bedroom, you suppose. Walking into that room where the two of you had woken up next to each other not twelve hours ago. 

How could he do this. 

How could he leave you here? How could he walk out and just let you deal with this alone. He doesn’t have to do this, have to walk into your bedroom and look at the bed you shared, the wardrobe still full of his clothes, the sheets still ruffled from the morning. He doesn’t have to trace the memories across the wall, watch past versions of yourself fall in love with him in every way imaginable. He doesn’t have to crawl into that bed, ravaged with pain and sadness, and feel so completely alone like he’s in some foreign land without you. No, he ran away and left you here. in fact, he just left you, 

How could he do this.

But there’s no other choice as the clock ticks over to 2am and you know you’ll have to face it at some point. Maybe that does make you better than him, to have to face this head in and crawl into all of your memories. Or maybe it just makes you a fool. Either way, it’s so much better than walking back downstairs and back into that room, looking at the very place where he left you and trying to feel okay. 

You settle into the bed but it’s only a few seconds before you’re tearing down the hallway and vomiting into the toilet. The idea that he’s not here, the thought of going back to that room and not having someone to wrap yourself into, not having Miles to pull you closer even as he sleeps, it has you emptying your guts into the toilet once again. 

But this will be the hardest it will ever be, you tell yourself. This will be the worst night. If you can just get through this then the rest will be okay. 

The thing is though, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get better. You can’t imagine a day where you’ll feel okay not having him in your life. 

It’s these thoughts that follow you as you try and tuck yourself into bed. Your feet are cold without him beside you and you dig through a drawer to find some socks. This will be okay, you tell yourself. This has to be okay. 

Your stomach drops again, that sickening feeling when your heart cracks just a little bit more and you bite back another sob, burying your head into Miles’ pillow. His smell still lingers and if you close your eyes hard enough, you can imagine him there. Tears leak from your eyes onto his pillow and you curl your hands into the sheets as hard as you can as silent sobs rack through your body. You’re not sure you e ever been in this much pain before, not sure if you’ll ever feel the same again. He was supposed to be the one, the one you married and had children with and grew old with, sitting on a porch swing together looking out into the street. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“It’ll be okay.” You whisper to yourself in the dark. “It will all be okay.” 

But you don’t believe that. Not even for a second. 

You roll over, flicking the lamp back on and staring out across the warmly lit room. You drag a hand across your face and glance to the side of the bed where Miles should be. You can’t bring yourself to sleep on it, to cross over that invisible boundary that you’ve painted for yourself. You reach for your phone, tears already building once again, and you bit back that familiar hot pain in your mouth as a sob escapes you and the tears begin to fall. You scroll for Ashton’s number. You know you haven’t seen him in ages, much less spoken to him or messaged him for that matter, but something in you knows he might answer, knows if he sees your name flash up on his phone just once that he’d want to speak to you. Maybe. But all you need right now is a maybe. 

Two rings and then, “Hello?” His voice throws you off balance in a way that you didn’t expect and it’s weary and heavy with sleep. 

“Hi Ash,” You reply softly. 

He’s more awake then, an almost imperceptible sense of urgency to his voice. “Hey sweetheart.” And, god, that name, the care in his voice has something within you shattering all over again. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you quickly wipe a tear from your cheek, “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.” 

There’s a rustle on the other end of the phone as if he’s sitting up in bed. “Okay.” He says, but there’s an edge of worry that touches his voice. “Has something happened?” He knows you haven’t called him up like this in months. He knows you pulled away from him and you hate that. And you know you only call him when you need something, or when you need him and you might hate that even more. You’re not even sure how it happened really, when you lost a friend who’d been by your side for most of your adult life. But it happened whether you wanted it to or not and you had to face that, you suppose.

The tears are falling faster now, tinging your lips with salt and you’re not sure why you ever thought you could hide this from Ashton. “No, no nothing’s happened. I just,” you take a shaking breath, “I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“Okay sweetheart.” You can hear the sheets shift again and vaguely wonder what kind of night you’ve interrupted for him. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“Well, how are you?” 

He chuckles lightly. “I’m good. I’m on tour with the boys, so there’s chaos as usual.” He pauses and you know you’ll have to tell him eventually. “How are you?” 

You’re shaking your head before he’s even asked the question, tears spilling down your cheeks. “We broke up.” You whisper down the phone and you can’t even get the words out without a sob following it. “He’s gone.” 

Ashton’s quiet for a moment before he finally murmurs, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You say with a forced laugh. “It’s all fine. “ 

“It’s not.” And you know if Ashton was here he would’ve taken you into his arms and given you that smile that seemed to make your world stop turning for a second. “It’s okay that it’s not. I know how much you wanted it to work.” 

You nod as if he’s in front of you and cover your face with your free hand. “I really did,” you sob down the phone. “I really, really did.” 

“I know, love.” The gentle hum to his voice makes you want to crack open again and just hand him all the broken pieces. “Have you slept?” 

You shake your head, “I can’t.” You whisper, voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t.” 

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” Not even a thought, not even a hesitation from him to be with you when you need him, to help you through this. “Just until you fall asleep?” He asks. 

You nod, balling the sleeve of your jumper into your mouth to stifle the sob that racks through your body. “Yes please.” The truth is though, you’d pay for him to still be on the phone when you wake up, to be there instead of this suffocating silence that you’re met with. But what he’s doing is already more than enough and it’ll keep you safe for tonight. That’s all you need. “Thank you.” You whisper. 

“Anytime sweetheart.” He sounds tired as you sink down under the sheets and pull them tight to your chin. “You know that.” 

“I know.” It’s barely a murmur but you know he hears you before you both drift off to sleep, Ashtons steady breaths keeping you company as you finally doze off. 

***

You wake to cracks of sunlight splintering through the blinds and for a second you don’t remember. For a second, you don’t know anything is wrong. But then you reach for Miles and find his side empty, and everything slams back into you. Your phone is silent and you know Ashton hung up only when he had to. There’s a message waiting for you on your phone telling you to call him when he’s done with his show but for now the silence is crushing and you feel utterly alone. 

It doesn’t take long for your tears to fall again, burning hot tracks into your cheeks as you reach for the bucket you put beside your bed and vomit whatever’s left in your stomach. It’s all you can do to drag yourself to the bathroom a moment later and stare yourself down in the mirror. There is a no trace of yourself in her eyes. 

You check your phone and find nothing, no message or missed calls or anything you’d prayed for in the dark and twisted night you’d found yourself in. You still have his location and you look at that quickly, just to make sure he’s safe, you tell yourself, just to check.

You put your phone down, knowing you’re in serious of danger of becoming obsessive and move to the bedroom window. The apartment overlooks a forest that backs onto a small golf course. It was the perfect selling point at the time, private and secluded like a little safe haven for the two of you. But now the weight of the loneliness crushes down in you unlike you’ve ever felt before and you stare out at the trees, trying to stop the tears from falling again. 

“What do I do now?” You whisper, breath fogging up the glass. “What am I supposed to do without you?” 

You know it’s stupid, really. You know you should be able to have your own life without him and there’s plenty you can do but you feel so stuck and so fucking powerless. You have him everything you had and it apparently still wasn’t enough. You know that should make you furious but it doesn’t, in fact you just want to apologise and beg him for another chance. 

How pathetic is that. 

There’s a knock on the door then, and your heart soars. You race down the stairs and you’re so happy, so readyand when you open the door and lock eyes with him you miss the boxes that he’s holding and the look in his eyes that tell you he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Miles I-,” and then you see it, the reason he’s here. The only reason he’s here. 

“Hi.” He says, and the look he gives you destroys whatever is left inside of you. “If it’s okay I’ve come to get my stuff.” You glance down to the boxes in his hand as his brother pulls along the curb. “Alex is here to help, if you don’t mind.” His brother gives you a small smile from his car but doesn’t make to get out and join the two of you. Clearly they had a discussion about how Miles was going to handle this before they got here, at the same time as you were crying and clinging to his pillow. 

Miles brushes past you and steps into the house, heading toward the living room to retrieve his guitars and all the other crap he’s stored there over the years, “Miles,” you say quickly and catch his wrist. “Wait. Stop. Please.” 

“What?” He sighs, looking at you like he doesn’t have any time for you anymore. 

“Is there nothing I can do to fix this?” You plead. “Please. Just tell me what I can do. You don’t have to take everything today, just a few things that you need. Please, we can talk about this.” Maybe if he leaves some of his things here then he’d have to come back and you’d see him again. Maybe it would change his mind, leaving you like this. 

Miles shakes his head “No. There’s nothing you can do. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’ve had to put up with this shit for four years.” 

“Miles please, I didn’t know how you were feeling. You didn’t tell me. If I had known then I would’ve changed, I would’ve done something different I-”

He shakes his head and cuts you off. “Look, I’ve seen it how I’ve seen it and I just can’t move past it.” He shrugs and meets your eyes, “if you’d been better then maybe it would’ve been different.”

That. That was your heart shattering all over again. 

“Please.” You beg quietly. “Please. We can work through this. This can’t be it.” 

He pulls his arm free and your hand falls uselessly to your side as you follow him to the living room. “I’m sorry.” You meet his eyes then and realise you don’t recognise the person who’s looking back at you. He reaches down for his guitar case and frowns. “What the hell is this?” He asks as he picks up a shard of glass from the shattered picture frame. 

“It’s glass.” You reply quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

He sighs and picks his guitar case up. “I’ll have to throw this away. There’s too much of it in there.” 

And there’s not, you know there’s not and you know that he could just pick it out but suddenly you’re blurting at him and begging him to let you help him. “No! Don’t do that. I can help you pick the glass out of it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I just, I just got upset.” 

“Right.” He says. 

And the way he looks at you, the smug expression on his face and the way he surveys the room with a raised eyebrow makes you want to rip your hair from your scalp and scream at him. This pain, this unrelenting pain that just won’t stop punching you in the gut hovers above the two of you, replacing the love that you once shared and you don’t understand how the person standing before you is the man you were once willing to die for. 

Miles zips his guitar into the case and slings it across his shoulder. “I’m just going to get Alex to help me get some of this stuff out.” 

“Okay.” You find yourself saying, staring at the floor as he passes you and wondering when he decided he hated you quite so much. 

The door slams and you bite back that familiar hot pain in your throat as your tears threaten to fall. Not here,your mother would say, not yet. You fall apart when he’s gone. But Miles knows exactly what he’s done to you, exactly how worthless he’s made you feel and he’s practically counting on the fact that you’ll fall apart in front of him and prove him right. And you’re not entirely sure if you can stop yourself.

The door opens again and Miles walks back in, followed by Alex who gives you a sad smile and opens his arms ever so slightly to you as Miles disappears up the stairs. You’ve always liked Alex and you never imagined that you’d be saying goodbye to him in this way. You fall into his open arms and he rubs your back in a gentle circle. “Hey stranger.” He murmurs. “How’re you doing?” 

“I’m fine.” You lie through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You pull away and give him small smile “I’m going to go and help him.” 

Alex opens his mouth to protest but you’re already on the first step. By the time you make it to your bedroom, Miles has emptied the wardrobe and most of the drawers, shoving his clothes into plastic bags. You take a pile of clothes and stuff them into one of the boxes laying on the floor. The two of you work in miserable, angry silence until half of the room is emptied of Miles’ clothes and the bare section of the wardrobe makes you want to scream. 

“Is that everything you need from up here?” You ask hoarsely, fighting to keep your tears at bay. This is the last of his things and you can hear Alex’s car starting up outside. 

“Yeah that’s it.” You take two of the bags and follow him down the stairs like a lost puppy, tears spilling over despite your protests. You take a breath and when that’s not enough you take another one and balance yourself against the banister as you watch Miles walks out of the door and to his car. Your knees threaten to buckle as you look around, seeing the bare spaces where his things had once been. You’d worked so hard to make this house a home for the both of you and he’d torn it apart in a single afternoon. 

You force yourself away from the stairs and a breeze stings your burning cheeks as you step outside. Miles opens the trunk of his car and tosses the bags in, wordlessly taking the box from your hands. The trunk clicks shut with such a grim finality it threatens to make your knees buckle and Miles turns to you with tears lining his eyes. 

“Bye.” He murmurs and you can’t decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. He pulls you toward him, wrapping his arms around you and your knees do buckle then. You let him hold you in place for a second and you’re sure he pulls you in tighter as you try to step away. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“Why did you pull me back in.” You shake your head as the tears fall. “You don’t have to go.” You whisper. 

Miles gives a long sigh and rakes a hand through his hair, “stop reading into everything.” Is all he says and he pulls away completely, leaving you standing there, wind ripping across your face, tears burning your skin as he opens the door to his car. “Bye.” He says again and then his engine is starting as he driving down your street and away from you for good.

You stand paralysed for a moment, ignoring that pain that is tearing through you, ignoring the way your stomach has dropped again and how hole is burning the back of your throat. You can’t stay here, staring after a car that isn’t going to turn around and so you turn around and walk back into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

And you regret it as soon as you do. 

The silence is deafening and it crushes into you with such force that you have trouble breathing. You slide down the door, bringing your knees to your chest as you sob again. You’re so tired, feeling like there’s no escape from this. And you’re so tired of crying, of your eyes turning puffy and your cheeks burning with shame and grief, of the onslaught of memories that make you meet Miles’s eyes in your head over and over again. There’s something inside of you that has been broken so deeply, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to fix it. 

When you finally wipe your eyes and rise from your spot on the floor, the sun his beginning to set over the trees. You unlock your patio door and step outside, letting that cool breeze dry your tears and soothe your burning face. The sky has shattered into light pinks and orange, bleeding slowly across the horizon and you know now there’s nothing for you to do but face reinvention. But you’re not ready and you’re not sure you’ll ever be ready. There’s an avalanche of memories in your head now, spilling over one another and all you can see is the laughter and the love you shared, how he held you at night, how he gently stroked your hair, how he kissed your hands. And there’s nothing to do now but drown in them. 

You run your hands over your face before raking them through your hair and staring back up at the sky. You want to sink into the earth and fade out of existence until you can be sure to wake without the feeling of your stomach dropping, and without the gnawing feeling of grief that seems to be eating through your stomach. You lease a sigh and don’t bother to stop the tears that fall from your eyes. There’s no point, after all, no point in pretending that you’re happy and ready to face whatever chapter might be next when you’d rather have lightening smite you where you sit. 

There’s nothing worse, you decide as you walk back into the house, than the absolute silence that folds over you as you softly shut the door. You’ve never felt worse, never felt like the tears won’t stop falling as you keep reaching for your phone to find nothing. Like you’ll never be whole again when you peak into the living room and see large spots of it empty. Like you don’t belong here, not without him. 

You can’t be here. It’s too much, you can’t sleep in the bed you’d shared just hours ago. You can’t sit in the same spot of the sofa and pretend that he never sat beside you. You can’t go into the kitchen without walking barefoot across the floor and not have him reaching for you, picking you up and taking you in his arms. You can’t do any of it. You can’t be here. 

Fresh tears stain your cheeks and you scroll to find Ashtons name in your phone as you sink to the floor. It rings only once this time and then he’s there, his voice clouded with concern so clear you could almost see him frowning. 

“Hi.” You say, so small you can barely hear yourself, and then your voice is breaking all over again. 

Ashton comforts you while you sob to him, and when you apologise and cry some more, he tells you that if doesn’t matter, that you could cry as long as you want and he’d still be right there and listen to you. 

“I just…I just can’t be here, you know? In this house, in this place.” You shake your head. “I feel so stupid. I feel so fucking worthless.”

You can almost feel Ashtons rage. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. “

“It is.” You sob, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It is. He told me if I had just been better, if I had tried harder then he’d still be here and this wouldn’t have happened. I ruined it. I torpedoed our relationship and I-”

“Stop.” Ashton says gently, “take a breath, sweetheart, please.”

“This is all my fault.” You whisper helplessly, bringing your knees to your chest. “This is all my fault.”

“This has nothing to do with you.” He murmurs. “I promise you, what he did and what he said, it has nothing to do with you.”

You scoff and there is something like rage that simmers within you. “So what’s it about then, Ashton? Because it sounded to me that Miles doesn’t love me anymore and I pushed him away. That I forced him to leave. That I ruined this!” Ashton is quiet for a moment and it is only then you realise you’ve yelled at him, sent poisonous words to exactly the wrong person. “I’m sorry.” You mumble when the silence becomes too much and you think you’ll drown in it all over again. “I’m sorry.” 

Ashton sighs, “Don’t be, love. It’s alright.”

“I just can’t be here.” You whisper again. “This fucking place. I can’t do it.” 

“I know.” Ashton murmurs and pauses. “You could come here.” He offered quietly. 

You’re nodding before he’s even finished his question. “Yes.” You breath and finally, finally a smile breaks across your face, even as your eyes still burn. “Yes, okay.” 

He laughs and you join him, a true sound from deep within you, something like joy surfacing from the wreckage. “I’m in London. Is that okay?” 

“Ash, yes.” Because the truth is, he could’ve said he was on the moon and you still would’ve raced towards him, it still wouldn’t have mattered. You take a deep breath expecting him to change his mind and you start to flinch away from the phone as you say, “Are you sure?” 

And nothing happens expect Ashton soft laughter and reassurance, “I offered, didn’t I?” He asks and it’s so fresh and such a change that you can’t bring yourself to say anything as a set of fresh tears track down your cheeks. 

“Yes.” You say quietly, after a moment, after you manage to catch your breath. “I guess you did.” 

“I’ll see you soon then sweetheart, okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper, quickly wiping your hand across your face as you hang up the phone. A moment later, a text from Ashton appears with your flight details. The plane that will leave in three hours and carry you far, far away from this nightmare. 

You glance at the screen again and find you haven’t texted Ashton in almost a year. Hell, you haven’t spoken to Ashton in almost a year. The guilty floods through you before you can stop it, remembering the look of absolute hurt on his face when you told him you could talk to him anymore, how he still walked you home to say goodbye for the last time. And how you let him, how you watched him go with that crushed look on his face and didn’t go after him. 

“What do you mean?” And that look on his face is pure hurt, almost like you’re watching his heart crack. 

You twist your ring nervously, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t think I can talk to you anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” He repeats and when you can’t find the strength to look at him, he rests his finger under your chin and gently tilts your face upwards to meet his. It breaks your heart to find his eyes are shining 

Your own tears begin to fall and Ashton doesn’t hesitate to catch them with his finger, softly tracing your cheek as he stares at you. “Miles doesn’t want me to talk to you anymore.” You whisper. “He thinks I’m getting too close to you. He doesn’t think I’m prioritising our relationship.” 

Ashton scoffs, “prioritising the relationship?” He asks. “Is he prioritising it when he goes behind your back with the girl he works with? Does he think about you then?” 

“Please don’t get upset, Ash.” More tears now, faster, heavier and you can feel something in your soul shattering. This isn’t right, you know this isn’t right but Miles isn’t happy and if he leaves you you’ll be left with nothing, you’ll be nothing. “It’s just for right now.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief and l you don’t miss when he turns to the side to swipe furiously at his face. “It’s not. I knew he wouldn’t let this go.” 

“I don’t like this either.” You say, voice thick with tears. “I swear, I don’t want this.” 

“So why are you letting it happen?” You know he’s trying hard not to raise his voice, know you’re so used to it and you’ll flinch away if there’s even an indication that he’s angry with you. “Please, sweetheart. You-” he cuts himself off with any other shake of his head and takes a breath. “I can’t lose you, okay? You mean too much to me.” 

And he’s so close, he’s so close that it would be so easy to reach forward and kiss him, to let him take you in his arms and take you away from here, away from the rage and shame that will meet you inside, that seems to always hang between the walls of that house. But you take away step away instead and watch Ashtons face as it crumbles into pieces and you feel your last glimmer of hope steadily fade away. 

“It’s just for right now.” You whisper again. 

Ashton stares at you so hard you think you might melt into the ground. Rage and pain war across his face and absolute detestation fills his eyes. When he speaks again, when he’s watched more tears track down your face but doesn’t move to catch them, you know he’s going to leave. He’ll do that for you, he’ll walk away if he thinks you need that, if he knows it would cause you more pain to stay. But still, his voice is raw as he murmurs, “I’ll still be here. If you need me.” He meets your eyes again but he doesn’t reach out. “If you ever need me.” 

You nod and you nod and it doesn’t erase the pain and you don’t expect it to. “I know.” You voice is barely more than a whimper. “I promise. I know.” 

“Okay.” And god, he sounds so defeated, clear pain plaguing his every move. He takes a step toward you and takes your face in his hands. And for a moment you pray that Miles comes home, that he catches you and he does kick you out because you know Ashton would take you in a heartbeat, would save you in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t, and the only sound is you’re ragged breathing and Ashton as he leans forward and gives you a gentle kiss to the forehead. He opens his mouth but his words don’t come out, like he can’t bring himself to say goodbye, like it would mean too much. Instead, he gives you a smile that cracks your very being in two and finally steps away from you.

You watch as he gets into his car and wipes at his face again before he his car rumbles to live and he’s driving down the road and away from you. And away from you. 

You stand there, staring at where he’d been stood, watching the road and praying and wishing that his that his car would come back and he’d come toward you with that fury and take you and kiss you and promise you that no one would hurt you again. You stand there and stare until a car comes come toward you but it’s Miles behind the wheel and he’s already frowning as he stops his car and gets out. 

You’ve never wished for Ashton more. 

“Hi.” You whisper and you wish your voice wasn’t so hoarse, wish it wasn’t about to give you away. There’s only one thing to do, you suppose. And that’s to come clean and tell him. That will be better than him finding out, you decide. “Good day?” 

“It was okay.” He pushes past you and you scramble to follow after him. “You look upset.” It’s not a question. Miles takes a beer from the fridge and you shut the door gently behind you. You make sure it’s not locked, just in case, you tell yourself, just in case it gets too bad again. 

“Yeah, Ashton was here.” Miles whips round, rage flaring in his eyes and you fall over your words as you say “but I told him, I told him we couldn’t talk anymore. That I couldn’t see him, I mean.” 

Miles nods slowly and puts his beer on the counter. “Okay.” He says slowly, “so why are you upset?” 

“Because he’s my best friend.” You frown. “I didn’t want to do that.” Brave. This was very brave. 

“You mean you didn’t want to lose your little flirting buddy.” Miles shakes his head and chides, “do I really mean that little to you?” 

You shake your head furiously. “No, no! That’s why I did it, that’s why I told him.” 

Miles raises an eyebrow and nods. “Okay.” He walks towards you and places a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You can’t bring yourself to smile. “I was wondering if you could do something for me, then.” 

“Sure baby.” 

You should just quit while you’re ahead, really. You should take the victory. “Maybe you could stop hanging out with Hannah so much.” 

And when Miles stops dead in his tracks, you know you’ve gone so dangerously wrong. “I’ve told you,” He clips, “Hannah is just a friend.” 

You nod. “I know, I know. It’s just, you text her as soon as you get up and then you go to work with her and then you text her until you go to sleep. And you go to lunch with her every day. I just thought-”

“You just thought what?” He snaps and you have to will yourself to stop shaking. “You just thought that because I finally have a female friend at work that I want to sleep with her? Really? God, I thought you’d be happy for me, that I finally have someone to hang out with. You’re always saying that I shouldn’t eat at my desk, that you don’t want me to be so lonely. If anything I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this to make you feel better, I don’t want you to be upset thinking about me all alone. God, can’t you see that?” 

You’re shaking now as his voice rises. “I know, it’s just I stopped seeing Ashton. I thought maybe you could curb it a little bit so it could just be us at home? So you’re not texting her while, you’re sat next to me?” 

Miles shakes his head and then he’s laughing and it’s so cold it chills your bones. “I can’t believe this. I ask you to stop seeing a guy who is clearly wants to fuck you, but me having a friend and a good co-worker is just too much? It’s too much for you? She is just a friend. And I can text who I want. You can’t. Not when he acts like that. Not when he makes eyes at you. I’ve seen him, you know. Don’t think you can hide it from me. Fuck, maybe I should just go if you’re so unhappy.” 

“No! No, no. I’m sorry, you’re right" you shake your head and force the tears to stay at bay. “You’re right, I’m so sorry.” 

Miles gives you a gentle smile and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re lucky to have me, you know that? I’m just looking out for you. Who else is going to do that?” 

“I know, I know.” 

“Someone else might treat you like trash,” he strokes up and down the side of your face, like he knows where Ashton wiped your tears earlier, like he’s trying to erase him completely. “I would never treat you like that. I’m just trying to give you what you deserve. I love you. You know that don’t you?” 

“I love you too.” You whisper back. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve-”

Miles shushes you and pulls you closer. “It’s alright, baby. It’s okay. I love you, I’m just looking out for you.” 

You let out a breath. “I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Miles holds you until you tell him you’re going to shower, that you want to get the feel of this day off of you. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bathroom where he lights a candle for you and peppers your face with kisses until you’re giggling and your heart is soaring. 

Later, you hear him on the phone to Hannah and watch over his shoulder as he messages her well into the night. And when you go to view Ashtons Instagram page in the comfort of your closet, you find an empty space, like he’s been scrubbed from existence, like, despite what he said, he doesn’t want to hear from you again. 

You can’t say you blame him. 

You stare at that empty page until the sun peaks through the blinds, and you’re left with everything you must face. 

You stare at the empty duffle bag as tears roll steadily down your cheeks and you can still feel the heat from that fight, can still feel the emptiness and defeat that plagued you when you saw Hannah’s name on his phone. Maybe you should’ve left him then, if you were smarter or stronger or better than maybe you would’ve. But you didn’t, you stayed there and you let him treat you like that, let him make you feel like you were worth absolutely nothing until it just felt normal for you. Until you couldn’t tell that you were in the one place you’d sworn to yourself you’d never end up. 

God, you don’t even recognise yourself. 

And maybe it’s that, knowing how deeply you’ve actually lost yourself, that spurs you to start stuffing clothes into the bag. You take the books from your nightstand and hurl them in, gathering up your pills and your makeup and throwing them in too. You leave everything else and you know you can deal with this mess at the airport or in London but somewhere that is not here. You don’t want this to follow you to across an ocean. You can’t let it. 

You shoulder your duffle bag and take one last scan around the room before you head down the stairs. It’s still a mess and it’s still so empty but you don’t care. You can’t bring yourself to care, you just walk out of the door and don’t turn back. 

***

The airport is crowded by the time you arrived and it takes you an hour to get through security and finally into the concourse. It hits you then, that the last time you were here you were with Miles. And after everything you told yourself, after all the promises you made when you left the house, not only will Miles follow you across the ocean, but he’ll also follow you to your seat on the plane. 

It’s like people can see the thundercloud that hovers above your head as you cross the airport alone. Or maybe you’re just imagining it because you’re just so lonely and you can’t imagine being here if it’s not with him. You lean against the wall and let out a heavy breath, cowering away from your own memories as your eyes lock onto the spot where the two of you sat, laughing and planning the trip to Rome. 

“What do you want to eat?” Miles asks, casting a glance around the airport. “I guess Burger King would be okay for your allergies, right?” 

“Perfect.” You grin at him, looking up from the webpage for tours around the Vatican City. “I’m excited to get in the mood, maybe we should dress up as nuns or something?” 

Miles glances at you, “Nuns?” He asks and you’re not quite sure whether he’s following along with the joke or he thinks you’re stupid. He toes that line very well. But you don’t mind, he’s planned this trip to Rome, he’s paid most the expenses and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. So what if he doesn’t get your jokes? 

“You’re right,” you say quickly, playing it safe, deciding that he might not think you’re stupid but you don’t want to risk an insult or fight that follows. Not here, not at the airport where all these people can see you, who will realise how generous Miles is to even look at you twice. “Here,” you grab desperately for his attention to distract him, “check out these restaurants I found.” 

