5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


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16. Argument pt 3

“Please say something,” Ashton nearly begs, his voice soft, cautious.   

 

“What can I say?” Y/N breathes out and her voice is croaky, thick with sadness and eyes glistening with unshed tears. They’re useless now – her eyes – but they’re still so beautiful and Ashton would still pick gazing into them over any other petty activity, any day and everyday. “I’m… I'm blind, Ash. Fucking blind. I’m useless,” she whispers and her voice cracks, as does Ashton’s heart, just a little bit more than it’s already been chipped on, stabbed at, and stomped upon.    

 

Ashton was thinking that he’d been through enough pain and he didn’t deserve to go through any more. He takes back that thought now, because if he could take away any of Y/N’s troubled thoughts and pain, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He just doesn’t want to see her like this. So upset, so broken, so hopeless. 

 

“You’re not useless, baby,” he says and, okay, maybe his voice is a little sterner than it should be but it kills him to hear her say something like that about herself. “You’re not useless,” Ashton repeats, running his thumb across her cheek again and biting on his bottom lip as well as inhaling a large breath of air when she turns her head away so that Ashton’s not touching her face anymore. She’d tried to pull her hand out of his grip more than once after the doctor had left, explaining things about how she lost her sight, but he didn’t let her. He promised himself he’d never let her go and he never would – and that was in a hypothetical situation as well as physical, for now.   

 

I can’t see anything,” she nearly sobs, using her free hand (well, fingers, because her arm/hand’s in a cast) to cover her face, “I thought that, maybe, I could finally – finally do something I want – something I'm good at, and I – this – I'm useless, Ash. Useless.”   

 

“You’re not,” Ashton repeats and his voice’s actually proper stern now because it’s wrecking him as he hears her say things like that about herself. “Please don’t say that, baby. You’re my Y/N and you’re no way in hell useless because… You're you, and you’re so imperfectly perfect and you’re not useless. This isn’t the end of the world, baby, it’s not the end of the world.”   

 

“You’re not the one who can’t see shit anymore.”   

 

“True,” he allows, then he’s squeezing her hand tighter. “But I’m in love with someone who can’t see shit anymore. I’ve been in love with her since I was sixteen when she could see shit and I had straight hair, and wore ugly shirts, and was getting yelled at for drumming on furniture and singing whilst working in a video shop. And it’s been four years and this girl can’t see shit anymore, because of me, and I’m probably addicted to bandanas, and I wear torn up shirts and the same pair of jeans, like, everyday, and I play in a proper band that do concerts and things. It’s been four years and I am still so fucking in love with this girl that I really do not give a shit that she cannot see anything anymore.”   

 

Y/N’s silent then, and she’s still rubbing at her eyes. Ashton thinks he sees a tear drip out from her eyes but it’s gone quicker than he can imagine, so he doesn’t know for sure – but it still hurts. To know that she’s crying, in this hospital bed, and has lost her sight – and it's all his fault. 

 

“– S'not your fault,” she says quietly, after what feels like days (but has really probably only been a few seconds).   

 

He sighs, “Yes it is.”   

 

“It isn’t," she sighs next, shaking her head lightly. "I should’ve watched where I was going. Was stupid,” she mumbles, more to herself than to Ashton.   

 

Ashton squeezes her hand again, “S'my fault, babe. If I didn't – if we didn't – if I’d stopped you, then – ” he fumbles with his words, sniffling as a lone tear trickles down his cheeks. How the fuck does he still have tears left? "S'my fault, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.“   

 

"Why’re you apologising for my brain fucking up?” She asks with a light-hearted laugh and her voice is thick, like she’s holding back tears again, but she still manages to fucking joke around just so Ashton feels better. This is why he’s in love with her, why he’ll probably always be in love with her. The hand that’s not holding onto his reaches up in the general direction of his head and her hand manages to end up cupping his cheek and Ashton’s instantly leaning into her palm. “S'not your fault, love.”   

 

“But it is,” he mutters softly, turning his head to kiss her palm. Ashton lets out a sigh, eyes shutting, “It’s my fault you even walked out, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll never stop apologising because this is all my fucking fault and you’re the one who’s to pay for it and I’m sorry.”   

