Salvation

Alan Ashby was acutely aware of the mass of porcelain flush with his throbbing back as he slowly regained consciousness, his entire body riddled with a dull aching. Aside from the pain he felt in his physical form, his mind felt alive. As alive as a man like Alan Ashby could be.

He lifted himself from the floor slowly, gritting his teeth at the pain. Though his Converse slipped a few times on the slick bathroom floor, presumably from when he hit the toilet and caused some of the water to splash out, a cruel sneer curled his lips.

“You want more, Ashby?” his opponent snarled, turning away from his laughing friends. Alan couldn’t have been out long, a few seconds, maybe.

Alan exhaled a laugh as he wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand, lunging at the man. Although Alan was thin(unhealthily thin. Practically emaciated) he was swift and knew a few dirty techniques (Popping his middle finger out for a punch. Legs were of primal use as they were the strongest limb. Go for the eyes).

The two were caught in gridlock, the opposing man’s friends gathering around the two as they hollered and cheered for their friend. Alan eventually got the upper hand, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him and straddling his chest, sending a series of punches that connected perfectly to his jawline, cheekbone, or nose every time without fail.

As if on cue, when Alan’s knuckles were bloodied, his chest heaving with exertion, his mind swimming in adrenaline, Austin burst into the bathroom. He rolled his eyes, hardly phased by the scene in front of him. The looming man walked calmly towards the fray, grabbing the back of Alan’s shirt and pulling the swinging ginger off of the beaten man whose blood was anything but in his veins at the moment. The man groaned and curled on his side, hugging himself. Alan screamed in protest, throwing a fit like a child as he was lifted into the air by Austin. His final blow was a kick to the man’s stomach before he was totally suspended by Austin, causing the man to cough up blood on the tile floor.

“Jesus Christ, Alan!” Austin scolded, setting the ginger next to the door, but keeping a firm grip on his arm as he dragged him out of the bathroom, not bothering with the man lying on the floor or the crowd in the bathroom.

Strobe lights were a shock to Alan’s vision, the muffled music now full on and in his face, intruding his ears. They had come to the club after they finished their performance at Warped to celebrate, but Alan couldn’t celebrate. He had nothing to celebrate for.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” Alan screamed, thrashing against Austin’s grip.

Austin’s jaw set as he shoved Alan against the dirty, graffiti ridden wall, his hand firm and unmoving on Alan’s chest. “I can’t take you anywhere, you asswipe! You always run off and fight some poor asshole for no god damned reason!” Austin boomed, his voice crystal clear even over the loud music. Alan flinched. Scolded by the one he loved. Typical.

Little did Austin know, scoldings like these were only fuel to his trip to insanity. Every harsh word was another slice along his skin, another step down the staircase to oblivion, another meal skipped. Alan was fucked up and he knew it. Psychotic depression was Alan’s sick release.

Alan’s face twisted into a sick sneer as he laughed harshly, his eyes crinkling from his wide, sadistic smile.

Austin’s jaw clenched as he screamed in frustration and shoved Alan harder against the wall, running his fingers roughly through his hair as he stomped out of the hall and back into the mass of bodies hidden by the flashing lights.

Alan slumped against the wall, his laughter dying slowly. Come back, I’m sorry, he thought to himself desperately, his face falling.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. You’re such an idiot. He’d never love anyone like you, he hates you. The entire band hates you. Everyone thinks you’re disgusting and worthless, the voice hissed. It would have been barely audible if it had been a tangible voice, but it was clear and fluent in Alan’s mind, even over the music.

Alan dragged his hands up his face and clutched at his hair, his chest heaving quickly. This was it, this was his life. Yelled at by Austin, the man who was his bestfriend once upon a time. The title remained, but Alan knew that the relationship was slowly wilting, like a sad flower deprived of the sunlight that sanity provided.

Sunlight. Alan suddenly remembered what Austin’s hair looked like in the sunlight. Almost brown, a soft brown that matched Austin’s mind but looked odd on his exterior. Odd to others, maybe. Not odd to Alan Ashby.

The day Alan knew, with absolute certainty, that he was in love with his bestfriend was the day that his bestfriend stopped becoming that. Alan started pushing the man away, slowly, little by little. They were reaching the breaking point as Alan’s insanity had reached an all time high.
Alan sighed heavily and pushed himself off the wall, his posture slumped. All previous adrenaline had drained and he was tired and lost, floating in his own mind. He brushed through the crowds, a shove there, a near trip there. He didn’t feel the bodies around him. He didn’t feel anything. He was numb.

Alan Ashby was numb and his only salvation was Austin Carlile.
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Alan had returned to the bus after the incident at the club, skulking all the way there. He was currently retired in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. After their band had gotten the bus it was slowly decorated with relics of their history together, piece by piece. Alan’s bunk was covered in artifacts reminding him of his bestfriend. He was currently gazing at a movie ticket that he and Austin only watched five minutes of. They then bailed and walked the streets of L.A. together, the conversations a rollercoaster of light and dark. They had worked the weather and discussed the burdens of their past that they carried around like a ball and chain.