“They look perfect, babe.” He smiles and rests his head on your shoulder. “I’m so excited for this trip.” 

You let out a sigh of relief and the pressure in your stomach subsides. You slouch down in the seat and Miles drapes a hand across your shoulders as your heart beats back into a steady rhythm. 

Your phone buzzes and a text from Ashton appears just in time and it rips you so violently from that memory that you have to brace a hand against the wall and steady yourself. You look down, to see he’s wishing you well and telling you he can’t wait to see you. It’s true, in part, that you can’t wait to see him either, that the trip will be a great distraction and it’s been too long since you’ve seen him. But there’s something bigger that sits in your chest flattening that feeling of excitement that’s aching to call Miles and tell him about the journey and the destination and what’s going on. And you know he doesn’t care, you know that, but somehow it still doesn’t matter to you. 

The boarding call for your gate sounds, and you decide that maybe your decision making will be better on the other side of the world. You take hold of your bag and make that long walk toward the gate, trying again and again not to feel the weight of your world crumbling to pieces, even as it weights so heavily on your shoulders. 

***

It turns out that, for you, twelve hours of travel and a broken heart does not make for good decision making whatsoever. The wheels haven’t even hit the tarmac before you’re pulling your phone out and checking for a signal. 

You hurry off the plane with everyone else and find a quiet spot before you get to the arrivals gate. Ashton already said he’d be running late because of traffic and it gives you a perfect window to call Miles. 

The phone rings too many times when you call and that hole in your heart just gets bigger and bigger when you remember how he used to pick up on the first try. 

“Hello?” His voice makes you freeze and suddenly this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. “Hello.” He says again, his voice grating with agitation. 

“Hi.” You say quietly. 

And there’s a pause you don’t expect from him. “Oh.” He says and you can feel your entire body deflate. “Hi. Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” You say quickly, “yeah I’m okay. I’m actually in London.” 

“Oh cool.” Again and again he delivers his blows so effortlessly. “How come?” 

“I’m here with a friend.” You say quickly. “But I just wanted to call you, to talk.” 

“Okay.” He says. “How is it?” 

“It’s good. It’s a little strange but it’s good.” You pause and take a breath to try and stop yourself because you know what you’re about to do won’t achieve anything and it’ll just make you feel worse. But his voice has such a tight grip on you, the image of him listening to you, eyes softening, reconsidering everything is right at the forefront of your mind. So you tip your head back to stop your voice from breaking and whisper down the phone, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

Miles laughs and it punches straight through whatever is left of you. “You’re sorry? Okay.” 

“I am, I just… I don’t know I just wanted you to know I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for making you feel the way you did and for ruining our relationship. I didn’t mean to, you have to know I didn’t mean to and I want to fix it, I really, really want to fix it. I’m sorry.” 

Miles sighs, “is this why you called me? I don’t want to do this with you again.” 

“Yes. Yes and no.” You know you sound so desperate and it kills you that you’re doing this as Ashton is getting ready to welcome you with open arms. But you can’t help it, you can’t help the apologies that keep spilling from your lips, even as you’re questioning whether you’re actually sorry and whether you actually have anything to apologise for. “Listen, I just want you to give me another chance. Please. Please just give me another chance. I just, I know I can be better. I want to be better and I’m so sorry about everything but you have to see it from my perspective a little bit, don’t you? I just— “ 

“No,” Miles cuts you off, “I don’t have to see it from your perspective. I told you how I feel and I just don’t see it changing, okay? I just can’t get past it.” 

“But we can get past anything if we love each other enough.” 

 Miles scoffs, “What, did you rehearse that line with your mum?” 

“No.” You murmur and you can feel the tears starting, “but it’s true.” 

Miles sighs again, “Why did you call me? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you broke my heart!”

“I know.” 

The words echo through you and you’re certain they shatter you from the inside out. 

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.” Your phone buzzes and you know it’s Ashton telling you he’s here. “I guess I better go then.” 

“Yeah,” Miles says, “I hope the trip goes well for you.” 

And then the dead silence fills your ears and you wish you’d just stayed home. 

It’s your soul, your very being, that splinters, you’re sure of it. The fabric of everything just comes apart at the seams. 

You broke my heart. 

I know. 

You duck into a bathroom before too many people can see you and cower in a stall until you can get control of your tears. You know Ashton is waiting, probably worried now but doesn’t want to invade what he might correctly guess as a meltdown. It was so easy for Miles to leave you and you just let him prove it again. You just let him break you in two again, while someone else who cares about you so much more is anxiously awaiting your arrival at the gate. 

You wipe at your face and drag your hand through your hair, trying to take some breaths, praying that you don’t look like the mess you feel. You step out of the stall and walk slowly toward the mirror. It’s been half an hour now and you know you need to go. 

You leave the bathroom, tugging your hair into a ponytail and deciding to blame jet lag for your swollen and baggy eyes. You wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton is able to see right through it though, he’s always known you just as well as you know yourself. Maybe better. 

Your heart hammers as you reach the arrival gate and you’re so nervous that the carpeted floor beneath you starts to spin with each step you take. But then you make it through the doors and down the ramp and see his smile and his eyes and everything inside you just melts away. And you’re not sure how he does it but his arms are around you before you can even get a word out and you just lean into his touch, fall into his touch and something feels right for the first time in days. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, and places a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he pulls away. “I’ve missed you.” 

And, god, you’ve missed him too. You’ve missed how his smile, how his eyes light up when he talks, how he holds you and makes you feel safe and so at home, even though your entire world has just crumbled beneath your feet. 

“Hi Ash.” You breath. “I’ve missed you too.” He doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug at that and you let him. 

After a moment he pulls away and studies you at an arm’s length. “How are you?” He frowns, “are you okay?” 

“I’m alright.” You smile weakly, “my egos a little bruised, but I’m okay.” Ashton nods but doesn’t say anything else. There’s this horrible awkwardness that’s hanging above you, just out of your reach and you know why it’s there, know why he might be a little apprehensive. You want to apologise but something in you tells you it’s just too early, that you should at least see the day out before you drag him into another horrible conversation. That’s how you left things, after all, that was the last time you’d seen him. 

But god, he still looks good and he doesn’t look any different except for the red hair that he’s seemingly growing out. You’d seen one photo, on Calum’s page, and you had to admit that you loved it, even if it was too bold for you. Even if Miles saw the photo later and told you no one had ever looked so stupid.

“I like your hair.” You mumble finally, dragging Ashton from his daze. His bright smile is back and he tugs at the end of it. 

“Yeah, something I was trying.” He shrugs and takes your bag from your shoulder. “So, what’s up first? Sleeping or eating?” 

You smile and loop your arm through his. He grins down at you. “I wouldn’t complain if we had something to eat.” 

Ashton nods thoughtfully. “Actually, I think I have the best of both worlds.” 

And so you walk arm in arm from the airport, you feel something within you beginning to mend. Slowly, carefully, but it’s there, and you finally feel alive. 

***

Two hours later and you’re sitting on Ashtons hotel bed, eating the biggest plate of room service you’ve ever seen. ‘This is the best bowl of pasta I’ve ever had,’ you declare, grinning at Ashton, “Maybe it’s because it’s British.” 

Ashton laughs, “You know what it reminds me of? That time we tried to make that lasagna in your apartment.” He snorts into his plate, “we almost burnt the place down.” 

“I remember! And if memory serves that was your fault.” 

“No!” 

“Yes!” You point your fork at him dramatically, “you burnt the sauce to the bottom of the pan. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” 

Ashton gasps and points right back at you, “That was you!” 

You shake your head and it feels so good to laugh, to feel something like joy sparking within you. “It was so you.” You say, “but it was a good day.” 

“It was a great day.” Ashton agrees. 

You’re quiet for a moment, comfortable silence hanging over you. “So, how is London?” And you know you’re putting off the inevitable conversation, you can see it in Ashton’s face but he humours you anyway. That’s what he does, that’s what he’s always done, made you feel comfortable. Made you feel safe. 

“It’s cool. Good night life, shit weather.” You both glance to the rain hammering on the window of the hotel. “But I like it and the food isn’t that bad.” 

You nod, “From what I saw it just looked like a lot of rain.” 

“Yeah, that seems to be pretty normal here. Locals don’t mind though and I actually think it’s kind of beautiful.” You nod again and that silence falls, heavier this time. “So are we going to talk about it?” Ashton says quietly. “I mean, that’s why I invited you out here.”

“What?” You laugh quietly, “for me to cry about my relationship.” 

Ashton shrugs and gives you a small smile. “Might not be the worst thing in the world for you to do.” He lays his hand gently over yours and you fight the urge to pull away, to tell him you can’t because Miles won’t like that. But then it hits you all over again that it doesn’t matter anymore, that Miles doesn’t care and likely never did, that you were just marking time for him in his twenties. That maybe, if you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t matter that much to him at all. 

“It feels like I’ve just been cracked open.” You say and your voice is so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. But Ashton nods and you take a breath to combat the chasm inside of you, the gaping hole that Miles left when he tore your heart clean out of your chest. “It’s all my fault. It is. I torpedoed our relationship. I blew it up. The best thing in my life, the person who I went to for everything. I just, I just ruined it. But maybe he’ll come back, you know?” You look at Ashton desperately, tears in your eyes. “Maybe he’ll realise what he’s lost and he’ll realise how much I loved him and he’ll come back, right? Maybe he will?” Ashton takes a breath but doesn’t say anything. Your heart sinks, you can feel it falling down and down, “You don’t think he will?” 

Ashton sighs. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to say anything that’s going to hurt you. It’s the last thing I want to do, okay? Truly.” 

You wipe your eyes furiously. “But?” Ashton sighs again and lets his eyes fall closed. “What, Ash? Say it, I can handle it.” 

You both know that you can’t handle it, that you are as delicate as maybe you’ve ever been and it’s so different to anything he’s ever seen you go through. He’s never seen you like this, ready to break, already halfway there. But maybe you do need to hear it and maybe he needs to be the one to tell you, to save you from some of the pain that’s rolling around in your head. “I don’t think he’s coming back, love.” Ashton whispers gently. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head and more tears spill down your cheeks. “I just don’t understand. Four years. Four years where we built a life together, were I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone else and he promised me” you voice cracks and you take a breath, “he promised me that he was in my life to stay. That he was there for me for good and that it was us against the world. He promised me, Ash.” and the desperation in your eyes when you look at him is almost too much for him to handle. “I just don’t understand what I did. I tried my best. I did my best.” 

Ashton takes your hand and meets your eyes. “This isn’t about you, love. It isn’t.”

“Then why,” you sob and you almost fall as you lean forward, burying your head in his chest and trying desperately not to think about Miles, about how Ashton smells different, feels different, how it’s not the same. “Why did he leave me?” You mumble into him. “Was I really that bad? I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I really tried my best.” And god, you hate that desperation in your voice and you hate how you know it’s not you, how you know he’s turned you into someone you don’t recognise. Ashton knows it too, he bristles every time you say Miles’ name, stiffens when a fresh wave of tears come caused by someone who took you away from him in the first place, who left you as a shell. 

Ashton rubs circles on your back as he holds you and sighs. “I don’t know.” He says. “I don’t know, I’m not in his head. But I know if he’s making you feel like this then it’s probably for the best he’s gone now.” 

You nod silently, finding the strength to sit back up and meet his eyes. “I guess.” You mumble. “But listen. Just think for a second. Do you think he’s going to come back to me? Do you think he’ll realise what he gave up, that I really was the one? Do you think he knows? Do you think he regrets it?” 

Ashton hesitates and you know he’s getting ready to let you down again, to clue you in on the truth that you so desperately need but you just can’t face. “Listen,” he says carefully, and you hate how gentle he is, how scared he is to hurt you any further. “I know you want answers but,” he sighs and runs a hand over his face, ‘but I just don’t know, sweetheart. I just don’t know and I wish I did. I wish I could give you some answers or the truth or something to help you rest a little easier,” his eyes soften as he looks at you, “but I can’t, love, I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets again then. It doesn’t feel like a new feeling anymore. A fresh tear slips down your cheek and you’re just so tired. 

“But” Ashton says and your perk back up, just to be crushed by that pitying look in his eyes. “I know that when you love someone, it is so special and so rare. Anyone would regret loosing that.” you look down and Ashton reaches out, gently lifting your chin with his thumb. “I promise.” He says. “I promise you.” And then he adds softly, so softly you almost don’t hear him, “I would.” 

You meet his eyes then and something flickers, something you don’t quite recognise. You smile at each other and something between you sparks, like something sputtering to life. “Wow,” you finally sniff, wiping at the tears on your cheeks, “Miles never said anything like that to me, and we were together.” 

Ashton grins. “Yeah, well maybe I’m just better than him.” 

You laugh again and move toward him, draping yourself over him for a hug. He pulls you closer and you realise just how much you missed him, just how much Miles took from you, unapologetic in his destruction. “I missed you.” You breathe into him and there’s part of you, a big part, that wants to pull back and kiss him, to feel what it’s like to be with someone who wants you. To be with Ashton, who’s wanted you from the start even if you’ve never admitted that to yourself.  

Ashton sighs deeply, something like relief, something else that you can’t place. “I missed you too.” He murmurs. “So much.” 

And there’s a second, a split second, where the heart that has been pulled apart lights up, twinges, as Ashton strokes your hair, pauses almost like its holding its breath, waiting to see what happens. 

After a moment, you pull away and stand, moving to the other bed by the window. Ashton clears his throat and you know he felt it too, that pull, that ache. But it’s too soon, it’s far too soon and too wrong and why would Ashton want you when you’re crying over Miles, someone you let destroy the relationship you had with him. God, how could he even look you in the eye after that day, after what you did. 

“You okay, love?’ Ashton asks and the air around you snaps back into motion and you come back down to earth. 

“Yeah.” You smile. “I think I’m just jet lagged you know, it’s been a long day.” 

Ashton nods. “Yeah, course.” 

And the air is thick with something you don’t quite recognise and it settles heavily over you as you crawl under the hotel sheets. You’re still not used to having the bed to yourself, not used to having open air and cold beside you and you try not to think about it as you close your eyes. You hear the faint sound of Ashton getting into his own bed and you try to pretend you’re back in the apartment and it’s Miles getting ready for bed, about to settle next to you. 

You hold that thought tightly as you begin to drift away 

***

When you wake the next morning, the room is silent and cold and it feels like the apartment the day Miles left. On your bedside table is a note Ashton left, explaining he’s gone on a breakfast run and to a quick meeting with the boys. That’s fine by you, you suppose, you can use the time to cry even more. It hasn’t made a difference, being in a different country and the bed and the emptiness had felt the same, more so, if you’re being honest. The aching in your chest had yet to subside and you can feel the cracks, see the shards of your heart that will have to be pieced back together. 

Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the wall you’ve been staring at. 

Hey.. it reads from one of your friends, I think you should see this. 

And you’re not sure anything, not even the horrific pain you’d felt before, can compare to the feeling of your entire being, your soul and you hope utterly shattering as you open the photo. The photo of Miles and Hannah kissing in a bar downtown. 

You’re shaking, trembling, as you quickly type When was this? Because it could be old, you think, it could be an old photo from ages ago and yes, the hat he’s wearing is new and yes the bar is somewhere you frequent together but it can’t be recent, can’t be from the past week because if it is then it means he left her for you. Then it means it was all for nothing, the relationship was nothing and you are nothing. 

And you’re still staring at it when Ashton walks in, still staring as the smile dies on his lips when he sees you. 

“Ash...” You start but can’t finish because a sob builds up in your throat and breaks free as you finally drop the phone to the floor, any hope that you had cracking along with it. 

Ashton reaches you just as you begin to sob, begin to feel your heart break all over again but this time, somehow, it numbs you and rips you apart all at once and you feel like you’re drowning under the weight of it, under the knowledge of why he left and what he thinks of you. Ashton gently takes the phone and scans the message before he sets it down on the bedside table. “Okay.” He says gently, “okay.” 

“I can’t breathe.” You rasp, tears falling too fast for you to catch. “I feel like I can’t breathe.” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” But he doesn’t say anything else, can’t say anything else to fix this for you, to make it hurt less. This is different now and he knows it. 

“How could he..” The question dies in your throat and you meet Ashton’s eyes and he blanches at the pain that’s taken root there. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything.” He says. “I promise. This isn’t about you.” He’s repeating himself, he knows that, but there’s nothing else he can say, nothing else he can do. You watch as he tugs his hand through his hair.  “This is about him. This is about him not recognising what he’s got, not knowing how good he’s got it. Not knowing how special you are.” He pauses, like he’s stopping himself, like he’s waiting to see if he’s said something wrong. 

“But it has to be to do with me.” You whisper, “it has to be. She must have something I don’t. She must be easier than me, you know? Better.”  

“Listen, “Ashton says and he goes onto his knees before you. He cups your face, “This is not on you. This is about him.” Fury flashes across his face. “This is about him. If he can’t see you for what you are, this… this beautiful, special soul, then that is his loss.” Ashton stares at you until your tears begin to dry, “Do you understand me?” And that is rage, that is unbridled fury burning in his eyes but it softens as soon as you crack the smallest smile and cup his face in return. The two of you there, one sitting, one kneeling, holding each other like it’s the only thing that matters. 

And it doesn’t feel wrong, like you expect.

You can see when Ashton’s breath catches, when his eyes flick down to your lips and then back to your eyes, almost imperceptible. Almost. Butterflies take flight, then, hundreds of them as your heart thumps, threatening to beat right out of your chest and all you can hear is the rain pattering on the window and the quickening breaths between the two of you. 

But then Ashton moves towards you just a bit too fast, and you bolt upright, fear striking you like lightning because it’s too soon and you don’t deserve it and he’d never stay. Not if Miles didn’t. You weren’t good enough and you couldn’t let Ashton be dragged down by you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You would ruin everything just like you ruined it with Miles and then it would never again be the same. You just got Ashton back, you can’t lose him again, not like this.  But you feel something 

You sidestep Ashton and wipe quickly at your tears. When you turn back to him he’s standing up, hands behind his back and looks at you and waits. Waits, like he thinks he’s scared you away. Waits, like he is terrified you’re about to walk out of that door and not come back. But you want to go to him, you want to race across the room and let him hold you, let him kiss you, let him tell you all the ways he thinks you’re good enough. 

But you can’t. Because he won’t. And everything here will be for nothing too. 

“Okay.” You sniff, “do you know what I think?”  Ashton tries for a grin but it doesn’t quite work. Still you say “I think I want to look around London. I want an official tour guide. What do you think?” 

Ashton smiles then, but it doesn’t light up his face in the same way. “Yeah, he says, “that sounds good.” 

***

The trip around London starts with a sickening feeling hanging between the two of you, something you try to ignore as you cross Tower Bridge and wander towards Borough Market.

It ends with you changing your tickets to an earlier flight home. 

It’s too awkward, it’s too changed and you both know it. Ashton keeps his distance as you walk back to his hotel, like he’s scared to come closer to you and have you jump away from him again. And you didn’t mean to, is the thing, but you know that you’d only make things worse between the two of you. Miles left you, jumped at the girl that had been hovering around for months, cementing the fact that you are not good enough. And if you’re not good enough for Miles, you’re sure as hell not good enough for Ashton. 

You pack in silence and Ashton leans against the wall and watches until it’s time to go down to the lobby for the taxi that he’s called for you. Maybe this trip was too soon and it had just made things harder for you. Maybe this isn’t where you were supposed to be at all. And maybe now, it was time to go.

“You okay?” Ashton asks as you wait for the lift. 

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “Sorry about this. Work wanted me back, you know?”

“Yeah.” He says and you know he doesn’t believe you. But you know he won’t question you either. That’s Ashton, he’s always had your back. 

And when you take a glance at him, you wish to god that you could stay, that Ashton would have you. You wish your heart didn’t start threading itself back together whenever you were with him. You wish Miles hadn’t made you so damaged, so terrified that someone might be able to want you and mean it. You wish you have the courage to believe that Ashton could.

But you don’t. And the tatters of your heart stop weaving together as the door of the taxi closes and you leave London behind. 

Leave Ashton behind, in the gloom and the rain until he fades out of sight. 

[constellationwrites]

Shamefully reblogging my own work bc I love it

[constellationwrites]

Slowly, Carefully || Part Two 🌱

Here we go !

Part One

The flight home is tedious and you’re left alone with nothing but the look in Ashton’s as he watched you get into that taxi. 

Your arrival at the airport is even worse.

 The arrival gate is full of loved ones reuniting and you look through the crowd for a minute before you remember that no one is here for you. That no one is coming. That the one person you know would’ve waited for you, would’ve met you exactly as you are, is 3000 miles away in London right where you left him. 

You sigh, shouldering your bag and trying not to think about Ashton’s eyes, how he looked at you like you hung the moon and how that shattered when you jumped away from him. But how could you explain it to him, that you knew eventually he wouldn’t want you, that he’d get bored and show up with trash bags to collect his shit just like Miles. How could you look at him and tell him that you knew you didn’t deserve him and he’d never let you stay. How could you tell him when you knew he’d disagree until one day he just…wouldn’t. 

You wait in the blistering cold, taking a drag from the cigarette you bought in duty free and watch as a taxi rounds the corner. You flick it into the trash next to you and open the door, flashing a smile and telling the cabbie your address.

And as you watch the airport fade from view, you can’t decide which feels worse. Going back to that house, reliving those memories, or living in your mind and watching as you crack Ashton’s heart over and over. Each path leaves you with the same sinking feeling in your gut, that horrible mess that leaves you reeling each time and biting back tears as your eyes burn. Your stomach tightens as you turn onto the last few streets leading back to your house and bile stings the back of your throat. 

And maybe it’s then you realise you can’t live like this anymore. Can’t war with yourself over Miles and the house and the manipulation that meant he somehow blamed you for the breakup when he destroyed the relationship on purpose for his own fucking gains. When you know now it had nothing to do with you, that he was jumping ship and had to find an excuse no matter how hard you tried to fix something that you didn’t break in the first place. 

And maybe it’s the feeling when you open the door and it’s not sadness and heartbreak that’s trapped between the walls, but pure white rage that makes you finally realise that this wasn’t you. Maybe it’s Ashton’s words ringing in your ears, maybe it’s everything, everywhere all at once and finally, finally, you’re realising that it wasn’t you and you can’t keep punishing yourself for it. 

Maybe it’s then you finally take the first step to return home to yourself. 

You’re checking the lease agreement before you quite realise what you’re doing and emailing the agent to tell them that you won’t be renewing. That you won’t be staying in the area or the city for that matter. You catch the cabbie just before he pulls away and ask him to drive you to the store. He even helps you unload the moving boxes when you get back to the house. 

And then an hour later you’re packing up the house with cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Not looking twice as you shut the door for the final time and trap all that rage and sadness and desperation where it belongs, in a space you don’t exist in anymore. 

Not looking twice as you take that second step home to yourself. 

***

The new apartment in the new city is empty, a blank canvas in the best way and you stare around the space for a solid few minutes before you start thinking about moving all of your stuff in. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this, anything like this, completely by yourself, but the challenge sparks something within you that you haven’t felt in a long time and so you decide to embrace it. You have to, otherwise the silence gets a little too loud for you. 

You’re lugging some of the final boxes up the steps to the building, when you stop, taking a deep breath and letting yourself feel the sun on your face, just for a moment. And it’s quiet, there are birds chirping and the soft hum of traffic and for the first time in a long time, you realise there’s not an angry echo rolling around in your head. 

And it is so beautiful to be able to hear yourself think without Miles’ voice or face or cold, horrid laughter filling that space in your head. 

You turn back to the door of the building, pulling the boxes to the elevator when your phone buzzes. 

5 Seconds of Summer, coming to a city near you! 

The photo of Ashton almost takes your breath away, physically makes you stop in your tracks and the cardboard box you’re holding hits the floor with a soft thump. 

His eyes, those eyes, the very same ones you’d looked into when you’d dodged him in London, when you watched him crumble as you left and you didn’t turn back. His smile is so wide, an armed draped over Calum as he grins into the camera and you want to reach out and touch him, cup his face, feel him beneath your fingertips like you had that night. 

Your finger hovers over his name for a minute before you shake your head, slip your phone back into your pocket and pick the box back up. You’re fine, you’re better than fine and Ashton is thousands of miles away getting ready for tour, not giving you a second thought. So you have to do the same, have to move on like London doesn’t matter, like that spark, that ache between the two of you, doesn’t exist. 

But your eyes drift back to that photo again and again until the door to the elevator slides open and you find yourself wiping a tear from your face with your sleeve. 

***

The sun stays firmly in the sky for the rest of the week and you manage to get outside every day, soaking up the joy of your new life. The little street you live on is littered with cafes and bars, small tables with colourful umbrellas crammed onto the sidewalk. For the first time in a while you notice how happy everyone is, how free, and you realise how much Miles truly took from you, how he changed your perception of the world around you. How he ruined it. And how you’ll never let anyone do that again. 

The regular waitress in your new favourite café gives you a broad smile as you settle into a chair on the sidewalk.

“Hi! Having the same again today?’ 

“Please” you smile. “Thank you.” You tilt your head to the sky, letting the sun wink down on you and you hear it. The waitress returns to your table and you quickly ask, “Sorry, do you know what song this is?” Because you’re not sure and it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be here, now, in your new life. 

The waitress pulls her phone from her pocket and glances at it, “She looks so perfect, by 5 Seconds of Summer. It’s good, right?” You nod slowly and the waitress continues, “Yeah, if you like them I’m pretty sure they’re performing here soon. They’ve just announced their tour.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, and you sound hollow and broken and the sun may as well have fallen from the sky, “yeah it’s a good song.” 

The boys grin at you as Luke sets down his guitar. “So, did you like it?” Luke asks.

You grin right back at them, “I loved it. What do you think you’ll call it?” 

Ashton looks up at you through the mop of messy hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “She looks so perfect.” He says, giving you a wink and making your heart soar. “At least, that’s what we’re thinking.” 

“Anyway,” the waitress chirps, “enjoy your day!”

“Thanks.” You reply quietly. 

You take a deep breath and when it’s not enough you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to rid yourself of the memory, trying not the feel that ache, that pull when you meet Ashton’s eyes in your mind over and over again. 

It runs deep, whatever this sickly new feeling is, right into your gut and it turns your world on its axis. 

When you do make it back to the apartment, the empty space doesn’t feel welcoming anymore and the silence wraps itself around you as you sink down onto the couch. 

You scroll through video after video of Ashton at his drumkit, of the boys on stage, of them taking their final bow while adoring fans scream their names and you miss him, you realise, that deep ache becoming a permanent fixture in your stomach. Your heart tightens when he grins at the camera and you meet his eyes over and over again and you wish you could go back to London, to that night, and do it all over again. 

But you can’t. And its harsh but it’s the truth and you have to face where you are now, have to exist in it, have to live in it.

Have to find a way through, on your own. 

***

A week later the furniture for the apartment arrives, and you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by unpacked boxes, and a half-eaten take away in front of you. The TV hums in the background to something you stopped paying attention to a while ago and the sun sets outside of the window. 

But you don’t notice any of it, how the movie finishes, what colours crack across the sky because your phone is in your hand and it has been for a while now. Ashton’s name sits at the top of your messages, pinned right where you left him, untouched, unopened, like if you don’t press it then it didn’t end in the way you remember. Then London never happened and it’s just a text from before this whole mess started. 

You steel yourself and open it anyway. 

And the conversation is still there. London. Before London. Directions to countless venues and parties and houses and it’s years of him woven into your life in a way that feels impossible to unpick now. Your half-typed message still sits there, has sat there for days now, ever since you moved into your new apartment and you thought you’d finally found the right way to apologise or to explain or just to hear his voice again. You thought maybe the fresh perspective would give you a new idea of what to say, of how to, how to tell him how sorry you are and how you wish you could take everything back and just start fresh, erase that horrible feeling that passed between you the day you left.  

