"Okay," I say under my breath, "what's the worst thing that could happen, really? I mean he'd just-"

         I stop my pacing around the room as yet another wave of tears washes over me, making me sit down on the couch with my head in my hands as I think about just what the worst thing that could happen might be. Thank God for waterproof makeup, otherwise I'd be looking like a raccoon right now.

         And this whole day, actually. And the night before.

         God, just thinking about the night before, how I felt, how I cried so hard that it made me want to throw up- I don't know how, but thankfully, I ended up waking up without puffy, red eyes or skin, and I managed to talk to Ashton over the phone just fine. It was great, until I started crying again about an hour after leaving my bed. I have no idea where I found the strength to prepare dinner, clean the whole apartment, dress up nice and put on makeup without fucking anything up- then again, when I think about it, I was crying through all of those tasks, so I didn't even notice time passing.

         My lungs nearly give out as I hear soft, but quick knocking on the door of my dorm- he's here. And I'm a complete mess.

         I tap the skin under my eyes with the napkin in my hand, careful not to wipe off any concealer that's hiding the fact that I've been doing this for twenty four hours straight, and rush to the mirror beside the door; alright, I brushed my hair until it fell in neat curls, neither my blouse nor my skirt are crumpled, my makeup is intact. Everything is intact.

         Just as long as I don't keep falling apart on the inside, at least while he's here.

         I take a deep breath as I toss the napkin into the bin under the mirror, and my cold hand wraps around the doorknob- Jesus, I've been so numb that my hand is purple and I haven't even noti-

         "Hey, you," Ashton grins breathily as I pull the door open, enveloping me in his arms before I've gotten a chance to react to his appearance. "Missed you."

         "I missed you too," I mumble against his shirt, his familiar, warm scent soothing my brain instantly. "Come on in."

         "You got your stuff packed?"

         I close my eyes, squeezing my jaw in an attempt to stop the tears from gathering in my eyes at the thought that I was supposed to leave this place tonight with him, and how excited I'd been about it – right until last night. When I'm confident that I've gained enough composure, I look at him to see him looking at me, his green eyes matching the shirt he's wearing, worry already etched into them.

         "Lucy?"

         Do I tell him now, while we're standing at the entrance to my dorm, before he's even sat down from an hour long drive, just so he could see me?

         "No, uh... Ashton, let's-let's sit down."

         "What's going on?" he grabs my arm as I'm walking past him, not too tight but enough to stop me from leaving him at the door.

         "Let's just sit down first, please."

         His grip loosens and I take that as a cue to continue my way towards the square table in the middle of the small room, two plates with lasagna waiting for us, I even got the fancy napkins and a candle in the middle. And despite all that, I can already feel this evening going to shit.

         I sit down, and I see him slowly but surely joining me too; he doesn't take his eyes off me, I can feel them burning in the side of my head even though I'm only seeing him with the corner of my eyes, and I keep ignoring him. "Okay, you want anything to drink? We have coke and wine, I can also make you coffee or tea."

         This time I do look up at him, having found composure in my rambling. He still looks confused and uneasy, but I guess he decides to play along. "Yeah, uh- coke is fine."

         I nod curtly, standing up to go over to the kitchen area just behind where I was sitting. "Are you driving?"

         "Hm?"

         "Are you driving? Is that why you don't want alcohol?" I smile weakly over my shoulder at him as I pick out a glass and get the bottle, seeing he's still lost in whatever he's thinking. I just hope he doesn't share his thoughts until I've calmed down.

         "Uh, yeah," he shifts in his seat, "went home before I came here, you know, to see mum, so I took my car. What are you drinking?"

         "Oh, just orange juice, the glass I got for myself was the last of it, though. Sorry."

         "How come you're not drinking alcohol?"

         My hands – as well as the rest of my body, but more importantly, my hands – give out and I accidentally push Ashton's glass off the counter; shock overcomes me quickly enough to react and, even though the soda spilled and made a mess, I at least saved the glass by putting my foot out.

         "Fuck."

         "Don't worry," Ashton mutters, already halfway towards the bathroom to get a cloth as I shakily reach for the glass, to put it in the sink. It takes me a couple seconds to process what I'm supposed to do next, but seeing Ashton rushing with a cloth and sponge, reminds me, he needs another glass. Life would be so much easier if I just kept my thoughts this simple. Glass, glass falling, glass saved, new gla-

         "I think you should put your slippers to dry."

         "...Oh," I take a look at my slippers, not even having noticed that they were at all wet. Good thing they're black. "Yeah, I should. Here's your soda."

         I barely look at him as I walk around him to the bathroom to put my slippers in the bathtub, opting to just go barefoot since I seem to have no control over my body tonight. When I get back, he's already sitting at the table, his coke next to him, the floor already clean but wet.

