Work Text:
you know how everyone dreams of having a long life, living till you're seventy, or ninety, or a hundred and two? well, no one ever tells you what you do if you live that long. at least that's how calum feels. it sucks, he thinks, to outlive everyone he knew and grew up with.
he's feeling kind of nostalgic today, and finds himself reminiscing on his childhood, his teenage years, watching the boys get married, and raise families, recounting his life - wow, seventy-five years is a lot - and suddenly, he feels this pang of longing for the life he used to live. this life is peaceful, sure, but its awfully boring compared to his old one, like a grayscale photo against a high-definition one in full colour.
he doesn't know how long he sits on the bench, chuckling to himself at the memories of luke and himself at michael's wedding back home in australia (memorable enough due to the fact that michael's hair was firetruck red), nearing thirty but still acting like the eighteen-year-olds they secretly are, on their epic quest to embarrass michael as much as humanly possible; he remembers michael's resignation at having to stop dyeing his hair at forty-five - calum lost fifty dollars to luke that day, he thought michael's hair would fall out by thirty-five at least; he gets a little teary-eyed at the thoughts of his dad's death, and his mom's, and mali's, and so many others he's outlived - calum, who often didn't believe he's get to twenty-five but here he is at a park in LA, as healthy as ever.
and it's like his nostalgia has magical properties, because calum recognises that wavy gray hair, remembers how it used to be warm honey-brown, he remembers the twinkle in those green eyes and is pleased to see ashton hasn't lost it, even after all these years.
it's honestly so nice to see ashton after so long - they hadn't met for about two years now, and skype will never compare to face-to-face conversations - and ashton seems pretty pleased too, as he sits down and they start catching up on the years they'd missed.
seventy-seven-year-old ashton is about the same as seventeen-year-old ashton, just as positive and enthusiastic as ever, if a little (a lot) slower and less 'rock-out' as calum puts it. he doubts ashton could still sing or drum like he used to - ashton was right, arthritis is a bitch - but calum definitely can't play the bass like he used to, and his singing voice is shaky at best. still, ashton's glowing with happiness and life as they talk about the band and it must rub off on calum because the next thing he knows he's asking if they can tour again - a reunion tour for the seventy-year-old fans, playing songs off all twenty-five albums - and ashton's eyes crinkle as he expresses exactly how much he loves that idea, and calum thinks maybe living this long isn't so bad, because at least he's not alone in this. and maybe it's time to go back to the studio - he does have seventy-five years of experience to write about.