Hey, I’m sorry about how I left London, I just—

You stop, delete it, hate whatever it is you’re about to say. Everything just falls flat and it’s a slow, painful realisation that nothing you can say may be good enough to fix the damage you’ve done, that no apology can counter what you did. 

I miss you. 

You stare at the words for a moment before you delete it, hating the feeling of your chest tightening when you look at the empty line. You let your head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud, surveying the mess around you. “Pathetic.” You mutter to yourself, but there’s no real anger there anymore and you’re just so tired.

Because the truth is more complicated than just that you miss him. It’s that when you close your eyes you don’t see London or the airport or the way he looked at you when he saw you for the first time in years. You just feel his hands on your face, just feel that ache that hung between the two of you for the entire fucking time and how you felt when you met his eyes. And for a moment you let yourself think about what would’ve happened if you didn’t run, if you hadn’t side-stepped him, if you hadn’t been so fucking scared. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you scramble, heart racing, stupid and hopeful and ready with your apologies. 

But it’s not him. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s never him. It hasn’t been him since he messaged you when he picked you up from the airport. 

You know he’s probably giving you space, thinks he did something wrong and that you’ll reach out when you’re ready but you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready, if you’ll ever find the right thing to say to him, to explain what happened. And you know he won’t push, won’t force you to confront something by popping up unexpectedly because that’s Ashton, always looking out for you. Always having your back 

You lock your phone and toss it onto the couch, turning your attention back to the boxes. 

***

The café is loud today. Not in a terrible way, just enough to make you feel included, make you feel alive. Conversations overlap, cups and cutlery clink and the low hum of music plays somewhere behind the counter. 

You like it here. It feels like a place you can finally start to be yourself. 

The same waitress as all those weeks ago comes to the table. “Same as usual?” She asks with a grin. 

“Yes, please.” You smile back, settling into your seat. The two of you have overcome the awkwardness of that first conversation about the band and their music hasn’t been played here since. It’s nice, finally letting someone see you, know you, even if it’s just a stranger.

You look around, a faint smile on your lips and sigh. For a moment you just let everything feel easy. 

It shatters just a moment later when you open Instagram without even thinking and Ashton is there, right in the middle of your screen. It’s a video this time, of him behind his drum kit, laughing at someone off camera, hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. The red hair from London has almost completely grown out now, leaving him with that familiar shaggy brown. The boys are deep into their tour now, and that smile on Ashton’s face is pure joy. Your heart soars when you see it, feeling just like the kid he played that song to all those years ago. 

You watch the video once. Then again. Then a third time just to hear him laugh again, just to see that smile. 

There’s a girl in the comment section that says you’re so cute marry me and you almost laugh at it. Almost. But you can’t ignore that your chest tightens when you read it, that part of you feels like its splintering again.

You set your phone down forcefully as the waitress returns and she gives you a concerned frown. “Everything okay?’ God, she must think you’re such a mess, always having some kind of crisis in this damn café. 

You blink, forcing a smile to your face and trying to rid yourself of Ashton’s laugh that just rolls around and around in your head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thank you.” 

And you are, that might be the strangest part, you are good. Your life is good. You feel like you can breath for the first time in months, finally feel in control. Nothing is wrong, really, you just…miss him.

***

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You hiss to Jade as she forces you out of the car. 

“What are you talking about? It’s a great idea! You saw his profile, you know he’s exactly your type.” 

You adjust your dress as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. “I don’t know, something just feels a bit off.” 

Jade throws you a smile, half pity half excitement. “It’s supposed to,” she says gently, “this is the first date you’ve been on since Miles.” She doesn’t mention Ashton and London, there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you that it’s just a bit too delicate, especially on nights like tonight. 

“Okay.” You sigh. “How do I look? 

“Like a million bucks.” 

You look at her, unimpressed and she gives you a wink. “You’ll pick me up after?” 

“Of course. Now, go get ‘em!” 

Jade pulls away from the sidewalk before you can say anything else, so you take a deep breath and walk to the door. 

The restaurant is nice, with soft jazz music playing, good food and ten minutes later you find the date going well. He’s nice and funny and he’s easy to talk to. He’s just the kind of person that you used to think you should end up with. But something now is just off, just wrong but you can’t place it and so you do your best to meet his eyes and try to ignore whatever is settling uncomfortably in your gut. 

Your date leans forward and gives you a warm smile. “So, what made you move here?” 

You pause, glass halfway to your lips and consider which direction you should take this in. Finally you say, “fresh start.” 

He nods like he understands and maybe he does, but it doesn’t feel like Ashton and it isn’t that hotel room in London where you felt seen and safe and understood. 

The memory hits you so suddenly that you almost flinch and you set your glass down with shaking hands. You push it down, try and get his eyes out of your head, try and get rid of the feeling of his hands on your skin, try and focus. This is why you here after all, to move on, to give someone else a real chance. 

He reaches across the table and brushes his fingers lightly against yours and you try desperately to feel that pull or that ache or even a spark but there’s just nothing.

He clears his throat and pulls his hand away but you don’t even look at him, can’t. Because it’s hitting you all at once, pieces fitting together in a way that they haven’t before. That it wasn’t just the comfort of Ashton or the emotion of that night in London, it was that you could’ve felt something for him but you ran before you gave yourself that chance. Like you were trying to stop yourself. Like you knew what would’ve happened if you stayed and you couldn’t let that happen. Like you were punishing yourself.

But that’s over and it has been for a while now, the self-deprecation, the blame you forced yourself to take from Miles that you shouldered for all these months. The feeling you had when you ran away from Ashton that you’d never been good enough, that you’d never be good enough and that you couldn’t put yourself back there with the threat to feel that kind of pain again. Not then, not with Ashton. You couldn’t even bear the thought of that being ruined too.

But you know that you did feel something, even when you ran. Even when you were convincing yourself that you didn’t, that you couldn’t.

And really, that you do feel something. Still. Even now. 

You finally meet your date’s eyes and give him an apologetic smile, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I just—I don’t think I’m ready for this.” 

He looks confused, and maybe even a little disappointed but he’s kind and offers you a small smile back. “That’s okay.” 

But you’re barely listening to him because your mind is somewhere else and you’re looking at someone else, in a hotel room in London on a carpeted floor, one sitting one kneeling, holding each other like it’s the only thing that matters. 

***

Christmas and New Year pass in the blink of an eye and you host a New Year’s Eve party in your new city with your new friends, screaming goodbye to the shittiest year of your life with alcohol and sparkles.

And it is the best you’ve felt in a long fucking time. 

And maybe that’s why it happens when it does, a few months later as you’re coming up to the one-year mark of the breakup and your trip to London and you’ve never felt more content or at peace with yourself. 

You’re sitting on the balcony, coffee in hand when a number you haven’t seen in years lights up the screen of your phone. 

You hesitate and then finally say, “Hey, Luke.” 

He knows you’re cautious as soon as you answer, but you hear the smile in his voice anyway. “Hey you. It’s been a while.” 

You nod, tucking your legs up onto the chair. “It has.” You say. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in London, it was a bit of a whirlwind.”

Again you can hear Luke smile as he says, “I know, I heard all about it.” 

You don’t say anything for a second. “So,” you start, because you don’t know what Ashton has said, if he told the boys what you did, if he said anything at all. “it’s great to hear from you, but why the call?” 

Luke clears his throat and you’re sure you hear someone cough behind him. You raise a brow but wait patiently. “Well,” he says finally, “we’re in the area.” 

“In the area?” 

“Yeah. We’re playing a couple of shows and I wondered if you wanted to come? We’ll get you a backstage pass and all that, of course. Just like the old days.” 

The old days. The old days where Ashton looked at you and you looked right back and there wasn’t fear that hung over you and shame tinging your words when you spoke. The old days when he had stupid floppy hair and red bandanas and their Greenroom meant a fold out table and Vegemite. The only days, before everything. Before Miles. Before you let him turn you into someone you didn’t recognise, someone that cracked your best friend in two. And Ashtons eyes are there in your mind once again, that shattering, that breaking as you jumped away, the hurt and confusion because he had been there for you and you both knew that something was still there between you, still alive and you’d run away. 

“The old days.” You murmur quietly. “That sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Luke breaks out in a grin, you can feel it in his words. “Great. Hold on, let me get you the info. It’s next week, okay?” 

“Okay.” You smile, meeting Ashton again in your head. Then, quietly, “has he said anything?” 

Luke’s quiet for a second, “Just that he misses you.” He murmurs in reply. “And that he’d love to see you.” 

“He said that?” 

“I mean I inferred it.” He says, “but I know I’m right.” 

You let out a quiet laugh, “Yeah, you say that a lot.” 

“Only because it’s true.” Luke pauses again and lowers his voice, “but we really would all love to see you. It’s been too long.” 

Miles’ face flashes across your mind and your ears ring with the memory of him shouting. “Yes it has.” You look toward the horizon and think about exactly how far you’ve come, how you’ve rebuilt from nothing and how you get to decide what you do now, who you are now. “I’ll be there.” 

“Then I’ll see you soon.” 

***

You stare at half of your wardrobe sprawled across the bedroom floor, hands on your hips. “Well.” You say, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well what?”  Jade pushes through the pile of clothes and raises an eyebrow. 

“Well I can’t go.” 

She scoffs. “What?” 

“I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear.” 

She looks at you, disbelief plastered across her face. “You’re not serious?”

“Oh, I am very serious. Look at this!” You glare at the clothes. “There’s nothing in that pile.” 

“You’re being very dramatic today.” 

You gape at Jade as she grins. “I am not.” 

“Look,” she says, walking over to you and taking you by the shoulders. “I get it, okay. You’re worried about seeing him. It’s natural, especially after everything that happened. But you heard Luke, he wants you there. They all want up there.” She meets your eyes and smiles. “This is a good thing.” She says gently. 

You sigh, meeting her eyes. “Is it?” You whisper back. “Didn’t I fuck everything up?”

Jade shakes her head. “Not even remotely. You weren’t ready, that’s okay.” She hesitates and scans your face, “but maybe you are now.” She lets you go, “But either way, you got him back and I see that as a good thing.” Jade knows everything, all about the trip to London, how you lived inside that memory for months after. She knows how you rebuilt yourself too, brick by brick, until you became someone you were proud to know. So she knows how worthless Miles made you feel, how Ashton replaced that with safety and peace and how you weren’t ready then, how you were too scared and didn’t know yourself and couldn’t handle it. But she knows you now, knows that you can and that you should and that really, it has been him all along. 

You stare down at the pile, “Maybe I’ll wear that.” You say quietly, pointing down at some jeans. 

“Exactly!” Jade beams, “jeans and a nice top, how can you go wrong with that?” 

You give her a reluctant smile. “I guess I can’t.” 

***

Your heart careens against your ribs as you wipe your hands on your jeans, taking a deep breath as the taxi pulls to a stop. 

The venue has a line snaking its way around the block, a picture of the boys on the side of the building. You look up, meet Ashtons eyes and grin despite yourself. It’s been almost a year since London and you miss him, miss those eyes.

That gnawing, sinking feeling worms its way into your gut and you blanch, freezing on the sidewalk and looking back at the taxi that’s disappearing around the corner. It occurs to you then that Luke might be lying, that Ashton never said anything like that, that he doesn’t want to see you and he doesn’t miss you and Luke is trying to orchestrate a reunion. He’s always been a romantic. 

Your phone rings before you get the chance to take another step forward. 

Miles’ names is on your screen. 

Your hands begin to tremble then and the gates that you’d shut and locked in your mind burst open, everything that happened, everything he did and said rushing into your head all at once. 

Too hard. You’ve worked too hard to be derailed by him again. You’ve been through too much, changed too much. 

You don’t answer, take a shaking breath and put your phone back into your pocket. But it’s too late, the damage is done. 

Worthless. Damaged. Broken. 

Words Miles used, words he meant, things Ashton has thought since that night. Since you cracked open the one person who stuck by you through everything. 

There’s a door to the side of the venue where a bouncer is waiting to let you in but you can’t bring yourself to walk those few steps. Ashton won’t want to see you, you’re sure of it. After what you did, after how you behaved in the face of someone trying to love you? That feeling, that sickening feeling creeps its way to your throat and Ashtons eyes flash into your mind, followed closely by Miles, his face, his hands holding those trash bags outside of your house and you find yourself leaning heavily against the brick wall, struggling to catch your breath. 

You take a deep breath and when it’s not enough you take another until you feel like you can rise without your head spinning. 

It’s like you can see the two paths in front of you, the fork in the road, where you either walk towards that door or you go back home. Something inside you know this is your last chance, knows that this is the way to fix it, the only way to fix it and it’s right there in front of you, begging to be chosen. And you can. You’re not the same person that you were with Miles, not the same person who believed everything he said, as if your value was tied to your worth to him.. You’re not the same at all and if he saw you now he wouldn’t even know you. Wouldn’t even recognise you. 

And so you walk towards that door and give your name to the bouncer.

And maybe that’s the third step. 

He opens the door with smile and music thumps faintly through the hall. Your heart is in your mouth as you follow the signs to the green room. You turn the corner, smile threatening to lift the corner of your mouth and then you see him, shaggy hair and green eyes, twirling a drumstick in one hand, 

And holding someone else’s with the other. 

And that sinking feeling turns into your chest cracking open as the girl he’s with swims into view. 

Gorgeous, is your first thought, and exactly his type. Exactly what he wants, someone uncomplicated, someone doting, someone that he won’t get too attached to and that won’t break him wide open when he was just trying to help. When he was there for you and you pushed him away. Miles was right, nothing you could do would be enough for anyone and you’d made it worse, so much worse when you blew the only chance you had. When you looked him in the eyes and shattered him to pieces. 

You don’t deserve him even if he wanted you. Even if he hadn’t already moved on.  

You catch your reflection and it’s pure loathing that stares back at you, pure hatred clouding your eyes, poisonous with rage as you realise you are not good enough. Never have been. And the worst part of the whole fucking thing is that you should have known. Coming here was pointless and humiliating and everything Miles had said was so fucking true.

And of course he was right and of course this was a mistake and you were so stupid to think this would end any other way. Stupid for thinking that Ashton would wait for you to get yourself together, to realise that he has been there the whole time, just waiting for you to see him. And as you stare at him, hand in hand with another girl, you know that he’s given up on you and you’ve been kidding yourself thinking that you can just waltz in and get your fucking fairytale ending. 

You’re frozen to the spot even as your eyes begin to burn and your chest keeps cracking, keeps splintering and there’s nothing you can do except force yourself to move, put one foot in front of the other and never come back. That will be enough, has to be. 

“Wait.” You barely register the voice over the roaring in your ears and march forward until that voice splits the air around you again. “Wait.” Footsteps catching up to you that you can barely hear. “Will you just fucking stop.” 

And then his hand is on your arm, locked around you as he spins you and you meet Ashton’s eyes for the first time in almost a year. And fuck you could swim in those eyes, drown in them if he’d let you, if you were ever so lucky. 

The rage in the pit of your stomach rolls and rolls and disappears when his eyes soften and he searches your face. Never letting go, though. He never lets go of your arm. “Hi.” You choke out and those tears begin to fall. You pull your arm but he doesn’t let go. “I have to go.” You whisper, wishing you could hold on to some of that rage because it would make this so much easier. 

“No you don’t.” He murmurs back. “Don’t. Please. Don’t run away from me.” Again, the unspoken word hangs between the two of you. Don’t run away from me again. 

“I thought..” you hesitate and glance back to the green room. “Luke said-” you shake your head, letting out a long breath. “I thought you wanted me here.” 

He looks at you in disbelief. “I do want you here.” 

“So what was that?” There’s the rage, red hot simmering beneath your skin as you stare down the empty corridor. “Who was that?” 

“What?” 

You shake your head. “I’m not doing this.” You say. “I’m not having a fight about you holding hands with some girl when we’re not even together. When you didn’t even have the balls to ask me here yourself. Okay?” 

“No, no that’s not,” he shakes his head and takes a breath. “I am not with her, okay. We had a couple of fans we had backstage. That’s the music you heard too, okay? We were just having something to eat and some photos with some fans. I swear to you. She grabbed my hand, I’m not going to shake her off” 

And in your head it makes sense, makes a lot of sense, actually, why he wouldn’t push a fan away, why it wouldn’t even cross his mind. But that gnawing feeling in your gut is still there, still clawing at you and who you finally meet Ashton’s eyes, his face shatters. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, eyes searching for your answer that will change everything. 

“I just think that’s pretty fucking convenient.”

“So you don’t believe me, then?”

“I…” Ashton’s face that night in London tumbles into view once more. You can’t do that to him again, you won’t. But he’s already standing there with that look on his face, staring at you like you’ve cracked him wide open all over again. And you want to say something, you have to say something but the words don’t form and he’s shaking his head before you have the chance to say anything at all. 

“You don’t do you?” He runs a hand over his face and looks at you in disbelief and you can see the cracks in his face starting to form. “Why not?” He inches closer and something in him starts to snap. “Why don’t you fucking believe me?” And that’s rage on his face, clouding his eyes, and his grip on your arm begins to tighten. Restrained, you realise, he’s been holding back for you but something’s different now, something’s changed and that restraint is slowly disappearing. 

“I don’t… It’s not that, you know I just…” You stop yourself again, stammering, falling over your words, tripping over the horror that this has become, the disappointment and the anger plastered to Ashton’s face. You’re about to lose him forever, you realise when you look at him again. He’ll be gone this time for good. “Ash, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I don’t…” you rake a hand through your hair and meet his eyes, “I don’t trust you.”

Another blow you don’t mean to land but Ashton takes a step back from the force of it and finally lets go of your arm. Really lets go and it’s foreign, how cold you suddenly feel, how empty. He stares at you, waiting for an explanation, waiting for you to say anything else but the truth stands tall between you and there’s nothing else you can say. Ashton shakes his head, his eyes turning cold as they rake up and down you. “You know I’m not too happy with you either, right? I mean did you forget about London?” 

You scoff and stare right back at him. “No, Ashton, I didn’t forget about London.” 

He nods, lips pressed together and takes another step towards you. And you let him, stare him down as he does and fucking dare him to take another one. “Really? I haven’t heard from you in almost a year.” It’s his turn to land a blow, straight to your gut. 

“Yeah,” you laugh and its bitter and its cold and nothing like the way you should be talking to him, “and it looks like that really fucking tore you up.” 

He laughs right back at you. “How would you know? You weren’t fucking here!” 

Everyone can hear you, you’re sure of it, the two of you facing off against one another in the hallway, trading blows neither of you want to give. 

“I know I wasn’t here Ash. I was trying to put my fucking life back together.” And you know now would be the perfect time to tell him about the date, about the text you never sent, about how you feel but you can’t. The image of him here with that girl, the knowledge that he didn’t know or didn’t care that you were here, that he probably didn’t even want you here has you doubling down. ‘I’m so sorry if that was inconvenient for you.” 

“Inconvenient? I would’ve helped you. All I wanted to do was help you but you didn’t fucking let me. You. Just. Left.” He bites out his words, glaring at you and you can feel something between the two of you snapping. 

You take a sharp breath and shake your head, feeling tears burn your eyes. “That’s not fair, Ash.”

“Bullshit it’s not fair. You left me in London.” And it’s so final the way he says it, so resolved. The words you’ve been so afraid to hear, the truth you’ve been dreading and the Ashton’s eyes make you splinter, just come apart at the seams. 

“You have no idea,” you start, voice hard as you fight to keep it from breaking, “how fucking hard that was for me. You have no fucking idea.” You cross your arms, squeeze hard like you can keep the rage and the pain and the sadness locked inside. You nod in the direction of the greenroom. “But it seems like you’ve been having your fun. What do you need me for?” 

Ashton gives that bitter laugh again, “Right. Yeah. I’m having a great time around people I don’t want to be around. With people that don’t fucking know me.” He takes another step then and you let him. “What about you then?” 

“What about me?” 

And it’s so angry, the way his voice just drips. “Seems like you’ve been fucking fine.” Without me are the words he lets linger.

And it’s all wrong, this fight and this sickening feeling between the two of you that sours as the minutes pass by. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, isn’t what you pictured when you stood outside and convinced yourself you had the strength to see him. 

After a moment you muster what’s left of your anger, “Well you wouldn’t know, would you?” 

“Right so tell me.” 

You laugh in disbelief. “Tell you?” 

“Yeah. Fucking tell me. Fucking tell me whose been there for you to help you put your life back together. Tell me what you decided to do after London. Because you sure as shit didn’t call me.”

You stare Ashton down. “Why do you fucking care?”  You know the answer and so does he but you’re silent and you can’t bring yourself to tell him, you can’t risk it. 

Two thundering heart beats pass between you and Ashton shakes his head. “Fuck this.” He mutters and he turns away from you. 

And you almost can’t believe it, staring at his back, feet frozen as he walks toward the greenroom. You choke on the words you can’t get out, and you can feel yourself splintering, knowing you had this chance and you ruined it. Knowing that he had waited for you, that you were right to think he would and you’ve just thrown it away.

“So you’re just going to walk away from me?” Your cracked voice echoes down the hallway. “You’re just going to walk away from me and that’s it then?” 

Ashton’s footsteps stop. 

And he stands with his back to you for a minute, breathing hard, eyes on the ground. You can see the rage rolling from him and you know he’s done his best to control himself for you, but when he turns around and sets his gaze firmly back on you, you can feel it. 

And it sets your fucking soul on fire. 

“Walk away from you?” He asks and then he’s moving down the hallway, striding towards you until he’s right in front of you, until he’s cupping your face with both of his hands and asking, “Don’t you fucking get it?” 

You can barely get the question out, barely breathe. “Get what?” 

“That I have to walk away from you. That I can’t keep giving myself to you over and over again and you just don’t see it—” 

“See what?” 

“That I fucking love you!” 

And your world tilts on its axis. Just fucking tips. 

“What?” you breath out. 

Ashton searches your eyes but he doesn’t let go, you’re not sure he ever will. “I love you.” He says and all of the rage, all of that pain just disappears from him. “I love you. I loved you in your apartment, burning that fucking lasagna. I loved you in London when you were breaking in my fucking arms over a guy that doesn’t fucking deserve you. I have loved you through all of it. I didn’t stop just because you left.” He looks at you, holds you like you’re the only thing that matters. “And I was trying to give you your space and I thought if you moved on then I’d find a way to be okay with it because it would mean you’d be happy but I—” 

“Ash.” You start but he shakes his head and begins to pull away from you, so you catch his hands and meet those eyes that you’ve been drowning in for a lifetime. 

And you stare at him for a breath then another one and he doesn’t move, stands there frozen as you hold him until finally you say, “Ashton. I love you too.” 

He wipes a tear from your cheek and your noses touch as you grip his shirt, pull him towards you to tell him that you feel it, that you’ve felt it all along and his beautiful, joyful grin breaks across his face.

And when he kisses you there’s no force on earth that could pull you from his arms. You lean into him, sink into him, come home in all the ways you never thought possible. 

And when you pull away and rest your forehead against his, you feel your soul slowly, carefully sparking back to life. 

[constellationwrites]

Still thinking about this ending 🙂‍↔️

[constellationwrites]

Hey friend, where are your 5sos masterlist?

Hi there! Just posted a new Ashton fic and will be updating the master list soon! Much love xo

[constellationwrites]

Slowly, Carefully || Part Two 🌱

Here we go !

Part One

The flight home is tedious and you’re left alone with nothing but the look in Ashton’s as he watched you get into that taxi. 

Your arrival at the airport is even worse.

 The arrival gate is full of loved ones reuniting and you look through the crowd for a minute before you remember that no one is here for you. That no one is coming. That the one person you know would’ve waited for you, would’ve met you exactly as you are, is 3000 miles away in London right where you left him. 

You sigh, shouldering your bag and trying not to think about Ashton’s eyes, how he looked at you like you hung the moon and how that shattered when you jumped away from him. But how could you explain it to him, that you knew eventually he wouldn’t want you, that he’d get bored and show up with trash bags to collect his shit just like Miles. How could you look at him and tell him that you knew you didn’t deserve him and he’d never let you stay. How could you tell him when you knew he’d disagree until one day he just…wouldn’t. 

You wait in the blistering cold, taking a drag from the cigarette you bought in duty free and watch as a taxi rounds the corner. You flick it into the trash next to you and open the door, flashing a smile and telling the cabbie your address.

And as you watch the airport fade from view, you can’t decide which feels worse. Going back to that house, reliving those memories, or living in your mind and watching as you crack Ashton’s heart over and over. Each path leaves you with the same sinking feeling in your gut, that horrible mess that leaves you reeling each time and biting back tears as your eyes burn. Your stomach tightens as you turn onto the last few streets leading back to your house and bile stings the back of your throat. 

And maybe it’s then you realise you can’t live like this anymore. Can’t war with yourself over Miles and the house and the manipulation that meant he somehow blamed you for the breakup when he destroyed the relationship on purpose for his own fucking gains. When you know now it had nothing to do with you, that he was jumping ship and had to find an excuse no matter how hard you tried to fix something that you didn’t break in the first place. 

And maybe it’s the feeling when you open the door and it’s not sadness and heartbreak that’s trapped between the walls, but pure white rage that makes you finally realise that this wasn’t you. Maybe it’s Ashton’s words ringing in your ears, maybe it’s everything, everywhere all at once and finally, finally, you’re realising that it wasn’t you and you can’t keep punishing yourself for it. 

Maybe it’s then you finally take the first step to return home to yourself. 

You’re checking the lease agreement before you quite realise what you’re doing and emailing the agent to tell them that you won’t be renewing. That you won’t be staying in the area or the city for that matter. You catch the cabbie just before he pulls away and ask him to drive you to the store. He even helps you unload the moving boxes when you get back to the house. 

And then an hour later you’re packing up the house with cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Not looking twice as you shut the door for the final time and trap all that rage and sadness and desperation where it belongs, in a space you don’t exist in anymore. 

Not looking twice as you take that second step home to yourself. 

***

The new apartment in the new city is empty, a blank canvas in the best way and you stare around the space for a solid few minutes before you start thinking about moving all of your stuff in. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this, anything like this, completely by yourself, but the challenge sparks something within you that you haven’t felt in a long time and so you decide to embrace it. You have to, otherwise the silence gets a little too loud for you. 

You’re lugging some of the final boxes up the steps to the building, when you stop, taking a deep breath and letting yourself feel the sun on your face, just for a moment. And it’s quiet, there are birds chirping and the soft hum of traffic and for the first time in a long time, you realise there’s not an angry echo rolling around in your head. 

And it is so beautiful to be able to hear yourself think without Miles’ voice or face or cold, horrid laughter filling that space in your head. 

You turn back to the door of the building, pulling the boxes to the elevator when your phone buzzes. 

5 Seconds of Summer, coming to a city near you! 

The photo of Ashton almost takes your breath away, physically makes you stop in your tracks and the cardboard box you’re holding hits the floor with a soft thump. 

His eyes, those eyes, the very same ones you’d looked into when you’d dodged him in London, when you watched him crumble as you left and you didn’t turn back. His smile is so wide, an armed draped over Calum as he grins into the camera and you want to reach out and touch him, cup his face, feel him beneath your fingertips like you had that night. 

Your finger hovers over his name for a minute before you shake your head, slip your phone back into your pocket and pick the box back up. You’re fine, you’re better than fine and Ashton is thousands of miles away getting ready for tour, not giving you a second thought. So you have to do the same, have to move on like London doesn’t matter, like that spark, that ache between the two of you, doesn’t exist. 

But your eyes drift back to that photo again and again until the door to the elevator slides open and you find yourself wiping a tear from your face with your sleeve. 

***

The sun stays firmly in the sky for the rest of the week and you manage to get outside every day, soaking up the joy of your new life. The little street you live on is littered with cafes and bars, small tables with colourful umbrellas crammed onto the sidewalk. For the first time in a while you notice how happy everyone is, how free, and you realise how much Miles truly took from you, how he changed your perception of the world around you. How he ruined it. And how you’ll never let anyone do that again. 