         "Sorry about that," I sigh as I sit back down, a fresh new wave of anxiety washing over me at his proximity. "I'm just... not having a great day, apparently."

         "Is there something you're not telling me?" his voice is quiet, and the way he reaches over to place his palm over my entire hand and squeeze it a bit has me speechless. "You've been crying."

         It's not even a question, he already knows it; I finally look up at him, now finding about ten emotions in his features – worry, nervousness, panic, I could go on. Pretty soon they'll be joined by anger.

         "Let's just eat, okay? I promise I'll-"

         "Fuck eating," he says, finally losing his patience, his suspiciously low tone stopping my breath, "what the hell is going on?"

         I can tell he's getting annoyed, alarmed, and it's nothing new to me, but given the circumstances, I could burst into tears even if his calm tone was truly calm. "I- I-"

         His hand remains on top of mine and his eyes on my face, "You... what? What? What haven't you been telling me over the phone?"

         He sighs when I hide my face in my hands again- well done, I was keeping it together for ten whole minutes. "I'm sorry."

         "Hey, hey." He gets up from his seat and pulls the chair closer to me; I feel one of his hands on my neck and the other brushing my hair out of my face, "Talk to me. What's wrong? The last thing I expected was to see you crying tonight, I can't eat when you're crying."

         "I'm sorry."

         "Don't apologize," he says with a breathy laugh, "just tell me what's wrong? Is it really that bad? Or are you just... having a bad day?"

         I can hear the hopefulness in his voice, I know he wants me to be okay so bad that he's convincing his own self that I'm just overreacting about something; Jesus, I don't know if either of us is going to survive this evening.

         I clear my throat, my blood pounding in my ears as I turn to him, not quite looking at his face but my body facing his nonetheless. I take his hand in the two of mine to play with while I'm talking, though it gives me no comfort at all. It's a nice sight and all, since his one hand has more skin and bone and muscle than the two of mine combined, but it's no help.

         "I'm..." I raise my brows, feeling drunk off nothing – I'm really about to say it out loud, aren't I? "I'm pregnant."

         His hand, previously following what I'm doing with the two of mine, stiffens mid-air, preventing me to play with it. I purse my lips as I slowly retrieve my hands to my lap, now playing with the hem of my skirt, and I gulp before finally finding the decency to look him in the eye.

         Just as the rest of his body, Ashton's face is completely motionless, and emotionless at that. His lips are slightly parted as he watches me- at this point I don't even know if he's looking at me, or through me, or if he's having a stroke.

         "Please say someth-"

         "Well," he interrupts me, abruptly standing up, so suddenly that I wince at his movements; my eyes don't follow his actions, but soon enough the sound of a cork being removed from a bottle fills the room briefly, indicating he's, after all, gone for the wine.

         I don't even have to look at him to know he's downing all of it straight from the bottle. I wrap my arms around my waist, his reaction leaving me so cold and small that for the first time in... probably ever, I'm kind of hoping he would go soon, so I wouldn't have to deal with his reaction too long. Just cry myself to sleep for the next nine months because of it.

         "I'm sorry," I whisper, not knowing if he can even hear me, but the sound of the bottle being slammed against the hard surface of the counter makes me jump, now knowing that he heard me.

         "Whose is it?"

         I widen my eyes and unexpectedly turn to face him- not a lot of things could've made me do this, but this one is too bizarre for comprehension. "Are you serious?"

         "Do you see me laughing?"

         "No, but I should be smacking a pan across your head until you're crying!"

         He blinks at the rage in my voice, leaning against the counter, his hard expression softening, a smile even tugging at his lips. "What, you're telling me it's mine?"

         "Yes, you jackass!"

His anger is at this point completely replaced with surprise; I can't dare myself to think that he might even be excited. Of all things, that's what he was worried about? That? "What... when-"

"I don't know," I sigh, getting up to walk around the room with my arms crossed over my chest, my nerves not letting me sit down and talk about this calmly. "It... might have been when you brought me here two weeks ago, maybe even before that, no idea. My period was just a week late and I thought nothing of it, but I still did a test last night. And... then I cried, and... now we're here."

"Lucy."

I rake my fingers through my hair at his voice, stopping in my tracks, not quite ready to face him but having no other choice. "What?"

I turn to look at him – he's still leaned against the counter, a million emotions going over his face that I can't put my finger on any of them. Suddenly he lunges towards me, my eyes wide as he tackles me onto the couch, and kneels in front of me.

"Please..." now both of my hands are in his, being squeezed mercilessly, "Please tell me there's a reason you told me."

I part my lips, both confused and alarmed with his reaction – if it weren't for the ceiling light above us, I wouldn't be able to note just how shiny his eyes have become. "Wha... what?"

