"Oh my God."

        At the sound of the scratchy, cracked voice across the room, I look up from my plate of waffles in that direction; sure enough, after sleeping three hours past his usual wake-up time, Ashton is pulling himself in a sitting position, with a confused slash disgusted frown on his face, his lips pouty and his hair sticking out at all angles. Nothing unusual after getting high on nicotine.

        "Morning," I speak up, determined to keep my voice light and casual while talking to him, in hopes that he doesn't remember the night before. I'm about 70% sure he hasn't got a clue what happened after I caught him smoking, no matter how rational and sane he sounded. Otherwise I'd have to live with knowing that he knows what I really did, and that's not one of the many things that I prepared myself for.

        "Fucking Christ," He whispers loudly, placing the back of his hand over his mouth. "The fuck did I do last night?"

        "Take a look at the table," I tell him, and he immediately whips his head toward the coffee table in front of the couch; as soon as he sees the cigarette filters he groans, and quickly kicks the quilt off of him so he's get out of bed. He keeps his hand over his mouth while he scurries out of the room, tripping over his own feet and falling forward twice on his way to the bathroom- I squeeze my eyes shut as the familiar sound of Ashton throwing up fills the room, and shake my head as I continue eating. I'm too used to the sound to even lose my appetite, seeing as this is what happens after every gig his band has. I still don't know if it's because of how nervous he gets when they're on stage, or the insane amount of alcohol he has after. Of course, 'insane amount of alcohol' in his case would be six beers.

        "Ashton?" I call a minute later, suddenly realizing he'd stopped vomiting, but hasn't come out of the bathroom. After repeating his name another couple of times, each time louder – and getting no reply whatsoever – I sigh to myself and look around, scanning the surroundings to see where I've left my crutches. Or at least one of them.

        I carefully get off my stool when I spot them in the nook between the fridge and the stove, and take only one to help myself to the bathroom. The sight before my eyes when I reach the opened bathroom door is everything but surprising; a bit repulsive? Yeah. Kinda funny? Hell yeah. Unexpected? Nope.

        "Hello, sunshine," I tilt my head to the side as I watch Ashton, sprawled out on the tiled floor sideways, with his left hand gripping the toilet seat. Usually I'd ask him to disinfect himself before I let him have breakfast in the kitchen, but I can let it slide this time. He'll have to wash his hands though.

        He mumbles something at my greeting and rolls onto his back, letting go of the toilet seat so he'd rub his face with both hands. Okay. I'm gonna have to ask him to wash his face too.

        "Can I get you anything?" I continue, "An aspirin? Ibuprofen? A washbowl to carry around the apartment?"

        "Lucia," He finally says, sounding like a 70-year-old smoker as he takes his hands off his face and furrows his eyebrows again. "Fuck off, for crying out loud."

        I grin at his flat tone, happy that he can't see me; he'd surely get pissed if he realized that I'm not taking him seriously. "Okay," I respond lightheartedly, "Suit yourself. I made waffles."

        "Wait," He exclaims once he picks up that I'm leaving him in the bathroom, "Could you... help me up?"

        I smile again and take a few steps back, until I'm at my previous spot. "Alright," I sigh, leaning my crutch against the door frame, and walking around his body so that I'm not facing him upside down anymore, "Give me your hand." As I take his wrist in both of my hands, I can't help but think it's a good thing that I haven't lost any strength in my upper limbs in the accident; though it's still not easy to pull Ashton's twelve feet long figure up without his help. I'm lucky that he's the shortest one among his band mates, if this was Luke or Calum, I'd probably fall over straight away.

        Ashton groans again as he decides to use his legs to push himself the rest of the way up, stumbling a little and eventually gripping the washing machine to balance himself. I awkwardly let go of his wrist, that now has faint red marks from my small hands, and look up at him. His head is hung low, his breathing slow and heavy, and his eyes closed as if he's concentrating on not throwing up again.

        "My God," He whispers to himself,  finally opening his eyes and blinking a few times. "There's plenty more where that came from, let me tell you."