 

“I’m sorry, too,” Y/N whispers and Ashton’s eyes snap open to stare at her incredulously.    

 

“What are you sorry for?”   

 

She shrugs, “The fight. Being an idiot and not looking where I was going. The whatever nerve in my brain that’s made me like this. Making you miss your tour.”   

 

Ashton lets out a soft laugh and there’s a little smile stretched across his face, his eyes displaying so much fondness as he stares at Y/N. Trust her to apologise for things that weren’t even her fault. “Okay, firstly, the fight’s my fault. Most of it, anyway. I shouldn’t have been a prick and just said all of that shit. Should’ve listened to you and supported you, and I mean, you were right – the band thing was kind of stupid – ” and Y/N opens her mouth to interrupt but Ashton’s shushing her, “– let me finish,” he says and the corner of her lips quirk up slightly as she nods.   

 

“Secondly, again: my fault. My fault that you left in the first place. Shouldn’t have made you leave. Thirdly, are you seriously apologising for getting hurt in the accident? Jesus Christ, I don't give a flipping shit that you can’t see anymore. It sucks, yeah, because you’ll never get to see the first apartment or house we move into together, won’t get to see the ring I buy you for when I propose, won’t get to see all those things and it sucks so much – but you’re alive. And if I have to pick between you not breathing ever again and you not being able to see, I’d pick the latter. Well. I mean, if I really could pick then I’d switch roles – make sure I’m the one hurt, – ”   

 

Y/N opens her mouth again to interrupt and again, Ashton’s hushing her. “Seriously, let me finish. I am going to lick your face if you try to interrupt me one more time.”   

 

“Lick my face?” She quotes with a raised eyebrow, “That’s the best you’ve got?”   

 

He shrugs, “Could tell you it’s a puppy and you’ll never know,” he jokes and yeah, it's probably too soon, and he's wincing but then Y/N’s smiling and even laughing a bit so he knows that he’s okay. She fucking hates that she can’t see anymore, but she’s accepting it. That’s how she’d always been. She took whatever shit life threw her way and she still managed to keep a smile and crack a joke, here and there.    

 

“Back to what I was saying…” Ashton clears his throat. “Thirdly. I’d skip out on the whole fucking tour if I could but the boys would never let me do that, – ”   

 

“– neither would I,” she cuts him off and Ashton chuckles lightly.   

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “And neither would you. But we’ve told the 1D boys and the fans that we’ll be gone for two weeks, maybe three, so I’ve still got a week left with you and I’m not leaving your side. So basically, moral of the story, don’t apologise because none of this is your fault.”   

 

“But – ”   

 

“If you try to say that it’s your fault again, I swear to God, I am going to smack a bitch,” he says in a falsetto, and he’s rewarded with a light laugh coming from the girl who’s laying in the hospital bed. “Seriously, baby, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. It’s not your fault.”   

 

Y/N sighs then, not saying anything. A lone tear trickles down her cheek from her eye and Ashton knows he should let her cry, no matter how much it hurts to see her cry, because she’s got to let go somehow. Her head’s titled down a bit and the hand that isn’t holding Ashton’s back (the hand that’s connected to the arm that’s wrapped in a cast) is picking at the thin sheets on the bed. It’s silent for almost five minutes and Ashton’s heart is probably thumping so hard in his chest that Y/N might even be able to hear it. He’s afraid that… that she’s going to leave him. After all, it's his fault that she left, it's his fault that she got in the car, it's his fault that she’s in this position right now. Ashton’s fault. 

 

And he’d get it, really. He’d get it if Y/N decided to leave him, because he’s been a pretty shit boyfriend. A pretty shit person. But he physically cannot imagine life without Y/N – sightless or not.    

 

“I – ” he starts quietly, choking up, then he stops himself with a shake of his head, instead opting to press a kiss to the back of her hand.    

 

“I understand if you want to break up with me,” Y/N says and her voice is so quiet and croaky but Ashton hears her loud and clear. His head snaps up, eyes wide as he stares at her, mouth agape. “I’m just going to be a burden now. I’ll understand,” she finishes in a whisper, another tear trickling down her cheek as her head is still tilted down.   

