(They'rearen'tgoingtobeanyships. Justtearsand 5sos beinggaywithoutactuallybeinggay. They'rejusttouchyandscaredandthere'stearsandsomeonediesandIdon'tevenknowanymore. Basically, nolipkissesordicktouches, butlotsofheadscratchingandcuddlingandbeinggayateachother.)

(Again, TRIGGERWARNINGandlotsofLITERARY DEVICES)

It's not only my eyes that burn, but my skin, in a different way. My eyes light with a fire that spills into my head and seeps into the cracks of my brain, forcing all these weird thoughts to make my skull smoke and my teeth grit. My skin burns like it's going to melt off. Sometimes it does. I burn like there's something fierce and firey pumping through my veins and my heart pumps out electrocution waves instead, making me cringe and jolt and resent the entire organ.

I hate the hot blood in my veins, too. It boils and burns me from the inside out, making me want to peel my skin off to make it stop. It surges through me, from my toes to my fingertips, never ending and constant, I want to sit in the cold until my limbs go numb and my heart is pumping slowly, so slow it's nearly gone. I want to inject ice directly into my bloodstream, let my veins carry it until my entire body is frozen and useless. Anything would be better than the fire consuming me from the inside and melting my veins.

My skin burns hotter than the average person's and I've always got a fever, even if I'm not sick. I sweat buckets, just sitting and breathing sometimes, and my skin is always salty and heavy. Waves of heat roll through me, under the surface of my skin, rolling across my muscles. I itch across my arms and any skin I can reach, like the bright red marks my nails make will put out the fire, like it will relieve any burns inside me.

It doesn't and there's sometimes blood dripping down into my palms or pooling around the heels of my feet. Its smears across my chest and into the spot when my ribs stick out before my stomach swoops down. I ignore it, clench my fists, and sometimes I grin and bear it.

Sometimes it burns so hot, it wrecks me completely and my eyes roll back into my head.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°.•°•.

"You're just hot, s'all," Luke says simply, reaching out and pushing a piece of my hair off my forehead. He tries to smile, but his fingers brush across the creases in my forehead and he winces. He pulls his hand through my hair once, letting his fingers linger, scratching against my scalp slightly.

Michael nods along when he realizes I'm not going to answer or even acknowledge the statement. "That's all it is, probably." He grabs my arm gently again, three fingers holding my wrist up and the other two hovering around it, just barely touching. His other hand brushes against my elbow, torn between holding it up and and letting me do it myself. His eyes flicker across my the length of my arm, tracing the outline of the dried blood for a second, then he drags the washcloth across my skin.

I wince involuntarily and go to pull back, only getting a centimeter before Michael grabs my wrist firmly and tightly, like he's probably never going to let go. His eyes flicker up to meet Luke's, but he doesn't chance a look at me, and then he pulls the cloth from my shoulder to my elbow quickly, almost harshly. It stings like you'd expect, but he does it a few more times until the top underside of my arm is clean, leaving bright red scabs, long and dark red, across it.

We can all hear Calum outside the door, sighing and saying, "Just wash them off? With, like, soap?" None of us are going to acknowledge his voice or the fact that he wanted a second opinion to what Michael had suggested, even though we all knew he was right. Luke's frowning when I look at him from where I'm perched on the edge of the tub, but he smiles softly and rubs his hand across my head when he meets my eyes. Michael turns around to wet the washcloth again.

"How do you feel?" Michael asks, running the cloth under the faucet. His shoulders tense when the water turns pink, but he wrings it out and turns back to face me anyway.

"Tired," I say honestly. My eyelids feel heavy and my tongue feels thick and useless in my mouth. Neither of them point out that I'd been passed out for 16 hours before Calum found me and panicked. He'd slapped my checks and splashed some water on my face until I woke up, wildly confused and sweating. I pause for a second, rubbing my dark pink fingers over the clean part of my arm, then add, "Hot."

