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mimiorzea · 4 years ago

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XXII: Argy-bargy

If there was something Vhox had learned in his twenty or some odd years, it was this:

the people in his life didn't come back.

The lesson took him a while to learn -- he wasn't always a 'quick on the uptake' sorta lad. But when your own mum couldn't be arsed to come back to feed you or pay rent for the musty room she left you in a few days shy of your fifth summer, and you got kicked out by the smarmy landlord some weeks later with little more than a sympathetic pat and a lukewarm egg salad sandwich (for which Vhox could still credit his lifelong intolerance of egg salad -- it wasn't even good, and he probably woulda spewed it over the edge of the lower decks had he not been starving)... well. You'd have to be some special kind of dense to think anyone else out there was gonna put up with your shite, either.

Such an assessment might not have been exactly fair, because Vhox himself was, at times, responsible for kicking old mates to the curb. He did it with a bit less courtesy than he'd been afforded by one Sharlayan Mooncat, too; would up and vanish to another haunt somewhere on the li'l smack of land they called Vylbrand, or find himself picking drunken fights until one of 'em finally had the nerve to break things off. One fellow in the crew that raised him even went so far as to send him letters, moping about the good ol' days before Vhox put his fist through Toffwyb's chest. Bloody sap, he was. Vhox spent days reading that letter, considering what it might be like to go back, to mend a few in the sea of bridges he'd torched, and even scavenged a pen to try to write out a reply -- but when he imagined facing the rest of the crew, the things they might say and the things he might come back awares to find that he'd done, he tossed the letter out with the rubbish and didn't once look back. Didn't read another damned one, deciding they better served being rolled up and smoked with the fogweed, as if the inherent disrespect of doing so might convey his disdain for the mere idea that he would ever go back, and better loosen that awful knot of indigestion he got any time he thought about what would happen to ol' Ortolf if Vhox lost control again.

There was a comfort in moving on, he would say. Always feeling his way forward, spending his days with a lot of fresh faces who didn't know a lick about him other than he was a decent lay and could bull's eye an apple right off the top of a brave sod's head with a knife even after putting back three pints of ale. No one expected anything from him -- and when things changed and people moved on, as they always did, there was ever a new batch of faces to replace the old, pissing his life away in the comfort of warm shallows for fear of all the things that could drag him under in the deep.

And Rin -- well, Vhox would have wagered his thumb that Rin was the same way, if not for that swivin' yellow-bellied shitestain Razhe kicking him into the clearing before every godsdamn member of the tribe during the mornin' group wank over Her Majesty Azeyma.

"Here you are: Vhox's k'tashlum* lover, the proof of his sins against our Goddess."

. . .

"You bloody--"

Rin did not finish that statement, though Vhox could imagine any number of words he could have used to fill it. Under more favorable circumstances, he might have offered them. But as it was, he was too dumbstruck by the man's presence in this dingy cave somewhere out in bumfuck nowhere, Gyr Abania, and the lilt of a plummy Sharlayan accent that he should not have missed as much as he did.

"Why didn't you play along? Still saving all that wit for persuading your way into banquet receptions and warm beds, is that it?"

"Play along with--" Vhox had to mentally backtrack to their encounter in the clearing, only to find that it kicked up a whole new wash of rage. His ears still thrummed with the chorus of angry voices that came in the wake of Razhe's announcement, furious rebukes and demands of retribution, a whole-arse argy-bargy (and for what? Suckin' a cock? Vhox would be on trial for days) -- in the midst of which sat Rin, verbally flogging himself like he was the most measly and groveling son of a bitch to ever waste air.

"You expected me to agree with that hot load of bullshite? Gods, Rin -- if it had been anyone else talkin' like that about you, I'd've knocked their teeth out."

The man gave an agitated huff. "What choice did I have? Whatever is going on, it's clear they're not happy to see me -- and if you had just let me play the scapegoat, then..."

Vhox couldn't be sure what sort of expression he made at that remark, although it made Rin falter, the shadow of something meek and embarrassed crossing his expression.

"What're you even doin' here?"

"Hells if I know." Part of Vhox knew he should be paying better attention, but he found himself studying the sharp lines of Rin's collarbones instead. They were more prominent than he remembered. Probably back to eatin' once a blue moon.

"That Razhe fellow showed up at the Gate looking for me by name, saying that you were in trouble -- wrong side of the local militia, or some such. Given your track record, it seemed believable--"

It took a moment to recall how in the seven hells Razhe would have known the first thing about Rin. Then: oh. The conversation they'd had shortly after Vhox's initial arrival, before he discovered what a miserable prat Razhe was, during which he had been prodded to confess details about the man whose absence had reawakened the depth of a loss that Vhox could not articulate -- something yawning and empty and desperate, a void he could not fill with fresh faces and drunken trysts no matter how hard he tried.

