The alarming pressure in my pretty recently cast-less leg is telling me that maybe, maybe it's still too early to run around the house. Especially a house that I'm quite unfamiliar with. Especially a house with stairs.

         Luckily, the first room I check is the one we slept in the previous night and – that's where I find him. Scurrying around the room, gathering anything and everything, stuffing it into his gym bag.

         "Ash? Ashton," I call him, walking inside the room instead of just standing at the door frame, watching him. "Ashton, what are you-"

         "Get your stuff if you have anything," he tells me, his tone perfectly normal, but he continues with his rushing.

         "What are-"

         "We're leaving."

         My eyes widen, and I want to stop him, but considering everything that just happened in the past ten minutes, I'm still a bit afraid to actually do something. "What? No, we can't just leave, sit do-"

         "Lucy, I'm not gonna tell you again," he interrupts me, voice just as stern, "get your things in your bag if they aren't already there, and we're going."

         Okay, this is not the right time to cheer about how he's been calling me 'Lucy' continuously since last night, even now, when he's beyond angry and irritated. I mean it's definitely a good thing, but perhaps it's not the right time for thinking about it. Definitely not.

         "Ashton," I sigh, blinking a few times to clear my thoughts, and walk over to him; he's bent over, struggling to zip up the gym bag, probably having consumed more space than necessary by throwing his clothes in rather than folding them. "Ashton, come on-"

         "Look, if you don't wanna go, I'm going myself."

         "No you're not," I frown, grabbing his arms as he stands up straight, picking up his bag, "just sit down and- talk to me for a se-"

         I don't loosen my grip as he tries walking past me and, even though I should probably cut down on being such a drama queen, I stumble and hit the floor on my side as he trips over me. Ashton only loses his balance for a second, gripping the chest of drawers to his right to keep himself up; soon enough he's sighing heavily and walking around me to help me up.

         "Why do I keep trying to break you," he grumbles, though as I sit up, he crouches down to wrap his arms around me and pull me up, instead of just grabbing my hands and dragging me to my feet.

         Okay, maybe my drama queen act isn't yet overused. Or useless, for that matter.

         "Thank you," I say meekly as I regain balance, straightening down my shirt while he slowly, almost involuntarily withdraws his arms from my body. As I look up at him he blinks, sighing again, and finally sits on the foot of the bed to my right.

         "Okay, I'm sitting down. What now?"

         There's still anger in his voice, and his shaking leg isn't really hiding the fact that he's impatient to leave this place, so I might as well get to the point immediately. "Ashton," I begin, sitting down next to him, deciding against touching him at all. At least while he's like this.

         "You can't- alright, try to calm down, yeah? There's no point in being angry, you just-"

         "You know what I didn't need in my life?" he cuts me off- I might as well let him do all the talking. "This. This, what just happened ten minutes ago, I didn't fucking need that. I don't fucking need any of this."

         His head is in his hands and I can barely understand him, but either way, he only groans against his palms after finishing his sentence. I'm not sure what to tell him; I'm not sure if there's anything I could say to make him feel better, or any other way than this right now.

         "I know," I hesitantly place my hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't even seem to notice. "I know. Do you want me to get you anything? There's fresh juice downstairs, I could also make you some-"

         "If you've got some muscle relaxers that'd be great," he says, not a pinch of amusement in his voice, "otherwise... no."

         "...Okay."

         I get up, with an idea already in my mind, and leave the room; however, my walk down the wide staircase is a bit less confident as I look around, praying that I wouldn't see or hear anything strange. I stroll to the fridge, all the while looking around myself; nothing, not even the other 10 people who have been in the house since last night. They're either still sleeping, or they've heard our yelling and have all ran away. Whichever of the two is true, it doesn't sound that believable.

         The fridge is right next to a window, and I take that as a chance to glance outside, see if any of the cars are missing – but no, nothing's different. Which means that Riley is still around the house, or, well, nothing else is coming to mind besides that.

         The thought instantly makes my heart pick up speed, and after a thirty second stop at the refrigerator, I'm once again sprinting up the stairs, my leg once again screaming at me to stop; but I can't, I'd rather have a cast again than encounter that lunatic for a second time. No way in hell am I allowing the slightest of chances of another event like the one from ten minutes ago to happen again.

         Besides, who knows what he'd do the second time around.

         I shiver at the thought, but relax immediately once I reach the room Ashton's in, and let out a peaceful sigh once I close the door behind myself. It even has a key – perfect.

         After locking the door, securing us as much as possible, I turn to the bed and just now take in the sight in front of me; Ashton, lying down, his eyes glued to the ceiling. Well, at least he doesn't look that pissed anymore.

         "Hey," I greet him quietly as I climb onto the bed on my knees, to which he only blinks. "Got you this."

         He turns his head to me when he realizes what I've said, and almost, almost smiles when he sees me handing him a can of Heineken. One of the good things about how bad he is with alcohol is that he doesn't need muscle relaxers or tranquilizers; two of these cans and he's sleeping like a baby.

         "Thanks," he mumbles as he takes it from my hand, forcing the frown on his face again as he opens it. Well, he doesn't exactly force it – his tension is still radiating from him and I still have nothing smart to tell him.

         I bite my lip before speaking, the tab of the beer can suddenly very interesting to me. "So... look, I know there's really... not anything I could do or say that would make a difference, so... if you wanna finish your beer and maybe take a nap, I'll-"

         "I can't wait for tour."

