Luke dropped Ashton off later that night. Ashton would have killed to have stayed with Luke overnight, especially after such a hell of a day, but curfew was curfew.

Luke stalled his car at the foot of Ashton's front steps. His blue eyes were guarded, as they so often were, a mask of charm and elegance that didn't quite match his actual personality. Ashton took his time removing his seatbelt.

"You okay?" Luke asked. He caught Ashton's arm as he reached for the door handle. "For real."

Ashton nodded. "I'm okay." Luke hesitated, and then eventually released his arm, settling back into the driver's seat. He blinked at Ashton under long blonde eyelashes.

"Alright, then," he said, and put his hands back on the steering wheel. "See you later, man. I'll pick you up in the morning."

Ashton just nodded again. One of his favorite and most repeated actions. Sufficient enough to pass for an agreement, a greeting, a farewell, anything you want to make of it. Yet it kept him from having to talk.

Ashton made himself get out of the car, and he closed the door firmly. Luke waited, as he always did, for Ashton to get inside safely before leaving.

Ashton hurried up the steps to the front door, always anxious about making Luke wait, although Luke does it for each of his friends and most definitely doesn't mind. Ashton pulled open the door and gave Luke a half-hearted wave before going inside the house, shutting the door behind him. He stayed there for a moment, listening to the brief silence that followed. He heard Luke's tires crush against gravel as he pulled out of his driveway and back onto the road.

Ashton turned around only to bump straight into his father, and he lept back violently, almost smacking against the front door. His father smelled like alcohol. He recognized the same scent of beer that Michael drinks. Only Ashton's father drinks it out of necessity, not for pleasure.

"Where've you been, boy?" Mr. Irwin said. He leaned one hand against the front door, the other dangling by his side. It held a nasty smelling bottle. "Fucking around with your asshole friends?"

"They're not-- bad," Ashton managed. As usual, he couldn't seem to speak the curse word. "I was at Calum's funeral, Dad."

Mr. Irwin lazily looked down at Ashton's attire, and he plucked at his oversized coat. "The one that got murdered, eh? Got what was coming to 'em after all."

Ashton's heart rate picked up. He didn't say anything, simply glowering at his father as he took a swig from his bottle. The beer sloshed against the sides. Ashton's stomach churned painfully.

He pushed against the door and started to slide past him, but his father smacked his beer bottle by the side of his head onto the wall. Glass shattered and slit his cheekbone, warm, sickly beer dripping down the side of his face. Ashton remained silent.

"Where do you think you're fucking going, huh?" Mr. Irwin said. He dropped his hand and looked at the beer on the ground as though he just noticed it. "Go get me another beer. Make yourself useful for once."

Ashton stepped over the broken glass the best he could, but he could feel them digging into the soles of his shoes. He walked into the kitchen and saw his mother, who sat delicately at the kitchen table as though nothing strange were happening in the other room. She watched Ashton with a weird expression on her face as he grabbed another beer from the refrigerator, something between a blank expression and an odd, half twisted smile. Like she isn't sure whether to console him or ignore the matter completely.

Ashton moved back into the foyer. His father stood there waiting.

Mr. Irwin snatched the beer from Ashton's hand, and then he grabbed the side of Ashton's head and smacked it against the wall.

For a moment, Ashton really thought he was going to pass out. He heard his father saying something, but it was all noise and no words. His ears rang. His vision went black. His head felt way too light and fuzzy. He wondered what he could gain by passing out, and drew a blank.

Ashton stumbled over the broken glass and somehow made it to the stairway, where he climbed the stairs slowly but deliberately. Mr. Irwin left the room. A weight lifted off Ashton's chest.

Ashton closed the door behind him when he got to his room, and then he turned and looked into his mirror. Blood coated his cheek where the glass had cut it, and it looked as though a black eye was already forming from colliding with the wall. Ashton carelessly wiped the blood off his face with an old dishrag he saw on the floor and collapsed on his bed, wanting the comforter to swallow him whole.

He looked at his phone where it had fallen out of his pocket. He thought about who he could call. Luke would still be awake. He never slept, but he was probably working on some new project. Michael would be asleep by now, most likely. Michael values sleep more than anything else in his life.

Ashton rolled over on his side. Blood trickled onto his white pillowcase. There were a few pink splotches where it had happened before. Ashton didn't care.

Downstairs, he heard his mother talk to his father in a soft voice. She never did anything about it, only made sure to tell Ashton to "stay quiet about it!" She never got hit. She never even got yelled at. Ashton had given up questioning why it was him that took the hits.

He allowed himself to close his eyes and think about today. About Calum. About the funeral and the detectives and his ever growing smile. He saw him from the past, shoving the boys around playfully, teasing Ashton for being quiet but never being rude about it. He imagined Calum leaving for that strange hiking expedition, where his body was found bloody and pale on the grass. Only his dead body would come back, complete with a gunshot wound that infected his blood before the doctors could even get their hands on him. It was too late, even since the beginning. Always too late.