At the time, Vhox was sure as anything that he'd never see the man again. Yet now, Rin was here, in the flesh, looking especially small in the low light, more like he had when they first met than when things were good -- when Rin stopped straightening the life out of the beautiful mess of slate-blue curls that framed his violet eyes, and when he could sometimes, if Vhox was possessed to say something particularly stupid, be coaxed to smile.

"Who are these people?" Rin's voice broke the thought, with a bite in his tone that made another part of Vhox recoil. These people. These poor backwater desert dwellers who slept out in the elements and could rarely afford to eat more than the sinewy animals they caught out in the wilds, the antithesis of everything a dignified and well-learned individual like Rin could possibly respect. Just like him. "Why are you here?"

"They're -- my family, Rin."

An uncomfortable silence rose, both of them seeking words they couldn't find.

"After we went our separate ways, I... went lookin', I suppose. Turns out I had some family left after all." People like him, after Vhox had grown up thinking there were none. "There's a lot I never told you. A lot I did to you that I shouldn't've done," and if Vhox were a more tactful man, he might've thought to word himself in a way that didn't make Rin shrink back, in a way that didn't ring with the fresh memory of a crowd who had declared their coupling a sin. "I'm sorry you were brought here. I know it all seems strange, but... ever since I got here, I've been thinkin'... this is for the best. These people, Rin, they..."

He choked on the words. Even now, confessing what he was...

"Look--" when Rin spoke now, it seemed restrained, as though he were speaking against a hand at his throat. "Vhox, look at me."

Vhox did not abide him. In that moment, it was Rin who reached out, brushing messy bangs away from the other's eyes -- and then his hand lingered for too long, uncertain.

"Is this what you want?" A pause, as if to consider. "Are you happy here?"

Try as Vhox might to find it, he could not find the judgement in those eyes. He saw only a muted confusion, a sadness: an unspoken query that seemed to read, but what about the sandy beaches of Bloodshore? The look of the summer sunsets over Costa del Sol? The satisfaction of pulling a good haul in the nets off the fishing boats? The freedom to come and go -- to jump on the next boat due out of the harbor and end up anywhere, any time?

Rin always had been sharp, even if a bit scatter-brained and way too easy to misdirect. But maybe it was obvious: it was not what Vhox wanted. It was what he deserved. Quarantined from the rest of the world, people who couldn't understand what it meant to be born something dangerous and unwanted. People he would hurt. People who would hurt him, not realizing what he was and what that meant. The world was like that, full of change and fresh faces and people who never knew more about you than you wanted them to know. Vhox lived his whole life riding in those waves, and for once... for once, he wanted some of those faces to stay the same -- to have something in his life to hold him steady, something he didn't have to run from. Something he had in that time with Rin, and Luma, and...

Vhox tilted his head gently into that hand, a quiet and wordless moment of vulnerability, savoring the warmth of another touch that he wasn't sure he would feel again. Then, when he held Rin's wrist to move it away, he was struck again by how delicate it was in his grip, renewing an overwhelming and protective desire that reassured: this is for the best.

"... I should be. And if I don't get to say anythin' more to you, let it be this: I'm glad you cut things off. You deserve better than what we had -- better than someone like me."

Rin opened his mouth at once, flashing teeth in the start of a reply that Vhox expected would sting. But whatever he meant to say, he didn't get to. A shadow cast from the cave entrance, and Vhox recognized Razhe in the silhouette.

"Good. If that is how you feel -- then may Azeyma grant what you both deserve."

. . .

No. Godsdamn it, no--

His recollection of it all was dark, murky, churning waters over an abyss he could not peer into. There was Razhe, spouting some shite about Azeyma like the sort of overzealous madman you only hear about from the poor sods who bounced out of Ishgard; grabbing hands amidst a shuffle of movement (Vhox saw a form dive toward Rin and landed a solid kick in the whoreson's stomach), raised and desperate voices, panic like the tide rising up over his head when the realization of what Razhe meant to do hit him full force.

All of it was distant, almost intangible, disjointed sights and sounds that lacked the necessary cohesion for Vhox to clutch them in his hands. But there was one thing he did remember clearly: the terror and confusion writ in Rin's face.

"Fuck!" Even now, his arms wouldn't hold the weight of his swaying body. He was crawling on hands and knees, the deep rusty hue of dried and flaking blood stained up to his elbow, fingers smearing almost-black in the puddled ichor that gathered and settled in the crevices of the floor. Just like before. Just like the last time. As he struggled to discern other shapes in the space, he spotted one in the corner of the cavern, mouth agape and eyes glassy, a gaping wound painted crimson where a throat should have been.

