Song of the chapter: Iridescent - Linkin Park

Ashton's POV

"No, absolutely not," I assert. I continue to chant 'no' to Emilia as I pace back-and-forth in front of her and shake my head.

There are a million things that I would rather do than walk down memory lane and reminisce on my shitty relationship with Natalie. Granted, it wasn't all bad until a few months before I proposed to her, but nonetheless, I'd rather not have to think or speak about it. I'd much rather go down to the city prison and pay Jared a visit than tell Emilia about Natalie.

Emilia picks herself up off the floor and furrows her eyebrows. "That's not fair," she argues. "You can't just ask me for help and then shoot me down. You know everything about me and Jared, yet you can't even tell me a single detail about you and Natalie. All I know about this girl is that you two grew up together and dated for several years before she cheated on you."

"That's all you need to know," I say harshly, but Emilia doesn't react.

"So what-you're going to keep it bottled inside forever and continue to wait for some magical sign to get you through all this? Wake up and realize that this won't get fixed on its own. You have to make the effort if you really want to get over this."

I stay silent, knowing she's right.

"I'm not asking you to spill the entire story of your relationship right now," she says with a huff. "I told you that we'll take baby steps. Just tell me one thing and we'll move on from there. I just want you to open up and talk about it instead of keeping it locked away. When I told you and the guys about Jared, I felt like so much weight was lifted off my shoulders. I didn't feel like I was trapped in my past memories because I finally let it all go, and that's what I want for you to do."

Emilia stares me down, waiting for any sort of response or reaction from me, but I'm at a loss of words. I always wanted the best for Emilia when she was dealing with Jared and I did everything possible to fix her as best as I could. I let her set the pace when it came to opening up to me. I praised her when she made progress. I gave all the advice and support that I could give her, but I can't even practice what I preach.

"You can tell me her birthday or what she looks like," Emilia suggests. "Just tell me something."

My shoulders slump as I let out a long sigh. I'm not ready to tell her, but then again, will I ever be ready? I go to sit back down against the canvas while Emilia continues to stand and observe my every move. "I don't know where to even start," I say.

"Start where you feel comfortable."

"That's proving to be difficult seeing how I'm not comfortable talking about this at all."

Emilia drops her crossed arms and takes a seat next to me. "Take your time," she says and rubs my arm soothingly.

I stare ahead at the rows of easel holding half-finished canvases that mock me of my most recent painting; the one that I selfishly recreated as a result of Natalie's phone call.

"You know that painting of the roses that I was working on the other day?" I ask, keeping my eyes straight ahead, but I can see Emilia nod out of the corner of my eye. "Roses are Natalie's favorite flower. When she called me she reminded me of this painting that I did for her which looked almost exactly like that one, except it didn't look as dull. It was a gift for her 21st birthday. I worked on it months in advance and spent countless hours trying to make it perfect for her.

"All my time spent on it caused a fight between us. She suspected that I was cheating on her or something crazy like that and started crying. I didn't blame her for thinking that since I would always make up some excuse to keep her away from my house and room so that she wouldn't see the painting. In the end, I had to show her the painting to prove to her that I wasn't doing anything worth being suspicious over. She loved it and was beaming from ear to ear, but then she got sad again because she knew that I wanted it to be a surprise, but just seeing her practically glow as she admired the canvas made up for it."

My lips twitch upwards at the memory. I remember every detail on her ivory face when she saw that painting. I remember the small gasp that left her mouth when she first laid eyes on it. I remember her almost crying and then smacking my arm, asking why I didn't just say it was a surprise for her birthday instead of making it seem like I was drifting away from her. And I remember pulling her close to my chest and telling her that the one thing she should never have to worry about is me falling out of love with her.

I hate the irony of that.

"I had a feeling roses meant something to you," Emilia says calmly. "You drew several of them in your sketchbook and when I called your mom I asked if roses meant anything to you and she said that they shouldn't anymore."

"She's not wrong about that," I scoff. "They're just flowers, and yet I keep them almost symbolically attached to her even though they're insignificant."

"They can't be insignificant if they still mean something to you."

"That's the thing though. They don't have significance. I mean yeah, I used to buy Natalie roses for her birthday and anniversaries, painted a portrait of them, and proposed to her in a rose garden, but other than that, they mean nothing."

"But they remind you of her."

