Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton (Part 5)
[Following anyone/everyone who leaves some form of thoughtful feedback x]
“Calum!” you call after walking into the kitchen, spraying cleaner on the counter and drying it down with a rag. “It’s your turn to take the garbage out.”
“One second,” he says back, followed shortly with an unrelated, “Oh, shit.”
A moment later you glance up to see him emerge from his bedroom, shirtless, and holding in his hand a toothbrush with bristles coated in white paste.
Your arm continues to circle the counter with the rag, using slightly less elbow grease now that you’ve been distracted. “What?”
“Water’s out in my room,” he answers casually, as if it’s a reoccurring inconvenience that he’s come to expect over time. He reaches across the counter to dampen his toothbrush with the kitchen’s faucet, then proceeds to scrub his morning breath away.
“How does it just go out in one room?” you question, turning to use the same cleaner on the front of the refrigerator.
“Dunno,” Calum mutters with a mouth full of foam. Your ears catch the sound of him spitting into the sink.
“I just cleaned that.”
“And you did a great job.”
You cast an annoyed glare over your shoulder.
“Anyway, cool if I use your shower?” Calum asks, smiling at the silent threat.
The ownership you have over anything in the apartment still sounds odd to you when put into words, almost always forcing you to pause with the need to correct Calum before remembering he’s making sense. You guess you haven’t quite settled in to your newest living arangment yet, still in the habit of referring to it as Calum and Ashton’s place. You only unpacked your last box a few weeks ago, a short while after Ashton left for Las Vegas to pursue the boxing training Dennis Serrant had to offer.