The regular waitress in your new favourite café gives you a broad smile as you settle into a chair on the sidewalk.

“Hi! Having the same again today?’ 

“Please” you smile. “Thank you.” You tilt your head to the sky, letting the sun wink down on you and you hear it. The waitress returns to your table and you quickly ask, “Sorry, do you know what song this is?” Because you’re not sure and it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be here, now, in your new life. 

The waitress pulls her phone from her pocket and glances at it, “She looks so perfect, by 5 Seconds of Summer. It’s good, right?” You nod slowly and the waitress continues, “Yeah, if you like them I’m pretty sure they’re performing here soon. They’ve just announced their tour.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, and you sound hollow and broken and the sun may as well have fallen from the sky, “yeah it’s a good song.” 

The boys grin at you as Luke sets down his guitar. “So, did you like it?” Luke asks.

You grin right back at them, “I loved it. What do you think you’ll call it?” 

Ashton looks up at you through the mop of messy hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “She looks so perfect.” He says, giving you a wink and making your heart soar. “At least, that’s what we’re thinking.” 

“Anyway,” the waitress chirps, “enjoy your day!”

“Thanks.” You reply quietly. 

You take a deep breath and when it’s not enough you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to rid yourself of the memory, trying not the feel that ache, that pull when you meet Ashton’s eyes in your mind over and over again. 

It runs deep, whatever this sickly new feeling is, right into your gut and it turns your world on its axis. 

When you do make it back to the apartment, the empty space doesn’t feel welcoming anymore and the silence wraps itself around you as you sink down onto the couch. 

You scroll through video after video of Ashton at his drumkit, of the boys on stage, of them taking their final bow while adoring fans scream their names and you miss him, you realise, that deep ache becoming a permanent fixture in your stomach. Your heart tightens when he grins at the camera and you meet his eyes over and over again and you wish you could go back to London, to that night, and do it all over again. 

But you can’t. And its harsh but it’s the truth and you have to face where you are now, have to exist in it, have to live in it.

Have to find a way through, on your own. 

***

A week later the furniture for the apartment arrives, and you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by unpacked boxes, and a half-eaten take away in front of you. The TV hums in the background to something you stopped paying attention to a while ago and the sun sets outside of the window. 

But you don’t notice any of it, how the movie finishes, what colours crack across the sky because your phone is in your hand and it has been for a while now. Ashton’s name sits at the top of your messages, pinned right where you left him, untouched, unopened, like if you don’t press it then it didn’t end in the way you remember. Then London never happened and it’s just a text from before this whole mess started. 

You steel yourself and open it anyway. 

And the conversation is still there. London. Before London. Directions to countless venues and parties and houses and it’s years of him woven into your life in a way that feels impossible to unpick now. Your half-typed message still sits there, has sat there for days now, ever since you moved into your new apartment and you thought you’d finally found the right way to apologise or to explain or just to hear his voice again. You thought maybe the fresh perspective would give you a new idea of what to say, of how to, how to tell him how sorry you are and how you wish you could take everything back and just start fresh, erase that horrible feeling that passed between you the day you left.  

Hey, I’m sorry about how I left London, I just—

You stop, delete it, hate whatever it is you’re about to say. Everything just falls flat and it’s a slow, painful realisation that nothing you can say may be good enough to fix the damage you’ve done, that no apology can counter what you did. 

I miss you. 

You stare at the words for a moment before you delete it, hating the feeling of your chest tightening when you look at the empty line. You let your head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud, surveying the mess around you. “Pathetic.” You mutter to yourself, but there’s no real anger there anymore and you’re just so tired.

Because the truth is more complicated than just that you miss him. It’s that when you close your eyes you don’t see London or the airport or the way he looked at you when he saw you for the first time in years. You just feel his hands on your face, just feel that ache that hung between the two of you for the entire fucking time and how you felt when you met his eyes. And for a moment you let yourself think about what would’ve happened if you didn’t run, if you hadn’t side-stepped him, if you hadn’t been so fucking scared. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you scramble, heart racing, stupid and hopeful and ready with your apologies. 

But it’s not him. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s never him. It hasn’t been him since he messaged you when he picked you up from the airport. 

You know he’s probably giving you space, thinks he did something wrong and that you’ll reach out when you’re ready but you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready, if you’ll ever find the right thing to say to him, to explain what happened. And you know he won’t push, won’t force you to confront something by popping up unexpectedly because that’s Ashton, always looking out for you. Always having your back 

You lock your phone and toss it onto the couch, turning your attention back to the boxes. 

***

The café is loud today. Not in a terrible way, just enough to make you feel included, make you feel alive. Conversations overlap, cups and cutlery clink and the low hum of music plays somewhere behind the counter. 

You like it here. It feels like a place you can finally start to be yourself. 

The same waitress as all those weeks ago comes to the table. “Same as usual?” She asks with a grin. 

“Yes, please.” You smile back, settling into your seat. The two of you have overcome the awkwardness of that first conversation about the band and their music hasn’t been played here since. It’s nice, finally letting someone see you, know you, even if it’s just a stranger.

You look around, a faint smile on your lips and sigh. For a moment you just let everything feel easy. 

It shatters just a moment later when you open Instagram without even thinking and Ashton is there, right in the middle of your screen. It’s a video this time, of him behind his drum kit, laughing at someone off camera, hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. The red hair from London has almost completely grown out now, leaving him with that familiar shaggy brown. The boys are deep into their tour now, and that smile on Ashton’s face is pure joy. Your heart soars when you see it, feeling just like the kid he played that song to all those years ago. 

You watch the video once. Then again. Then a third time just to hear him laugh again, just to see that smile. 

There’s a girl in the comment section that says you’re so cute marry me and you almost laugh at it. Almost. But you can’t ignore that your chest tightens when you read it, that part of you feels like its splintering again.

You set your phone down forcefully as the waitress returns and she gives you a concerned frown. “Everything okay?’ God, she must think you’re such a mess, always having some kind of crisis in this damn café. 

You blink, forcing a smile to your face and trying to rid yourself of Ashton’s laugh that just rolls around and around in your head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thank you.” 

And you are, that might be the strangest part, you are good. Your life is good. You feel like you can breath for the first time in months, finally feel in control. Nothing is wrong, really, you just…miss him.

***

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You hiss to Jade as she forces you out of the car. 

“What are you talking about? It’s a great idea! You saw his profile, you know he’s exactly your type.” 

You adjust your dress as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. “I don’t know, something just feels a bit off.” 

Jade throws you a smile, half pity half excitement. “It’s supposed to,” she says gently, “this is the first date you’ve been on since Miles.” She doesn’t mention Ashton and London, there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you that it’s just a bit too delicate, especially on nights like tonight. 

“Okay.” You sigh. “How do I look? 

“Like a million bucks.” 

You look at her, unimpressed and she gives you a wink. “You’ll pick me up after?” 

“Of course. Now, go get ‘em!” 

Jade pulls away from the sidewalk before you can say anything else, so you take a deep breath and walk to the door. 

The restaurant is nice, with soft jazz music playing, good food and ten minutes later you find the date going well. He’s nice and funny and he’s easy to talk to. He’s just the kind of person that you used to think you should end up with. But something now is just off, just wrong but you can’t place it and so you do your best to meet his eyes and try to ignore whatever is settling uncomfortably in your gut. 

Your date leans forward and gives you a warm smile. “So, what made you move here?” 

You pause, glass halfway to your lips and consider which direction you should take this in. Finally you say, “fresh start.” 

He nods like he understands and maybe he does, but it doesn’t feel like Ashton and it isn’t that hotel room in London where you felt seen and safe and understood. 

The memory hits you so suddenly that you almost flinch and you set your glass down with shaking hands. You push it down, try and get his eyes out of your head, try and get rid of the feeling of his hands on your skin, try and focus. This is why you here after all, to move on, to give someone else a real chance. 

He reaches across the table and brushes his fingers lightly against yours and you try desperately to feel that pull or that ache or even a spark but there’s just nothing.

He clears his throat and pulls his hand away but you don’t even look at him, can’t. Because it’s hitting you all at once, pieces fitting together in a way that they haven’t before. That it wasn’t just the comfort of Ashton or the emotion of that night in London, it was that you could’ve felt something for him but you ran before you gave yourself that chance. Like you were trying to stop yourself. Like you knew what would’ve happened if you stayed and you couldn’t let that happen. Like you were punishing yourself.

But that’s over and it has been for a while now, the self-deprecation, the blame you forced yourself to take from Miles that you shouldered for all these months. The feeling you had when you ran away from Ashton that you’d never been good enough, that you’d never be good enough and that you couldn’t put yourself back there with the threat to feel that kind of pain again. Not then, not with Ashton. You couldn’t even bear the thought of that being ruined too.

But you know that you did feel something, even when you ran. Even when you were convincing yourself that you didn’t, that you couldn’t.

And really, that you do feel something. Still. Even now. 

You finally meet your date’s eyes and give him an apologetic smile, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I just—I don’t think I’m ready for this.” 

He looks confused, and maybe even a little disappointed but he’s kind and offers you a small smile back. “That’s okay.” 

But you’re barely listening to him because your mind is somewhere else and you’re looking at someone else, in a hotel room in London on a carpeted floor, one sitting one kneeling, holding each other like it’s the only thing that matters. 

***

Christmas and New Year pass in the blink of an eye and you host a New Year’s Eve party in your new city with your new friends, screaming goodbye to the shittiest year of your life with alcohol and sparkles.

And it is the best you’ve felt in a long fucking time. 

And maybe that’s why it happens when it does, a few months later as you’re coming up to the one-year mark of the breakup and your trip to London and you’ve never felt more content or at peace with yourself. 

You’re sitting on the balcony, coffee in hand when a number you haven’t seen in years lights up the screen of your phone. 

You hesitate and then finally say, “Hey, Luke.” 

He knows you’re cautious as soon as you answer, but you hear the smile in his voice anyway. “Hey you. It’s been a while.” 

You nod, tucking your legs up onto the chair. “It has.” You say. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in London, it was a bit of a whirlwind.”

Again you can hear Luke smile as he says, “I know, I heard all about it.” 

You don’t say anything for a second. “So,” you start, because you don’t know what Ashton has said, if he told the boys what you did, if he said anything at all. “it’s great to hear from you, but why the call?” 

Luke clears his throat and you’re sure you hear someone cough behind him. You raise a brow but wait patiently. “Well,” he says finally, “we’re in the area.” 

“In the area?” 

“Yeah. We’re playing a couple of shows and I wondered if you wanted to come? We’ll get you a backstage pass and all that, of course. Just like the old days.” 

The old days. The old days where Ashton looked at you and you looked right back and there wasn’t fear that hung over you and shame tinging your words when you spoke. The old days when he had stupid floppy hair and red bandanas and their Greenroom meant a fold out table and Vegemite. The only days, before everything. Before Miles. Before you let him turn you into someone you didn’t recognise, someone that cracked your best friend in two. And Ashtons eyes are there in your mind once again, that shattering, that breaking as you jumped away, the hurt and confusion because he had been there for you and you both knew that something was still there between you, still alive and you’d run away. 

“The old days.” You murmur quietly. “That sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Luke breaks out in a grin, you can feel it in his words. “Great. Hold on, let me get you the info. It’s next week, okay?” 

“Okay.” You smile, meeting Ashton again in your head. Then, quietly, “has he said anything?” 

Luke’s quiet for a second, “Just that he misses you.” He murmurs in reply. “And that he’d love to see you.” 

“He said that?” 

“I mean I inferred it.” He says, “but I know I’m right.” 

You let out a quiet laugh, “Yeah, you say that a lot.” 

“Only because it’s true.” Luke pauses again and lowers his voice, “but we really would all love to see you. It’s been too long.” 

Miles’ face flashes across your mind and your ears ring with the memory of him shouting. “Yes it has.” You look toward the horizon and think about exactly how far you’ve come, how you’ve rebuilt from nothing and how you get to decide what you do now, who you are now. “I’ll be there.” 

“Then I’ll see you soon.” 

***

You stare at half of your wardrobe sprawled across the bedroom floor, hands on your hips. “Well.” You say, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well what?”  Jade pushes through the pile of clothes and raises an eyebrow. 

“Well I can’t go.” 

She scoffs. “What?” 

“I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear.” 

She looks at you, disbelief plastered across her face. “You’re not serious?”

“Oh, I am very serious. Look at this!” You glare at the clothes. “There’s nothing in that pile.” 

“You’re being very dramatic today.” 

You gape at Jade as she grins. “I am not.” 

“Look,” she says, walking over to you and taking you by the shoulders. “I get it, okay. You’re worried about seeing him. It’s natural, especially after everything that happened. But you heard Luke, he wants you there. They all want up there.” She meets your eyes and smiles. “This is a good thing.” She says gently. 

You sigh, meeting her eyes. “Is it?” You whisper back. “Didn’t I fuck everything up?”

Jade shakes her head. “Not even remotely. You weren’t ready, that’s okay.” She hesitates and scans your face, “but maybe you are now.” She lets you go, “But either way, you got him back and I see that as a good thing.” Jade knows everything, all about the trip to London, how you lived inside that memory for months after. She knows how you rebuilt yourself too, brick by brick, until you became someone you were proud to know. So she knows how worthless Miles made you feel, how Ashton replaced that with safety and peace and how you weren’t ready then, how you were too scared and didn’t know yourself and couldn’t handle it. But she knows you now, knows that you can and that you should and that really, it has been him all along. 

You stare down at the pile, “Maybe I’ll wear that.” You say quietly, pointing down at some jeans. 

“Exactly!” Jade beams, “jeans and a nice top, how can you go wrong with that?” 

You give her a reluctant smile. “I guess I can’t.” 

***

Your heart careens against your ribs as you wipe your hands on your jeans, taking a deep breath as the taxi pulls to a stop. 

The venue has a line snaking its way around the block, a picture of the boys on the side of the building. You look up, meet Ashtons eyes and grin despite yourself. It’s been almost a year since London and you miss him, miss those eyes.

That gnawing, sinking feeling worms its way into your gut and you blanch, freezing on the sidewalk and looking back at the taxi that’s disappearing around the corner. It occurs to you then that Luke might be lying, that Ashton never said anything like that, that he doesn’t want to see you and he doesn’t miss you and Luke is trying to orchestrate a reunion. He’s always been a romantic. 

Your phone rings before you get the chance to take another step forward. 

Miles’ names is on your screen. 

Your hands begin to tremble then and the gates that you’d shut and locked in your mind burst open, everything that happened, everything he did and said rushing into your head all at once. 

Too hard. You’ve worked too hard to be derailed by him again. You’ve been through too much, changed too much. 

You don’t answer, take a shaking breath and put your phone back into your pocket. But it’s too late, the damage is done. 

Worthless. Damaged. Broken. 

Words Miles used, words he meant, things Ashton has thought since that night. Since you cracked open the one person who stuck by you through everything. 

There’s a door to the side of the venue where a bouncer is waiting to let you in but you can’t bring yourself to walk those few steps. Ashton won’t want to see you, you’re sure of it. After what you did, after how you behaved in the face of someone trying to love you? That feeling, that sickening feeling creeps its way to your throat and Ashtons eyes flash into your mind, followed closely by Miles, his face, his hands holding those trash bags outside of your house and you find yourself leaning heavily against the brick wall, struggling to catch your breath. 

You take a deep breath and when it’s not enough you take another until you feel like you can rise without your head spinning. 

It’s like you can see the two paths in front of you, the fork in the road, where you either walk towards that door or you go back home. Something inside you know this is your last chance, knows that this is the way to fix it, the only way to fix it and it’s right there in front of you, begging to be chosen. And you can. You’re not the same person that you were with Miles, not the same person who believed everything he said, as if your value was tied to your worth to him.. You’re not the same at all and if he saw you now he wouldn’t even know you. Wouldn’t even recognise you. 

And so you walk towards that door and give your name to the bouncer.

And maybe that’s the third step. 

He opens the door with smile and music thumps faintly through the hall. Your heart is in your mouth as you follow the signs to the green room. You turn the corner, smile threatening to lift the corner of your mouth and then you see him, shaggy hair and green eyes, twirling a drumstick in one hand, 

And holding someone else’s with the other. 

And that sinking feeling turns into your chest cracking open as the girl he’s with swims into view. 

Gorgeous, is your first thought, and exactly his type. Exactly what he wants, someone uncomplicated, someone doting, someone that he won’t get too attached to and that won’t break him wide open when he was just trying to help. When he was there for you and you pushed him away. Miles was right, nothing you could do would be enough for anyone and you’d made it worse, so much worse when you blew the only chance you had. When you looked him in the eyes and shattered him to pieces. 

You don’t deserve him even if he wanted you. Even if he hadn’t already moved on.  

You catch your reflection and it’s pure loathing that stares back at you, pure hatred clouding your eyes, poisonous with rage as you realise you are not good enough. Never have been. And the worst part of the whole fucking thing is that you should have known. Coming here was pointless and humiliating and everything Miles had said was so fucking true.

And of course he was right and of course this was a mistake and you were so stupid to think this would end any other way. Stupid for thinking that Ashton would wait for you to get yourself together, to realise that he has been there the whole time, just waiting for you to see him. And as you stare at him, hand in hand with another girl, you know that he’s given up on you and you’ve been kidding yourself thinking that you can just waltz in and get your fucking fairytale ending. 

You’re frozen to the spot even as your eyes begin to burn and your chest keeps cracking, keeps splintering and there’s nothing you can do except force yourself to move, put one foot in front of the other and never come back. That will be enough, has to be. 

“Wait.” You barely register the voice over the roaring in your ears and march forward until that voice splits the air around you again. “Wait.” Footsteps catching up to you that you can barely hear. “Will you just fucking stop.” 

And then his hand is on your arm, locked around you as he spins you and you meet Ashton’s eyes for the first time in almost a year. And fuck you could swim in those eyes, drown in them if he’d let you, if you were ever so lucky. 

The rage in the pit of your stomach rolls and rolls and disappears when his eyes soften and he searches your face. Never letting go, though. He never lets go of your arm. “Hi.” You choke out and those tears begin to fall. You pull your arm but he doesn’t let go. “I have to go.” You whisper, wishing you could hold on to some of that rage because it would make this so much easier. 

“No you don’t.” He murmurs back. “Don’t. Please. Don’t run away from me.” Again, the unspoken word hangs between the two of you. Don’t run away from me again. 

“I thought..” you hesitate and glance back to the green room. “Luke said-” you shake your head, letting out a long breath. “I thought you wanted me here.” 

He looks at you in disbelief. “I do want you here.” 

“So what was that?” There’s the rage, red hot simmering beneath your skin as you stare down the empty corridor. “Who was that?” 

“What?” 

You shake your head. “I’m not doing this.” You say. “I’m not having a fight about you holding hands with some girl when we’re not even together. When you didn’t even have the balls to ask me here yourself. Okay?” 

“No, no that’s not,” he shakes his head and takes a breath. “I am not with her, okay. We had a couple of fans we had backstage. That’s the music you heard too, okay? We were just having something to eat and some photos with some fans. I swear to you. She grabbed my hand, I’m not going to shake her off” 

And in your head it makes sense, makes a lot of sense, actually, why he wouldn’t push a fan away, why it wouldn’t even cross his mind. But that gnawing feeling in your gut is still there, still clawing at you and who you finally meet Ashton’s eyes, his face shatters. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, eyes searching for your answer that will change everything. 

“I just think that’s pretty fucking convenient.”

“So you don’t believe me, then?”

“I…” Ashton’s face that night in London tumbles into view once more. You can’t do that to him again, you won’t. But he’s already standing there with that look on his face, staring at you like you’ve cracked him wide open all over again. And you want to say something, you have to say something but the words don’t form and he’s shaking his head before you have the chance to say anything at all. 

“You don’t do you?” He runs a hand over his face and looks at you in disbelief and you can see the cracks in his face starting to form. “Why not?” He inches closer and something in him starts to snap. “Why don’t you fucking believe me?” And that’s rage on his face, clouding his eyes, and his grip on your arm begins to tighten. Restrained, you realise, he’s been holding back for you but something’s different now, something’s changed and that restraint is slowly disappearing. 

“I don’t… It’s not that, you know I just…” You stop yourself again, stammering, falling over your words, tripping over the horror that this has become, the disappointment and the anger plastered to Ashton’s face. You’re about to lose him forever, you realise when you look at him again. He’ll be gone this time for good. “Ash, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I don’t…” you rake a hand through your hair and meet his eyes, “I don’t trust you.”

Another blow you don’t mean to land but Ashton takes a step back from the force of it and finally lets go of your arm. Really lets go and it’s foreign, how cold you suddenly feel, how empty. He stares at you, waiting for an explanation, waiting for you to say anything else but the truth stands tall between you and there’s nothing else you can say. Ashton shakes his head, his eyes turning cold as they rake up and down you. “You know I’m not too happy with you either, right? I mean did you forget about London?” 

You scoff and stare right back at him. “No, Ashton, I didn’t forget about London.” 

He nods, lips pressed together and takes another step towards you. And you let him, stare him down as he does and fucking dare him to take another one. “Really? I haven’t heard from you in almost a year.” It’s his turn to land a blow, straight to your gut. 

“Yeah,” you laugh and its bitter and its cold and nothing like the way you should be talking to him, “and it looks like that really fucking tore you up.” 

He laughs right back at you. “How would you know? You weren’t fucking here!” 

Everyone can hear you, you’re sure of it, the two of you facing off against one another in the hallway, trading blows neither of you want to give. 

“I know I wasn’t here Ash. I was trying to put my fucking life back together.” And you know now would be the perfect time to tell him about the date, about the text you never sent, about how you feel but you can’t. The image of him here with that girl, the knowledge that he didn’t know or didn’t care that you were here, that he probably didn’t even want you here has you doubling down. ‘I’m so sorry if that was inconvenient for you.” 

“Inconvenient? I would’ve helped you. All I wanted to do was help you but you didn’t fucking let me. You. Just. Left.” He bites out his words, glaring at you and you can feel something between the two of you snapping. 

You take a sharp breath and shake your head, feeling tears burn your eyes. “That’s not fair, Ash.”

“Bullshit it’s not fair. You left me in London.” And it’s so final the way he says it, so resolved. The words you’ve been so afraid to hear, the truth you’ve been dreading and the Ashton’s eyes make you splinter, just come apart at the seams. 

“You have no idea,” you start, voice hard as you fight to keep it from breaking, “how fucking hard that was for me. You have no fucking idea.” You cross your arms, squeeze hard like you can keep the rage and the pain and the sadness locked inside. You nod in the direction of the greenroom. “But it seems like you’ve been having your fun. What do you need me for?” 

Ashton gives that bitter laugh again, “Right. Yeah. I’m having a great time around people I don’t want to be around. With people that don’t fucking know me.” He takes another step then and you let him. “What about you then?” 

“What about me?” 

And it’s so angry, the way his voice just drips. “Seems like you’ve been fucking fine.” Without me are the words he lets linger.

And it’s all wrong, this fight and this sickening feeling between the two of you that sours as the minutes pass by. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, isn’t what you pictured when you stood outside and convinced yourself you had the strength to see him. 

After a moment you muster what’s left of your anger, “Well you wouldn’t know, would you?” 

“Right so tell me.” 

You laugh in disbelief. “Tell you?” 

“Yeah. Fucking tell me. Fucking tell me whose been there for you to help you put your life back together. Tell me what you decided to do after London. Because you sure as shit didn’t call me.”

You stare Ashton down. “Why do you fucking care?”  You know the answer and so does he but you’re silent and you can’t bring yourself to tell him, you can’t risk it. 

Two thundering heart beats pass between you and Ashton shakes his head. “Fuck this.” He mutters and he turns away from you. 

And you almost can’t believe it, staring at his back, feet frozen as he walks toward the greenroom. You choke on the words you can’t get out, and you can feel yourself splintering, knowing you had this chance and you ruined it. Knowing that he had waited for you, that you were right to think he would and you’ve just thrown it away.

“So you’re just going to walk away from me?” Your cracked voice echoes down the hallway. “You’re just going to walk away from me and that’s it then?” 

Ashton’s footsteps stop. 

And he stands with his back to you for a minute, breathing hard, eyes on the ground. You can see the rage rolling from him and you know he’s done his best to control himself for you, but when he turns around and sets his gaze firmly back on you, you can feel it. 

And it sets your fucking soul on fire. 

“Walk away from you?” He asks and then he’s moving down the hallway, striding towards you until he’s right in front of you, until he’s cupping your face with both of his hands and asking, “Don’t you fucking get it?” 

You can barely get the question out, barely breathe. “Get what?” 

“That I have to walk away from you. That I can’t keep giving myself to you over and over again and you just don’t see it—” 

“See what?” 

“That I fucking love you!” 

And your world tilts on its axis. Just fucking tips. 

“What?” you breath out. 

Ashton searches your eyes but he doesn’t let go, you’re not sure he ever will. “I love you.” He says and all of the rage, all of that pain just disappears from him. “I love you. I loved you in your apartment, burning that fucking lasagna. I loved you in London when you were breaking in my fucking arms over a guy that doesn’t fucking deserve you. I have loved you through all of it. I didn’t stop just because you left.” He looks at you, holds you like you’re the only thing that matters. “And I was trying to give you your space and I thought if you moved on then I’d find a way to be okay with it because it would mean you’d be happy but I—” 

“Ash.” You start but he shakes his head and begins to pull away from you, so you catch his hands and meet those eyes that you’ve been drowning in for a lifetime. 

And you stare at him for a breath then another one and he doesn’t move, stands there frozen as you hold him until finally you say, “Ashton. I love you too.” 

He wipes a tear from your cheek and your noses touch as you grip his shirt, pull him towards you to tell him that you feel it, that you’ve felt it all along and his beautiful, joyful grin breaks across his face.

And when he kisses you there’s no force on earth that could pull you from his arms. You lean into him, sink into him, come home in all the ways you never thought possible. 

And when you pull away and rest your forehead against his, you feel your soul slowly, carefully sparking back to life. 

[constellationwrites]

Slowly, Carefully || Part 1 🌱

A/N: It's me again, I love this and I hope you do too. I know it’s been a while so I hope you’ll stop and read. Feedback always lovlies xo

Part Two

“Don’t do this.” Tears are gathering in your eyes as you pace back and forth across the living room. “Don’t do this.” The only thing that stops you falling to the floor is this, walking across the room and pretending your world isn’t caving in. 

Miles sits on his side of the sofa, hands clasped together as a single tear slips down his cheek. His eyes are lowered to the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

You rake your hands through your hair, barely holding yourself together as you try and breath around your grief. This is the end and you know it. This is the end but you can’t bring yourself to accept it and he can’t bring himself to say it so you stay here, stuck between these walls as the space between you fills with rage and betrayal. “Just think about this.” You turn to face him, dropping to your knees and resting your head on his leg. “Think about this. It’s me.” You say desperately, “It’s me.”

Miles twists the ring on your finger as he takes your hand, “I know.”

And something deep within you cracks wide open. 

“You’re saying,” you can barely get your words out around your tears. “You’re saying that you don’t ever want to hold me again? That you don’t want to kiss me again or be with me again? That’s what you’re saying. You know that don’t you?” 

He won’t even look at you. And you know you’re begging, something your mother told you never to do, and you know Mile’s will probably never look at you the same now but you can’t stop yourself. The rational part of your brain, the tiny bit of it that’s left, is screaming at you to let him go and let him leave with grace. But the rest of you, that heartbroken and hurt girl you were when he found you can’t let him go. Won’t let him go, 

“I’m sorry.” He says again. 

You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say? What - what are we then? Are we done? Just like that?” You can feel your voice rising and that sickening feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach. “Are we done?” You say again and this time you can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks. 