        "Right, then I'm gonna leave," I tell him immediately; I'm not even sure if he understood me, but I'm already walking across the small room, near desperate to reach my crutch and get the hell out. I'm not disgusted of hearing him vomit – watching him do it is a whole different story.

        "You know what?" He speaks up again- I'm positive that he's not comprehending anything of what I'm saying to him. "Those three things that you offered me, think I'm gonna need all of them."

        I blink at him, starting to smile humorously when I remember which three things he's talking about. "Well, you have a washbowl on the laundry hamper. And aspirin and ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet," I point at the mirror above the sink at the end of my sentence, still looking at him in case he shows any signs of being close to puking again, and I need to limp my way out of the bathroom.

        Ashton only nods; then he turns around, his eyes closed again, and I'm a little surprised when he starts sliding down against the washing machine, his Kiss tee hitching up his torso at the action. He sighs contently once he's in a sitting position and throws his head back against the white object, stretching his legs out as well. I should take a picture of him like this. The other seconds of summer would be so grateful.

        "Do you think you could..." He starts, but pauses for a few seconds to let his head roll to the side, almost laying it on his own shoulder. "Bring me a plate of waffles?"

        "In the bathroom?" I raise my eyebrows as well as my voice, "You sure you're still not high?"

        He sighs at my question, exasperated, but doesn't fight me on it. Good call. "Alright," He mutters, blindly reaching behind him to use the edge of the machine for support while standing up. "Gonna bring the washbowl with me, don't you mind."

        I press my lips together as I watch him, still stumbling slightly while taking a couple of steps across the room to reach for the round, blue object, putting it under his arm as he follows me out. I remember to flush the toilet and seriously ask him to wash his hands before he starts eating. "How long was I out?" Ashton asks all of a sudden, when we're halfway to the kitchen. He's actually in such a shitty state, he's walking as slowly as I am.

        "Um, I don't think you were 'out' for that long," I frown, just because I'm sure he can't see the look on my face. "I came to have a glass of water at around four, and you were sleeping."

        I slowly look over my shoulder, to see Ashton walking in a different direction; I also notice him nodding lazily at my answer – thank God. Seriously. Thank God. "Weird, because I feel like I woke up from a month long coma."

        He goes to slump onto the couch, but catches the backrest before hitting the cushions, the look on his face guilty and even embarrassed. "Wait," He mumbles, his eyes darting from one object in the room to the other, "No. I'm sorry. I forgot."

        With that, he finally lets his body fall down, with a faint flop – I don't know how he could have forgotten about my month long coma, but considering the state he's in, I find it funny. "Don't you have band practice today, or something?" I ask a minute later, getting a plate from the cupboard to prepare him breakfast. At the clinking sound, Ashton reluctantly sits up, rubbing his face again, finally gaining actual consciousness.

        "No," He replies, taking his time as usual, "The guys are coming over today."

        I nod, but before I look away from him I notice him roll his eyes, "I don't think I'm capable of being around them," He says, in a bit of a whiney tone, "I swear, if someone says something outside the acceptable filter, I'm throwing their asses right out."

        Nodding again, I restrain myself from asking 'since when do you guys have a filter?'. Honestly, I don't think there was ever a time when at least one of them didn't say something unintentionally rude or extremely male, at least in my presence. And considering my presence was implied on every one of their band's gigs and whatevers, putting up with the things they'd say was also implied. I have no idea how I find them likable.

        "Are you gonna make any snacks, for later?" Ashton asks, getting up from the couch, making me realize I've spent a full minute staring at the plate of waffles meant for him, thinking about his band mates. Well, at least two of them. I can't bring myself to think about the third one.

        "Um, yeah, I was just thinking about what to cook, or... bake... please wash your hands, please," I say, rather urgently at the end, as I watch him pull out the stool across from me, seconds away from touching the island countertop. I should talk to someone about my insane fright of germs.

        To my surprise, Ashton lets out a light laugh, as he makes his way around the island. My heart is literally fluttering at the sight of him smiling, not a mocking or sarcastic one – and actual smile. "I knew the old you would resurface sooner or later," He says, standing next to me to wash his hands.

