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he turns the shower's knob as far to the hot side as he can stand. he still feels dirty and cold. the water is stinging oh-so-badly as it hits his numb toes, the blue shade quickly fading into that of a blinding red.
"luke?" ashton says softly from outside the bathroom door, his voice barely able to be heard over the sound of the water. "you alright in there?"
"yeah," luke calls back, running a hand through his hair. "i'll be out in a minute, and then i'll be on my way."
luke wants to cry. he feels so stupid, and he's so angry at himself. because he did it again. he slept with yet another stranger just to feel wanted.
because there's something about balled-up sheets clutched in sweaty hands that makes him feel like he's the most beautiful thing on this entire earth. there's something about making so many people feel good that makes him feel good too. he can't place it. it's a feeling that's been there ever since the day he turned 16 and realized that sometimes you can be dissected by a single look into a mirror. it's a terrible feeling.
he washes his hair slowly, trying to avoid the inevitable moment when he will have to get out and explain why he walked barefoot in 40 degree weather. when he'll have to explain to his best friend that he didn't really care about the fact that he could've gotten hypothermia or whatever ridiculous thing ashton was going to fret over.
he can't bring himself to care about most things these days, and he knows that that isn't exactly a good thing, but he also doesn't really know how to fix it.
he finally finishes up and steps out of the shower, wrapping himself up in the fluffy towel ashton had given him. he puts on some of his clothes that he'd left here the last time he'd been over - when he and ashton had realized that luke might not be okay, when luke had spent two hours cuddled into ashton's arms, crying about how everything sucked, when ashton realized he loved the other boy.
once he's dressed, he goes into the living room, keeping on a blank face as ashton screams about how he could've died, for christ's sake!
and when ashton asks luke why he's like this - unmoving, uncaring, bitter, stone-cold, indifferent - and luke cannot give him a straight answer, luke does what he's best at.
and they're down to half-closed eyelids and pale purple marks on chests and oh, god ashton is so in love with this boy, but he knows that he means nothing to luke, that he's just another fuck, another few minutes of feeling okay.
his eyelashes cast a shadow on the pale blue wallpaper as ashton whispers words that will be left behind on the pillow that separates the two of them. and luke can no longer feel pain, can only feel the numbness of bruised lips pressed to his cheekbones. he can't feel truth behind the promises that ashton is whispering, the words that swear that luke doesn't need sex to feel fine, that ashton can be all he needs.
because luke knows the truth - the world is shitty. life sucks, and luke does what he needs to to get by.
luke presses a kiss to ashton's forehead, one that says, 'i'm sorry i don't love you.'