"What?!" I yelled at him, my voice barely louder than the traffic outside, "You're fucking crazy, I can't just walk out of a moving car on the highway! I'll die!"

"I want you to die!" He yelled back, louder than me, and turned his entire body to me so he'd give me a look that's borderline psychotic; and stopped paying any attention to the road. "I want you to fucking die, you good for nothing-"

"Ashton!"

I jerk in my spot, the sharp pain that fleetingly went through my broken leg waking me up for good. I slowly pull myself into a sitting position, my shaky, sweaty hands on the mattress on either side of my body to support me, while I try catching my breath and remembering what the hell made my heart beat so fast.

Then it hits me – I don't know how I could have forgotten a dream point five seconds after waking up, but I don't know if it's a good or bad thing that I remembered it a minute later; it surely doesn't feel good. Not when I dreamed of myself as a third person and watched myself and Ashton fight, about ten seconds before he crashed his car.

These kinds of things are always the ones that make me stay up late, stare out the window, and sometimes crying myself to sleep at four in the morning. I know it's pointless to regret anything that happened since I can't go back and change any of it, and, if nothing, Ashton and I are not on hate-terms, but I just- God, how I wish I had this mindset a year ago. My decisions and actions from back then got me to rock bottom, which is faking amnesia and lying to the people I love most.

I sigh at my thoughts and run my fingers through my hair, then slide them down to my face; it's not just going to go away, it never just goes away. I can either lay here in the dark and stare at nothing at all, or get up and at least try to pass the time somehow.

Reluctantly pulling the comforter off of me, I slowly pull my legs out of the bed and blindly search for the lamp on the table next to my bed. Once I switch it on, I carefully stand up and limp over to my crutches that are against the wall, cussing out the enormous cast on my leg. I'm literally counting down the days until I get it taken off. So far, seven days and eight hours.

I sigh internally as I glance at the spot next to mine in the bed, that's empty, and the bed is still neatly made, but I shake the thought off as I reach the door, and walk out of the room. On my way to the kitchen, I can't help smelling something weird in the air; and seeing light from the next room that's not coming from a lamp, or anything.

Frowning, I continue walking forward, tilting my head to the side to catch anything unusual. And that word perfectly describes the sight that I eventually catch – Ashton, wide awake on the couch, sitting with his arms stretched over the backrest, and watching something on TV with his feet on the coffee table. Not to mention the cloud of smoke that's basically enveloping his body. The only comforting thing about the image of him like this is that he hasn't got any kind of shoes on his feet.

"Um..." I stammer, loudly so he'd realize I'm here. "Ashton?"

He doesn't respond, just throws his head back, as if giving me a sign that he's heard me. I walk further into the room, taking in the sight of him in his ripped up Kiss shirt and skinny jeans- he didn't even go to bed tonight. It's nearly four in the morning, what's he been doing all this time?

"Ashton?" I call again, walking over to sit on the arm of the couch, continuing to look at him, watching his every move – even though he isn't moving all that much. He's actually only blinking. And I can see his stomach moving underneath his tight shirt as he breathes, rather slowly.

"What are you doing?" I ask carefully, slightly furrowing my eyebrows at the side of his face. Instead of answering, he takes a minute to continue staring at the TV – of course he does. Then, all of a sudden, he takes his arm off the backrest and reaches for something on his right, that being a box of Marlboro cigarettes, and takes one out.

"Having milk and cookies before bedtime," He mumbles, watching the object that's as long as his pinkie finger, as he twirls it in his hands for a few moments. "The hell do you think I'm doing?"

After that, he proceeds to rip the filter off and bring the rest of the cigarette to his mouth, disposing the little orange object onto the table. I can practically feel my heart swelling at the sight. "Why are you doing this?" I ask quietly, hoping I don't sound as emotional as I feel.

"We used to do this all the time," He tells me, like it's no big deal, as he lights one end of the cigarette and brings the other to his mouth, pulling a little smoke into his mouth. Considering there's no filter, that's enough to get him high – but considering that there are two other filters next to the one he just ripped off on the table, I'd say he's already high.

"Really?" I ask, once again hoping that I don't sound like I know something; but he's floating at the moment, he'd be unfazed even if I told him that his hair is on fire.

"Yeah," He rasps, almost choking on thin air as he tries clearing his throat. "You didn't want to get involved in illegal shit, so this was the only way we could get ripped."

I nod slowly, and keep watching him; I wonder if he's done it after we stopped doing it together, about eight months ago. I've never seen him, or smelt cigarettes in the apartment since then, but this couldn't have come out of the blue.

"We were a fun couple, weren't we?" I ask, rather rhetorically as I look down at my hands, picking at my nails. I look up at Ashton through my eyelashes, as I hear him breathe out a laugh, and then shake his head. He's probably going to say something that's going to make me cry myself to sleep.

"Think this was fun?" He lifts the cigarette in front of his face, "The first five minutes, yeah, but then we go into another dimension."

I gulp, deciding not to ask about this 'other dimension', because then I'd surely cry myself to sleep. "How so?" Why am I thinking one thing and the complete opposite is leaving my mouth?