He tucked his hand under his head and let the other curl against his chest, and then he stared at his plain white wall. He spent as little time as possible at his house, so he hadn't bothered to decorate or personalize his room. It looked the same as when they bought it seven years ago-- plain and white.

He shut his eyes and let the darkness grow.

---

In the morning, Ashton climbed into Luke's old Toyota and slammed the door shut. He dropped his bag by his feet and stared at his shoes. He heard Michael continue whatever conversation they were having before Ashton got in.

"...ridiculous. If you want to afford something better than this cheap ass car, then you are going to have to go to class."

Luke patted his dashboard affectionately. "I like my cheap ass car."

"When your cheap ass car dies and you can't afford another one, you're going to wish you had attended class," said Michael. Luke shrugged, unconcerned.

"Sophie can do it," said Luke confidently. "She's tough."

Sophie is the creative name Luke gave his crappy car. To his defense, the car had held up remarkably well considering it was old as dirt.

The car fell into silence, either because Michael gave up convincing or didn't care enough to continue. He glanced at Ashton instead.

"What's up with the hoodie, Irwin?" Michael asked. Ashton pulled at the black sweatshirt, the hood draping over his head. He just shrugged. Luke and Michael exchanged a look through the rearview mirror.

"Ashton," said Luke. Ashton stared at his shoes. "Ashton, look at me."

"Why are you making a big deal?" Ashton said rather harshly. "It's just a hoodie."

Michael reached forward and pulled the hoodie, Ashton immediately ducking his head. He turned his head expertly to avoid hitting the light of the sun.

Luke swore. Michael shook his head and stared at the side of Ashton's face.

"Jesus, Ashton," said Michael. "I know how to fight. I told you I could teach you."

Ashton didn't say anything, simply looking at the scenery outside as they drove to school. When he woke up that morning, the bruise was ugly and dark and black, covering his entire left eye. It throbbed painfully. The cut on his cheek was red and angry, clearly very deep. The edges were dark and scarred with dried blood.

"You can defend yourself, Ashton," Michael continued. He fought to make eye contact, but Ashton avoided it like the plague. "You can't just let him pound the shit out of you."

"I don't want to," Ashton said sharply. He crossed his arms and looked back down at his shoes. Then he pulled his hoodie back up.

Luke scoffed and turned into the school's parking lot. "Why? Because you fucking think you deserve it? Shit, Ashton."

Ashton didn't say a word when Luke turned into a parking spot and shut off the car. He slipped out of the seat and grabbed his bag, slamming the door shut with a little more vigor than necessary. Luke and Michael looked at each other and then followed him out.

They gave up trying to get him to talk after that. Ashton won't talk in front of other people. He was quiet even around just them, and that was when he was the most comfortable. Luke watched him pull the hoodie down further over his face, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He walked between Luke and Michael, and he could feel Michael practically seething beside him.

"I want to kill him too. Your dad and whoever murdered Cal. I want to kill both of them," Michael said. Whatever Ashton thought of it, he didn't say anything.

Luke straightened his shoulders when he got to the school courtyard. He set a blank but disinterested expression on his face and tried to forget about Ashton and Calum for a moment, walking with distaste into the school hallway.

He stopped. Ashton and Michael noticed and did as well.

"I can't do this today," said Luke. Michael rolled his eyes.

"You haven't been to class in a week. Come on, your teachers are going to be pissed," Michael said. Luke knew he was right, but as they walked down the halls, he saw people staring. Not at Ashton's bruises, but at them in general.

Calum was dead. Calum was almost always with them. The quartet of boys that did everything together, and now it was a broken trio. Luke wasn't sure how he wanted to handle it.

Ashton and Luke both had precalculus together first period. Michael left them at the door of the classroom and Ashton and Luke walked in together.

The teacher pulled at Ashton's hood as he walked past. Ashton jumped so violently he nearly knocked over Luke, who grabbed onto a desk to stay upright. The teacher looked startled at Ashton's reaction.

"Mr. Irwin. No hoodies in school, please," he said. Ashton didn't say anything, as usual, but yanked the hoodie off. Luke saw Ashton's jaw clench. The teacher blanched at the sight of Ashton's bruised face and opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. Even the teachers knew Ashton didn't talk at school. As far as they knew, he didn't talk at all.

Luke followed Ashton to the back of the classroom. They took their seats and faced the classroom. A few students glanced at Ashton's face and then, inevitably, at Luke's, because they were friends. Luke kept his face as he always did: masked with disinterest. Ashton didn't change his expression at all, simply staring straight ahead at the board. Only Luke noticed his hands pulled into fists, his knuckles stained white.

Class started, and Ashton pulled his hoodie back up on his head.

Nobody bothered him about it for the rest of the day.

---
A/N: thoughts about this chapter??

ashton is by far my favorite character. I feel so bad for him

how has ya'lls summer been?? I've been so lazy lol

thanks for reading. i hope you enjoyed. please give me feedback about what you thought. thank you!!

love you to the moon! bye