Michael pulls my arm back up and sets about washing the rest of it clean, while Luke hums, "N'aw," and grabs my face. One of his palms settles on my jawline, scratching his fingers across the hair near my neck, and the other presses against my forehead. He winces like he's been burned, and Michael frowns harder than before.

"You're burning up," Luke agrees. One hand trails over my jaw and he presses his thumb to my lips, sliding it over them quickly. He frowns and thumbs at my lips some more, muttering, "Jesus, how'd you even get it there?" When he drops his hand, rubbing the other through my hair and over my scalp a few times, I lick my lips quickly, just to wet them. They taste like salt and blood. The door opens and we all look up hopefully, expecting Calum, but it's not. It's Liam, who usually doesn't come to see us anyway, but he closes the bathroom door softly and turns around. His eyebrows raise when he sees us all, then pull back together in a confused frown. Michael meets Luke's eyes for half a second, then goes back to gently scrubbing my arm.

"What happened?" Liam takes a step closer and Michael moves in front of me, a little protectively, and using that its a better angle to get at my arm as an excuse. Luke shifts, too, leaning towards me more and shielding my side from Liam's sight.

I frown at them and straighten up to look over Michael's shoulder, catching sight of Liam's confused expression again. "Hi, Liam," I say softly.

"Um, hi," he responds. He's standing in the middle of the bathroom floor awkwardly, hands and arms not quite touching his sides and his shoulders tense. He twists the bracelet around his wrist a few times and lifts himself onto the balls of his feet to glance at my arms, the muscles in his calves tightening and tensing. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I nod a little and Luke reaches behind me, letting his fingers scratch down my bare spine, counting off the joints where my ribs connect and stretch under my skin, with the pads of his fingertips. When I look up at him, he frowns, so I bump my forehead with his gently to tell him it's okay. I like Liam, he's nice and worries about everything I bit too much, if anything.

"There was an incident," Luke says carefully, glancing at me to test his words. "We're taking care of it, we're okay." Liam takes another step forward, but Michael doesn't move, just continues where he's working on scrubbing the top of my wrist. He wipes away more of the dried, red flakes, until more scratches appear, carved into my skin.

"Alright?" Liam asks, locking his eyes with mine, with an expression of confusion and something maybe like fear. "You didn't, like, kill anyone? Or anything, did you?" I smile a little at him and shake my head, which somehow seems to make him more upset. He frowns deeper and let's his eyes squint more, eyebrows pulling even closer together. "Right, I'll- I have to- I'll be right back. Okay." He spins so fast, he has to grab the doorframe to stop himself, pulling the door open and stumbling out.

Calum glances in, raising his eyebrows at Liam and then at us. The door to my hotel room slams shut behind Liam and Calum points at the phone on his ear, still. "Hospital put me on hold," he says softly. Luke drags his hand across my back, pressing the knuckles of the other to the side of my face a few times.

"Grab me another washcloth when you can, will ya?" He asks and Michael nods a little. He finishes the remainder of my wrist and turns to get it wet again. He runs a new one under the faucet, too, hands it to Luke before starting on my arm. He frowns when he realizes my chest has a few lines down it, from my collarbones to my stomach and a few across my hips.

"Oh, Ash," he says softly, kneeling in front of me. He keeps his head down for a second, holding my wrist loosely in his free hand. A small, sad noise escapes his lips, involuntarily, apparently, because he jerks his head back up, glancing at Luke quickly, and swipes at his nose with the back of his hand. "What are we going to do with you?" He sets the washcloth onto his knee and reaches up to brush the pad of his thumb across my skin, from the corner of my eye to my ear, palm resting on my cheek.

Calum comes in and bends down next to him, setting his hand on my knee softly, rubbing his fingers across the fabric of my jeans. Luke finally gets his washcloth folded up and presses it gently to my cheekbone. It's cold and nice enough to make my eyes flutter shut for a second or two and my head to tilt, leaning into him gently. When I open them again, they're all looking at me carefully, judging my reaction, and I let my the corners of my lips tilt up slightly. They smile back softly for a second, before the door of the hotel room opens and Louis marches himself right in, mirroring Liam's expression from before. Liam himself follows after Louis like a puppy, eyebrows still pulled together.

