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Ashton used to hate the rain. The heavy droplets that poured over his backyard were muddy. His parents being stingy germaphobes couldn’t handle the possibility of a speck of dirt on the carpet dragged in by the little boy. Ashton would insist to his dad that he didn’t mind some wear and tear of his sneakers if it meant he could play a round of “footy,” but that was never deemed conniving. So Ashton would watch out his window with disappointment as the mud clumped together like brownie batter except this one didn’t make him feel warm and cozy. This feeling was gloomy and heavy. Weights pressed on his shoulders that grounded him in the fact that not everyday would be fun in the sun. He wouldn’t always compete in ice cream licking competitions with his friends, to see who could avoid their sticky ice cream from dripping off their cones onto their fingers. Not everyday were senseless bicycle rides around Hornsby.
As Ashton grew up, the rainy days took more away. It was no longer missing out on ice cream but a reminder that not all light lasts forever. When he would laugh along to inside jokes he was not a part of just to fit in, sit around the lunch table with the ever growing feeling that he would forever be different from all of his other friends. They didn’t want him as much as he needed them. He was never the teacher's pet straight A’s, the school jock, the popular hot one. Ashton believed he was nothing.
So one day Ashton picked up his lunch tray after his last poor attempt of chiming in the senseless laughter around the lunch table. He took soda discarding the rest in the trash as he walked outside onto the rugby field. As he took a seat on the hot bleachers, he took in the fact he was alone in his confusion. Not just emotionally alone, literally no other person sat on the usually popular bleachers. A striking shockwave of thunder erupted before unleashing droplets that spread over Ashtons polo shirt. The light drizzle grew into a louder and violent pour, drenching his wavy hair into a mop. Surly his notes were drenched as well, ink splotches all over the paper.
At that moment, Ashton let out a grunt. Not of anger or discomfort but acceptance to the rain. While not external, a small grin grew within Ashton. To the young boy, he took the rain as a reminder even when he was pushed to his limit: when he was the most alone the rain would be there, even when he believed he escaped it.
Ashton now a grown man, although many would argue “man child” welcomed the rain with open arms. It became a ritual of reflection. The growing pressure on his back that took storage in the trunk of his mind. He was too busy trying to maneuver his life to give attention to the pain and burdens unloaded onto him. It was easier to forget than to remember.
Each morning he would press snooze for the final time accepting fate that he needed to make an attempt at starting his day. Ashtons days were not counted in retrospect to his next vacation or day out with the boys. They were countdowns to his birthdays. However Ashton grew out of his once excitement for birthday parties. The colorful balloons and music couldn’t distract him from the inevitable chorus of Happy Birthday. Are you one? Are you two? Are you three? The only song where every time it was sung, its duration grew— never consistent. Ashton could not run away from the fact his life was changing.
That brought Ashton to where he laid down now. Like a starfish, he spreaded out wide on the green grass in his backyard. His eyes concentrated on the swirls of the light gray clouds. The softness of the grass hugged him close, as if they could protect him from the inevitable. Ashton daydreamt about the inevitable. How would he go out, what would drive him to the grave? He couldn’t ignore the anxiety bubble that grew inside of him each time he drove his car. Aware that at any moment he could ram his car into the side of the highway and he no longer would have to grow up. He could freeze Happy Birthday once and for all. It was getting harder to ignore how hard it was to get up into the studio. To create a beat that didn’t feel stale. To ignore the power he posed while he chopped up his dinner.
Those were all just as easy as shutting your phone off and leaving it under your pillow for days, not wanting to deal with notifications and reminders. Luke, Michael, and Calum had been texting and calling Ash. While at first their messages would not be delivered and phone calls sent straight to voicemail were accepted as Ashton needing a break, the underlying worry that Ashton wasn’t ok was hard to move past.
Calum, having had enough of the silence, drove up to Ashton's house not too far from his own and rang the doorbell. All four boys had spare keys to each other's houses however Calum rang the doorbell more out of courtesy than anything else. He pulled out the spare key from his set when Ashtons no reply striked anxiety through him.
“Ashton? Ashton?” Calum called while scrambling around for any sign Ashton was ok.
Almost giving up hope, Calum glanced out to the yard and froze at his sight. Walking slowly onto the back porch he stood while taking in the tall blonde spread out on his lawn all alone. Calum felt a small tension in the pit of his stomach begin to blossom. Studying the strands of Ashton's hair that draped on the grass despite his receding hairline, Calum wondered how a god could create such beauty.
Calum creeped closer hensitently. Any bystander would easily call out Calum for his laughable crawl but thankfully Ashtons worries were too caught up in the clouds for a care in the world.
“Ashton, it’s Calum.” Ashton had no response. His lips were parted ever so slightly, shallow breaths barely creating any movement. It was as if Ashton was frozen in time. Calum placed his warm hand on Ashtons calf, overwhelmed by how cool it was. “What’s going on?”
“Look at the sky.” With hesitation Calum turned his head to the sky, however instead of the clear blue sky that children played ball under, he was met with a dark billowing cloud. Calum moved his hand against Astons calf, noticing there was no shadow on the grass while doing so. How could this be possible, how could such a billowing cloud not cover his shadow.
“What about the sky Ash?” Calum spoke. “Calum look up. The swirls, don’t you see them?” Calum looked up again, practically squinting his eyes to find the swirls. Just as Ashton claimed, they were there. Dark gray lines dividing the clouds in continuous motion.
“Do you see them?” Calum did see them but didn’t feel inclined to respond. He slowly leant back until his back was flat on the ground. He wiggled his back until he was comfortable. Ashton was captivated by the singular cloud above him he carved out.