        I gulp, and smile involuntarily at the side of his head – I really wouldn't want the old me to resurface, not at any time of the future. "I take it I was really neat?" I ask in a light tone, leaning against the island, making myself even shorter than Ashton. I barely reach his shoulders when I'm standing straight, he admittedly makes me feel like a midget on a daily basis.

        He nods at my question, looking at me while drying his hands with a paper towel; I try to keep my composure, but I can't help thinking that this hangover he's suffering from is a good thing. He's a lot nicer. And doesn't look like he's going to have an anxiety attack when he's closer than two feet to me.

        "You figured out what you're gonna cook?" He asks, still looking at me, and I actually need a few seconds to find my voice, and answer him while looking him in the eyes. I wasn't ready for nice Ashton when I woke up this morning.

        "No, still not," I shake my head, averting my eyes to my grey sweater and pulling onto the collar to keep myself occupied. And also so that he wouldn't see how nervous he's making me. I really wasn't ready for nice Ashton.

        "Right, well, I'll let you figure it out by yourself," He says through a small sigh, walking back to his previous seat where his waffles were waiting for him. "Could you tell me what day it is today?"

        "Um," I quickly pull my phone out of my pocket, "It's Tuesday."

        "And the date?"

        He's looking at his plate while he picks his bites, so I find it safe to watch his face while telling him the date, "It's the 28th of July."

        I swiftly look away from him, almost dropping my phone on the ground as he drops his fork on the counter, wincing in surprise at his own action. His face is stiff as he tries covering it up, coughing forcefully and scratching the back of his neck. "28th of July, huh?"

        I raise my eyebrows and nod as he looks up at me, only his nose and eyes visible as he puts his hand on his chin to support his head. I can feel my heart thumping loudly under his intense stare, and I can only hope he can't see my sweater moving. "Um, Ashton?" I tilt my head to the side, playing dumb as he continues staring at me; he blinks at my voice, taking a deep breath and returning his attention to his breakfast.

        "Yeah, I was just..." He trails off, looking slightly on edge as he takes the side of his bottom lip between his teeth, "Maybe you could... I know it sounds silly, but could you, maybe, make a cake?"

        That's probably the last thing I was expecting him to say. "A cake?" I repeat, genuinely thinking that I might have not heard him well.

        "Yeah. Like a small, round cake..." His voice becomes quiet again, while he trails his hands around the plate, as if to give me an idea of how big he wants this cake to be. "Doesn't even have to be round. But a cake."

        I can obviously tell why he wants me to make a cake; I'm just scared to believe it. Because I'm scared I'd start crying in front of him. "Okay," I reply slowly, "Is there a special occasion for it?"

        If he tells me the actual reason he wants me to make it, I will literally fling myself out the window. "Well, I mean, my birthday was a few weeks ago and... I was in the hospital so I couldn't really celebrate it. Didn't get any gifts or anything."

        He breathes out a laugh, once again placing his chin in his palm as he plays with the patterns of the counter. "I just... thought it'd be nice to at least get a cake."

        He shrugs, and his statement actually makes me feel so aware of every part of my body. Every organ. It's like I can feel my heart and lungs. Maybe this is how it feels when a person is near cardiac arrest. "Sure," I nearly choke out, "I'll bake you a cake. I just need a few things from the store-"

        "I'll get them for you," Ashton says, urgently, almost jumping off his stool; he really wants this cake. "And I'll take Kai out, for a run."

        I nod and look over at the far right corner of the room, where the little dog's crate pad is- I can't believe he's sleeping again. I swear he was awake, chewing on his rubber ball when Ashton got up to throw up. Such a lazy dog. When they come back from a run, he sleeps for five hours straight.

        The thought that he was a 'replacement' for the human being I should have given birth to today is making me want to throw up too. "Alright, just tell me what cake you want," I say swiftly, as Ashton walks across the room to kneel down in front of Kai, ruffling his head a few times; the small creature immediately wakes up, first standing up but then rolling on his back, clearly enjoying the attention he's getting from Ashton.