Alan’s gaze drifted to an awkwardly drawn picture of himself as a princess, commemorating the day that Austin had bestowed upon Alan the nickname ‘Ginger Princess’. Alan couldn’t help but let a soft smile curve his lips, his eyes drifting shut. He missed those days. The days when it was so simple. Spending every waking moment with his bestfriend, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Now it was awkward and scary and Austin didn’t know why he was being pushed away.

Alan’s heart ached and he rolled towards the wall of the bunk, hugging his stomach as he squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. The sweet nostalgia was gone. The only thing he felt now was grief and self-loathing.

Alan was about to let the tears fall until he heard the bus door open and the laughter of the people he once regarded as his best friends, one more closely than the others. He sucked all of his feelings and stowed them away deep inside of himself, hoping it would be long before they resurfaced. He straightened on the bunk so he looked relaxed and caught a glimpse of the clock on the other side of the bus. It was midnight.

He closed his eyes carefully so it didn’t look forced, deciding to let his friends believe he was asleep until they all retired to their own bunks and drifted off themselves, wherein he would escape to the roof of the bus.

The band slowly migrated to their bunks and sat down at their respective ones. Austin’s was just below Alan’s, and Alan felt the man’s presence beside the beds as he spoke with his bandmates. Oh, how Alan craved to open his eyes and confess everything to those understanding and compassionate eyes. But the peaceful and calming feelings provided by Austin no longer belonged to Alan, he had given them up.

Austin trailed off mid-sentence, looking over to Alan’s bunk. He exhaled softly and reached a hand towards the ginger, brushing a few orange locks out of his falsely sleeping face. “Goodnight, guys,” Austin murmured, enclosing himself in his bunk for the night.
Alan finally inhaled when the lights turned off.


One Year Before Alan Knew:
A loud shatter rang out into the forest, glass pieces scattering across the boulders that the bottle had been smashed against. Alan chuckled along with Austin. It was childish, doing things like this, but they were still young. They were allowed to be childish sometimes.

Austin took Alan’s hands and led him down the bank of the creek, throwing a toothy grin over his shoulder to his best friend. “I wanna show you something,” he said, leading the ginger further into the woods. They weren’t far off from a suburban area, but far enough that all they heard was the sounds of nature, crisp and clean in their ears. Alan couldn’t have been happier. They had ditched the party at the Fuentes household early, Austin’s idea. Alan was more than happy to oblige.

They tripped and stumbled a few times along the way, catching each other every time. Their fingers lingered absentmindedly with each touch, their smiles never leaving their lips. Eventually they reached a clearing in the trees, revealing a broad field riddled with wildflowers and tall grass. Something of a movie; it was that beautiful. Especially with the moonlight casting a soft glow across the lush greenery, and the stars were perfectly visible out here.

Austin watched Alan’s awestruck face, a dopey grin taking over his features.

“I knew you’d love it. I found it when I went to piss,” Austin laughed, running his fingers through his hair. Alan laughed, nudging Austin’s side. “Come on,” Austin whispered, as if to not disturb the peace around them. He tugged Alan’s hand gently into the clearing, laying back against the grass as he gazed up at the twinkling sky, the mother moon watching over all of her child stars.

Alan laid in the grass with Austin, smiling when Austin wrapped his arms around the ginger and pulled Alan’s head onto his chest.
“Beautiful,” Austin whispered. Alan wasn’t looking at Austin, so he assumed the elder was referring to the amazing sky above them, but Austin’s soft gaze was trained on Alan. Austin lifted his free hand, running his fingers through Alan’s hair slowly, brushing it away from his forehead. Alan was focused on the stars, completely relaxed and peaceful with Austin. He didn’t know why, but Austin carried such a tranquil air with him. Every gentle touch from Austin left Alan softer and softer inside, as if the man caressing him like no one ever had was slowly dismantling every nightmare of his childhood, touch by touch, whisper by whisper.

Alan didn’t understand what happened to him around Austin, but he did know that labelling things got complicated and screwy. Labels didn’t, couldn’t represent what he had with Austin. It was too organic, too beautiful to be held back by a few letters.

“We can’t stay here all night, you know,” Alan whispered, playing with Austin’s fingers absentmindedly. He placed his palm against the elder’s, smiling softly at how his hand looked dwarfed compared to the other.

“Why not?” Austin murmured, lacing his fingers together with Alan’s slowly. He grinned at their tattooed fingers, wondering how amazing it would be to explore the rest of Alan’s beautiful tattooed body… Alan’s soft voice brought him back to reality.

“They’ll wonder where we went.”

Austin smiled. “Let them.”

Notes