"We'd, like... become completely oblivious of our existence, like, once when we woke up from it, the TV was neatly placed behind the couch and Kai was sleeping with a Christmas hat on his head. And neither of us would remember what happened after the second cigarette," He shrugs, inspecting the object in his hand each time he pulled on it. "Of course, that didn't stop us from having unprotected sex."

Well that took me a little of guard. I mean, obviously I knew that we did that, but I wasn't expecting him to mention it so casually. Probably because he's spaced out. "Really?" I mutter, blinking at the ceiling – I don't know why I keep asking about things when I just want him to stop talking.

"Yeah," He chuckles, with no humor in his voice. "In two years, you've had 6 Plan-B's and two abortions."

Okay, he's saying a lot of shit that I'm not expecting or was prepared for, but I couldn't have expected that, ever. Because he only knows about one of my abortions. And nobody except me and the doctor knows about my second one. Doctors aren't supposed to talk about things like that with other people, right? How could he possibly know? How could he know that I was lying to him again?

"Um..." I stammer, my eyes wide as I carefully watch him, a little scared of what he might do. Although he looks completely relaxed and he looks like that most of the time, aggression isn't a foreign term to him. He's never violent per se, at least not towards people. And animals. Especially animals.

"Yeah. Your first one," Ashton pauses to lick his lips, narrow his eyes at the ceiling and start pointing with his cigarette in a quite sophisticated way. "We were together for four months, and as soon as you told me you were ten weeks pregnant, I knew you'd want to get an abortion. And I was sort of okay with it, you know, we weren't together for that long, you were only 18 and, dunno, it was just the wrong timing."

How could he be stoned and talk so clearly? Did we really sound this rational when we'd get high on cigarettes together? I'm sure he's defying the laws of nature by doing this.

The thoughts quickly leave my mind when he gulps, a bit heavily, and throws his head back to just stare at the ceiling for a while. "And the second time..."

I knew I had a reason to be scared of the intense look he has while gazing the horizontal structure above him. "Second time was last December, and you were also ten weeks pregnant."

He pauses to laugh, for some bizarre reason, while I'm pretty sure I'm going to have some sort of a panic attack real soon. "And I begged you. I was on my fucking knees, begging you to keep it, to give it some time, and not just..." He trails off, not being able to finish his sentence because he's just laughing hysterically. I'd love for him to tell me what's so funny, because I'm on the other side of the sofa, on the verge of tears. I just wanted a fucking glass of water. And maybe read another few pages of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Not to relive my mistakes, not that, not that at all.

"I promised I'd get a proper job- hence the video shop, and put the band aside- which I did for a while. I promised I'd go with you to every one of your ultrasound things. I promised I'd make my mom and your dad take care of the baby when we couldn't. I promised I would take care of the baby while you were in college, oh my God..." He stops again, squeezing his eyes shut in laughter while his body slid slightly to the left. At this point I can only discreetly let the sleeves of my shirt soak up my tears and hope he'd finish soon. I'm even thinking about leaving the room because he probably wouldn't notice.

"And-and one of those days, when I was on my knees in front of you, you just gave me this sympathetic, gentle look and said 'okay'. That's what you said. You said 'okay'. And I-I don't remember ever being happier in my life. Like, I had you, the girl I was in love with, and-and you were willing to give us a shot as a family."

He pauses again – this time his laughter has died down, but he still has this happy smile and a happy look in his eyes, as he stared straight ahead of himself at the TV. More like through the TV. But after he pulls on his cigarette one last time, his smile gradually falters and he clenches his jaw as he blows out the smoke. Here it comes. Here comes the grand finale.

"And about ten days after your 'okay', I was out looking for a ring-"

Wait, what? A ring? What ring?

"-and when I came home, you were sitting right here, right... here," He stops briefly again, poking the couch cushion close to his left with his index finger. "And you had a look in your eyes. You didn't look sad, or anything. Your face was more blank, than anything else. But I knew that something was wrong. And I knew it had something to do with our baby."

Our baby. I wouldn't hate him if all of this killed me on the spot, I know I deserve it. "But if you just..." Ashton narrows his eyes again, this time glaring at nothing in particular, while he clenches his jaw harder and squeezes what's left of his cigarette – this is the grand finale. "If you just... told me that you got a fucking abortion, I might have... found it in me to forgive you."

Shaking his head, he chuckles creepily again, "But no, you had to fucking make up a story where you went to have an ultrasound and they told you they couldn't see the heartbeat. I'm sorry, Ashton, I'm so sorry- fuck you."

He slumps back into his seat and I widen my eyes- that last one was definitely meant for me. "I never said anything about it," He begins, sternly, finally looking the way he should have looked throughout the whole story. "But seriously, I... until that moment, I didn't know that people like you existed. I would have given my life to have that child, to hold it just once, and you..."

He shakes his head before continuing and, yeah, I'm half dead on the inside. "You just went on and took that away from me. And then you lied about it. But that's not the worst part, no, the worst part is that..."

