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Ashton likes looking at people. He likes that every person who walks by him has had a past and will have a future. He likes picturing it, he likes humanity. He likes being able to watch, to take in the uniqueness of the features and the moods and stories. It's not creepy, really.
But what he likes most is watching Luke. Luke is just so open and honest and Ashton swears you could see every constellation in those blue blue eyes of his, they just don't hide anything. Luke has this bashfulness and a natural talent for tripping over his own feet, and it really shouldn't be adorable but it is. It is because his face will flush to such a nice shade of bubblegum pink and he'll chuckle softly to himself, as if he can't believe his lack of control over his own limbs. Ashton is hopelessly endeared. It's becoming a bit of a problem.
Right now Luke has his legs tucked in and his chin resting on his knees, eyes closed to the unsteady, soothing sounds of the city, and he looks so relaxed and content that Ashton fights the the overwhelming urge to touch. He knows Luke's hair would be soft under his fingertips were he to run a hand through it, and his lip ring would be cold in constrast to the warmth of his mouth. He feels like running his thumb over Luke's lips, just to see them part in a sigh and yes, this is definitely becoming a problem. Luke cracks one eye open and murmurs, voice laced with drowsiness. "What you thinking 'bout, Ash?"
He can't help the soft chuckle that flees his lips, "Nothing. You sleepy, Lukey?" Luke nods weakly and surprises himself with a yawn, turning his head to stare at Ashton through half-closed lids. Ashton reaches out and runs a finger down to the tip of his nose, because he is so so weak when it comes to this boy. Luke just shuts his eyes again and leans into the touch, left dimple deepening. Ashton's heart does the pitter patter thing and there's a moment where all that can be heard is the sound of cars and police sirens before he's hushedly speaking again.
"I kind of want to kiss you." It comes out barely louder than a whisper, and he expects shock or disgust or even laughter, but what he gets instead is a slow, lazy grin and a soft "I kind of want you to" and he's so startled that he kind of just sits there, gaze trailing from Luke's lips to his eyes. Luke blinks, biting his lip ring and then Ashton's leaning in and their lips are touching, chaste and slow and yes.
Ashton sighs at the discovery that Luke actually tastes like bubblegum. He wants to kiss him until his own lips taste permanently of it, wants to wake him up in the mornings with his mouth pressed to his pulse point, wants to hold his hand and press his back to his chest at night. He wants to cook him breakfast and watch him rub the sleep from his eyes with the backs of his hands. He wants to- he just wants so much with this boy it's surreal.
Luke runs his tongue over the seam of Ashton's lips once, twice, then moves to kiss the corner of his mouth before pulling away, cheeks and neck tinged that same shade of pink.
"Yeah?" Ashton asks, low and intimate and he thinks Luke gets what he means.
"Yeah."