        Nope, I'm not going to even think about the fact that he could have been cuddling our child instead of petting our dog right now. No, absolutely not. That cake is going to contain my tears if I do. "I'll tell you when I get back from the store, haven't figured it out yet," He tells me, picking up Kai to pet him against his chest- maybe that's why he wanted a westie, they're small and almost resemble babies.

        My own thought just murdered me. "Okay," I say quietly, looking away from the two of them as Ashton places a kiss on Kai's head- it's like he's making sure I'm completely dead. "I think I'll... make a pizza, or something. For later. Dunno what the guys like, but everyone likes pizza, so..."

        He nods, putting Kai back on his crate and running a hand through his hair when he starts walking out of the room. "That's good, yeah. I'll buy stuff for that too. Just gonna need to use the bathroom for a few minutes."

        "Gonna vomit again?" I ask, earning a sigh from Ashton; if he thinks that I'm not gonna let it go, then he is completely right.

        "No, I need to brush my teeth and all that. Can't shop from pretty ladies with bad breath," He says, not sounding really serious, but I still raise my brows as he closes the door of the bathroom behind him. That's okay, I guess. I don't have the right to tell him what to do and what not to. He can flirt with girls at Woolies if he wants to. I just hope he uses his fresh breath to get a discount on mozzarella cheese.

*

        "I just don't understand," The dark haired boy to my right says, and I immediately know that something degrading is going to leave his mouth. That's the way he is, after all. "You literally got your license two months ago. What were you thinking driving on the highway in the middle of a stormy night?"

        Ashton, who was forced to sit right next to me in the presence of his friends, looks at his bottle of beer and only shrugs. He's used to Calum's need to point out everything. "Dunno, I thought I was qualified enough to be able to drive on the highway. You know, since I actually got the license and all."

        "Right," Calum chuckles, bringing his beer to his lips as he watches Ashton, "Qualified. That's why your girlfriend is sitting in a cast. Because you're qualified. By the way, when are you getting that thing off, sweetheart?"

        I just might invite the inappropriate idiot over ore often. Just so I'd hear him refer to me as Ashton's girlfriend. "In a few days. It's really not that big of a deal."

        "Not that big of a deal?" He repeats my words, and the bright blue haired guy next to him almost spits his drink out at his tone. Michael's hair has been every color of the rainbow since high school, apparently. "You lost your memory! I can't even tease you about the first thing I told you when we met."

        We were setting up Ashton's drums that day, and I was clueless about what I was doing. So he got annoyed and told me, word to word, for God's sake, you're about as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. "You can tell me now," I suggest; I do think that he's an asshole most of the time, but at least he's funny while doing it. I used to feel like I was a part of the group when he teased me. I miss that feeling.

        Calum shrugs, looking down, "It wouldn't be the same. You wouldn't remember." He takes another gulp of his beer before continuing, "But basically, you were so confused, you were as useful as an asshole on an elbow."

        Michael snorts at his words, and even Ashton looks down, trying to hide a smile. Where's Luke to save me from these people? He's always late. "As useful as a bag full of farts," Michael adds, quietly, but gains more confidence in what he's saying once Calum laughs loudly- he wasn't even there!

        "Couldn't produce a fart in a licorice factory," Calum says, and by now the two of the are cackling at their own selves. It must feel really good to be Calum and Michael.

        "Couldn't find her own ass with both hands, even if her fingers were flashlights."

        "Couldn't tell shit from clay."

        "Couldn't run a piss-up in a brewery."

        "Couldn't run a bath!"

        "Okay, seriously, that's enough," Ashton speaks up, just when I was on the verge of starting to laugh with the two dipshits. "If you've nothing humanly acceptable to say-"

        "Yeah, like you're any better," Calum recomposes himself, while Michael keeps dying from laughter. "Mr. Qualified Driver. You couldn't drive a greasy stick up a cat's ass."

        "Couldn't drive a nail into a bucket of water," Michael adds again, making Ashton sigh in defeat – and there they go again.