If panic was the tide, then that was the moment in which Vhox snapped open his mouth, watching the distant glimmer of the ocean surface as he abided a futile impulse to breathe, drawing nothing for his lungs but seawater. It filled his throat, stung in his eyes, and his stomach churned, chanting no, no, not this, not him, until he was spared the oncoming breakdown by the reveal that the body was not Rin's -- but Razhe's.

He still felt like he was swallowing seawater.

"Rin, gods -- Rin, where are you?" Everything was so dark, masked in a stench so thick it was no wonder he couldn't breathe. "Rin, if you're there -- if you can hear me--"

"He's gone."

Another shape at the entrance of the cavern. Imzha.

"What the bloody fuck does that mean?" Whatever elaboration Imzha intended was lost beneath the force of Vhox's own voice, sharp with a wild anger. He rose onto unsteady feet, fists clenched, the stick of lingering blood an ever-present reminder of the monster that yet stalked at the edge of his consciousness. "How could you let that godsdamned nutter in here with a fistful of poison, knowing what he could do with it--"

"Vhox -- please, calm down--"

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down! Where is Rin?"

He had trusted them. He had trusted the tribe. And then this--

"Your -- Rin, is fine."

He exhaled a bated breath.

"He is gone. He left, safely, of his own accord. I made sure that the tribe let him be."

Vhox staggered back down onto his knees. All of the fight ran out of his legs.

"Razhe acted of his own volition. He was not told to attack you." Imzha moved ever nearer, taking cautious and measured steps, as if she thought that to approach him too quickly might trigger the instinct to strike. It reminded him too much of the crew, after it happened. Too much of Ortolf. "For what little it may be worth, I'm glad you're safe. And your... 'friend' -- well. I suspect he won't be back."

Vhox might have expected that. It was what he expected to begin with. That was how it should've been. And yet it didn't... somewhere, in Vhox's chest...

"We didn't get to..." he didn't even say goodbye.

"It is just as I told you," she spoke softly, gently, as though she could read the despair in his features. "Outsiders don't understand. Who we are, what we can become -- it frightens them. Much like prey knows to fear its predator, even if they do not consciously know of the power that lives in our blood, they can sense it." She came to crouch onto her knees beside him. "Whatever you and Rin had... he never could have been with you."

"How do you know--"

"He said so."

The corners of his eyes stung. Everything smelled of salt and tasted of bitter.

'Course he would.

"He said you were a monster." Imzha's voice was a resonant murmur in the still of the cavern. "A dangerous creature he was afraid to imagine he might have ever loved."

He was a fool if he ever thought Vhox a man worth loving. And what a fool Vhox had been -- both of them. Better that Rin live long enough to find someone proper and refined, with whom he could have educated conversations (without the distraction of Vhox's carnal appetites) and who could make good money without subsequently spending moons looking over his shoulder, who would never gut him in a fit of terror or look at that precious nephew he so loved and think, what if something goes wrong and I--

"Do not think of him, Vhox. He is gone, and your place is here, with your family."

A hand touched to his face, with fingertips so much less delicate and nails that scraped just so. Nothing like Rin's, whose touch had been full of a fondness that Vhox missed so much that he hated it, so much that he wanted to trace over the lines with his own nails until they bled -- a fondness he was not sure he would ever feel again.

"Come. Let us see to those wounds."

Rin Weise is owned by @idealistsinc

*k’tashlum is a fanon Huntspeak word used as a slur for Keeper of the Moon subgroup Miqo’te by some Seeker of the Sun tribes. Although this particular word makes no appearance on the page, general ideas and grammar structure for the fanon Huntspeak I follow can be found [here]. (Note that I am not the author of the article in question, and do not claim ownership of its ideas!)

#wow what this bitch is actually still writing fills?#although i finished this maybe a week ago or something lmao i forgot to post it #ffxivwrite2020 (late)#ffxiv vhox tia #ffxiv rin weise

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in-superbloom · 3 years ago

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did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

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jwnbwnjwn · 4 years ago

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Entry 8 (12.20.2020)

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted an entry on here. My last one was back in September, and man a lot has happened since. First off, My sleeping schedule has been messed up for the past couple of days, and in a bit I’ll get to why. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it in any of the last posts but, if I didn’t then my goal for the last couple of months has been to get on a (keto) diet and lose some weight, and I’m here to tell you I still haven’t, I haven’t even stuck to a diet for that matter. The only diet I’ve had has consisted of take out and midnight snacks. Anyways, now let’s get down to business. I went ahead and read my latest blog post before this and I laughed at the fact that I said I was starting a diet, yeah that never happened. Im happily at 160 lbs at the moment (not really happy about it but oh well).