I swallow thickly and clench my jaw. "I can't look at a rose without thinking of her, and it sucks because it's not like I can make every rose disappear on Earth so that I'd never have to lay eyes on one ever again."

Emilia's mouth is parted as if she wants to say something but doesn't know what. I don't even know what to say because I'm not making any sense.

"Do you want to know something funny?" I ask. "I actually hate the smell of roses. I never told Natalie that because I wanted to love every bit of her, including her favorite flower, but I just hated them so much," I say with a dry chuckle. "Every time I went to the florist to buy them I would hold them as far away from me as possible and hold my breath."

"And you did that for 5 years?" she asks incredulously with a humored smile.

"I'm a good boyfriend, what can I say?" I joke.

"You poor thing," she says, giggling.

"Please don't tell me your favorite flower are roses because if they are, there's no way in hell I'm going to torture myself with that scent again."

"You're in luck; I'm not a fan of roses either," she says with a bright grin.

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close until she is flush against my side. I never expected to be laughing as I tell Emilia about Natalie, but I know this won't last. This is only a fragment of mine and Natalie's grand portrait, and the finished piece is less than beautiful.

The curve of my lips drop and I tighten my arm around Emilia. "When I was eight, I figured out that I liked Natalie-"

"Ash, you don't have to keep going," Emilia says.

"Just one more," I say.

Her eyes flicker between mine and the lines on her forehead smooth out when she nods.

"After I figured out that I liked her, I spent every moment trying to fight it," I continue. "I didn't want to like my best friend. I wanted to be repulsed by her and pretend she had cooties like every other kid my age did. I had to hide it for a couple years, but as time went on, I slowly started flirting with her. Natalie wasn't quick to pick up on it and always took it as a joke which hurt my ego a bit, but it didn't stop me.

"I noticed all these small things about her that I never did before," I say, sucking in a deep breath before going on. "Her hair had these natural loose curls that I, on more than one occasion, would twirl my finger around. She would look at me like I was weird, but I enjoyed every second that her brown eyes stared at me. I would pull her hair on purpose just to see the little specks of gold floating around her iris when she would turn to look at me. I would count the number of freckles that ran up the bridge of her nose and underneath her eyes and each time I would end up with a different number."

The light pressure of Emilia's head leaning against my arm breaks me out of my mental vision of Natalie. She stares off into the distance and blinks slowly, trying to keep a straight face but her subtle lip bite makes it obvious that she's getting uncomfortable.

I brush her hair with my hand and bring my lips to her temple. We stay silent; the air conditioning flowing through the metal vents above us being the only source of noise. Her hand reaches up to mine which is dangling over her shoulder, and she threads her fingers between mine and gives me a gentle squeeze to keep going.

Mustering up the courage to get through this, I take a deep breath and let it out shortly. "I finally had to stop with my failed attempts to get her to notice that I liked her when I got my first girlfriend," I say. "I was 13 at the time and the 'relationship' didn't last more than a month, but it did get Natalie's attention. She would tell me how the girl I was dating at the time was only using me, which actually ended up being true. The girl was using me to try and get close to Calum. Unfortunately for her, Calum had no interest. But after that, Natalie started getting jealous when I would hang around girls.

"When I got my second girlfriend in my first year of high school, it was really noticeable and she would always look pissed off at me. Natalie and I would fight a lot over stupid things and wouldn't speak to each other on some occasions, but it never lasted long because one of us would always cave and apologize to the other. I spent more time with Natalie than my girlfriend which wasn't the smartest thing to do. Eventually, the girl I was dating broke it off because she got frustrated with how Nat and I acted like a bickering married couple all the time.

"I wasn't upset with the break-up because I wasn't really invested in the relationship. I liked the girl, but I liked Natalie more. I liked making her smile with my cheesy jokes. I liked hearing her talk about anything and everything even though half the time I wasn't paying attention and was focusing on watching her lips move as she spoke. I liked watching her when she didn't know and even more when she did. I just liked her.

"That break-up led to another fight, but it also led to me telling Natalie that I had liked her for so long and she admitted that she liked me too. A heart-felt talk later and I asked her to be my girlfriend. That was the beginning of it all," I finish, not wanting to get into any more detail for both mine and Emilia's sake.

I rub small circles on her hand with my thumb and lean down to see a blank expression on her face. "What are you thinking?" I ask, and the short silence makes my heart pound violently against my chest.

"Don't get mad when I ask you this," she says, eyeing me. "Does part of you still want to be with Natalie?"