        "Couldn't drive ducks into water."

        "Couldn't drive a fart out of your own ass."

        "Couldn't drive a wet soapy finger up your own ass."

        "You know what?" Ashton tries interrupting them again, and surprisingly, the other two let him. "If I wanted any bullshit from you guys, I would've squeezed your heads."

        "Luckily you don't have to," Calum says, reaching out for his beer again, "We have bullshit pouring out of our heads as it is."

        Shaking his head, Ashton stands up, "Then please, pull your lips over your heads and swallow them."

        The two of them raise their eyebrows and start hollering, as Ashton starts walking out of the room. "Decided to join us, mate?"

        "Oh yeah," He responds, his voice evidently sarcastic, "But first, I'm gonna go give birth to your twin, Calum."

        He stops at the doorway as Michael and Cal start laughing again, and turns to me, "Open the door if Luke rings, yeah?"

        I nod and he walks the rest of the way to the bathroom. I only realize that the other two have become quiet when he closes the door. "He wants you to open the door?" Calum asks, his brows still raised, but now in curiosity. And confusion.

        "Uh, well, Luke's supposed to come, so..." I trail off, shrugging, not really sure what he was trying to say by asking that.

        "He could've asked one of us to open the door," He mumbles- oh. That. "You're in a cast. And you're so tiny. That was quite inconsiderate of him."

        "You're the one to talk about inconsideration," I say loudly, making Michael chuckle with me- he's awfully quiet, that's what I've noticed so far. Only talks when Calum's talking. He's still getting used to being a part of the group, I guess.

        "I'm just saying-" Can he seriously stop just saying for once? "-it's like he's not worried about you. I mean I know I talk a lot of shit, but I wouldn't ask you to open the door if I have friends who could walk faster than you on their hands."

        Why is he getting so worked up about this? "Especially Ashton, I mean, have you seen the size of his hands?" He turns to Michael- now he's just going completely off topic. "His fingers are longer than Wolverine's claws, it's frightening."

        Michael only shrugs, chewing the inside of his cheek, obviously not having anything to say. What a surprise. "I think it's good to have big hands if you're a drummer, you know," He says quietly, lifting his hands to air drum for a few moments; Calum shrugs too, agreeing with him as he returns to his beer.

        "Yeah," He sighs, glancing at me and then pointing at me with his beer bottle. "Bet he took your virginity with his pinkie."

        I don't think I've ever been more grateful to hear someone knocking on our front door. Ever. "Just give me a crutch, you fuckwit," I mumble to Calum, holding one arm out as he grins at what I'd called him.

        "Race you to the door, Lu?" He asks, giving me a wink that makes me want to poke his eye out.

        "Beat you up with a crutch, Cal?" I smile brightly back at him, making my way to the hallway. I was kind of hoping Ashton would be done with the bathroom by the time that Luke arrived, but this is not a problem at all.

        I unlock the door and open it, ready to smile at the tallest of the band members, but my expression freezes when I take in the sight in front of me; sure, there's Luke, with a shit eating smile and his blonde hair sticking out of his beanie upwards, but then there's also another person standing right next to him. And I've never felt more like going into cardiac arrest when seeing that person that I do now.

        "Hey," He breathes out, his cheeks red from the cold outside, and bends down to give me a hug. I barely wrap one arm around his waist, because of his height, my crutch, and the fact that I'm trying to focus on not passing out. "I brought more beer. So fun being able to legally buy alcohol."

        I let out a laugh that sounds more like a squeak than a laugh, as he pulls away, and turns to- oh God. Don't make me shake hands with him, Luke, don't make me touch him. "And, uh, this is Riley, the former guitarist. You also know each other."

        Somehow, I find it in me to stay still on the ground and lift my hand, to shake the dark-skinned boy's cold one. I can see the change in his expression as Luke says the word 'know', and if I could, I would run out of the room screaming. But I can't. I have to suffer through this. I brought it on myself.