"You didn't have to tell me," he breathes, "you didn't have to tell me if you just... if you didn't want it. I'm on tour, we don't live together anymore, there was no need for you to tell me unless you had to."

I keep looking at his face, still not saying anything, though everything is starting to click.

"Please tell me this means something," Ashton continues, gripping my hands tighter with every word as he looks up at me, "please tell me this means you want our baby. Please."

And here I spent a whole day thinking he'd be angry about it.

My lips slowly spread into a smile, that just widens as he begins smiling through his tears too – the answer is clear. Only I didn't think this would be what he'd worry about. "Yeah- yes, Ashton, I wa-"

         Before I can get anything else out he grips my thighs, and pulls me to the edge of the sofa to hug me. I sigh in contentment, breathing in his scent once again as I hug him back, this time any pressure that I was feeling before effectively evaporating from my body.

         A minute passes, maybe even two – and we're still wrapped in each other, my legs having gone around his waist, and neither of us is saying anything. I can feel both of our wild pulses, that begin slowing down to normal after a while, after the fact that hey, maybe this is going to have a happy ending starts finally sinking into our brains.

         His hand moves to my cheek after a while, and before I can lean my face into it, he's pulled away from me and is pressing his lips to mine desperately, a faint taste of wine still on them. I kiss him back with everything that I have, everything I am, and I feel his hand start to slide down to my neck, his grip firm enough for me to understand the urgency of the situation. The kiss, as needy as it was, ends way too soon for my liking, with a wet pop of our lips after which he just keeps my head in place, with my forehead against his. My heart might be racing and thumping again, but it's done that so many times in the past day and a half that I don't even have a clue anymore. I could be having a heart attack right now and would be none the wiser.

"God..." he sniffles, "God, you just made me the happiest man on earth."

I laugh, feeling a tear trickle down my cheek as my eyes crinkle; at least now we're both crying for all the right reasons. "If I'd known you'd be happy at all, I wouldn't have spent a whole day fucking weeping."

         He shakes his head, his curls dancing on top of his head, his callous thumb caressing my jaw and I close my eyes, savoring the moment. The fact that, after everything, there are more of moments like this to come, has still not fully settled into my brain. Everything about this man is too good to be true, and yet it really is true.

         "I'm not happy, I'm... fucking beside myself," he laughs quietly and I with him, opening my eyes to look at him – and truly, what I see in his face really is beyond happiness. I hope that I would always be able to make him feel this way. "Do you have anything white?"

         I pull away from him a bit to get a better look at his face; his expression hasn't changed much, but I've furrowed my brows. "You mean like... clothes? Or cocaine?"

         "I mean clothes, dumbass."

         "Yeah, uh, I have a white button down... and this skirt, probably some pants too- why, though?"

         "Because," he sighs, reaching for his pocket, "I'm in Sydney for another three days and no way I'm leaving until everything is settled."

         With that, he unzips a pocket of his jeans, pulling out a ring- no box, no nothing, just a ring between his index and thumb. My legs give out, hell, my whole body becomes numb as I watch the little thing in his hand, my jaw on the floor, not a single thought to be processed for quite some time. Head empty.

         "Holy fuck."

         "Oh yeah, it's gonna be holy once we're joined in holy matrimony."

         I close my eyes as I begin laughing at his awful joke, and he joins me too; he's not the least bit nervous about this, in fact, I think the only reason he's not putting it on my finger yet is because he's trying to establish dominance by having me just look at it for a minute or two.

         My breath gets caught in my throat as his other hand takes my left one, smoothly and confidently sliding the ring onto my finger. I'm still in a state of schock as I look at it, while he's looking at me as if he had known this would happen the whole time. "We're gonna go down to the city hall, get everything done, and you're coming with me. I mean, if that's okay with you."

         I chuckle, in all of my years never thinking that my future husband would propose to me by saying 'I'm going to marry you, you know, if that's okay with you.' "Isn't there like a... waiting period?"

         "I don't care."

         Ah, there it is, the sweet feel of anxiety. He lifts my left hand, kissing my knuckle a few times absentmindedly – oh, to be as carefree as Ashton. "Ash, how is this going to work? I mean there's... a whole third person here now."

         "Because I'm going to make sure it works," he says quietly, his lips still against my fingers, "because if I've ever wanted anything as much as the band taking off, it's a family and it's a family with you."

         He looks up at me, his face cool and collected, and here I am losing my shit for the millionth time today. "I love you. To the end of the world."

         And just a few words from him are enough to calm me down. "I love you."

         He smiles fondly at me, reaching up to kiss my forehead and then my cheek, before looking at me properly. He really seems so sure of everything, so sure that everything will work out perfectly, and by God I'm going to do everything in my power that he's happy and gets everything that he deserves.

         "Alright, now we can eat."