"Boys," Louis says firmly, surveying the scene quickly. Calum stands and Michael brings up the washcloth to my wrist, making me flinch and hiss a little at the sting. That makes Michael wince and suck his bottom lip into his mouth. "What's going on? What happened?" Luke rubs his hand down my back again, reaching down with the other to press the washcloth to my forehead.

"Nothing, it's not a big deal," Michael stands up again, shielding me from sight. Louis simply slips past him and stands on my other side, crossing his arms and waiting patiently for a better answer. He gets a better look at the scratches lining my skin then and drops his stance, untangling his arms to bend down in front of me. Michael flickers his eyes up to Luke and I quickly, nervously, and Louis grabs my elbow gently, using two fingers and his thumb to lift it, like Michael had.

"Ashton-" he starts.

"It's not-" Luke cuts off when his voice is a pitch too high and breaks at the end. He frowns at me and continues after a second. "What you think. It's not."

"Well, then, what the hell happened, because-" Louis pauses when he realizes he's raising his voice, nearly yelling at us, and clenches and unclenches his jaw once or twice. He stands up instead of continuing, gently putting his fingers under my chin, and tilts my head up and to the side a few times to look at my neck better. "It looks like you were attacked." He looks down at me disapprovingly again, crossing his arms over his chest. Michael shifts closer, standing in between my legs now, and reaches to scrub my neck instead, probably to just block me from view better.

"You're all very close," Louis tries to move again, but Luke gets down to kneel next to me, hand trailing to my lower back. Louis frowns, Liam rubs his arm and stands up on his toes again, and Calum takes a step like he's going to move to stand behind Luke, but he stops and presses the phone closer to his ear.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he says, a little angry and a lot sad. He sends me an apologetic glance and hurries out of the bathroom, hitting Liam's shoulder lightly, but rudely. Liam just let's him, but doesn't look any less confused about it, and sort of looks like he might follow Calum. Louis starts talking again, though, so he stays and twists his bracelet ineptly.

"I think you touch more than we do," Louis says, eyebrows raised like he knows it will get a rise out of us. It does, as it turns out, because Luke's hand stalls where its been gently brushing my back and his eyes light with the fire that only he can possess.

"Of course we touch a lot, we're fucking scared!" He yells. He squeezes his eyes shut right after, clenching his jaw tightly so it ripples under his skin. It doesn't calm him down, though, and his voice raises again. "We're scared because we don't know what's happening to our best friend, and he's- he's so sad and we don't know what to do!" A weird calm falls around us when he shuts his mouth and bends forward, pressing his forehead to my collarbone. He pushes my back a little, pressing me towards him and I pull him in with my right arm around his neck, as much as I can with Michael still between my legs.

Luke doesn't cry a lot, leaves that to Michael for the most part. When he does cry, though, it's shuddery and breathy, and his eyes go red almost immediately. It happens fast, usually all at once, and catches us off guard. Now, his chest keeps moving, quickly and out of step, and he's sniffing rapidly and thickly. Michael drops down quickly, running his hand along Luke's back and side and hips, letting his fingertips dig in and scratch, and rests his forehead to Luke's shoulder.

"If you guys just tell us what's going on," Liam says gently, glancing over at Louis for confirmation before continuing. "We can help you. Let us help you."

"We don't want your help, don't you get it?" Luke yells, making a move his head to turn around, but I stop him by letting my hand slip into the hair on the back of his scalp. Liam looks taken aback, like he didn't think we'd say that at all, and Louis sighs again. He pulls a hand down his face and uses the other to pat Liam's shoulder gently, a thanks for trying.