“I just,” he pauses and wipes a tear that tracks its way down his face. “I just think it’s for the best.” 

“For the best?” You whisper and your voice is so hoarse and there is so much pain. “For the best?” You look up at him once more. “Please don’t do this. Please. Whatever it is we can get past it. I know we can.”

Miles shakes his head. “I can’t.” He says, “I can’t.” 

He goes to stand and you shook to your feet, furiously wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t go. Please. We can just go to bed and talk about this in the morning. Please.” 

He shakes his head again, “that’s not how it works.” 

“But it can be.” You plead desperately. “But it can be. Please. Let’s just go to bed.” You know it’s done, you know you have seconds before he walks out the door but you want one more night with him before it ends. You want one more night tucked up beside him, feeling his arms around you, listening to how your heartbeats fall into sync when you’ve been beside each other long enough. You want to wake up before him and trace the lines of his face and kiss him until he’s awake and laughing. You know it’s over, you know that. But You want one more night, just one before it’s over for good. Just one. 

“I can’t.” He says again. It seems that all he’s got to say to you now. Like he’s already removed himself from you while you stay stuck, entwined in someone that has no interest in you anymore. Trying to hold on to him while he’s already severed the tie. 

He stands and makes for the door of the apartment and you can’t move, can’t follow him. The grief and the rage and the heartbreak is too much and it crashes into you again and again, relentless in its attack until your knees buckle and your sobbing on the floor, screaming into the silence as the door shuts and Miles disappears. 

You vomit a few seconds later, tears burning as you tuck your knees to your chest and cry into the silence. You stare at the place Miles sat a few seconds ago, begging to someone, anyone, that hell reappear and you’ll crawl into his lap and tell him all about your nightmare. He’ll stroke your hair and kiss your forehead, telling you that he’d never do that to you, that he’d never leave you, that nothing could ever take him away from you. 

Until now. Until he wanted to leave. 

So when you open your eyes and find that his seat is still empty and the house is cold and his footsteps are gone, you take the photo frame nearest to you and hurl it across the room. The glass shatters, the frame with it and drops to the floor with a dull thud. You glare at the broken pieces, wiping away more tears. The photo is still intact and you force yourself off the floor to pick it up and meet the eyes of someone who is unquestionably in love with you. Twin smiles, a casual arm slung around your shoulders as you both grin toward the camera. You had framed this when you moved into the new apartment. It was the first thing you’d put up, before bringing the bed in or the toaster or your underwear. This photo, these smiles. This had been the most important thing in the world to you. 

“Miles.” You sob, curling up against the wall and clutching the photo to your chest. You whisper into the empty room and hope he hears you from wherever he’s gone. “Please come home.” 

But he doesn’t. The lights stay off and the hallway stays empty and you’re left with your grief and your rage, clinging to your heart and wondering if you’ll ever be okay again. 

***

It takes you an hour to force yourself up and off of the floor. You leave the photo, letting it fall to the ground and any hope of Miles coming home with it. The next step is the bedroom, you suppose. Walking into that room where the two of you had woken up next to each other not twelve hours ago. 

How could he do this. 

How could he leave you here? How could he walk out and just let you deal with this alone. He doesn’t have to do this, have to walk into your bedroom and look at the bed you shared, the wardrobe still full of his clothes, the sheets still ruffled from the morning. He doesn’t have to trace the memories across the wall, watch past versions of yourself fall in love with him in every way imaginable. He doesn’t have to crawl into that bed, ravaged with pain and sadness, and feel so completely alone like he’s in some foreign land without you. No, he ran away and left you here. in fact, he just left you, 

How could he do this.

But there’s no other choice as the clock ticks over to 2am and you know you’ll have to face it at some point. Maybe that does make you better than him, to have to face this head in and crawl into all of your memories. Or maybe it just makes you a fool. Either way, it’s so much better than walking back downstairs and back into that room, looking at the very place where he left you and trying to feel okay. 

You settle into the bed but it’s only a few seconds before you’re tearing down the hallway and vomiting into the toilet. The idea that he’s not here, the thought of going back to that room and not having someone to wrap yourself into, not having Miles to pull you closer even as he sleeps, it has you emptying your guts into the toilet once again. 

But this will be the hardest it will ever be, you tell yourself. This will be the worst night. If you can just get through this then the rest will be okay. 

The thing is though, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get better. You can’t imagine a day where you’ll feel okay not having him in your life. 

It’s these thoughts that follow you as you try and tuck yourself into bed. Your feet are cold without him beside you and you dig through a drawer to find some socks. This will be okay, you tell yourself. This has to be okay. 

Your stomach drops again, that sickening feeling when your heart cracks just a little bit more and you bite back another sob, burying your head into Miles’ pillow. His smell still lingers and if you close your eyes hard enough, you can imagine him there. Tears leak from your eyes onto his pillow and you curl your hands into the sheets as hard as you can as silent sobs rack through your body. You’re not sure you e ever been in this much pain before, not sure if you’ll ever feel the same again. He was supposed to be the one, the one you married and had children with and grew old with, sitting on a porch swing together looking out into the street. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“It’ll be okay.” You whisper to yourself in the dark. “It will all be okay.” 

But you don’t believe that. Not even for a second. 

You roll over, flicking the lamp back on and staring out across the warmly lit room. You drag a hand across your face and glance to the side of the bed where Miles should be. You can’t bring yourself to sleep on it, to cross over that invisible boundary that you’ve painted for yourself. You reach for your phone, tears already building once again, and you bit back that familiar hot pain in your mouth as a sob escapes you and the tears begin to fall. You scroll for Ashton’s number. You know you haven’t seen him in ages, much less spoken to him or messaged him for that matter, but something in you knows he might answer, knows if he sees your name flash up on his phone just once that he’d want to speak to you. Maybe. But all you need right now is a maybe. 

Two rings and then, “Hello?” His voice throws you off balance in a way that you didn’t expect and it’s weary and heavy with sleep. 

“Hi Ash,” You reply softly. 

He’s more awake then, an almost imperceptible sense of urgency to his voice. “Hey sweetheart.” And, god, that name, the care in his voice has something within you shattering all over again. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you quickly wipe a tear from your cheek, “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.” 

There’s a rustle on the other end of the phone as if he’s sitting up in bed. “Okay.” He says, but there’s an edge of worry that touches his voice. “Has something happened?” He knows you haven’t called him up like this in months. He knows you pulled away from him and you hate that. And you know you only call him when you need something, or when you need him and you might hate that even more. You’re not even sure how it happened really, when you lost a friend who’d been by your side for most of your adult life. But it happened whether you wanted it to or not and you had to face that, you suppose.

The tears are falling faster now, tinging your lips with salt and you’re not sure why you ever thought you could hide this from Ashton. “No, no nothing’s happened. I just,” you take a shaking breath, “I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“Okay sweetheart.” You can hear the sheets shift again and vaguely wonder what kind of night you’ve interrupted for him. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“Well, how are you?” 

He chuckles lightly. “I’m good. I’m on tour with the boys, so there’s chaos as usual.” He pauses and you know you’ll have to tell him eventually. “How are you?” 

You’re shaking your head before he’s even asked the question, tears spilling down your cheeks. “We broke up.” You whisper down the phone and you can’t even get the words out without a sob following it. “He’s gone.” 

Ashton’s quiet for a moment before he finally murmurs, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You say with a forced laugh. “It’s all fine. “ 

“It’s not.” And you know if Ashton was here he would’ve taken you into his arms and given you that smile that seemed to make your world stop turning for a second. “It’s okay that it’s not. I know how much you wanted it to work.” 

You nod as if he’s in front of you and cover your face with your free hand. “I really did,” you sob down the phone. “I really, really did.” 

“I know, love.” The gentle hum to his voice makes you want to crack open again and just hand him all the broken pieces. “Have you slept?” 

You shake your head, “I can’t.” You whisper, voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t.” 

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” Not even a thought, not even a hesitation from him to be with you when you need him, to help you through this. “Just until you fall asleep?” He asks. 

You nod, balling the sleeve of your jumper into your mouth to stifle the sob that racks through your body. “Yes please.” The truth is though, you’d pay for him to still be on the phone when you wake up, to be there instead of this suffocating silence that you’re met with. But what he’s doing is already more than enough and it’ll keep you safe for tonight. That’s all you need. “Thank you.” You whisper. 

“Anytime sweetheart.” He sounds tired as you sink down under the sheets and pull them tight to your chin. “You know that.” 

“I know.” It’s barely a murmur but you know he hears you before you both drift off to sleep, Ashtons steady breaths keeping you company as you finally doze off. 

***

You wake to cracks of sunlight splintering through the blinds and for a second you don’t remember. For a second, you don’t know anything is wrong. But then you reach for Miles and find his side empty, and everything slams back into you. Your phone is silent and you know Ashton hung up only when he had to. There’s a message waiting for you on your phone telling you to call him when he’s done with his show but for now the silence is crushing and you feel utterly alone. 

It doesn’t take long for your tears to fall again, burning hot tracks into your cheeks as you reach for the bucket you put beside your bed and vomit whatever’s left in your stomach. It’s all you can do to drag yourself to the bathroom a moment later and stare yourself down in the mirror. There is a no trace of yourself in her eyes. 

You check your phone and find nothing, no message or missed calls or anything you’d prayed for in the dark and twisted night you’d found yourself in. You still have his location and you look at that quickly, just to make sure he’s safe, you tell yourself, just to check.

You put your phone down, knowing you’re in serious of danger of becoming obsessive and move to the bedroom window. The apartment overlooks a forest that backs onto a small golf course. It was the perfect selling point at the time, private and secluded like a little safe haven for the two of you. But now the weight of the loneliness crushes down in you unlike you’ve ever felt before and you stare out at the trees, trying to stop the tears from falling again. 

“What do I do now?” You whisper, breath fogging up the glass. “What am I supposed to do without you?” 

You know it’s stupid, really. You know you should be able to have your own life without him and there’s plenty you can do but you feel so stuck and so fucking powerless. You have him everything you had and it apparently still wasn’t enough. You know that should make you furious but it doesn’t, in fact you just want to apologise and beg him for another chance. 

How pathetic is that. 

There’s a knock on the door then, and your heart soars. You race down the stairs and you’re so happy, so readyand when you open the door and lock eyes with him you miss the boxes that he’s holding and the look in his eyes that tell you he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Miles I-,” and then you see it, the reason he’s here. The only reason he’s here. 

“Hi.” He says, and the look he gives you destroys whatever is left inside of you. “If it’s okay I’ve come to get my stuff.” You glance down to the boxes in his hand as his brother pulls along the curb. “Alex is here to help, if you don’t mind.” His brother gives you a small smile from his car but doesn’t make to get out and join the two of you. Clearly they had a discussion about how Miles was going to handle this before they got here, at the same time as you were crying and clinging to his pillow. 

Miles brushes past you and steps into the house, heading toward the living room to retrieve his guitars and all the other crap he’s stored there over the years, “Miles,” you say quickly and catch his wrist. “Wait. Stop. Please.” 

“What?” He sighs, looking at you like he doesn’t have any time for you anymore. 

“Is there nothing I can do to fix this?” You plead. “Please. Just tell me what I can do. You don’t have to take everything today, just a few things that you need. Please, we can talk about this.” Maybe if he leaves some of his things here then he’d have to come back and you’d see him again. Maybe it would change his mind, leaving you like this. 

Miles shakes his head “No. There’s nothing you can do. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’ve had to put up with this shit for four years.” 

“Miles please, I didn’t know how you were feeling. You didn’t tell me. If I had known then I would’ve changed, I would’ve done something different I-”

He shakes his head and cuts you off. “Look, I’ve seen it how I’ve seen it and I just can’t move past it.” He shrugs and meets your eyes, “if you’d been better then maybe it would’ve been different.”

That. That was your heart shattering all over again. 

“Please.” You beg quietly. “Please. We can work through this. This can’t be it.” 

He pulls his arm free and your hand falls uselessly to your side as you follow him to the living room. “I’m sorry.” You meet his eyes then and realise you don’t recognise the person who’s looking back at you. He reaches down for his guitar case and frowns. “What the hell is this?” He asks as he picks up a shard of glass from the shattered picture frame. 

“It’s glass.” You reply quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

He sighs and picks his guitar case up. “I’ll have to throw this away. There’s too much of it in there.” 

And there’s not, you know there’s not and you know that he could just pick it out but suddenly you’re blurting at him and begging him to let you help him. “No! Don’t do that. I can help you pick the glass out of it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I just, I just got upset.” 

“Right.” He says. 

And the way he looks at you, the smug expression on his face and the way he surveys the room with a raised eyebrow makes you want to rip your hair from your scalp and scream at him. This pain, this unrelenting pain that just won’t stop punching you in the gut hovers above the two of you, replacing the love that you once shared and you don’t understand how the person standing before you is the man you were once willing to die for. 

Miles zips his guitar into the case and slings it across his shoulder. “I’m just going to get Alex to help me get some of this stuff out.” 

“Okay.” You find yourself saying, staring at the floor as he passes you and wondering when he decided he hated you quite so much. 

The door slams and you bite back that familiar hot pain in your throat as your tears threaten to fall. Not here,your mother would say, not yet. You fall apart when he’s gone. But Miles knows exactly what he’s done to you, exactly how worthless he’s made you feel and he’s practically counting on the fact that you’ll fall apart in front of him and prove him right. And you’re not entirely sure if you can stop yourself.

The door opens again and Miles walks back in, followed by Alex who gives you a sad smile and opens his arms ever so slightly to you as Miles disappears up the stairs. You’ve always liked Alex and you never imagined that you’d be saying goodbye to him in this way. You fall into his open arms and he rubs your back in a gentle circle. “Hey stranger.” He murmurs. “How’re you doing?” 

“I’m fine.” You lie through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You pull away and give him small smile “I’m going to go and help him.” 

Alex opens his mouth to protest but you’re already on the first step. By the time you make it to your bedroom, Miles has emptied the wardrobe and most of the drawers, shoving his clothes into plastic bags. You take a pile of clothes and stuff them into one of the boxes laying on the floor. The two of you work in miserable, angry silence until half of the room is emptied of Miles’ clothes and the bare section of the wardrobe makes you want to scream. 

“Is that everything you need from up here?” You ask hoarsely, fighting to keep your tears at bay. This is the last of his things and you can hear Alex’s car starting up outside. 

“Yeah that’s it.” You take two of the bags and follow him down the stairs like a lost puppy, tears spilling over despite your protests. You take a breath and when that’s not enough you take another one and balance yourself against the banister as you watch Miles walks out of the door and to his car. Your knees threaten to buckle as you look around, seeing the bare spaces where his things had once been. You’d worked so hard to make this house a home for the both of you and he’d torn it apart in a single afternoon. 

You force yourself away from the stairs and a breeze stings your burning cheeks as you step outside. Miles opens the trunk of his car and tosses the bags in, wordlessly taking the box from your hands. The trunk clicks shut with such a grim finality it threatens to make your knees buckle and Miles turns to you with tears lining his eyes. 

“Bye.” He murmurs and you can’t decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. He pulls you toward him, wrapping his arms around you and your knees do buckle then. You let him hold you in place for a second and you’re sure he pulls you in tighter as you try to step away. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“Why did you pull me back in.” You shake your head as the tears fall. “You don’t have to go.” You whisper. 

Miles gives a long sigh and rakes a hand through his hair, “stop reading into everything.” Is all he says and he pulls away completely, leaving you standing there, wind ripping across your face, tears burning your skin as he opens the door to his car. “Bye.” He says again and then his engine is starting as he driving down your street and away from you for good.

You stand paralysed for a moment, ignoring that pain that is tearing through you, ignoring the way your stomach has dropped again and how hole is burning the back of your throat. You can’t stay here, staring after a car that isn’t going to turn around and so you turn around and walk back into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

And you regret it as soon as you do. 

The silence is deafening and it crushes into you with such force that you have trouble breathing. You slide down the door, bringing your knees to your chest as you sob again. You’re so tired, feeling like there’s no escape from this. And you’re so tired of crying, of your eyes turning puffy and your cheeks burning with shame and grief, of the onslaught of memories that make you meet Miles’s eyes in your head over and over again. There’s something inside of you that has been broken so deeply, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to fix it. 

When you finally wipe your eyes and rise from your spot on the floor, the sun his beginning to set over the trees. You unlock your patio door and step outside, letting that cool breeze dry your tears and soothe your burning face. The sky has shattered into light pinks and orange, bleeding slowly across the horizon and you know now there’s nothing for you to do but face reinvention. But you’re not ready and you’re not sure you’ll ever be ready. There’s an avalanche of memories in your head now, spilling over one another and all you can see is the laughter and the love you shared, how he held you at night, how he gently stroked your hair, how he kissed your hands. And there’s nothing to do now but drown in them. 

You run your hands over your face before raking them through your hair and staring back up at the sky. You want to sink into the earth and fade out of existence until you can be sure to wake without the feeling of your stomach dropping, and without the gnawing feeling of grief that seems to be eating through your stomach. You lease a sigh and don’t bother to stop the tears that fall from your eyes. There’s no point, after all, no point in pretending that you’re happy and ready to face whatever chapter might be next when you’d rather have lightening smite you where you sit. 

There’s nothing worse, you decide as you walk back into the house, than the absolute silence that folds over you as you softly shut the door. You’ve never felt worse, never felt like the tears won’t stop falling as you keep reaching for your phone to find nothing. Like you’ll never be whole again when you peak into the living room and see large spots of it empty. Like you don’t belong here, not without him. 

You can’t be here. It’s too much, you can’t sleep in the bed you’d shared just hours ago. You can’t sit in the same spot of the sofa and pretend that he never sat beside you. You can’t go into the kitchen without walking barefoot across the floor and not have him reaching for you, picking you up and taking you in his arms. You can’t do any of it. You can’t be here. 

Fresh tears stain your cheeks and you scroll to find Ashtons name in your phone as you sink to the floor. It rings only once this time and then he’s there, his voice clouded with concern so clear you could almost see him frowning. 

“Hi.” You say, so small you can barely hear yourself, and then your voice is breaking all over again. 

Ashton comforts you while you sob to him, and when you apologise and cry some more, he tells you that if doesn’t matter, that you could cry as long as you want and he’d still be right there and listen to you. 

“I just…I just can’t be here, you know? In this house, in this place.” You shake your head. “I feel so stupid. I feel so fucking worthless.”

You can almost feel Ashtons rage. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. “

“It is.” You sob, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It is. He told me if I had just been better, if I had tried harder then he’d still be here and this wouldn’t have happened. I ruined it. I torpedoed our relationship and I-”

“Stop.” Ashton says gently, “take a breath, sweetheart, please.”

“This is all my fault.” You whisper helplessly, bringing your knees to your chest. “This is all my fault.”

“This has nothing to do with you.” He murmurs. “I promise you, what he did and what he said, it has nothing to do with you.”

You scoff and there is something like rage that simmers within you. “So what’s it about then, Ashton? Because it sounded to me that Miles doesn’t love me anymore and I pushed him away. That I forced him to leave. That I ruined this!” Ashton is quiet for a moment and it is only then you realise you’ve yelled at him, sent poisonous words to exactly the wrong person. “I’m sorry.” You mumble when the silence becomes too much and you think you’ll drown in it all over again. “I’m sorry.” 

Ashton sighs, “Don’t be, love. It’s alright.”

“I just can’t be here.” You whisper again. “This fucking place. I can’t do it.” 

“I know.” Ashton murmurs and pauses. “You could come here.” He offered quietly. 

You’re nodding before he’s even finished his question. “Yes.” You breath and finally, finally a smile breaks across your face, even as your eyes still burn. “Yes, okay.” 

He laughs and you join him, a true sound from deep within you, something like joy surfacing from the wreckage. “I’m in London. Is that okay?” 

“Ash, yes.” Because the truth is, he could’ve said he was on the moon and you still would’ve raced towards him, it still wouldn’t have mattered. You take a deep breath expecting him to change his mind and you start to flinch away from the phone as you say, “Are you sure?” 

And nothing happens expect Ashton soft laughter and reassurance, “I offered, didn’t I?” He asks and it’s so fresh and such a change that you can’t bring yourself to say anything as a set of fresh tears track down your cheeks. 

“Yes.” You say quietly, after a moment, after you manage to catch your breath. “I guess you did.” 

“I’ll see you soon then sweetheart, okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper, quickly wiping your hand across your face as you hang up the phone. A moment later, a text from Ashton appears with your flight details. The plane that will leave in three hours and carry you far, far away from this nightmare. 

You glance at the screen again and find you haven’t texted Ashton in almost a year. Hell, you haven’t spoken to Ashton in almost a year. The guilty floods through you before you can stop it, remembering the look of absolute hurt on his face when you told him you could talk to him anymore, how he still walked you home to say goodbye for the last time. And how you let him, how you watched him go with that crushed look on his face and didn’t go after him. 

“What do you mean?” And that look on his face is pure hurt, almost like you’re watching his heart crack. 

You twist your ring nervously, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t think I can talk to you anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” He repeats and when you can’t find the strength to look at him, he rests his finger under your chin and gently tilts your face upwards to meet his. It breaks your heart to find his eyes are shining 

Your own tears begin to fall and Ashton doesn’t hesitate to catch them with his finger, softly tracing your cheek as he stares at you. “Miles doesn’t want me to talk to you anymore.” You whisper. “He thinks I’m getting too close to you. He doesn’t think I’m prioritising our relationship.” 

Ashton scoffs, “prioritising the relationship?” He asks. “Is he prioritising it when he goes behind your back with the girl he works with? Does he think about you then?” 

“Please don’t get upset, Ash.” More tears now, faster, heavier and you can feel something in your soul shattering. This isn’t right, you know this isn’t right but Miles isn’t happy and if he leaves you you’ll be left with nothing, you’ll be nothing. “It’s just for right now.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief and l you don’t miss when he turns to the side to swipe furiously at his face. “It’s not. I knew he wouldn’t let this go.” 

“I don’t like this either.” You say, voice thick with tears. “I swear, I don’t want this.” 

“So why are you letting it happen?” You know he’s trying hard not to raise his voice, know you’re so used to it and you’ll flinch away if there’s even an indication that he’s angry with you. “Please, sweetheart. You-” he cuts himself off with any other shake of his head and takes a breath. “I can’t lose you, okay? You mean too much to me.” 

And he’s so close, he’s so close that it would be so easy to reach forward and kiss him, to let him take you in his arms and take you away from here, away from the rage and shame that will meet you inside, that seems to always hang between the walls of that house. But you take away step away instead and watch Ashtons face as it crumbles into pieces and you feel your last glimmer of hope steadily fade away. 

“It’s just for right now.” You whisper again. 

Ashton stares at you so hard you think you might melt into the ground. Rage and pain war across his face and absolute detestation fills his eyes. When he speaks again, when he’s watched more tears track down your face but doesn’t move to catch them, you know he’s going to leave. He’ll do that for you, he’ll walk away if he thinks you need that, if he knows it would cause you more pain to stay. But still, his voice is raw as he murmurs, “I’ll still be here. If you need me.” He meets your eyes again but he doesn’t reach out. “If you ever need me.” 

You nod and you nod and it doesn’t erase the pain and you don’t expect it to. “I know.” You voice is barely more than a whimper. “I promise. I know.” 

“Okay.” And god, he sounds so defeated, clear pain plaguing his every move. He takes a step toward you and takes your face in his hands. And for a moment you pray that Miles comes home, that he catches you and he does kick you out because you know Ashton would take you in a heartbeat, would save you in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t, and the only sound is you’re ragged breathing and Ashton as he leans forward and gives you a gentle kiss to the forehead. He opens his mouth but his words don’t come out, like he can’t bring himself to say goodbye, like it would mean too much. Instead, he gives you a smile that cracks your very being in two and finally steps away from you.

You watch as he gets into his car and wipes at his face again before he his car rumbles to live and he’s driving down the road and away from you. And away from you. 

You stand there, staring at where he’d been stood, watching the road and praying and wishing that his that his car would come back and he’d come toward you with that fury and take you and kiss you and promise you that no one would hurt you again. You stand there and stare until a car comes come toward you but it’s Miles behind the wheel and he’s already frowning as he stops his car and gets out. 

You’ve never wished for Ashton more. 

“Hi.” You whisper and you wish your voice wasn’t so hoarse, wish it wasn’t about to give you away. There’s only one thing to do, you suppose. And that’s to come clean and tell him. That will be better than him finding out, you decide. “Good day?” 

“It was okay.” He pushes past you and you scramble to follow after him. “You look upset.” It’s not a question. Miles takes a beer from the fridge and you shut the door gently behind you. You make sure it’s not locked, just in case, you tell yourself, just in case it gets too bad again. 

“Yeah, Ashton was here.” Miles whips round, rage flaring in his eyes and you fall over your words as you say “but I told him, I told him we couldn’t talk anymore. That I couldn’t see him, I mean.” 

Miles nods slowly and puts his beer on the counter. “Okay.” He says slowly, “so why are you upset?” 

“Because he’s my best friend.” You frown. “I didn’t want to do that.” Brave. This was very brave. 

“You mean you didn’t want to lose your little flirting buddy.” Miles shakes his head and chides, “do I really mean that little to you?” 

You shake your head furiously. “No, no! That’s why I did it, that’s why I told him.” 

Miles raises an eyebrow and nods. “Okay.” He walks towards you and places a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You can’t bring yourself to smile. “I was wondering if you could do something for me, then.” 

“Sure baby.” 

You should just quit while you’re ahead, really. You should take the victory. “Maybe you could stop hanging out with Hannah so much.” 

And when Miles stops dead in his tracks, you know you’ve gone so dangerously wrong. “I’ve told you,” He clips, “Hannah is just a friend.” 

You nod. “I know, I know. It’s just, you text her as soon as you get up and then you go to work with her and then you text her until you go to sleep. And you go to lunch with her every day. I just thought-”

“You just thought what?” He snaps and you have to will yourself to stop shaking. “You just thought that because I finally have a female friend at work that I want to sleep with her? Really? God, I thought you’d be happy for me, that I finally have someone to hang out with. You’re always saying that I shouldn’t eat at my desk, that you don’t want me to be so lonely. If anything I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this to make you feel better, I don’t want you to be upset thinking about me all alone. God, can’t you see that?” 

You’re shaking now as his voice rises. “I know, it’s just I stopped seeing Ashton. I thought maybe you could curb it a little bit so it could just be us at home? So you’re not texting her while, you’re sat next to me?” 

Miles shakes his head and then he’s laughing and it’s so cold it chills your bones. “I can’t believe this. I ask you to stop seeing a guy who is clearly wants to fuck you, but me having a friend and a good co-worker is just too much? It’s too much for you? She is just a friend. And I can text who I want. You can’t. Not when he acts like that. Not when he makes eyes at you. I’ve seen him, you know. Don’t think you can hide it from me. Fuck, maybe I should just go if you’re so unhappy.” 

“No! No, no. I’m sorry, you’re right" you shake your head and force the tears to stay at bay. “You’re right, I’m so sorry.” 

Miles gives you a gentle smile and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re lucky to have me, you know that? I’m just looking out for you. Who else is going to do that?” 

“I know, I know.” 

“Someone else might treat you like trash,” he strokes up and down the side of your face, like he knows where Ashton wiped your tears earlier, like he’s trying to erase him completely. “I would never treat you like that. I’m just trying to give you what you deserve. I love you. You know that don’t you?” 

“I love you too.” You whisper back. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve-”

Miles shushes you and pulls you closer. “It’s alright, baby. It’s okay. I love you, I’m just looking out for you.” 

You let out a breath. “I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Miles holds you until you tell him you’re going to shower, that you want to get the feel of this day off of you. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bathroom where he lights a candle for you and peppers your face with kisses until you’re giggling and your heart is soaring. 