“You see that Calum?” Ashton pointed up with his left hand, it was too dark for his pointer to be any help. But perhaps it was more for self reassurance. This is his life. There it was. So distinct between the clouds, as if someone took a gold sharpie and dotted it into existence.
“What do you think it is Cal? It’s a bit too still for a plane don’t you think?”
“But it’s so bright?”
“And? Have you never seen a bright star before?”
Calum paused, gulping the lump in his throat.“I think so? Perhaps you’re right.”
As wind winded up in speed, pushing the two dark clouds back together Calum felt a drop on his forehead. He didn’t expect the frown that began to grow on his face. Watching the star in its last moments just as the two clouds closed in he was sure he saw the star move before the clouds closed. Is it possible the star could’ve moved? He prayed a silent goodbye to the speck, taking Ashton’s hand in his own, squeezing it slightly just as fast as the clouds came together.
“It's gone.” Ashton whispered. Calum turned his head, locked in on his moped expression.
“The plane?”
“No.” The two stood silent, Calum watched as a silent tear rolled down Ashton cheek. He took Calum's hand while squeezing it. “It's all gone, it's slipping away” Ashton whimpered.
“If it’s all gone then why am I here with you.”
Ashton responded with a silent “I don’t know…” His breath picked up speed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He spread his fingers out on the cold grass panicking as he pressed into the growing damp puddle. They were caught in the rain.
“Calum…I don’t know…” Ashton let out in a choking sob, pulling his knees up to his chest as he shivered. He couldn’t tell if his shivering was because of the lukewarm rain or the imploding wracks of his cries. Or perhaps both?
Calum without hesitation pulled Ashton into his chest, rocking the two back and forth. Only the faint light from the pouch distinguishes the two from each other.
“What don’t you know?”
“How to keep going.”
Calum gulped down the bulge in his throat, overwhelming pity for his dear friend.
“Why would I want to live in a world where I have to believe a plane is a star to keep going? I can’t live without real stars, why does God cover them from me? Do I not deserve them?” Calum continued to rock the two of them, pushing aside the fact they are drenched in rain and mud— surely they smelled like wet dogs.
“I don’t know” was all Calum could reply with.
“I turn 26 tomorrow, and what have I done? Eaten food others can’t even afford? Live in a house that costs more than a person makes in 10 years? What have I done in return? No matter how much money I have, it won’t stop the fires, the hurricanes,. the gas prices from rising. How can I just sit here and act like everythings ok?”
Calum simply listened, pained by relatability. Calum would like to believe that through these years of stardom he has remained humble. However, it wasn’t until he watched the fires that broke out in Australia he was reminded that no amount of glamor and illusions could save him from the gruesome fact that the world is evil.
“I don’t know.” The two continued to rock in silence, bathed in the rain.
“I want to let go. Please let me go.”
“Never,” Calum spoke sternly, trying to muster up his wobbly words. “Ashton, you are a star to so many people. With all 100 of your different laughs, you light of the world like nobody else-”
“-Nice pun,” Ashton grunted with a dry laugh.
“Hey, not done.” Calum took a deep breath before continuing. “You might feel small with all the bad in our world, but if only you knew the good you spread. No one drums as goofy as you do. You are kind, genuine, and empathetic to others. Why can you advocate for everyone else but leave out yourself? You try to carry the weight of everyone on your shoulders, but when do you get to rest?”
Calum looks down at Ashton, whose watery eyes stare deep into Calums. It’s in this moment that Calums heart truly breaks, it’s as if a mask was ripped off Ashton's face. The facade he’s grown so used to wearing— day in, day out, one show after another. Ashton had finally broken.
“Then let me,” Ashton whispered. The overwhelming sound of the pouring rain had begun to slow down, clouds still swirling above them.
Calum let the silent tear fall from his eyes down his cheek. Through his peripheral vision he watched the drop fall onto Ashtons arm. He knew nothing he could say at that moment would cure Ashton from his pain. Instead of speaking, Calum pulled himself up then pulled Ashton into a quick yet deep hug. Wrapping an arm around Ashton, he walked him inside the house and into his master bathroom upstairs. Calum didn’t care about the dirt track, I’ll clean it tomorrow he noted to himself. Ashton was merely a dead man walking, body on autopilot and in Calums care. Calum lifted Ashtons arms pulling over his musty shirt, turning on the shower running it lukewarm. Once Ashton was in he hopped in himself, pumping lavender scented shampoo into his palm and kneading it into Ashtons hair. Once they were done, Calum grabbed Ashtons towel and patted Ashtons hair dry.
At that moment Ashton looked at himself in the mirror. Many people dealing with depression have described the sight of themselves in the mirror to be someone they don’t like. However what Ashton saw wasn’t who he liked, not even someone he didn’t like. He saw nothing at all.
Pulled out of the moment he glanced down noticing the loose shirt Calum must have helped him put on, as well boxers. He allowed Calum to guide him to his king size bed and engulfed himself in the covers. Calum slid in on the other side, borrowing a t-shirt and shorts he was sure Ashton prob stole from him anyways. Calum wrapped an arm around Ashton, pulling him into his chest.
“Even if the Earth was on fire, I could never let you go,” Calum whispered after turning off the bedside lamp.
Calum was the first to wake up the next day, Ashton still dozed off hugging a bunched up part of the comforter. Calum pulled himself out of the bed and tip-toed downstairs wanting to wake Ashton up with a cup of tea. He filled the kettle and set it to boil, with his hands on his hips he waited. In a daze he noticed the outdoor physical thermometer through the window Ashton got to decorate his garden with. Squinting his eyes he read that the temperature was 124º. In that moment he couldn’t help the frown that his lips turned into, because in that moment he wished for once that he could let go too.