Calum chewed and swallowed. "I said, 'Wait, did you say Ashton?'"
                          
"Yes, yes I did."
                          
"Was he, perhaps, Autrailian?"
                          
"Uh--actually yeah, I think so. He didn't have an accent. Why?" Luke filled the pot up with water, turing the stove on. "Do you want some of this?"
                          
"Sure. And I ask because I'm pretty sure I used to take a music class with him at the Activity Center when I was, like, fifteen. Do you know if he plays the drums?" Calum had been playing the guitar basically since he left the womb, but he still felt the need to take the occasional class or join a club just to refresh his skills. He was a natural musician and had taught Luke how to play the guitar as well, though Luke wasn't nearly as good.
                          
"He was looking for a cajón. So yeah, I assume he does."
                          
"Shit. I haven't seen him in forever! We were actually pretty good friends up until about--well, you know, about a year ago. I kind of dropped off the map."
                          
"I know, Cal." Luke said, meeting his best friend's eyes. It was still hard for them to talk about--hard for Luke to remember that night when he'd found him, crumpled on the floor. It was difficult to accept sometimes that the only reason Luke was living with Calum was to watch him--to make sure he didn't relapse. He sure didn't have any family willing to do that for him; they'd basically kicked him out when he'd quit university to pursue his music. Luke might not have thought it was the most practical decision, but still...it didn't seem right. Your parents should love you, regardless of your career choices.
                          
"I never...I'll never do that again." Calum mumbled, his voice cracking a bit. "God, Luke...I don't think you'll ever know how sorry I am."
                          
Luke smiled at him, a little lopsided, a little broken. "I love you. I always will. And I forgive you. I did the second you opened your eyes."
                          
"Okay."
                          
-
                          
"Ashton, right?" It was four o'clock the following afternoon and the drummer boy was back, looking considerably more haggard than he had when Luke had first met him. A wool coat was pulled tightly around his shoulders to fight off the damp London chill that haunted the streets all winter, and he had his mess of curls shoved into a grey beanie with a pom-pom on top, adding a rather adorable flare to his otherwise stoic appearance.
                          
Adorable. There was a word Luke never though he would used to describe a guy.
                          
"Yeah. You're Luke. I have good news and bad news." Ashton said, smiling weakly and shrugging off his jacket. The music shop was warm, nearly muggy--Luke was in a tank top and skinny jeans and he was still a bit clammy. The heat was always on.
                          
"Oh, man. You bleached my shirt, didn't you?" Luke joked, desperately hoping this wasn't actually the case.
                          
"Um, no. I just forgot it at my house." Ashton closed his eyes for a second, seeming to gather himself. "Rough night. Rough yesterday in general, actually."
                          
"I'm sorry." Luke said, hopping over the counter and hanging Ashton's discarded jacket on a peg by the door. "What happened?"
                          
"I--um, it's kind of personal." Ashton said, looking at the floor. Luke considered his words for a moment.
                          
"You could tell me. It might actually help." He said. "You know--I'm a complete stranger, I'll probably never see you again, and if I do it probably won't involve anything other than you coming in to get your drum tightened or something. Sometimes it's a good feeling to get things off of your chest to somebody who's completely unbiased, too. It helps you make decisions and such."
                          
"Wow." Ashton said blandly. "That was very wise. You're Australian."
                          
"I am. Though that has nothing to do with my wisdom."
                          
"Nope. I just realized you didn't have an accent. Okay, I'll tell you while you show me the cajóns."
                          
"Deal."
                          
-
                          
"Well," Ashton started, "It's not that long of a story. Basically, after I left here yesterday, my girlfriend flipped the fuck out on me because I was like 1 minute late to our date, so I went over to my best friend's house. He just went through some weird quasi-breakup thing with some guy that lives above his work so he was chugging wine and we were watching movies and shit. It was pretty grim."
                          
"Chugging wine?" Luke said, wincing. "That's not good. Does he have, like...?"
                          
"A drinking problem? No, Zayn's just a drama queen. Gay theater kid with a passion for angsty poetry and black leather, you know?" Ashton said. Luke could tell, even though Ashton was mocking him, he cared a lot about this Zayn guy.
                          
"Oh, okay. Just making sure. Is there more?"
                          
"Oh yeah. It was getting late and I was watching some movie--I can't remember what it was--and he fucking kissed me. I'm straight, Luke! Why...why would he do that?" Ashton was red faced, steaming, staring at the different types of cajóns Luke's boss stocked while tapping a nervous rhythm out on the one he was seated upon.
                          
"Well..." Luke said, trying to think of the best way to put it, "I mean, it kind of sounds like you might have been leading him on. Like, no offense, but you're a pretty attractive dude that runs to your gay best friend's house after you both have traumatic breakups and he's drunk while watching what I can only assume is something romanic and cheesy...like, if he had been a girl you'd liked, that's exactly when you would have gone in for the kill, right?"
                          
"Um..." Ashton stopped tapping. "I guess."
                          
"So you see? It sucks that it happened, but you can't really blame the guy. Don't let it break apart you friendship...it's not worth it."
                          
"I...I won't. I mean, I'll try not to. He's my best friend, you know? I'm pretty much all he's got--his family's shit and he's kind of a loner. But anyway, after he did it, I didn't know how to calm him down because he was absolutely freaking out. So I called his boyfriend-thingy that he was originally upset about, and he came over to talk to him. Louis, the fucking asshole, brought his new boyfriend, who actually seemed pretty nice. They went in the kitchen and Louis left Harry with me, and then after a couple minutes he came out and told me that Zayn wanted me to leave. I haven't talked to him since." Ashton finished in a rush and then let out a long breath, his cheeks a little flushed, his eyes a little wild. He was upset, clearly, but still somehow managed to look just on the verge of a smile. It's strange, Luke thought, but kind of beautiful. 
                          
"Just give him some time, man. It's only been, what, 18 hours?" Luke said. The curve of Ashton's mouth was rather entrancing; his lips formed a mysterious sort of line--like a question and a laugh and a verse of poetry were all grappling to get out first.
                          
Luke was quietly shocked at himself because he's never thought of a guy--hell, he'd never thought of anybody--with such detail as he was thinking about the boy in front of him. Something about Ashton made him never want to stop looking and it was strange and confusing but Luke decided not to read into it too much because it was just going to screw with his head.
                          
"Yeah...yeah. I don't know. It's just so confusing, Luke. I...I'm confused." Ashton mumbled.
                          
"Confused?" Luke said, distracted by the way Ashton sucked in his cheeks. Ashton had cheekbones like a fairy; high and delicate, almost making his face shape feminine. "Why?"
                          
"I," Ashton started, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes drift up to Luke's, "I just feel like it should have felt more...wrong."
                          


                          
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