Later, you hear him on the phone to Hannah and watch over his shoulder as he messages her well into the night. And when you go to view Ashtons Instagram page in the comfort of your closet, you find an empty space, like he’s been scrubbed from existence, like, despite what he said, he doesn’t want to hear from you again. 

You can’t say you blame him. 

You stare at that empty page until the sun peaks through the blinds, and you’re left with everything you must face. 

You stare at the empty duffle bag as tears roll steadily down your cheeks and you can still feel the heat from that fight, can still feel the emptiness and defeat that plagued you when you saw Hannah’s name on his phone. Maybe you should’ve left him then, if you were smarter or stronger or better than maybe you would’ve. But you didn’t, you stayed there and you let him treat you like that, let him make you feel like you were worth absolutely nothing until it just felt normal for you. Until you couldn’t tell that you were in the one place you’d sworn to yourself you’d never end up. 

God, you don’t even recognise yourself. 

And maybe it’s that, knowing how deeply you’ve actually lost yourself, that spurs you to start stuffing clothes into the bag. You take the books from your nightstand and hurl them in, gathering up your pills and your makeup and throwing them in too. You leave everything else and you know you can deal with this mess at the airport or in London but somewhere that is not here. You don’t want this to follow you to across an ocean. You can’t let it. 

You shoulder your duffle bag and take one last scan around the room before you head down the stairs. It’s still a mess and it’s still so empty but you don’t care. You can’t bring yourself to care, you just walk out of the door and don’t turn back. 

***

The airport is crowded by the time you arrived and it takes you an hour to get through security and finally into the concourse. It hits you then, that the last time you were here you were with Miles. And after everything you told yourself, after all the promises you made when you left the house, not only will Miles follow you across the ocean, but he’ll also follow you to your seat on the plane. 

It’s like people can see the thundercloud that hovers above your head as you cross the airport alone. Or maybe you’re just imagining it because you’re just so lonely and you can’t imagine being here if it’s not with him. You lean against the wall and let out a heavy breath, cowering away from your own memories as your eyes lock onto the spot where the two of you sat, laughing and planning the trip to Rome. 

“What do you want to eat?” Miles asks, casting a glance around the airport. “I guess Burger King would be okay for your allergies, right?” 

“Perfect.” You grin at him, looking up from the webpage for tours around the Vatican City. “I’m excited to get in the mood, maybe we should dress up as nuns or something?” 

Miles glances at you, “Nuns?” He asks and you’re not quite sure whether he’s following along with the joke or he thinks you’re stupid. He toes that line very well. But you don’t mind, he’s planned this trip to Rome, he’s paid most the expenses and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. So what if he doesn’t get your jokes? 

“You’re right,” you say quickly, playing it safe, deciding that he might not think you’re stupid but you don’t want to risk an insult or fight that follows. Not here, not at the airport where all these people can see you, who will realise how generous Miles is to even look at you twice. “Here,” you grab desperately for his attention to distract him, “check out these restaurants I found.” 

“They look perfect, babe.” He smiles and rests his head on your shoulder. “I’m so excited for this trip.” 

You let out a sigh of relief and the pressure in your stomach subsides. You slouch down in the seat and Miles drapes a hand across your shoulders as your heart beats back into a steady rhythm. 

Your phone buzzes and a text from Ashton appears just in time and it rips you so violently from that memory that you have to brace a hand against the wall and steady yourself. You look down, to see he’s wishing you well and telling you he can’t wait to see you. It’s true, in part, that you can’t wait to see him either, that the trip will be a great distraction and it’s been too long since you’ve seen him. But there’s something bigger that sits in your chest flattening that feeling of excitement that’s aching to call Miles and tell him about the journey and the destination and what’s going on. And you know he doesn’t care, you know that, but somehow it still doesn’t matter to you. 

The boarding call for your gate sounds, and you decide that maybe your decision making will be better on the other side of the world. You take hold of your bag and make that long walk toward the gate, trying again and again not to feel the weight of your world crumbling to pieces, even as it weights so heavily on your shoulders. 

***

It turns out that, for you, twelve hours of travel and a broken heart does not make for good decision making whatsoever. The wheels haven’t even hit the tarmac before you’re pulling your phone out and checking for a signal. 

You hurry off the plane with everyone else and find a quiet spot before you get to the arrivals gate. Ashton already said he’d be running late because of traffic and it gives you a perfect window to call Miles. 

The phone rings too many times when you call and that hole in your heart just gets bigger and bigger when you remember how he used to pick up on the first try. 

“Hello?” His voice makes you freeze and suddenly this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. “Hello.” He says again, his voice grating with agitation. 

“Hi.” You say quietly. 

And there’s a pause you don’t expect from him. “Oh.” He says and you can feel your entire body deflate. “Hi. Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” You say quickly, “yeah I’m okay. I’m actually in London.” 

“Oh cool.” Again and again he delivers his blows so effortlessly. “How come?” 

“I’m here with a friend.” You say quickly. “But I just wanted to call you, to talk.” 

“Okay.” He says. “How is it?” 

“It’s good. It’s a little strange but it’s good.” You pause and take a breath to try and stop yourself because you know what you’re about to do won’t achieve anything and it’ll just make you feel worse. But his voice has such a tight grip on you, the image of him listening to you, eyes softening, reconsidering everything is right at the forefront of your mind. So you tip your head back to stop your voice from breaking and whisper down the phone, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

Miles laughs and it punches straight through whatever is left of you. “You’re sorry? Okay.” 

“I am, I just… I don’t know I just wanted you to know I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for making you feel the way you did and for ruining our relationship. I didn’t mean to, you have to know I didn’t mean to and I want to fix it, I really, really want to fix it. I’m sorry.” 

Miles sighs, “is this why you called me? I don’t want to do this with you again.” 

“Yes. Yes and no.” You know you sound so desperate and it kills you that you’re doing this as Ashton is getting ready to welcome you with open arms. But you can’t help it, you can’t help the apologies that keep spilling from your lips, even as you’re questioning whether you’re actually sorry and whether you actually have anything to apologise for. “Listen, I just want you to give me another chance. Please. Please just give me another chance. I just, I know I can be better. I want to be better and I’m so sorry about everything but you have to see it from my perspective a little bit, don’t you? I just— “ 

“No,” Miles cuts you off, “I don’t have to see it from your perspective. I told you how I feel and I just don’t see it changing, okay? I just can’t get past it.” 

“But we can get past anything if we love each other enough.” 

 Miles scoffs, “What, did you rehearse that line with your mum?” 

“No.” You murmur and you can feel the tears starting, “but it’s true.” 

Miles sighs again, “Why did you call me? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you broke my heart!”

“I know.” 

The words echo through you and you’re certain they shatter you from the inside out. 

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.” Your phone buzzes and you know it’s Ashton telling you he’s here. “I guess I better go then.” 

“Yeah,” Miles says, “I hope the trip goes well for you.” 

And then the dead silence fills your ears and you wish you’d just stayed home. 

It’s your soul, your very being, that splinters, you’re sure of it. The fabric of everything just comes apart at the seams. 

You broke my heart. 

I know. 

You duck into a bathroom before too many people can see you and cower in a stall until you can get control of your tears. You know Ashton is waiting, probably worried now but doesn’t want to invade what he might correctly guess as a meltdown. It was so easy for Miles to leave you and you just let him prove it again. You just let him break you in two again, while someone else who cares about you so much more is anxiously awaiting your arrival at the gate. 

You wipe at your face and drag your hand through your hair, trying to take some breaths, praying that you don’t look like the mess you feel. You step out of the stall and walk slowly toward the mirror. It’s been half an hour now and you know you need to go. 

You leave the bathroom, tugging your hair into a ponytail and deciding to blame jet lag for your swollen and baggy eyes. You wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton is able to see right through it though, he’s always known you just as well as you know yourself. Maybe better. 

Your heart hammers as you reach the arrival gate and you’re so nervous that the carpeted floor beneath you starts to spin with each step you take. But then you make it through the doors and down the ramp and see his smile and his eyes and everything inside you just melts away. And you’re not sure how he does it but his arms are around you before you can even get a word out and you just lean into his touch, fall into his touch and something feels right for the first time in days. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, and places a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he pulls away. “I’ve missed you.” 

And, god, you’ve missed him too. You’ve missed how his smile, how his eyes light up when he talks, how he holds you and makes you feel safe and so at home, even though your entire world has just crumbled beneath your feet. 

“Hi Ash.” You breath. “I’ve missed you too.” He doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug at that and you let him. 

After a moment he pulls away and studies you at an arm’s length. “How are you?” He frowns, “are you okay?” 

“I’m alright.” You smile weakly, “my egos a little bruised, but I’m okay.” Ashton nods but doesn’t say anything else. There’s this horrible awkwardness that’s hanging above you, just out of your reach and you know why it’s there, know why he might be a little apprehensive. You want to apologise but something in you tells you it’s just too early, that you should at least see the day out before you drag him into another horrible conversation. That’s how you left things, after all, that was the last time you’d seen him. 

But god, he still looks good and he doesn’t look any different except for the red hair that he’s seemingly growing out. You’d seen one photo, on Calum’s page, and you had to admit that you loved it, even if it was too bold for you. Even if Miles saw the photo later and told you no one had ever looked so stupid.

“I like your hair.” You mumble finally, dragging Ashton from his daze. His bright smile is back and he tugs at the end of it. 

“Yeah, something I was trying.” He shrugs and takes your bag from your shoulder. “So, what’s up first? Sleeping or eating?” 

You smile and loop your arm through his. He grins down at you. “I wouldn’t complain if we had something to eat.” 

Ashton nods thoughtfully. “Actually, I think I have the best of both worlds.” 

And so you walk arm in arm from the airport, you feel something within you beginning to mend. Slowly, carefully, but it’s there, and you finally feel alive. 

***

Two hours later and you’re sitting on Ashtons hotel bed, eating the biggest plate of room service you’ve ever seen. ‘This is the best bowl of pasta I’ve ever had,’ you declare, grinning at Ashton, “Maybe it’s because it’s British.” 

Ashton laughs, “You know what it reminds me of? That time we tried to make that lasagna in your apartment.” He snorts into his plate, “we almost burnt the place down.” 

“I remember! And if memory serves that was your fault.” 

“No!” 

“Yes!” You point your fork at him dramatically, “you burnt the sauce to the bottom of the pan. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” 

Ashton gasps and points right back at you, “That was you!” 

You shake your head and it feels so good to laugh, to feel something like joy sparking within you. “It was so you.” You say, “but it was a good day.” 

“It was a great day.” Ashton agrees. 

You’re quiet for a moment, comfortable silence hanging over you. “So, how is London?” And you know you’re putting off the inevitable conversation, you can see it in Ashton’s face but he humours you anyway. That’s what he does, that’s what he’s always done, made you feel comfortable. Made you feel safe. 

“It’s cool. Good night life, shit weather.” You both glance to the rain hammering on the window of the hotel. “But I like it and the food isn’t that bad.” 

You nod, “From what I saw it just looked like a lot of rain.” 

“Yeah, that seems to be pretty normal here. Locals don’t mind though and I actually think it’s kind of beautiful.” You nod again and that silence falls, heavier this time. “So are we going to talk about it?” Ashton says quietly. “I mean, that’s why I invited you out here.”

“What?” You laugh quietly, “for me to cry about my relationship.” 

Ashton shrugs and gives you a small smile. “Might not be the worst thing in the world for you to do.” He lays his hand gently over yours and you fight the urge to pull away, to tell him you can’t because Miles won’t like that. But then it hits you all over again that it doesn’t matter anymore, that Miles doesn’t care and likely never did, that you were just marking time for him in his twenties. That maybe, if you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t matter that much to him at all. 

“It feels like I’ve just been cracked open.” You say and your voice is so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. But Ashton nods and you take a breath to combat the chasm inside of you, the gaping hole that Miles left when he tore your heart clean out of your chest. “It’s all my fault. It is. I torpedoed our relationship. I blew it up. The best thing in my life, the person who I went to for everything. I just, I just ruined it. But maybe he’ll come back, you know?” You look at Ashton desperately, tears in your eyes. “Maybe he’ll realise what he’s lost and he’ll realise how much I loved him and he’ll come back, right? Maybe he will?” Ashton takes a breath but doesn’t say anything. Your heart sinks, you can feel it falling down and down, “You don’t think he will?” 

Ashton sighs. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to say anything that’s going to hurt you. It’s the last thing I want to do, okay? Truly.” 

You wipe your eyes furiously. “But?” Ashton sighs again and lets his eyes fall closed. “What, Ash? Say it, I can handle it.” 

You both know that you can’t handle it, that you are as delicate as maybe you’ve ever been and it’s so different to anything he’s ever seen you go through. He’s never seen you like this, ready to break, already halfway there. But maybe you do need to hear it and maybe he needs to be the one to tell you, to save you from some of the pain that’s rolling around in your head. “I don’t think he’s coming back, love.” Ashton whispers gently. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head and more tears spill down your cheeks. “I just don’t understand. Four years. Four years where we built a life together, were I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone else and he promised me” you voice cracks and you take a breath, “he promised me that he was in my life to stay. That he was there for me for good and that it was us against the world. He promised me, Ash.” and the desperation in your eyes when you look at him is almost too much for him to handle. “I just don’t understand what I did. I tried my best. I did my best.” 

Ashton takes your hand and meets your eyes. “This isn’t about you, love. It isn’t.”

“Then why,” you sob and you almost fall as you lean forward, burying your head in his chest and trying desperately not to think about Miles, about how Ashton smells different, feels different, how it’s not the same. “Why did he leave me?” You mumble into him. “Was I really that bad? I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I really tried my best.” And god, you hate that desperation in your voice and you hate how you know it’s not you, how you know he’s turned you into someone you don’t recognise. Ashton knows it too, he bristles every time you say Miles’ name, stiffens when a fresh wave of tears come caused by someone who took you away from him in the first place, who left you as a shell. 

Ashton rubs circles on your back as he holds you and sighs. “I don’t know.” He says. “I don’t know, I’m not in his head. But I know if he’s making you feel like this then it’s probably for the best he’s gone now.” 

You nod silently, finding the strength to sit back up and meet his eyes. “I guess.” You mumble. “But listen. Just think for a second. Do you think he’s going to come back to me? Do you think he’ll realise what he gave up, that I really was the one? Do you think he knows? Do you think he regrets it?” 

Ashton hesitates and you know he’s getting ready to let you down again, to clue you in on the truth that you so desperately need but you just can’t face. “Listen,” he says carefully, and you hate how gentle he is, how scared he is to hurt you any further. “I know you want answers but,” he sighs and runs a hand over his face, ‘but I just don’t know, sweetheart. I just don’t know and I wish I did. I wish I could give you some answers or the truth or something to help you rest a little easier,” his eyes soften as he looks at you, “but I can’t, love, I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets again then. It doesn’t feel like a new feeling anymore. A fresh tear slips down your cheek and you’re just so tired. 

“But” Ashton says and your perk back up, just to be crushed by that pitying look in his eyes. “I know that when you love someone, it is so special and so rare. Anyone would regret loosing that.” you look down and Ashton reaches out, gently lifting your chin with his thumb. “I promise.” He says. “I promise you.” And then he adds softly, so softly you almost don’t hear him, “I would.” 

You meet his eyes then and something flickers, something you don’t quite recognise. You smile at each other and something between you sparks, like something sputtering to life. “Wow,” you finally sniff, wiping at the tears on your cheeks, “Miles never said anything like that to me, and we were together.” 

Ashton grins. “Yeah, well maybe I’m just better than him.” 

You laugh again and move toward him, draping yourself over him for a hug. He pulls you closer and you realise just how much you missed him, just how much Miles took from you, unapologetic in his destruction. “I missed you.” You breathe into him and there’s part of you, a big part, that wants to pull back and kiss him, to feel what it’s like to be with someone who wants you. To be with Ashton, who’s wanted you from the start even if you’ve never admitted that to yourself.  

Ashton sighs deeply, something like relief, something else that you can’t place. “I missed you too.” He murmurs. “So much.” 

And there’s a second, a split second, where the heart that has been pulled apart lights up, twinges, as Ashton strokes your hair, pauses almost like its holding its breath, waiting to see what happens. 

After a moment, you pull away and stand, moving to the other bed by the window. Ashton clears his throat and you know he felt it too, that pull, that ache. But it’s too soon, it’s far too soon and too wrong and why would Ashton want you when you’re crying over Miles, someone you let destroy the relationship you had with him. God, how could he even look you in the eye after that day, after what you did. 

“You okay, love?’ Ashton asks and the air around you snaps back into motion and you come back down to earth. 

“Yeah.” You smile. “I think I’m just jet lagged you know, it’s been a long day.” 

Ashton nods. “Yeah, course.” 

And the air is thick with something you don’t quite recognise and it settles heavily over you as you crawl under the hotel sheets. You’re still not used to having the bed to yourself, not used to having open air and cold beside you and you try not to think about it as you close your eyes. You hear the faint sound of Ashton getting into his own bed and you try to pretend you’re back in the apartment and it’s Miles getting ready for bed, about to settle next to you. 

You hold that thought tightly as you begin to drift away 

***

When you wake the next morning, the room is silent and cold and it feels like the apartment the day Miles left. On your bedside table is a note Ashton left, explaining he’s gone on a breakfast run and to a quick meeting with the boys. That’s fine by you, you suppose, you can use the time to cry even more. It hasn’t made a difference, being in a different country and the bed and the emptiness had felt the same, more so, if you’re being honest. The aching in your chest had yet to subside and you can feel the cracks, see the shards of your heart that will have to be pieced back together. 

Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the wall you’ve been staring at. 

Hey.. it reads from one of your friends, I think you should see this. 

And you’re not sure anything, not even the horrific pain you’d felt before, can compare to the feeling of your entire being, your soul and you hope utterly shattering as you open the photo. The photo of Miles and Hannah kissing in a bar downtown. 

You’re shaking, trembling, as you quickly type When was this? Because it could be old, you think, it could be an old photo from ages ago and yes, the hat he’s wearing is new and yes the bar is somewhere you frequent together but it can’t be recent, can’t be from the past week because if it is then it means he left her for you. Then it means it was all for nothing, the relationship was nothing and you are nothing. 

And you’re still staring at it when Ashton walks in, still staring as the smile dies on his lips when he sees you. 

“Ash...” You start but can’t finish because a sob builds up in your throat and breaks free as you finally drop the phone to the floor, any hope that you had cracking along with it. 

Ashton reaches you just as you begin to sob, begin to feel your heart break all over again but this time, somehow, it numbs you and rips you apart all at once and you feel like you’re drowning under the weight of it, under the knowledge of why he left and what he thinks of you. Ashton gently takes the phone and scans the message before he sets it down on the bedside table. “Okay.” He says gently, “okay.” 

“I can’t breathe.” You rasp, tears falling too fast for you to catch. “I feel like I can’t breathe.” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” But he doesn’t say anything else, can’t say anything else to fix this for you, to make it hurt less. This is different now and he knows it. 

“How could he..” The question dies in your throat and you meet Ashton’s eyes and he blanches at the pain that’s taken root there. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything.” He says. “I promise. This isn’t about you.” He’s repeating himself, he knows that, but there’s nothing else he can say, nothing else he can do. You watch as he tugs his hand through his hair.  “This is about him. This is about him not recognising what he’s got, not knowing how good he’s got it. Not knowing how special you are.” He pauses, like he’s stopping himself, like he’s waiting to see if he’s said something wrong. 

“But it has to be to do with me.” You whisper, “it has to be. She must have something I don’t. She must be easier than me, you know? Better.”  

“Listen, “Ashton says and he goes onto his knees before you. He cups your face, “This is not on you. This is about him.” Fury flashes across his face. “This is about him. If he can’t see you for what you are, this… this beautiful, special soul, then that is his loss.” Ashton stares at you until your tears begin to dry, “Do you understand me?” And that is rage, that is unbridled fury burning in his eyes but it softens as soon as you crack the smallest smile and cup his face in return. The two of you there, one sitting, one kneeling, holding each other like it’s the only thing that matters. 

And it doesn’t feel wrong, like you expect.

You can see when Ashton’s breath catches, when his eyes flick down to your lips and then back to your eyes, almost imperceptible. Almost. Butterflies take flight, then, hundreds of them as your heart thumps, threatening to beat right out of your chest and all you can hear is the rain pattering on the window and the quickening breaths between the two of you. 

But then Ashton moves towards you just a bit too fast, and you bolt upright, fear striking you like lightning because it’s too soon and you don’t deserve it and he’d never stay. Not if Miles didn’t. You weren’t good enough and you couldn’t let Ashton be dragged down by you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You would ruin everything just like you ruined it with Miles and then it would never again be the same. You just got Ashton back, you can’t lose him again, not like this.  But you feel something 

You sidestep Ashton and wipe quickly at your tears. When you turn back to him he’s standing up, hands behind his back and looks at you and waits. Waits, like he thinks he’s scared you away. Waits, like he is terrified you’re about to walk out of that door and not come back. But you want to go to him, you want to race across the room and let him hold you, let him kiss you, let him tell you all the ways he thinks you’re good enough. 

But you can’t. Because he won’t. And everything here will be for nothing too. 

“Okay.” You sniff, “do you know what I think?”  Ashton tries for a grin but it doesn’t quite work. Still you say “I think I want to look around London. I want an official tour guide. What do you think?” 

Ashton smiles then, but it doesn’t light up his face in the same way. “Yeah, he says, “that sounds good.” 

***

The trip around London starts with a sickening feeling hanging between the two of you, something you try to ignore as you cross Tower Bridge and wander towards Borough Market.

It ends with you changing your tickets to an earlier flight home. 

It’s too awkward, it’s too changed and you both know it. Ashton keeps his distance as you walk back to his hotel, like he’s scared to come closer to you and have you jump away from him again. And you didn’t mean to, is the thing, but you know that you’d only make things worse between the two of you. Miles left you, jumped at the girl that had been hovering around for months, cementing the fact that you are not good enough. And if you’re not good enough for Miles, you’re sure as hell not good enough for Ashton. 

You pack in silence and Ashton leans against the wall and watches until it’s time to go down to the lobby for the taxi that he’s called for you. Maybe this trip was too soon and it had just made things harder for you. Maybe this isn’t where you were supposed to be at all. And maybe now, it was time to go.

“You okay?” Ashton asks as you wait for the lift. 

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “Sorry about this. Work wanted me back, you know?”

“Yeah.” He says and you know he doesn’t believe you. But you know he won’t question you either. That’s Ashton, he’s always had your back. 

And when you take a glance at him, you wish to god that you could stay, that Ashton would have you. You wish your heart didn’t start threading itself back together whenever you were with him. You wish Miles hadn’t made you so damaged, so terrified that someone might be able to want you and mean it. You wish you have the courage to believe that Ashton could.

But you don’t. And the tatters of your heart stop weaving together as the door of the taxi closes and you leave London behind. 

Leave Ashton behind, in the gloom and the rain until he fades out of sight. 

[constellationwrites]

Hey guys,

So it seems like it’s happy birthday to me today!

I know I haven’t been here for ages, I don’t even know if anyone even keeps up with it anymore.

This space has lived in the back of my mind for years, for all that time I haven’t been here. I’ve had to take a very hard, very necessary journey back to myself and I am so glad I’m home. I’ve found myself in my writing again and I’m going to start publishing again.

Now this might be a long shot, but I’ve already decided I’m okay with that. I just want to share my work with whoever might stumble across it. That’s how literature often works, I suppose.

So yes. Here we go. I’m excited even if no one sees this.

[constellationwrites]

Your writing is really really amazing!!

Ahhh thank you so much!!! I’m in the final editing stages of a Calum Hood fic so stick around! I’m so glad you loved it 💜

[221bshrlocked]

Why do you reblog your own fics so much?

Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.

Does this look right to you??

These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.

Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.

Anyway, I’m still going to reblog my shit...

[raewritesfiction]

I think I’m gonna restart blogging my own shit.

[221bshrlocked]

WRITERS. ARTISTS. EDITORS.

REBLOG YOUR OWN WORK.

THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT.

[kinkybazsmolsnow]

And still there'd be people who'd not REBLOG this post

[constellationwrites]

it’s so weird that i legit JUST like about 10 minutes ago finished binge watching the hunger games and now i see this 👀 i would 100% read that and it sounds like such a creative idea!

No way!! But thank you so much, I’m so excited and thank you for your support 💜🌸

[constellationwrites]

PLEASE READ : AN ANNOUNCEMENT:

So I don’t know what you guys think but I have an obsession with the Hunger Games and I wanna write my own kinda series about it with one of the tributes as, plot twist, CALUM HOOD. I’m not sure if it’s a popular idea among tumblr, I’m not sure if anyone will even read it or read this but this is the first thing I’ve been excited about in a while so I’m gonna write it. I really would love some feedback from you guys and I hope to get your support 💕

[constellationwrites]

Changing The Sheets || Part 2 🥀

A/N: Hey guys, I wrote a part two of this because I really like the direction it was going in. Anyway, I’m really really proud of this one and I loved writing it. Please do give any and all feedback, I love it. Much love guys. 

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, that's about it. 

Summary: You think you’re doing okay, Ashton shows up and you realise you might not be. But time can mend and you know that. 

Part 1

At the end of three weeks, crisis mode ends for everyone but you. Calum stops coming by every day, understandable because he has his own life to live but it hurts all the same. Luke and Michael still come around occasionally but everything goes back to normal. You’ve accepted Ashton isn’t coming back anytime soon, you’ve accepted that he’s probably with her now and it’s time to move on but it still hurts. It hurts so much that your heart seemingly twists with every breath you take and a pain lingers in your gut that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try. Still, you think it might be time to fix the bedroom, throw out all of Ashton’s old stuff and start fresh. You think you can do that, think after weeks of shutting the world out, you can drag yourself down to the department store and buy replacements for all the stuff you broke. You can drag yourself out of bed, put your goddamn clothes on and start putting yourself back together like you promised you would.

And so you do.

Two days after changing the sheets for the first time, you kick the comforter back off and let it land on the floor. You drag yourself up, throw the pillows from the bed and strip the sheet from the mattress. It’s different now, this isn’t anger anymore or at least you don’t think it is, you think its acceptance, think it’s the determination to pick up the pieces of yourself and slot them back into place no matter what you have to do. Because you can’t stay in this apartment with all the things you shared and the shards of the promises he made to you. You can’t stay in this house with fragments of his cologne and toothbrush and his record collection that stares mockingly at you every time you sit on the couch and try to forget everything he destroyed when he left you. You think ... you think you need to make this place your own, fill it with your own love and your own light and everything you know you can be with him. Because you’ll be okay, you know you’ll be okay but it’ll take time, and you know that too.

The first thing you do when you finally force yourself away from the bedroom and away from the pile of sheets you’ve pulled from the cupboard, is grab a trash bag from the cupboard under the sink and head back into the bathroom. You don’t spare the broken glass another look as you sweep it into the bag, try not to touch the bristles of the toothbrush as you throw the fragments of the life you had before into the bag. In fact, you clear out every single thing in that room that belongs to him and make a note in your mind to buy your favourite bath salts and bath bombs and replace everything he said he loved with what you like because this is your home now, and you intend to make it a place filled with love instead of betrayal and regret.

The trash bag is full by the time you reach the closet in your bedroom, all traces of Ashton gone from the bathroom and the kitchen. You left the living room, can’t bring yourself to touch his record collection that he spent weeks organizing or the stack of books with his scribbled post it notes on top. You loved reading almost as much as he did. You’ve always been a sucker for getting lost in a story, mostly Jane Austen, and her talent for writing a romance you could only dream about. You’ve fantasied about meeting your Prince Charming on more than one occasion. You thought you’d found that when you’d met Ashton. Turns out you were wrong.