 

Ashton reaches up, turning her face so that she's looking at him. (Well. Not exactly looking but.) “You are mad,” he says in a whisper, moving forward so that his forehead’s resting on hers. “Absolutely mental for thinking that would leave you. Y/N, I spent the past four years wondering each and every day, how did a fucking loser like me, end up with someone as amazing as you. And even now, I am still wondering that same thing.”   

 

“Ash – I,” she shakes her head, choking on her words, “I’m not – I can't – Useless,” Y/N manages to say, more tears running down her cheeks. “I'm useless.”   

 

“No, you’re not,” Ashton insists again. His hand leaves hers in favour of holding either side of her face, “You’re perfect and beautiful and intelligent and funny and kind and so many other wonderful – wonderful – things I can think of. You’re Y/N. You're my Y/N and you are so perfect.”   

 

“M'not,” Y/N mumbles, sniffling.    

 

Ashton uses his thumbs to wipe under her eyes, “You are,” he insists, “You are to me, baby. You are to me,” he whispers. “It’s you and I. It’ll always be you and I. No one else. Just you and I, my love.”   

 

And he’s probably not supposed to because of how she’s still hooked up to IVs and other things, but Ashton climbs onto the bed, anyway, pulling her into his arms as gently as possible. She’s hurt her ribs, too, so he’s extra careful when he does that. Makes sure he doesn’t accidentally punch her arm that’s in a cast, either, because he’s a pretty clumsy kid sometimes, okay. He kisses the top of her head, silently hushing her.    

 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” he mumbles under his breath, more for himself than for her because he is so sorry and he feels like he’ll never be able to apologise enough. For the fight, for the accident, for the effects of the accident.    

 

Y/N doesn’t say anything, only uses the uninjured hand she’s got to clutch at the front of his t-shirt. They’re silent then, neither saying anything. Ashton just holding her, occasionally mumbling apologies whilst kissing her hair and Y/N just gripping tighter and tighter onto his t-shirt whenever he does so. Y/N’s parents opened the door at one point, whilst they were mid-embrace, but the sound that the door made wasn’t loud enough for either of the two to look up so with a look exchanged between the parents, they were out of the room again. Let the two have their moment a little longer.    

 

“What are you thinking?” Ashton asks hesitantly, leaning his head down further so that he can kiss her cheek now.    

 

“Lots of things,” Y/N admits with a little shrug and sniffle.    

 

“Tell me those things.”   

 

“I’m never going to get to see your beautiful eyes again, never going to get to watch you play the drums again, never going to get to watch you boys play live anymore, never going to be able to drive again, never going to be able to read, never going to be able to watch a film, – the list is endless,” she sighs quietly, shaking her head.    

 

“I’m sorry,” Ashton says again; his voice is laced with so much sadness and guilt, and he reckons he might start crying. Again. So basically, nothing new there.   

 

Y/N shakes her head, “There’s one pro I can think of, though,” she says and her tone’s light-hearted and Ashton knows that she’s only saying whatever she’s about to say to make Ashton not sound like he’d just brutally murdered a puppy.    

 

Ashton hums in response, holding her just a little tighter. “What is it?” He murmurs quietly, sniffling, too.   

 

“I won’t get called a douche bag for wearing sunnies indoors anymore."    

 

And if Ashton wasn’t sure before, he’s sure as hell now. This girl – there’s no one like her. This is the girl that he’s head over heels in love with, and she’s the one that he’s going to spend the rest of forever with because with each passing minute and whenever he thinks that he can’t fall more in love with her, she does something like this. Says something just to make any other person happy. That’s when he falls more and more in love with her. This girl is Y/N Y/L/N and he is completely, irrevocably, utterly in love with her and he will marry her one day.    

 

—   

 

It’s a couple years later, when the band’s still at the top because it’s clear that there are no signs of them ever dropping, when Ashton and Y/N are in their shared apartment, watching the tele. Well. Y/N’s listening and Ashton’s watching her, when he should really be watching the tele. His arms around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest, occasionally turning his head to plant a kiss in her hair, because he could.    