Michael looks up at me for a minute, searching my eyes frantically like he's asking for my permission. I nod and let my fingers trail across his jaw for a second, thumbing at his chin. He turns around, not stalling his hand on Luke's waist, and says, "Calum found him passed out on the floor, covered in blood and we though- I don't know, we thought what you did, too. But he just- he's got scratches everywhere. It isn't the first time, but it's the worst. Given, he's usually wearing more clothes when it happens, but."

Liam and Louis share a look, too deep for me to even comprehend and filled with something more than words. Liam opens his mouth after a few seconds, then closes it and just frowns deeper, pulling his eyebrows together again. Louis turns back to us, bends down so he's at our height, "alright. Tell us what else."

Luke presses himself closer to my chest, eyes squeezed shut and fingers digging into the skin on my back. "They don't need to know," he mutters, but Michael ignores him in favor of flickering his eyes to the floor quick.

"Shut up," he says after a second, sighing in frustration and squeezing Luke's side again. "We need help, we- we can't do this alone and we don't know what's happening. They need to know." Luke looks like he might argue, shifting his face so he can look up at me with giant, red rimmed, doe eyes. I press my cheek to his forehead quick, letting my skin touch his for a few seconds, then pull back, watching as he ducks down to bury his face into my chest again.

Michael let's out a huff of breath, letting his cheeks puff our for a second, and glances up at me again. "Just the worst," he says quickly, rushing the words out and looking back to the gray tiled floor. "We'll just tell you the worst bits." Louis and Liam share another one of their looks and I feel like the wind's been knocked out of me from the pure trust and emotion they radiate without even opening their mouths. "He's done the scratching thing a few times. And I found him passed out from coughing too hard a few days ago, and Luke found him trying to breathe a few before that, and Calum found him soaking wet and lying in bed, with half the tub overflowing onto the floor about two weeks before that. We don't- we're close, yeah? But he lives alone, and we don't know if he's done the tub bit before. The breathing thing happens a lot, maybe a few times a day, and the coughing thing happens once every couple of weeks. There's other things, too, I suppose. But they're not- they haven't happened for a while. We don't- he's only 19, and we don't know what to do."

His voice is soft, Louis stretchs up onto on his toes from where he's still crouching, and leans forward to hear better. Liam looks like he wants to do something, anything, but he doesn't move and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even breathe for a while. None of us say anything for a minute, but Calum comes back in and sits next to me on the end of the tub, filling in Luke's empty spot. One of his hands gently strokes up and down my back, pads of his fingers moving across the outline of my ribs, just above Luke's hand. He frowns at us but doesn't say anything, apparently sensing the tense situation.

"Okay," Louis says eventually, slowly standing again with his hands on his thighs, rubbing his palms across his jeans. He glances at Liam again, then to me. "Alright?" He asks gently and I nod, because yeah, I am alright. I might be sad and aching and pumping boiling blood through my body, but my boys are here. I'm alright. I'm always alright with them here.

"Alright," I reply quietly when he doesn't continue. Calum presses his thumb and fingers to my spine carefully, let's his other hand pull through my hair and brush my neck. No one says anything, so Michael goes back to scrubbing at my arm with a frown. Luke's hand tightens, fingers digging into my back slightly, and he pushes me closer, trying to hide his face more.

And for a second, I think, maybe I'm not just telling myself I'm alright. Maybe I am.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°•.•°.•°•.

My eyes light with a fire that's so intense sometimes, I can't even breathe. The mirror shows something that's not me, something that's dark and terrifying, and makes me want to cry. My eyes turn dark, blacker than the night sky and deeper than the ocean, and they start burning. There's a little flicker of orange and red and maybe yellow, barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it, then they alight with emotion.

They look so angry, like they might explode. I want to scream until my throat's rubbed raw and is burning so much that I can't breathe. And then, I want to scream even more. I want to cry until there's no water anywhere in my body and I've run our of salt, and there's a lake around me. And then, I want to cry some more. I want to throw everything I can get my hands on, from pillows to the television, until everything's broken into pieces so small that I can't even see them. And then, I want to throw more things.

Sometimes, I wonder why the water and the ice doesn't just put the fire out.