I mean covid-19 is still going on, its kinda spiking then calming down, spiking again, and its just this whole repeating situation. Everyone's still wearing and masks and doing everything to be safe, although I think my towns cases are starting to go down. It is around Christmas time so they’re starting to decorate everything, all the parks and stuff; so hopefully that doesn't spike the numbers up again. When going out though I still have to be careful, I can’t catch covid and give it to my loved ones, and I would rather not make history and get sick.

I guess I should start here. I wish my life was still the same as it was during my last entry. I really do. I wouldn’t have known what I do now and I would’ve just been at peace, happily living my life and struggling with school. I ended up getting a D in that biology course, and dropping that math and history course. Yeah, it was a pretty shitty school year tbh. I’ve never been that lazy and unmotivated when it comes to school but man, this fall year really took a toll on me because I legit did nothing all year. In result of it, my gpa went to absolute shit and down to a 2.8. I now gotta make that up during the summer and try to get it as high as i possibly can. I just finished my second fall semester so I’ve been on Christmas break for about a week now, but honestly this break feels so lazy and gross. I am reading my last entry to see what I can catch everyone up on, as things have changed drastically. I mean my friendships are still fine, I still keep in contact with seatbelt and ice and maria. I keep in contact with them almost daily honestly. About my relationship, thats where I wish things were the way they were three months ago. Without going over too much detail, a girl reached out to me and let me know her boyfriend and Mr. were trading girls nudes again. Honestly hearing this a second time broke my heart, but I really didnt have much of a reaction to it. It hurts every here and there, but I guess im forcing myself to open my heart and forgive and forget so I can go ahead and move on already. Mr. and I are in a certain situation trying to avoid law enf*rc*m*nt so things have been kind of hard recently. He’s been seeing me many times this week just because of the fear itself that one day might be his last time to see me, but I think things are starting to cool down with our/his situation, so hopefully he’s not walking on eggshells too longer, because seeing him worried makes me worried and vice versa. He’s looking into going to therapy and having a closer relationship between him and god, in order to get rid of his old ways and make himself into the better person he needs to become. I can’t really get into details about the situation on here as it legit would be the most dumbest thing I could possibly do, but in result of getting closure about it, he told me he was planning on purposing in the near future, like before 2021 is over - but then he had to go fuck it up and put that on hold. After talking about it we’re going to have to attend counseling once again, but in hopes of fixing our relationship and getting closer again. I love him a lot, I do, but man he is one dumb ass person. I really hope and pray he gets his stuff together, because I really do want to spend the rest of my life with him. I mean, I guess we’re kind of in an awkward part in our relationship, but its honestly because of the situation we’re in, so we just have to work through this and rebuild the trust he ruined. I know he’s going to be going to individual counseling for sure, but I have a feeling that’s just going to turn into couples counseling the way it happened the first time. I hope I can get myself to go into counseling for myself as well, because man, I really do want to work through these issues I have deep down inside of me, but I can’t find the courage I need at the moment - maybe after all of this is done I will. Mr.’s dad is still really sick, but im still praying to god and the heavens above he gets better. I’ve been talking to my dad a lot and my relationship has been improving, while my moms and I’s is kind of going backwards slowly. About those two discord friends, I dont know why I put “crunch” as one of them. I forgot what his first nickname was, but I know it wasn crunch. I mean his name is cesar, so i guess i got mixed up lol but yeah i’m not friends with c*sar and shr*mp anymore. I mean I got really close with him, and I did consider im an important person in my life, until one day I logged onto Discord to see he kicked me out of the server and blocked me, which eventually resulted in everyone from the server blocking me and deleting me off roblox so, I pretty much had no say in it. There wasn't even a reason TO block me, I legit just logged on randomly and was blocked. Although I found out through someone else who was also in the server before he himself blocked me that apparently I was jealous of shr*mp and I guess calling c*sar manipulative got him upset and thinking so he blocked me lmao. Anyways, because of this I dont really play Roblox that often anymore, but instead I watch anime now. Currently waiting on AOT’s new episode releasing today so, thats something exciting to look forward to. I cant wait for christmas just so i can see the look on my siblings face when they see what I got them lol. I also got Mr. a chain bracelet, so I hope he likes it and actally wears it. There’s not really much else except being on eggshells with Mr. and wasting my life away. I’ll keep you guys updated. I’ll try to post on here more often.

Ended this at 12.20.2020 at 8:27 AM

-jen

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