"You know what, I think I'm gonna-"

"You told me," Ashton continues, cutting me off and making me shut my eyes tight. He's not going to stop until my tear ducts are empty. "You fucking told me, quote on quote, 'we can get a puppy if you want to'. A puppy. Because you thought a puppy would replace my own fucking unborn child that you decided to kill on your own."

He sits up, taking a deep, shaky breath to compose himself. "I swear to God, I've never been closer to hitting a girl before."

I am going to need serious therapy after this. "That's where Kai came from, by the way," He casually adds, pointing at the fluffy little creature sleeping soundly on his brown crate pad. "Because I was so fucking miserable that I actually thought a puppy would help me get through that. And I'm not gonna lie, it kind of did. Took my mind off the baby. I even called him Kai. And that's how I would have wanted to name my son. Kai."

By now I'm feeling completely numb; I can only watch him as he calmly takes another cigarette from the small box, rips off the filter and lights it again. "Kai for a boy, and Finley for a girl. I knew you'd think Finley is dumb for a girl, so I kept the names to myself. Isn't it ridiculous?" He huffs out a laugh, "We knew about your pregnancy for like four weeks before you ended it, and I'd already picked out names, and songs I'd play to your tummy, and stories I'd read to your tummy, and I was fucking planning to marry you so that the baby's last name would be Irwin, and not Harrington. Although I was preparing myself for Harrington, because I knew your answer would more than probably be no."

He takes another break, to pull on his cigarette once, then twice, and then place it on the edge of the ashtray so he'd stare at the walls again. How did I never see this? How did no one ever see this? Can a person really be this good at pretending they're okay?

"I was planning to turn the guest room into a nursery, so I bought light blue paint... that I later returned," He continues, shrugging his shoulders- that is why he sleeps on the couch and not the guest room. "And... I didn't tell you this, but I talked to your doctor and she said that your due date should approximately be the 28th of July."

He points with his index upwards, "That's today."

I don't know how long I'd been holding my breath, but I would have probably collapsed if I didn't let out a shaky breath at his words, "Ashton-"

"I should have been at the hospital right now," He interrupts me again, shaking his head as he talks, "I should have been holding your hand, and-and kissing it while you screamed at me that you hate me, and that you'll never forgive our baby for ruining your body, and maybe I would have been holding the baby by now too, and... and I don't know."

He shrugs again, this time weakly as he runs a hand through his hair. "I just really fucking wanted that baby. Not a puppy, not a replacement, not a distraction- I wanted... I wanted the baby. And I tried comforting myself with the fact that I basically forced you to keep it, when you obviously didn't want it, and I tried convincing myself that it was partially my fault, but..."

Shaking his head one last time, he puts out half of the cigarette in the ashtray, and lifts his legs on the couch- he's gonna sleep now? Now? "You lied to me about the most important thing in my life," He says as he lays down, turning his back to the TV, and crossing his arms over his chest. "And I don't know when I'm going to stop hating you for it."

My lips are parted and eyes half lidded in shock- permanent shock, as I watch him get comfortable in his position, already dozing off. He's probably not going to remember anything of what he'd told me by tomorrow – and I have half a mind to finish off his pack of Marlboro so I'd forget about it too.

Slightly shaking, I push myself off of the armrest of the couch, walking around it at an agonizingly slow pace to reach the back of it, where he'd hung his quilt. It takes me a minute to cover him up, and for a while I just stand next to him, watching him sleep. His tousled hair all over his pillow, and the look on his face so innocent, nobody would believe he'd gone through all of that.

I would never be able to be as strong as he is. To think that he's okay with being in the same room as me and breathing the same air as me after what I've done, that shows how big of a heart he has. And to think that that's not all I've done to him, shows that his heart is too big for a normal human. I'm just realizing this now, and I'm just realizing how much I don't deserve him- I don't deserve him at all.

On my way back to bed – because there's seriously nothing else I want to do – I decide that I should probably give up on trying to get him to stop hating me. Cooking for him isn't going to change his mind, the fact that he thinks I don't remember my old horrid self isn't going to change his mind- I knew this was pointless. I've known it from the beginning. There was just this small glimmer of hope that made me blinded when it came to reality.

And the reality is, he hates me and he's never going to stop. He might tolerate me now, but I can see that he can't wait for October to move me to a dorm and go on with his life. And unless some miracle happens, that's exactly what's going to happen.

*

god almighty okay, okay. first off, i am sososo sorry for not updating in fourteen ice ages, i kind of lost the inspiration to do anything since school started tbh. and second, i'm sorry for the crappy ending but it's almost 2 in the morning on a school night and i couldn't have come up with anything better askjshdfkjsdbfg.

once again i'm sorry for neglecting this story, but i promise i'll update more often (probably once more this week) soooo vote and comment guys? this was an emotional chapter and i'm not really good with emotional chapters so feedback will be grrrrrrrreeaaatly appreciated. i love you :D x

((also, if some pages aren't showing up for you, just refresh the page. works for me!))