It takes you a minute. It takes you a minute because everything hits you, suddenly and all at once, and you have to stop yourself from falling back into the chaos you’re so determined to leave behind. You take a breath, shaking, then another and turn back into the bedroom without giving that stupid coffee table another glance. You might have to buy another one, fuck, you might have to refurnish your entire apartment until you can learn to love and breath in here again.

Crescent moons appear on your palms as you dig you nails into your skin in an attempt to stop your hands shaking. It feels stupid, like you should be able to shake and cry and scream all you want in your own apartment but you feel Ashton lingering in everything you do. You have to be strong, you have to be able to throw these things out without a second glance because you’ll destroy yourself if you keep them here for much longer. You’re torn, torn between keeping his things because you know you still love him, or getting rid of them because you know you have to move on. But there’s something in the pit of your stomach, something that feels suspiciously like hope, that he’ll realize his mistake and come back.

You tear his clothes off the hangars and stuff them into the trash bag without another thought.

You leave the stripped bed, bare pillows and duvet on the floor and drag the trash bag back through the apartment. You spare a glance to the clock that hangs in your kitchen and you’re surprised to see it’s almost eleven at night. It means you’ve spent the better part of three hours throwing every trace of Ashton out of your apartment without shedding a tear. It’s an accomplishment, of sorts, something to be proud of and you know in that moment, you’ll be able to make this apartment a beautiful home for yourself.

You grab the bag, pull the door just as someone pushes from the other side and you stumble, fall back and drop the bag as Calum stands on the other side of the door with his hand still on the door handle and a stunned expression on his face.

“Calum?” You scramble to shove Ashton’s stuff back into the trash bag as Calum watches with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” It’s the first time he’s been back in a few days and you weren’t expecting one of Ashton's best friends to open the door just as you were throwing out everything he owned. Calum’s voice is thick with amusement as he speaks. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m cleansing.” You fumble for the ties at the top of the trash bag and pull them tightly. “Getting my shit together.”

“Getting rid of shit, you mean.”

“No,” you sigh, run a hand through your hair and realizing you haven’t brushed it in the same breath you realise you probably smell awful. “I’m creating something.”

“You don’t have to get rid of his stuff right away, you know. Just like you don’t have to stop loving him right away.” Calum takes the bag from you, fingers gently brushing yours, and you know by your lack of resistance that he’s right. “Let me take this.” He pauses, glances at your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none and instead is met with a soft smile, he continues. “You’ll regret it if you dump this right now. Trust me.”

“I do,” you reply, relinquishing the bag. “I do trust you.” You pause, watching Calum as he smiles. A deep breath leaves your lips without you meaning it to and Calum raises an eyebrow like he knows there’s something you want to ask him. He waits, he’s patient because he knows how hard this is for you. “How is he?” You finally ask, voice no more than a breath.

“Luke says he’s heartbroken.”

“Luke? You haven’t seen him?”

Calum shakes his head. “I’m here for you, not him. He’s my best friend but I can’t support what he did.”

It takes a lot of strength for you not to cry then, and you blink back tears, sniffle and disguise it with a laugh as Calum wraps you in his arms. You almost deflate against him, like you can finally breath, like you’ve got the validation that Ashton is in the wrong, not you. “Thank you.” You whisper, fighting to keep your voice even. “Thank you.”

Calum pulls away after a minute, “Give me this shit,” he laughs, waiting as you grab your purse and jacket and lock the door. “You want me to drive you?”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.” You chuckle, following him down the stairs and outside to his car as you struggle to keep your gaze away from the trash bag he holds in his hand. You whole life is in there, well, your old life. You dig for your keys, push the thought away and head to your car. “I love you Cal, but we’re going different ways and you’re not the best driver.”

“I’m a great driver!” He insists as you duck into your car and give him a wave. He flips you off with a grin and you shake your head as you pull out of the lot ahead of Calum and take the turn to the department store.

You’re ready, you know you’re ready and you’ve already got a list in your head of what you can buy now that Ashton’s gone. You’ll fill the bathroom shelves with wicker baskets full of bath salts. You’ll buy new sheets, ones alive with colour and you’ll replace the cushion covers with the ones you wanted to get all along. You’ll buy plants and put them in every nook and cranny of your apartment and you’ll stock the fridge with your favourite food and forget how it used to be crammed with beer. It’s the next step for you, the next chapter.

But the thing is, you didn’t want to turn the page at all.

You pull into a space outside the store, grab a basket and head inside in high spirits because this is the first time you’ve felt confident with a decision since Ashton left. You dressed in something other than pajamas, you threw on some makeup and you hauled your ass out of the apartment because you’re so determined to make a life for yourself.

And you’re so confident in this decision, so unbelievably proud of yourself as you turn down the aisle to pick out your plants, that you think you might be having some sort of mental break when you see Ashton standing at the other end of aisle with a plant in hand.

And you freeze, your blood turns cold and you fucking freeze on the floor of that department store because every emotion that you’ve felt in the last few weeks hit you like a slap to the face and you fail to pick your jaw up off the floor, fail to turn around and leave despite the amount of fear and hate and adrenaline that’s racing through your veins. So, when he turns and meets your eyes and the plant he’s holding falls to the floor and the pot shatters, your heart fucking explodes.

And yet, you still can’t fucking move.

Your name on his lips for the first time in weeks makes your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Your heart races, thunders in your chest and you can hear blood pounding in your head as you try to figure out what to do before he reaches you. But you can’t leave now because he’s seen you and as much as you want to show him that he means nothing to you, you can’t bring yourself to destroy the last little piece of your relationship that has survive. So you take a breath, steady yourself because you refuse to be afraid of this anymore and turn to Ashton as he stops in front of you.

“Hi.” You wait for him to speak first and when he does, you’re surprised to find there’s anger in the pit of your stomach instead of the grief you expected to feel.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Hi.”

Ashton hesitates, “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

“I— “

“You what?” You’re aware you don’t give him the chance to finish but the rage that seems to have consumed you in the time that he’s walked from one end of the aisle to the other is the thing that guides you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You scoff, “I bet you are,” you glance down to the basket in his hands. “So what, you’re already shopping for your new place? For your new girl?”

You’re not sure Ashton’s eyes can widen anymore. He’s always known you were feisty, knew exactly what he was getting into but he’s never seen you like this, driven by blinding anger. “No. No, I... I’m staying with Luke. Thought I could get him something to say thank you.”

“Not staying at your new girls house then?” You haven’t unfolded your arms, eyes glaring at Ashton as he focuses on anything other than your face.

Ashton’s eyes fall to your shoes. “I haven’t seen her since that night.”

You laugh, short and bitter. “Don’t be shy, Ash. Since the night you fucked her.”

Ashton shakes his head, “Please, please let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” And despite yourself, you take a step closer to him. “You don’t love me anymore, remember.”

Ashton seems close to tears, frustration and exasperation driving him towards the edge. “Just give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’re silent for a moment watching Ashton as he watches you before you let go of your cart, raise an eyebrow and turn to leave the store. You’re not sure if Ashton picked up that you want him to follow but then you head into the parking lot and hear his footsteps behind you as he follows you to your car.

“Get in.” Is the only thing you say as you open the door to your car and watch Ashton slide into the passenger seat. He doesn’t have to say yes. All he does is wait.

🥀

A silver Honda passes you as you and Ashton sit side by side on the hood of the car. You’ve been here for seven minutes and twelve seconds, you know because you’ve been watching the seconds pass you by on the clock on the dashboard.

“We haven’t talked in a while.” You finally say, remembering every single might where you pushed the call button on Ashton’s contact on your phone.

“No,” Ashton replies, quiet as ever, “No we haven’t talked at all.”

The freeway’s almost empty but some traffic zooms by the two of you as you stare past Ashton and into the inky blue of the sky. It’s fourteen minutes past one, all you know is that you drove the freeway for two hours and then pulled over to the an emergency bay on the side of the road. But you don’t know much else because your head is spinning and Ashton is sitting the closet to you that he has in weeks.

You can’t avoid this forever, you suppose, which is a shame because you've done a good job trying.

So you sigh, slide off the hood of the car as you wipe your hands on your jeans. Ashton looks like he wants to follow but the glare you cast his way tells him to stay put. “This is how this is going to work. You’re going to answer every fucking question I ask you and I might not shove you in front of an oncoming vehicle.”

Ashton nods, barely breaths as he says “yes.” Probably because he doesn’t want to be thrown in front of a car, you suppose. But still, it’s a start.

“Who bought you your shit?” It’s no mystery to you that some of Ashton’s stuff disappeared from your apartment before you started to break everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to care back then. You do now, though.

“Luke and Michael.”

“You saw them a lot?”

“A bit, yeah.”  

You nod, run your tongue over your teeth. “Calum?” Because despite what he said to you, your trust has been shattered and you want to see if Ashton will lie to you even now.

“He hasn’t returned my calls,” Ashton says quietly. “I don’t know.”

Okay, you think, two questions in and you don’t want to snap yourself in half. You take a few steps away from the car, then walk back and stare Ashton straight in the face as another car growls past.

“How’ve you been? Really? Don’t sugar coat it.”

Ashton gives a sad sort of smile as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. “Fucking...terrible. Maybe worse. Haven’t been getting out of bed a lot.”

“Good.” You snap, can’t stop yourself because he should hurt just as much as you did. He shouldn’t be able to get out of fucking bed either. You breathe in the crisp night air and try to calm yourself.

“How’ve you been?” You stop pacing across the gravel of the freeway and look up at him.

“You already asked me that. I already answered.” God, your voice is vicious, prowls across the cool night air and bites at him. But you feel satisfied, knowing you can give Ashton little cuts like this.

Ashton bites his lip and looks down. He looks out of breath, like he’s run miles and you can’t help but think god, because he deserves every bit of pain you felt. “I know. But it’s all I think about.”

Cry me a fucking river. You want to scream. You couldn’t handle one fucking day of this.

Fuck, you love him so much.

And even though he hasn’t talked over you once you can’t help but snap, “Interrupt me one more time and you can fucking walk home.” And then before you can stop yourself, before you can falter, “Now, why’d you do it?”

Ashton stops moving then, stops fiddling, stops breathing, so quickly that you’re almost worried. But then Ashton opens his mouth and you realise you’re not ready for this answer so you cover your fear with malice. “Don’t hesitate” you say, “Don’t fucking um and ah. And don’t bullshit me, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Okay.”

“So why’d you fucking do it, you selfish prick.” You say and when your voice finally cracks, Ashton looks away.

Good, you think, fucking let him hurt. Let him feel half of what I have.

“Baby— “

“Why did you fucking do it?” You yell, veering straight past the nickname because you can’t handle that right now, not on top of everything else. You voice makes Ashton’s head snap up. “Don’t fucking look away from me. Just tell me!” And then softer, because your voice has cracked and you can’t do this anymore, “Just say it. Please.”

Ashton nods, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Okay...okay, but you can’t...it’s not logic. It’s not.”

“Just say it.” Four cars go past before Ashton speaks again and you fight to keep yourself steady on your feet.

“I got scared,” he says finally and you’ve never heard Ashton’s voice so small. “I got scared and you didn’t. I got scared and I panicked and I drank too much and you were a million miles away and I fucked up.”

“Not enough,” you shake your head. “That’s not enough. You don’t get to fuck someone and tell me you don’t love me and get away with it in a single sentence. That’s not fucking good enough.”

Ashton slides from the hood of the car then and you’re so scared he’s going to end this conversation and get back in the car and leave you again. So, you say the first thing you can think of. “You wanted it too, though, didn’t you? You wanted me?” And, fuck, you can barely stomach how stupid your question sounds but you need to know. You need to know.

“Of course I wanted you.” Ashton says, polar opposite to the venom that coats your voice. “Of course I did.”

“Then what the fuck?” You ask angrily because you don’t understand, you don’t. “What the fuck was all of it for. I don’t understand.”

“We weren’t supposed to make it.” Ashton whispers and the distance you’ve put between the two of you, you quickly close because you can’t miss this. “We were twenty-one and twenty fucking three something and we weren’t supposed to make it. It wasn’t...it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere because I was leaving for tour and you wanted that degree and wanted to leave this stupid goddamn city. And we didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.”

Your inches away from him now.

“And then by some fucking miracle, we did make it.” Ashton says, “and then you’re talking about a future with a house and a family and fucking colour schemes and shit and it scared me. I was fucking scared and so out of my depth and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croak out, “Why didn’t...you could’ve told me.”

Ashton snorts and makes the two of you seem impossibly closer. “Do you know what kind of person you are to let down?” He asks, “I couldn’t do that to you and so I got scared and I tried to avoid it and I fucked up.”

“So you went and stuck your dick in someone else?” You spit, “like that wasn’t going to raise anymore fucking issues, like that wasn’t going to cause a bit of a problem, like— “

“You asked me why.” Ashton says and his voice raises for the first time. “You asked me why. I’m not saying it makes sense but...that’s it.”

You thought knowing would make you feel better. You really did, but now you know just how mistaken you’ve been. “I should’ve known,” you say, face white, “I should’ve known, I was right there and I just...I did nothing.”

You could deal with not knowing, you realise, you could deal with that but now there’s a pressure on your chest saying it’s on you, saying it’s your fault. You think you might throw up and brace yourself against the hood of the car.

“It’s not your fault,” Ashton says from behind you and you’ve forgotten how much you miss his comfort, his safety. “It’ll never be your fault. You have to know that.”

“But it is.” You say, snapping back around to face Ashton. “Because you couldn’t tell me. You couldn’t tell me and you couldn’t touch me a and so you had to find someone else.” And it’s so overwhelming, so fucking overwhelming and it hits you all at once and you don’t realise Ashton holding you until your legs are about to give out.

You want to push him away, want to throw yourself off, want to barrel into traffic for all you care but you’re not strong enough. Because you’re so fucking tired and sad and so, so in love with the boy in front of you that it feels like if you let go of him you’ll forget how to breath.

“I hate you.” You sob but pull Ashton closer and you shudder as he kisses the top of your hair. “I love you. I can’t fucking do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ashton whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry I did it and I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m so so sorry I fucked it all up.”

“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to say sorry and have yourself feel better and leave me here like this. You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m— “

“I fucking love you,” You yell and somewhere, someone sounds their horn as they pass you and you kick up a cloud of dust. “God, I love you so much but I can’t fucking trust you and I hate you a lot but I still love you too. And I don’t understand how you can say you feel the same when you did all this.”

Ashton stops in his tracks then, freezes just like you did in the department store. “No one picked up the phone for me, you know that? No one picked up for the longest time and when Luke finally did, he gave me a fucking earful.” Ashton pauses, lowers his voice. “And I didn’t care.”

Everything in your head snaps quiet.

“What?”

“I didn’t care,” Ashton says, “because all I could think about was getting you back. I knocked on Luke’s door that first fucking night and said I want to go home.”

“But that can’t be true,” you whispered, “because you fucked someone else.”

You see the way that rips through Ashton, see the way it absolutely breaks him but you don’t feel satisfied. You just feel so, so tired.

“Yeah,” Ashton says and it’s the first time you’ve heard him own up to that. “Yeah and it only took me a fucking second to realise I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

You don’t say anything, watch the moon and the sky and a red car that growls past before you finally look back to Ashton.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says. “But tell me what it is and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want. You’re so...” he trails off, bites his lip. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. You’re my favourite person in the world and I want to make you believe that again, if you’d let me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much and suddenly all you need to do is go home and go to bed.

“Yeah. Well. I think you’ve done enough for today. Let’s go.” And the car is silent for the two hours back to the city.

You let Ashton walk you to the door for no other reason than you’re too tired to stop him. He casts a hopeful look at the door but you remember everything you’ve thrown out, what the apartment looks like now and the anger and emptiness still between those walls and you know you can’t let him in.

“You should go, Ash.” You say finally.

“Please,” is all he says. “Please, baby.” His voice is miserable and cracked and hoarse.

“I’ll call you.” You murmur. “I promise. I just...I just need a couple days.”

Ashton nods, presses a kiss to your cheek and leaves without another word.

You open the door and fall straight onto your bare bed. You’ve driven for hours, had the life drained out of you and all you need now is to sleep.

🥀

You get yourself a coffee the next morning, enjoy the sun for just a little while before you head back inside and sit and stare at your phone for a good couple of minutes. You know who to call, know what you want to say but you’re not sure if you’re ready for the conversation.

But you suppose that if you don’t do it now, you’ll have to do it later.

So, you pick up the phone, dial and it only takes a couple of seconds before Calum picks up on the other end.

“Hey,” you can already hear the concern in his voice, already know he’s straight back into panic mode. You can’t let it phase you though and so you take a breath and begin. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” you start, closing your eyes. “Do you think it’s stupid or, I don’t know, weak if I take him back?”

Calum doesn’t say anything for a long time, although you can hear him drumming his fingernails on the table top.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that as long as you’re in this for you and not him...then I think forgiving him is the strongest thing you can do.”

“I haven’t forgiven him yet.” You mumble.

“I know.” He says, waits for you to speak again.

“Thank you,” you say because you need him to know how much he’s meant to you throughout this. “I do love you Cal, really.” And of course, it’s not in the same way you love Ashton, you doubt you’ll ever love someone the way you love Ashton, but you need him to know nonetheless.

“You know,” he pauses and when he speaks again you can hear his smile down the phone. “You changed the sheets, not me.”

You laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Calum murmurs gently. “Go get him.”

And so you do.

🥀

The first couple months are difficult to say the least.

You walk on eggshells for the first while, walk around each other and every touch, every brush of your skin against Ashton is uncertain. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to Ashton breathing softly next to you and it’ll get too much and you’ll pad to the living room and sleep on the couch and wake to Ashton staring at you from the kitchen with guilt in the pit of your stomach.

When you come home and Ashton isn’t there, there’s an initial wave of nausea that hits you so hard you can’t do anything but sit and stare at the TV without turning it on. You know that he’ll be getting groceries or having a beer with the boys but all you’ll be able to think is that he’s back out with her and he won’t be coming back to you.

There are days when you think you can’t do it and nights when you can’t be in the same bed with him. The uncertainty lingers for a while but in the midst of that, there’s so much more. You start dating each other again and Ashton looks at you like you’re his whole world. You eat takeout and watch cheesy movies and take stupid photos and there are nights when you stay up until three in the morning and talking about everything that’s happened. There are nights when neither of you say anything either too, you don’t need to, because you know you’re going to be okay.

Everything mends, slowly. There comes a day when you don’t find broken bits of glass in the drawer in the bathroom. There comes a day when you’re on the couch with Ashton and you think that, somehow, it’s exactly how it used to be.

“Baby,” Ash murmurs one night, knowing that you’re okay with the nickname now. “You awake?”

You leave it for a second and then reply. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Ashton says and you roll your eyes in the dark.

“Dangerous.” You grin into his chest. “What about?”

Ashton’s quiet for just a little too long before you realise this isn’t just going to be a goodnight.

“I just,” he says, “I lie here and I think about you. And I just...I just want you to know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather fall asleep than right here. That’s what I think every night before I go to sleep.” Ashton pulls you closer as you stay silent. “I just need you to know that I love you.” And he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmur and you kiss his jaw and then his lips with heavy eyes. “I know. I love you too, if you hadn’t realized.”

Ashton seems happy with that but you stay awake a little longer. You brush your hand over his skin until you’re calm enough to fall asleep next to him, next to the love of your life. And when you wake the next morning, it’s to the smell of Ashton cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

Everything mends, slowly.

The two of you mend last, but you think that’s okay. Because back before this, back when it all began, you were the one to change the sheets. And, you suppose, if changing the sheets wasn’t so bad, the rest won’t be either.

[constellationwrites]

Changing The Sheets || Part 1🥀

A/N: Guys, I’m going through some shit so I just wanted to absolutely break a character. I hope you like it, I haven’t written in a while but this has really helped. I’d love any and all feedback, much love guys.

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, reader is fucking heartbroken :)

Summary: 5SOS have caught my attention so here’s a little bit. It’s a rocky start and its 3k of angst so my bad. More good stuff to come in the future tho !!

Part 2

There’s a tightness in your chest, one that’s been there for days. It feels like something’s squeezing your stomach, like you might throw up and faint at the same time. There are tears in your eyes now, you’re sure of it because you’re never far from tears these days and you’re always waiting, just waiting, for something to push you over the edge.

You glance at the side of the bed, his side of the bed, where the pillows lay untouched. You haven’t changed the sheets since that morning, don’t imagine you will until you can rid yourself of this pain. And that may not be for a long time.

Because every inch of this apartment, every single thing in here holds memories. It holds the promises he made and the love he swore to you and you want to break everything; want to smash everything he owns to pieces to make up for the way he shattered your entire life. You still can’t bear to think about it, still can’t force yourself to confront it because there’s a naive little part of your brain that demands hope and saves you from yourself almost every day. It’s this little piece of your brain that stops you from changing the sheets and burning the photo albums and tearing the love from this place just like he did.

And you think that might be what hurts the most.

Not the lies, not the broken promises and the destruction of everything you’ve ever believed in. No, what hurts most is the way you stare at that door and you wait for him to walk in. It doesn’t matter how angry you are, how much you want to tear the apartment apart and how torn to pieces you are. None of that matters when you look at that door and wait for him. Even though you know he’s with her.

Because, once upon a time, he was your safe place. He was the person you ran to, the person you trusted because it was him. It was him. And it’s always been you and him. Right from the start.

You lay back down then, bury yourself under the pile of blankets and pillows and try to forget how he smells, how he smelt, and fight off the urge to change the sheets or move the room around or take the mug he left on the nightstand and smash it. Because you can’t. Because it’s all him and he should be here with you and you shouldn’t be staring at a goddamn coffee cup wondering when he decided he didn’t love you anymore. Because he must’ve, right? He must’ve decided not to love you anymore and to leave you and leave a note on the counter with his apologies and his initials that don’t mean shit because nothing ever meant anything if he didn’t love you like he promised he did. And so where does that leave you? Where does that leave you?

You’ve taken to sleeping more often, to staying in bed until night and wandering the empty apartment in the dim light of the moon above the window and in the midst of the chaos of your mind that tells you every shadow is him. When you do sleep, you sleep to dream about him because that’s what you’ve always done when you feel alone and that’s when he tells you that everything will be just fine because he loves you. And that should be enough. That has always been enough.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

You never though falling in love would destroy you. You never thought you’d wander the halls like a ghost, stranded because everything you ever loved was gone. Because he meant everything to you and he’s not here anymore. You know people insist that not all those who wander are lost but, somehow, you don’t think you’re ever going to find your way back.

Because it’s been years since he walked through that door. It’s been a lifetime.

And it feels like, it feels like you’re drowning, struggling to breath and you’re trying to make it to the surface in time but you know you won’t. You try anyway because it’s instinct to fight for your survival. So, it feels like you’re swimming up but the surface keeps getting further away. And that’s when you start to sink, when you realise you can’t make it. You start to sink because you know there’s no point trying; so what’s left to do beside stop and sink and watch the water pass you by and pretend you’re not dying. And pretend Ashton didn’t leave.

Ashton. It’s the first time you’ve thought about his name. You thought if you ignored it, ignored the fact that he existed with someone else now, that it would make it better. Because if he doesn’t exist with you then he doesn’t exist with her and that means, well that means you have a reason to try to start living again. The only problem of course, it that he does exist with her now, he left you behind five days again and you know that no amount of pretending is going to change that. So the question is, what do you do next? What do you do when you feel like there’s a tonne of bricks resting on your chest and even in the most crowded room you feel alone. What are the next steps for someone that can no longer think of a reason to get out of bed.

You think the silence makes it worse. You think the quiet that makes you want to curl up in a ball and die is what makes it worse. Because there was always music in here, there was always laughter and bad TV and shouting over card games and now that’s gone. It’s all gone and you can’t get it back because you don’t know how because you don’t know what you did to make him stop loving you. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong or what you’ve done to deserve this. There’s a lot you don’t know, there’s a lot of white noise and blank stares and unfulfilled promises. But what really plays on your mind, what really makes you think is why do you still love him.

Why do you still love him?

Because he’s not worthy of it, he’s not worthy of being in your dreams and he has no right. He has no right to stay on your mind like this and drive you crazy. Except he is. He makes you want to pull your hair our and scream and cry and curl up and never see the sun rise again because he was it for you and why weren’t you the same for him? Why weren’t you the same for him? Why weren’t you enough?

It’s then you kick the duvet away from you and onto the floor. Its then you kick the pillows from his side of the bed to the floor because even now, even with this rage that seems to be substituting the painful grief in the pit of your stomach, you still won’t touch those pillows.

And so you take a breath, take another, and reach across for the mug that sits mockingly on the nightstand. You touch it with your finger like it might explode. When it doesn’t, you pick it up and turn it in your hand. When you see the message engraved on the handle, the message you chose because it was a goddamn birthday present, you hurl it at the wall and watch it shatter into pieces. And for the first time in those five days, you don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to dream anymore. You just want to take everything he owns and snap it in half.

You decide on the bathroom first, tear apart the cabinets and the drawers and snap his toothbrush and throw his aftershave at the wall and smash his cologne in the sink. And maybe this is how you drown out your pain, maybe this is how you try to forget you weren’t enough for him and you’ve never been good enough for anyone. Maybe this anger, this rage that seems to fill every inch of your body won’t ever go away and you’ll never have to feel broken again.

You’re making your way to the kitchen when a knock on the door stops you. You freeze and then your mind catches up and that rage, that rage you were convinced would save you is gone and you feel smaller than you ever have before. The door seems miles away, seems like you could never reach it and there are already tears in your eyes because what if that’s him. What if he knows he made a mistake and what if its him. You want him to walk through that door, your door, more than you’ve ever wanted anything else and wonder what’s taking him so long. Is he composing himself like you are? Is he thinking about you and the mistake he made? Except. Except Ashton wouldn’t knock and her certainly wouldn’t knock again and wait for you to answer the door. So If it’s not him, if it’s not him then who is it? Who is it and why would they do this because your legs are shaking and all at once your tears are falling and you’re on the floor with your failed rage and your broken expectation as Calum walks through the door,

He says your name, twice then a third time before he’s by your side and you’re sobbing into his chest as he pulls you in and keeps you safe because Ashton couldn’t. The door’s still open, a bag of groceries forgotten at the threshold and Calum won’t let go of you and doesn’t intend to until he can feel you stop trembling.

“I’m sorry.” You’re not even sure it’s a whisper because your voice is so quiet as Calum holds you. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he murmurs, “Don’t be. Please don’t be.” You want to melt back into his touch, pretend he feels as safe as Ashton does but that door, that fucking door, is still open and the bathroom is destroyed and if you don’t stand up now, you might never stand up again.

You don’t admit to needing Calum’s help, nor do you acknowledge that you’re leaning heavily on him and that crushing weight is back on your chest and tears are back in your eyes and the image of her and him is back in your mind like it never left.

It takes you five minutes, maybe longer, until you manage to stop crying. Calum sits across from you, trying to keep his eyes off the bathroom beyond the open door or the sheets on the floor half dragged through the apartment. When he speaks, after he’s sure you’re not going to, he has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth even though you know it’s a lie. You clear your throat and add, “I thought I could be okay.”

Calum holds back a sigh, you can see by the way his fists clench slightly by his sides because no matter what he says, you know how to read him.

You thought you knew how to read Ashton, too.

“You could’ve come to me.” Calum murmurs because, for some reason neither of you can seem to raise your voice above a whisper. “You can always come to me.”