         Or, maybe, perhaps, changing the subject completely is a good approach. "Well- yeah, obviously."

         "It's been my dream since I was fourteen. To go on tour."

         I know, I know.

         "To... go to countries I'd otherwise never go to, to meet people, to make music for those people and not just... Calum's garage walls. To play in front of people, play in countries- wait, did I already mention countries?"

         "Yeah, you did."

         I watch him with a small, fond smile as he sits up, still staring straight ahead of himself. "Yeah, well... now I have new reasons."

         "What would they be?"

         "I fucking hate this place," he says, with such passion, that I don't know whether to laugh or be scared. Considering the beer in his hand, it's probably going to be the former. Luckily.

         "I fucking... hate this city, I hate this country, I hate- I hate everything! I'm hate that I'm stuck here and I hate that it's taken me 21 fucking years to realize."

         He brings the can to his lips, and I gulp inaudibly as he chugs, well, pretty much half of it at once. I might as well give him mine too.

         "I really can't wait, I..." he pulls at the collar of his white t-shirt, lying down again, holding the can against the mattress. "I hate this place. It's not even fucking funny anymore, I just hate it. I hate everything. I hate everything because everything hates me. When has anyone- when has-"

         Ashton hastily pulls himself up, his hand coming in front of my face as if to intensify the effect of his words- on second thought, no, he won't be needing my beer. He doesn't really need his anymore, but oh well.

         "When has anyone here done anything for me? Huh? I'm always the one... going out of my way for people, when has anyone done that for me? When- never mind the people I know, what about in general? What has this country given me?"

         I blink at his words, still finding his state kind of hysterical, but now with a pinch of sadness. "Don't say that," I tell him softly and shake my head- but he doesn't really seem to notice, as he lies down again, and this time closes his eyes.

         "It's given you your family, your friends, everything you have in life- you might not realize it, or... you might be underestimating it or something, but..."

         I pause to lick my lips, noticing that he's not paying that much attention to me; he's just lying there, his shirt and shorts crumpled, his hair a mess. His lips slightly parted and cheeks slightly rosy. He's loosely holding the can of beer – good thing it's nearly empty anyway.

         I sigh, deciding to change positions, so I'm lying on my stomach instead of sitting. As he feels the bed bend he opens his eyes, just as I place my hand under my chin, our faces only a few inches apart.

         Ashton blinks at me, scanning my face for a moment before resting his eyes upon mine again; I'm pretty sure he didn't hear a word of what I said, but even so, I'm going to continue.

         "The things this place and this country have given you aren't materialistic. And that's why you might take them for granted and I totally get that, God knows I used to be like that too."

         I pause once more as he closes his eyes, for a second too long to be considered blinking; am I actually getting to his brain? "So... I mean yeah, touring the world is gonna be amazing for you, just as long as you remember where your home is."

         I'm not really sure why I'm telling him this. It's not like he won't get the chance to realize it himself pretty soon.

         But what if he doesn't?

         "Did he do anything to you?"

         "Hm?"

         "Riley, I... before I walked in. I saw him... holding you, but I don't know if he did anything else."

         "No, no," I shake my head, "I'm... pretty sure he has a problem, though."

         "Yeah," he drags the word out, "I'm his problem. I'm... his problem."

         "Ashton-"

         "I am!" he insists, lifting a hand to his face- but the back of his hand only ends up falling over his nose. "He's... he's in love with you, Lucy. Maybe as much as you are with me."

         I momentarily widen my eyes, stopping my legs from rocking back and forth in the air- "Wh- what?"

         "I heard you."

         That's all he says, but, to my relief and thankfulness, he smiles a second after; it's a small, lopsided smile, and it gets even better when he lets out the smallest of giggles.

         "I heard... what you said. I heard your voice, and then I heard his voice, and I ran down the stairs, and my heart was beating so fast, and then I heard you yelling at him, and-and... it..."

         He rolls to his side, knocking me onto mine, in a hug. A hug where he's halfway on top of me with his right arm all the way around me, but I'm not complaining. Far from it. I'm elated.

         "It made my heart smile. It's still-" he detaches himself from me, the can of beer rolling off the bed on his other side; I know I'm hoping it's empty as it hits the floor, but with Ashton's face right above mine, I can't focus on it- I don't want to. "It's still making my heart smile. You make my heart smile."

         His lips stay apart as he stops talking for a minute, just looking at my face; he brings his hand up to my cheek, the tips of his fingers touching my skin- no, this is too good to be true. Way too good to be true.

         And yet, I'm pretty sure I'm not imagining any of it.

         "You... being my wife makes my heart smile. You going on tour with me makes my heart smile. That's why I can't wait for tour. I mean I still stand behind hating everything and everyone, but... I can't wait for all of that to happen."

         Alright. This went far better- unimaginably better than I thought it would; I should thank the loudness of my voice as I rambled and rambled on about how much I love him to Riley. This whole thing would've probably gone down far more different if he hadn't heard me.

         And despite the small pang of uneasiness that hits me with the realization that I'm more than possibly leaving college for him, I lift my hands to his face- and what a beautiful face it is. More beautiful than a journalism degree could be, I'd say.

         "And I want you to know, I love you too, Lucy."

*

lmao enjoy this bc i'm back in full force and i'm about to fuck everything up ✌