 

"Hey,” he says into her ear.    

 

“Hmm?”   

 

“I love you.”   

 

“Love you, too.”   

 

“No, I, like, really love you,” Ashton says, his tone’s insistent now.   

 

Y/N furrows her brows, “Yeah, I really love you, too.”   

 

“Like really, really love you,” Ashton repeats, holding her closer to his body.   

 

“Jesus Christ, I changed my mind – don’t love you anymore,” she teases, angling her head so that she’s kind of looking at him before smirking and then turning back to where she was (kind of) staring at the tele.    

 

“Darn it,” Ashton laughs, pulling her closer. “So if I asked you to marry me, you’d say no?”   

 

Y/N freezes then she relaxes more into his hold, “Depends on if you’re asking,”   “Hypothetically speaking?”   

 

“I’d say yes. Hypothetically, of course." 

 

 "So… Hypothetically, we’re engaged?”   

 

“I guess so. In a completely hypothetical manner, duh.”   

 

Ashton grins, using his other hand to tilt her chin so that Y/N’s face is directly in front of his. He leans down the slightest bit, pulling her upper lip between both of his, pulling back with a contented sigh as he presses his forehead against hers. The hand that was holding her chin leaves her face in favour of going through the pocket of his joggers, pulling out the box he’s been carrying with him to literally everywhere since the week prior. Never knew when to ask, never knew how to ask. And now he has. 

 

Hypothetically, of course. 

 

He pops open the box as quietly as possible, his forehead still resting against Y/N’s, and they’ve both got content smiles on their faces. Ashton glances down, picking up her left hand and then sliding the ring around her ring finger. She stills at the feel of it encircling her finger, but Ashton’s too busy marvelling at how it looked like it belonged there to notice her stilled body. He glances up at her, smiling and kissing her again.   

 

And Y/N relaxes, kissing him back with a breathy laugh and a single tear dripping out from the corner of her eye. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips.   

 

Ashton breathes a laugh, “I hope so. I love you, too,”   

 

“So…” Y/N trails off with a breathy chuckle. “Engaged, huh?”   

 

“Yeah,” Ashton smiles as he kisses her again. Then he pulls back with a frown on his face as he looks at her, “And not in a hypothetical manner. Because if you say it’s in a hypothetical manner, I’m… I'm – I’m… – ”   

 

“– going to cry?”   

 

“Ehh. Probably,” the boy young man shrugs with a little giggle escaping his lips and Y/N’s giggling along afterwords, “But you’ll marry me, yeah? And we’ll stay married? And we’ll be the annoying old couple that goes to sit at the park on weekends and yell at kids for their new fancy-schmancy gadgets?”   

 

“Yeah, that sounds like something we’d do,” Y/N says with a laugh, shaking her head in amusement before turning back to look at the tele. Well. Listen to it. They’re watching Mean Girls. Ashton’s request, though he’d never admit to it. And they’ve both watched it so many times that Y/N can practically see the movie despite not even being able to see.   

 

“I love you.”   

 

“Shut up, I’m trying to watch the film.”   

 

“You’re blind.”   

 

Wow. Fuck you, mate.”   

 

Ashton pauses for a moment, then he shrugs again. “Okay, if you insist,” he says and then he’s scooping Y/N up into his arms and running (as best as he could) to the bedroom whilst Y/N’s laughing in his arms and asking for him to put her down. Ashton doesn’t listen, of course, and only puts her down once he’s at the bed they share and he’s clambering onto her body like a little kid, placing sloppy kisses all over her skin and tickling her in the sides, just for good measure.   

 

And this moment… Where Y/N’s laughing uncontrollably and she’s almost starting to cry, where Ashton’s grin is so wide that it’s almost starting to hurt his cheeks. This moment, no matter how much shit they’d been through and how much more shit they’re bound to go through… This moment right here. It’s perfect, and he’s in love with this moment.    

 

And he’s also kind of very madly in love with Y/N Y/L/N (soon-to-be Irwin) but hey, that’s another story, ‘innit?  

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