“I know.” Your quick to reply, quick to assure him that it wasn't his fault because you know he’ll blame himself for not seeing this sooner. There’s a reason you didn’t go to him, though. There’s a reason you didn’t go to anyone. It’s because Ashton is your home, because it’s always been the two of you and everyone knows that. Because Ashton gave you a reason for existing and took it away, just like that. Because you didn’t quite know how to go on living if your very reason for it was gone. “I just… I couldn’t.” Calum nods even though you know he doesn’t understand. But he waits anyway, waits for you to talk or to not talk, and lets you know that he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s funny,” you sniff finally, wiping your eyes even though you know there’s no world in which you can keep your tears at bay. “It’s funny. Because he’s my home. Because I told him about everything that destroyed me and he threw it straight back in my face.” You chuckle but there’s no humour to it and neither of you pretend it’s anything but bitter. “You know, it’s like telling someone…It’s like telling someone: tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.” You shrug, tears falling fast. “And he did.” you nod, running your tongue along your teeth before you sigh. “And I still love him.”

Calum watches silently as you pull the sleeves of your hoody down over your wrists and wipe your tears away. “I know you do.” Is all he says. It’s all he has to say, really, because it’s all that matter at the moment.

“I love him, Cal.” You nod. “But how are you supposed to survive if the person you love, the entire reason you want to keep existing, decides they don’t love you anymore?” you lift your head to meet his eyes, like you expect him to have all the answers you’ve been waiting for. “How am I supposed to do this without him?” you whisper.

Calum shakes his head and his heart breaks a little because he can’t give you the answers that you need. “I don’t know.” He murmurs, “I don’t know.”

He’s barely finished speaking when you start again, driven by some sort of maddening grief that makes you sound insane. “You know, I see shadows in here. In this place, in our home and I think its him. That’s how badly I want him here, I’m looking at fucking shadows thinking they’re Ashton.” You’re standing up then, running a hand through your hair and trying to ignore how much this hurts, how much this physically hurts you and how it feels like your heart has genuinely split in two. “I don’t know what I did, Cal. I don’t know why I’m never enough.”

“Don’t.” he shakes his head. “Don’t. You are enough. You’ve always been enough. He knows that.”

“If he knows that then why isn’t he here! Why is he with her! Why? Why…” and it happens again before you can stop it, the pain becomes too much and  you sink to your knees sobbing and clutching your stomach because this is too much. It’s all too much.

Calum is back at your side again, catches you before you can fall in the way that Ashton used to before he decided he didn’t love you. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to beg you to get through this, beg you to stay strong like you’ve always been. He wants to see your smile back on your face and the way you have the ability to light up he room because when your happy it’s infectious. But most of all he wants to drag Ashton here by the collar of his shirt and force him to see you like this.

Calum doesn’t know why he did it, why he slept with another girl and told you he didn’t love you and disappeared without a trace. He doesn’t know why he’s destroyed such a beautiful soul and he doesn’t know where he is or why he hasn’t come back yet. He does know one thing though, at the base of it all. He does know that Ashton loves you and that’s why there’s hope buried beneath the layers of anger. Because he’d never leave you like this. Because you have become his reason for existing.

🥀

You know its morning when you open your eyes because there’s this golden light filtering through the blinds that you haven’t woken to for days. You know it’s morning because, for the first time since he left, you slept through the night without dreaming.

When you force yourself out of bed, you notice a note left on your nightstand in Calum's scrawl that offers apologies and the promise that he’ll be back later after he’s gone home to check on Duke. You don’t mind, even though your head is heavy and your eyes are swollen from tears that don’t seem to stop, you know that you’re putting yourself back together.

You know it’ll take longer to fix yourself than to fix the bathroom or the bedroom. You know it’ll take longer to put yourself back together and find yourself again. You know you’ll fix last.

But for now, you can change the sheets. And if you can change the sheets, then you can do the rest.

[constellationwrites]

Ready to Run was…wow. That was really really good. It felt real too. I’m glad you showed how manipulated a victim could become. I feel like it’s always so easy to be like “why aren’t you leaving him” but we forget that it’s not just physical abuse and it’s not a thing that happens overnight.

Oh thank you!!! I really wasn’t sure about it but I’m so glad people seem to be enjoying it!! Please do come to me with questions or requests or whatever you’d like. Happy reading 💓

[constellationwrites]

Ready To Run 🌬

A/N: So I got this request at the beginning of the week and I've been working on it since then. I’m really not sure about this one guys, it’s a bit of a different style and it’s 6000 words because it took on a life of its own. (Sorry not Sorry) Anway, I’d love some feedback - please - but enjoy guys!

Rating: M

Warnings: Naughty words, sensitive subject - abuisve relationship 

Summary: This was the request I had: Reader is abused by parents or boyfriend and runs straight into the arms of Poe Dameron. 

@jacquelineprins this one’s for you 💓

You’re lost as you walk, turning the corner from the hanger and starting back towards the quarters in a quiet sort of daze because your arm’s throbbing underneath your jacket and you’re sure there’s blood by now, there must be. You want to look, you do, you want to see exactly what’s he done this time, what you’ll have to cover up from everyone else but you can’t bring yourself to lift the cuff of your jacket beyond the upper part of your wrist. You don’t want to make it real again because there’s a part of you that pretends it’s a dream whenever it happens, you can deal with it that way. You’re strong, of course you are, but there’s something about this that you just can’t handle. Either way, you have to pull up your sleeve and look. You have to.

You shouldn’t be surprised when you lift your sleeve, but you blanch anyway because your arm is red and sticky and the cuts go deep, almost like lashes of a whip. Your mind turns and turns and you’re wondering how you let this happen, because you were never the type of person to let someone else walk all over you, so what went wrong?

It’s your name on his lips that pulls you back, soft as he catches up to you in the hall, and you yank the sleeve of your jacket back down over your arm because he can’t see this, not now.

Poe Dameron catches your arm, pulls you closer to him and you try not to wince, letting a hiss of pain out between your teeth disguised by a smile as he grins back at you. He doesn’t know there’s anything wrong, he won’t know. No one will. It’s one of the policies, one of the stipulations of this relationship you’ve found yourself trapped in. No one finds out, not even Poe.

“Hey.” You make the first move, have to, so you don’t seem suspiciously quiet or upset or whatever it is you’re feeling right now because as it stands, you don’t even know. But you never do when it comes to this.

“Hey sweetheart,” sweetheart, that’ll come up later, you’re sure of it. It has before and for no good reason. Poe Dameron is a flirt, it’s a universally known fact and even if he felt anything towards you, the entire base knows your taken. It’s not an option anymore either because it’s like your property now. You live with him, with Charlie, share your quarters, share missions, share lives. Although it’s not really sharing, is it? Not when he acts like he owns you, parades you around like a prize and hurts you when you misbehave. It’s like you’re a dog, that’s probably the best way to describe it, rewarded when your good and punished when your bad. It’s hysterical, in another life you’d laugh and in another life still you’d punch the living daylights out of Charlie and tell him to never treat you like that again. But it’s not an option, not this time, and you’ve been beaten down so many times that you don’t stand a chance. Not anymore.

Poe clears his throat, polite just like always as he interrupts your stream of thoughts. “Can you do me a favor?”

Anything, you want to scream, I’ll do anything for you if you can get me out of here, away from this life. But you square your shoulders instead and ignore the wildness of your thoughts, muster another smile and paint into onto your face so it stays there even when he leaves. “Sure.”

You’re expecting him to say something about engineering, about fixing his ship just like always. You’re not expecting him to ask you to accompany him on a mission and you’re definitely not expecting him to tell you that you leave tonight. You know you’re staring at him like he’s got ten heads and you know you need to stop but you can’t because he’s just offered you an escape, he’s offered you an out and maybe, just maybe, this can be your salvation. This can be how you survive.

You can’t stop the grin that breaks across you face, but then again you don’t really try to. You resist the urge to jump into his arms because this is it, he’s given you a perfect chance to escape and, god, Poe Dameron has never looked so beautiful. “Please. Yes. I’d love to.” The words tumble from your lips and your grinning like an idiot but you don’t care, not anymore. You hug him then, you can’t help it, and the warmth you feel in his arms has nothing on Charlie who only ever lays a hand on you to hurt you.

“It’s nothing exciting, sweetheart,” Poe chuckles but he looks so fucking happy that you can’t bring yourself to care about the repeat of the nickname and you don’t let go of him, you can’t, not yet. “We’ll just be doing some surveillance, maybe blowing some stuff up.”

You nod, practically vibrating on the spot with this newfound energy. Your brain is going and going and going with endless possibilities and chances and opportunities. You want to kiss him, and not for the first time, but none of that matters at the moment. Nothing matters except you and Poe. Maybe you can tell him, maybe you can make a confession and beg him for help. He’s a good guy, he’s you’re friend so what’s stopping you? What’s fucking stopping you?

“Hey,” Fuck, does that voice make you freeze. It’s not a malicious one but accusation drips from Charlie’s tone and you feel your entire body just stop. Poe bristles next to you, crossing his arms because he doesn’t like the man, no one does and a lot of them question what a nice girl like you is doing with an arse like that. You couldn’t tell them even if you wanted to. You know what the punishment is for that.

“Charlie.” Your voice is weak, a pathetic attempt to seem excited and Poe quirks an eyebrow but says nothing. “Hey.”

You swear your heart stops when he walks towards you and it’s like this long, horrible drawn out thing until he reaches your side and Poe dutifully steps a little to the left so Charlie can throw an arm around your shoulder. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve seen him, since you landed back at the hangar after he’d decided to take his anger out on your arm. It’s only been a few hours of peace, of bliss, and you thought that maybe it could be enough. You’re wrong.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” You try not to wince as Poe gave Charlie a nod and turns away. You let your eyes close as Charlie waits for Poe’s footsteps to fade completely. You know it’s coming so it shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does when Charlie rounds on you in the middle of the hall and lands a heavy slap on your cheek.

“Sweetheart?” It’s the way he says it, the way he relishes the word on his tongue and the look in his eye when you shrink away from him because he knows he’s got you and you can’t get away from him or his accusations because he was right there when Poe said it. “Sweetheart.” He pauses, considers and then nods with a definitive air, watching you with sharp eyes. You have no idea what move you’re supposed to make now, you don’t know what the right answer is.

You do know that when he takes hold of your arm, shakes it and drags you down the hallway to the quarters, you’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Charlie shoves the door open, let’s your arm go and pushes you into the room so roughly that you stumble and have to catch yourself against the metal foot of the bed. There are tears on your cheeks, falling to your lips and there’s salt and blood and you’re losing your bearings just a little. “Fuck.” It’s a weak word, falls from your lips as your arm hits the bed. Charlie smirks, like he’s pleased with his handiwork but you can’t fight him, can’t say a word. You know that. And so does he.

“Charlie.” You start but it’s not enough to get rid of that glare in his eye. Your attempt is weak anyway, it never would’ve worked but you had to try. You always have to try. Maybe that’s how you ended up here.

“Shut up.” His words are like fire, spitting all over you and you cower, you can’t help it. He looks absolutely murderousand you’ll know what’ll happen next. It’s nothing new, of course it isn’t, but the way you feel never goes away. This nervous flip of your stomach never goes away.

It wasn’t always like this. That’s what you tell yourself, that you’d made the right decision once upon a time and it’s not your fault that this is happening. Five years ago you were just a bright eyed pilot, looking to crush the First Order. Charlie was a technician, insisted he’d work on your ship and you fell for it. You fell for his good looks and his charm and the smile that you never see anymore. People had warned you, of course, but you didn’t listen to them. Hell, you didn’t listen to anyone back then. God you wished you had. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.

It’s been two years since the first time he hit you. You’d been laughing about something stupid, probably with Poe because back then you were happy. You’d felt his fingers dig into your thigh first and when you’d gotten back to your quarters, he’d hit you until your face burnt. You didn’t tell anyone, thought you could survive it because you’d never let anyone walk over you before and why should Charlie be any different? You were strong back then too, a fighter, and you were so sure you were strong enough to face it. You were so goddamn sure. But when he told you to never say a word, threatened you because it was your word against his and who would believe a stupid little girl, your world fucking crumbled. So you explained the injuries away and hid them but you didn’t say a word. Not once.  

And now you were trapped in your own personal hell.

Charlie gives you a smirk, a sick, twisted smile and stalks towards you from where you’re still learning heavily against the foot of the bed. “Let me see you arm.”

“No...no, I—“

“Let me see you arm.” His voice is deadly, words ripping through the room as he tilts his head and meets your eyes. “Sweetheart.”

It’s that word that makes your legs give out and your one the floor in a heap watching him when he crouches down but not doing a single fucking thing to stop him because what can you do? His fingers close around your wrist and you flinch, don’t try to hide it, as he pulls the jacket from your shoulder with his other hand and deposits it on the floor next to you. The cuff of your shirt reaches your wrist and Charlie’s gentle when he pulls it up, rolling it to your elbow and taking a sharp breath when he sees the mess of your arm. It’s worse than an hour ago, turned an ugly purple and red, darker blood dried across the top of the deep lashes that paint your arm. Charlie nods, eyes flicking from your eyes to your arm and all you can do is sit and watch as his fingertips run up and down your arm. “Jesus.” It’s his voice, a breath, and you snatch your arm away.

“Stop.” But he won’t, he takes your arm back with cold fingers and admires, fucking admires, the mess of your arm. You can’t remember the specific reason for this particular beating but you’re willing to bet it had something to do with Poe and the two of you on your mission. Charlie’s usually there, lurking in the back to keep an eye on you because god forbid you actually get rid of him for good. Maybe you were too comfortable with Poe, maybe you got cocky or maybe you said something stupid and Charlie didn’t like it. Whatever you’d done, he’d taken you aside on the mission and lashed your arm with his belt before giving you an affectionate little pat and telling you to run along. It was an almost comical exchange when you think about it. That doesn’t change the pain though. Nothing changes that.

“You want me to kiss it better?”

“No.” You whisper, trying to move your arm. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon.” His lips touch the deepest cut on your arm and you hiss, biting your lip so you don’t say anything, so you don’t make it worse. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No!” You shove him off, reaching for the bed to pull yourself up because your entire body is shaking and you’re not sure you can pull yourself up.

You back away from Charlie who’s sitting on the floor just staring at you and your back hits the wall as he stands up. “What the fuck,” and he’s back, stalking across the room, “was that?”

“I don’t...” your voice trembles, “I don’t want this anymore.” You can’t believe those word have just left your mouth, you can’t believe that you’re standing across from Charlie telling him that you don’t want him anymore.

When Charlie laughs, a chill runs through every single cell in your body. It’s like your blood freezes and you feel like you could just die on the spot. “What makes you think you get to make that decision.”

This, this is where you trip up because you haven’t rehearsed a speech, you’re not confident in your ability or hit him with the facts and logic. The truth is, you’re terrified, you are absolutely fucking terrified because you’re starting to realize there is no way out. It doesn’t matter how many missions you go on with Poe, how many escapes you think you’ve made. He will never let you go. You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to figure it out.

“Charlie,” he knows your about to beg, he can see it in your face. “Charlie, please. I can’t do this anymore.”

Charlie shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Go on your little surveillance mission. We’ll talk about this later, sweetheart.” That’s all you need to hear. You snatch your jacket from the floor, throwing the door open and fleeing down the corridor. You hate how scared you are. You hate how you feel so small and weak and powerless every time you’re near him. Most of all, you hate him.

It’s quiet as you head back to the hangar, passing the canteen that’s bursting with people. That’s where Charlie will go, when he’s calmed down and hashed out a plan for later. He won’t let you go. He won’t take this little show of resistance at all. He’ll use it to break you, crush you even more until your nothing but a shell of what you used to be.

The hangars dark when you get there and you don’t see Poe standing there at first, too focused on the future, too focused on what Charlie will do to you. “Hey sweetheart.” Sweetheart, that name on his lips sounds so much sweeter than on Charlie’s but it makes your stomach flip. You look up to Poe, plastering a smile onto your face and Poe grins, pats the side of the ship and offers you his hand. “You ready?”

Yes! You want to scream, yes more than anything because you are ready, you’re ready to blow this place to shit and never, ever look back. But you can’t say that, you can’t say any of that so you shrug, “Sure,” and take his hand. It surprises you, how warm and soft his skin is, how light his touch is. You can’t help yourself when you compare Poe to Charlie. Even Poe’s hair, warm rich curls seem a thousand times better than Charlie’s stupid blond man-bun. But it’s the eyes, you think, that do it for you. Poe’s eyes are beautiful, so beautiful and you could get lost in them for days. You mother used to say that you can always tell a monster by his eyes and, oh, how right she’d been.

You slide into the seat next to Poe, careful, like you’re holding your breath as the dull hum of the engine starts beneath you. You feel Poe glance over, feel his eyes trace patterns across your cheek. “You can talk, you know.”

“I know.” God, how can your voice sound so small? Where have you gone; how have you lost yourself so spectacularly? You feel like a bomb, just ticking and ticking until one day it’ll all be too much and you’ll just explode and take out everything around you. Including yourself.

The ship breaks through the vines, soars up and you watch as Poe steers easily, marvel at the routine movements of his hands. It’ll just be surveillance tonight, making sure no one breaches the perimeter of the base. But you don’t mind. It gets you out, gets you away from Charlie and you have a suspicion that Poe knows that too.

“What happened to you?” You’re not expecting that. Of all the things Poe could’ve asked you, that would not have even been a guess.

“What do you mean?” He rolls his eyes, turning to face you and you raise an eyebrow, reply in a quiet voice. “Eyes on the sky, flyboy.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his lips. “You ever heard of command pilot?”

“Oh, clever.” You grin. “Dangerous though, isn’t it?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

You learn forward and quirk an eyebrow. “What subject would that be, exactly?” You want to hear him say it, you have to, because he must know what’s going on by now. He must.

“You know what I’m talking about.”  

It’s like you’re not even on the ship anymore. It’s just you and Poe and you’re starting to think that maybe you can trust him. He knows anyway, doesn’t he? Isn’t that what this has all boiled down to, the fact that he wants some sort of confession from you? There are tears in your eyes as you shift in your seat, watching the moons rise above the base. Poe doesn’t do anything, just waits. Finally you turn back to him and when you speak your voice is thick with tears. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Charlie.” And Poe’s voice is like ice. “Tell me about Charlie.”

“I...”

Poe reaches out, takes your hand and all you want to do is melt into him. “You can trust me.”

“I can’t.“

“Yes you can.” he gives your hand a squeeze, running his thumb along your skin and there are tears falling from your eyes too quickly to stop them. Poe coaxes it out of you, eventually, because it takes you a minute to trust him and realize that you’re safe with him; takes you a minute to realize you’re safe with someone.

You’re sniffing as you shrug your jacket off but Poe’s there, catching your tears on his thumb like they’re falling stars. He takes your jacket from you gently and you look up to him as he smiles, warm brown eyes locking on yours because he needs you to know that your safe. He needs you to know that he cares about you.

Your fingers shake when you touch your sleeve, you can see the material move as you drag it up over your arm and bunch it at the elbow. Poe stiffens beside you and he takes a sharp breath. Your arm looks like a slab of meat as you stare at it this time around; the skin angry. Tears fall fast and hot but Poe still doesn’t move until you try to roll your sleeve down and he catches your wrist with the lightest touch possibly because he won’t be the one to hurt you. He refuses.

He clears his throat and forces out one word. “When?”

It shouldn’t be so hard to tell him. You should be jumping at the opportunity because Poe figured it out by himself, you didn’t say a word so this isn’t your fault. You’ll doubt Charlie will see it that way but it’s too late now. He’s seen your arm, he’s seen your tears and he got the confession from you. “A few hours ago. On the mission.”

“What did he use?” Poe’s suspiciously calm but he hasn’t let go of you yet, linked your fingers together because you’re not alone in this anymore.

There’s no hesitation anymore. “His belt.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe dips his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shake your head, cracking the smallest smile. “You really think that would work out for me?”

Poe shakes his head, anger rippling across his face as his jaw flexes. “I’ll kill him.”

“No!” Your voice is shrill, bordering on hysteria as panic explodes in the pit of your stomach and Poe cocks an eyebrow in confusion. “No, you can’t. You can’t. Charlie won’t...he won’t like it.”

“I don’t give a shit what he’ll like.” Poe pulls you from your seat into his so that you’re on his lap. “We’re in this together now, me and you. You’re not gonna do this alone anymore.”

It’s then you let yourself fall into Poe, let yourself sob into the crook of his neck because this means the world to you and he must know that. Poe keeps his hand in yours, uses his free hand to run his fingers through your hair and down your spine until you’ve pulled it together enough to sit up and wipe your eyes. “Poe, I...”

He nods, you don’t have to say anything else but the smile he gives you seems to light up the entire ship.

And then he kisses you.

You kiss him back almost instantly because you haven’t felt this way in so long. You haven’t been touched like this, lovedlike this in so long and Poe is like this beautiful breath of fresh air that’s swept into your life and now you’re a seeing clearly for the first time in what seems like forever.

You pull away after a few second, tears dry on your face but that doesn’t matter because Poe’s looking at you like you created the entire galaxy. You want to take Poe’s hand and walk back into the base and never think about Charlie again but it’s not that easy. It’ll never be that easy.

“You okay?” Poe’s voice has your knees weak in the best kind of way and you give a little chuckle.

“I’m better than okay.” You can feel yourself coming back to life, can feel that fire and that light that’s been buried depo beneath the surface this entire time. You hesitate, “I need your help.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll do anything you ask me.” He smiles but his eyes are dull, don’t shine like they usually do.

“What’s wrong?”

You’ve never seen Poe hesitate like this, his mind turning like he’s fighting with himself over what to say to you. “I’ve been...” he stops, clears his throat and corrects himself. “I am in love with you.” You think the world stops, just freezes, and you give a little shake of your head in disbelief. You open your mouth to reply but Poe cuts you off. “I’ve been in love with you since that mission in Naboo when you shot that Stormtrooper in the face and then took a bullet for me. I’ve been in love with you since you started to learn how to fly and you got so excited about it that you smacked  Lana in the face by accident and gave her a black eye.” He chuckles, mostly to himself, and you grin along with him. His smile fades a little then and he continues. “I saw it happen, y’know, with Charlie. Watching that fire in your eyes go out was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I...” you keep shaking you head because that’s the only thing you can do that makes sense. It’s confusing, it’s unexpected but it’s fucking wonderful because you love Poe too. It’s taken you a while to see, blinded by Charlie and all the pain he brought you but now you know. You think you’ve known since the time in the canteen when he threw a bunch of blueberries at you for calling him flyboy. You think you’ve known for a long time.

Poe gives a nervous chuckle, “You got anything to add, sweetheart?”  

The smile breaks across your face like the fucking sun and you pull him closer, kissing him again and again and again. “I love you too.”

“Thank God, could you imagine if you’d say something else, so—“ you cut him off with a kiss, laughing against his lips as he runs a thumb over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs against your skin.

“You’re so cliché.” You reply but you’re laughing like you haven’t in months. “What are we gonna do?” You sigh, tugging on the ends of Poe’s curls as he swats your hand playfully. “I’ve gotta tell Charlie.”

“You don’t owe him anything.” Poe mumbles as he kisses your neck. “Fuck him.”

“Well—“

“Not literally.” Poe scoffs but his eyes are bright again, just like yours. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go.”

You haven’t even noticed that the base is coming back into view until the ship dips back below the vines and Poe lands the ship smoothly back in the hangar. You feel like your limbs are seizing up as Poe offers you his hand again and leads you from the cockpit. He’ll be waiting because you’ve been out on patrol too long and god forbid something happens to you that’s out of his control. Fear blooms through your chest and your heart hammers and you’re wondering how you got yourself here and why you couldn’t just stick it out for a little longer.

“What’s going on?” Poe murmurs as you turn the corner

“I can just tough it out.” you blurt, catching Poe’s wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I can tough it out, we both know that. There’s no reason to start anything. I don’t...I don’t need you to do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe sighs, “look what he’s done to you. You don’t need to stay with him, you don’t need to lie down and take this anymore.” He runs a hand through his hair as you wish for the ground to swallow you up. “But you’re not in this alone anymore. Everyone’s going to be on your side, I promise you that.”

It takes another minute of Poe convincing you for you to finally force one foot in front of the other, but when you do you feel as if nothing will stop your again. Poe’s right, he’s brainwashed you to make you think that being in this stupidly abusive relationship is okay. But he’s wrong, Charlie is so fucking wrong if he believes he can break you. You know who you are, now more than ever, you’ve ignited that fire that’s been desperate to burn for so long and your back, ripping through the restraints Charlie forced you into.

“I’m ready.” You nod, taking a breath because you’re not ready but it’s now or never. Poe nods, takes your hand and leads you down the hallway back to the quarters. As expected, Charlie stands in the hallway with his arms crossed and a bored, irritated expression that  sits easily on his face. You feel Poe’s thumb tracing small circles across your skin and notice as Charlie’s eyes lock on your hands. You learn over to Poe, a small smile lifting your lips. “Let’s not cause a scene.” You whisper.

Poe gives a mocking nod of his head. “No, let’s.” But you know he won’t. He’ll step back and he’ll let you say what you need to. He won’t take this moment away from you, not when he knows what it means.

“Back late, aren’t you?” You almost bail right there and then because Charlie’s eyes hold the murderous glare you’re so familiar with and he hasn’t stopped looking at your fingers, so delicately intertwined with Poe’s. You take a sharp breath, feel Poe’s grip tighten ever so slightly and take a step forward, eyes level with Charlie’s. He raises an eyebrow in amusement, like he can’t believe you’re going to say a word to him.

“We’re done.” It’s not exactly the way you pictured the delivery but the look of shock on Charlie’s face is as good as any and victory bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You take another step forward, breaking away from Poe’s hand and stepping up to Charlie. “This,” you motion between the two of you. “This is over.”

Charlie scoffs, “What makes you think you can do that?”

“What makes you think I can’t?” And, god, it feels so fucking god to stand up to him, to show him the warrior that you’ve been all along. “What makes you think I give a shit about you at all?” You’re words are ripping through the air now, deadly, stalking towards Charlie before they tear him to shreds. His jaw is slack, mouth open like he can’t believe what he’s hearing but you keep going. You can’t stop yourself because you deserve this and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away before you tear him apart. “You broke me.” You hiss, “you wanted me, you took me and then you fucking broke me. I haven’t been happy in two years,  do you know that? Fuck, I haven’t been myself in two years.”

You chance it, take another step forward and draw yourself up to full height so that you’re looking straight into his eyes. “W-wait.” God it feels good to hear him stammer, for him to be unsure in his own skin just like you’ve been for months and months.

“You don’t get to talk now.” Your voice cracks but it doesn’t matter, it won’t affect you. “You don’t get to say anything to me ever again. You understand that?”

“I—“

“Do you understand that?” Every single word that leaves your mouth is coated with malice.

Charlie nods once and his voice is so small. “Yes.”

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You watch him turn tail and hurry down the hall until he’s out of sight and you can finally breath again. Your stuck there for a little bit, just staring at the spot where Charlie had been standing and not fully believing a word that’s just come out of your mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Poe breaks you out of your daze and you stumble back into his arms, letting him whisper in your ear, and run his fingers through your hair. “You did it.” He murmurs. “Sweetheart, you fucking did it.”

And again, it’s your name on his lips that pulls you back and you lift your head from Poe’s chest, grinning when he kisses you. Because it’ll always be Poe that brings you back and reminds you who you are. It’ll always be Poe.

Every single time.

[constellationwrites]

I absolutely love your story's. I have a rescuest. How about Poe Dameron forgets a birthday or anything else of the reader it's up to you. Hope you can do something with my rescuest. Until your next awesome story.❤️

First off, thank you so much this put a massive smile on my face so ur pretty awesome. Second, that you for the inspiration!!! I’m gonna get right on that, this is the most excited I’ve been in weeks 💓💓

[constellationwrites]

Help me out - please read 💓

Hey guys!!! I know I’ve been super inactive lately bc school is crazy but I need your help. I need fresh inspiration so send me requests, send me ideas, send me whatever weird stuff goes on in your head because I’m desperate to get back to writing! It doesn’t have to be marvel and Star Wars, tbh I’d love some one direction stuff