        "Hey, did they- Luke! Where've you b-" Ashton's voice is heard from a few feet away, and I can feel my stomach twisting in knots as he stops himself from talking the second time. I force myself to look at him- his expression is blank, and his eyes slightly wide as Luke approaches him.

        "Sorry, man, I went to Woolies for beer and it was smashed with people," Luke apologizes, but Ashton keeps looking behind the blond boy, averting his eyes to him only when he's finished talking.

        "Yeah, that's okay," He blinks, watching Riley as he walks further into the room, smacking Ashton's arm lightly as a greeting – he goes straight to the living room after that, while Ashton's body becomes unimaginably tense. I swear Luke must have gone blind if he can't see it.

        "What- what is-" He stammers, gripping both of Luke's arms and pushing him backwards a little as he tries to compose himself. "What is he doing here?"

        Luke blinks at him, obviously confused as to why he's behaving like this- oh boy. If only they knew. I can't even imagine their reactions if they knew. "Relax, mate, I know you're pissed that he quit the band, but he's still our friend," Luke explains, sounding like he's stating the obvious, and he is – but the two of us know that Riley is at the very bottom of Ashton's friends list. He's actually at the top of his nemesis list.

        "Right," He finally says, blinking to compose himself. "Well, go on inside. We'll be right there."

        When Luke leaves, Ashton stiffly walks to the door to close it- I haven't even noticed that I'd been standing by the opened door, practically freezing my knickers off. My body literally went numb when I opened it.

        "Ashton?" I dare to call, as I watch him gripping the door handle, trying to steady his breathing. "You alright?"

        "Yeah, I just..." He shakes his head, taking a few steps toward the living room, but stopping so he's not in the boys' sight. I tilt my head to the side too, to see what he's looking at – and thankfully, I catch Riley sitting on the arm of the loveseat Michael and Calum are sitting on, with Luke on the far right of the couch Ashton and I were sitting on. The only point is, Riley is as far from us as he could be. I don't know if Ashton would live through the night if he was any closer to us.

        "Listen," He turns to me, his voice quiet, a stern look on his face- he's not kidding at all anymore. "I'm gonna sit in between you and Luke, and you can't change your seat for the rest of the night. Understood?"

        His possessive behavior is slightly intimidating, but I should know that it comes naturally to him. The thing that's actually intimidating is that I can feel his anger. "Okay-"

        "And don't move," He continues, "At all. Unless you need to go to the bathroom. I'll get the pizza and everything, but you don't move."

        I nod once he finishes talking, and start playing with the hem of my shirt to hide how much my hands are shaking. He clears his throat and straightens up, clearly trying to get a grip before we returned to his friends again.

        "Okay. Now," He takes my crutch from me, hanging it on his shoulder; confusing me for the first time. "Come here."

        "What are-" I cut myself off and widen my eyes, finding myself in Ashton's arms as he carries me to the living room, back to our seats; I'd be concerned that I'm too heavy to be carried with a cast, but I've seen him play the drums. The cast is not a problem.

        "Couldn't let my angel walk all by herself, now, could I?" He says, loudly as if to leave an impression, and gently lowers me on the couch. At first I want to shout something back at the guys for their snide comments, but I practically lose the ability to do anything with my body as Ashton quickly presses his lips against mine, not really moving them, just keeping them connected for a while. He didn't do this when Michael and Cal came; it's obvious who the reason he's doing this is. And once again, I feel like flinging myself out the window.

        When he pulls away, I suddenly come to realize that the guys are still making remarks, even Luke – who's usually defending me – but Ashton is ignoring them and continuing to keep his face extremely close to mine, winking at me after a few seconds, before going to leave my crutch where I'd left the other one. He returns within a few seconds and, as he sits next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, I look at him – just in time to catch him looking across the room, right at Riley.

        Something is going to kill me tonight, and I don't know if it's going to be Ashton's fake affection or the reason for his fake affection.

*

I AM INCAPABLE OF WRITING SHORTER CHAPTERS AND I WANT TO KMS

and i don't even want to talk about what a little bitch this chapter was for writing, but i hope it came out alright :) :) vote and comment guys, pleaseeeeeeee? i love you x