"No," I answer immediately.

"Does part of you still love her?"

"Em."

"Ash," she mimics.

My lips press into a thin line and I gaze at her apologetically. "Yes," I finally answer.

Her eyes soften and relaxation washes over her stiff expression. "I had a feeling you were going to say that," she says in a ridiculously calm tone. "You talk about her as if you're still with her."

"I don't mean to," I say in defense. "I love her, but not in that way."

He lips curve up. "I know."

"I don't like how you're smiling right now," I admit. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you did exactly what I wanted you to do."

"Which is?"

"You told me something about yours and Natalie's relationship, but you didn't dwell on the memory. Instead, you were more worried about me and my reaction. That says something."

"What does it say?"

"That your present means more to you than your past."

My eyes trail around the perimeter of the room as I think of the present. I have three supportive friends who put up with my shit and still haven't gotten sick of me after all this time. I have a new friend who is ready to set me in my place when she sees fit. I have my father out of my hair for now. I have a girlfriend who manages to act like my personal therapist and still loves me despite my deep flaws. I have a fucked-up life that makes me feel vulnerable, yet all the small things within it make it worth living in.

There's no comparison between my past and present. One outweighs the other and it's this moment in time.

"Are you okay?" Emilia asks.

"Well, I haven't started crying, so I guess that's a good sign," I joke. "There's still so much to tell you, but I don't think it will be this easy every time."

"It probably won't, but it's a start," she says. "You look livelier than you did earlier."

"Letting go seems to have that effect," I say with a weak smile. "I'm emotionally drained."

"I bet. You didn't have to go that far but you did anyway."

"I want to tell you more," I admit. As much as it hurts to dig through the mental files containing all the memories of Natalie, I still want to voice them. I want Emilia to know everything. Maybe not as detailed as I did a few minutes ago, but I still want her to know.

"Ash, you really don't have to push yourself-" Emilia is cut off by the door to the studio bursting open.

From this angle with all the easels and tables obscuring my view, I can't see who entered the room.

"Why is the light on if no one is in here?" A disembodied yet distinct female voice yells.

Already knowing who it is, I sigh in annoyance and stand to my feet, pulling Emilia up with me. "That's because someone is in here, Ms. Waters," I say, moving away from the easels and into her line of view.

"Oh, Potato Head, I didn't see you," Ms. Waters says; her tone completely indifferent. Her gaze shifts to Emilia and says, "It's good to see you again, Emily."

"It's Emilia," she politely corrects Ms. Waters.

"I'm sorry. I have over a hundred students whose names I have to remember and it's hard to keep track of new ones," Ms. Waters explains. "What are you two doing in here anyway? You weren't doing anything dirty were you?"

"No," I groan. "I was showing Emilia the painting of the wings since this will probably be the last time she sees it before it goes up for auction," I lie, but now that I think about it, this really might be the last time she sees it because the auction is next weekend.

"Yeah, all the submissions are going to be taken out of here over the weekend so you picked a good time to come by," she says. "I don't mean to be a bother, but I have several students who are going to be coming in here for a lesson, so I need you to leave soon."

Emilia and I nod before Ms. Waters excuses herself to get something she forgot from her office.

Emilia walks back to the large canvas and traces a small portion of the lines detailing the wings with her fingers. "It's a little bittersweet knowing that this is going to belong to someone else soon," she says.

"I can take back the submission if it really bothers you," I say.

She shakes her head and looks over her shoulder to me. "No, I want you to submit it."

"I can paint you another one."

She shakes her head again and smiles. "Can you take a picture of me with them?"

I nod and pull my phone out of my pocket and turn the camera on. She stands centered between the wings and cranes her neck to look up at them before I snap the picture. She then jogs over to me and takes my phone out of my hand.

"Now it's your turn," she says, pushing me towards the canvas.

I chuckle and do as she says and stand where she previously did. I look directly at the phone and watch her smile as she stares at the screen. I hear the shutter go off and move away from the painting to go see the picture she took.

She holds the phone up for me to see and I laugh at how stupid my grin looks in the picture.

"Delete that," I say jokingly and try to pry my phone out of her hand.

"No, I like it," she says with curved lips.

"Fine," I huff and promise not to delete the picture once she gives the phone back to me.

Emilia takes one last glance at the painting before I guide her out of the studio and exit the building. We walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk that leads to the parking lot where both our cars are parked.

"You don't have to tell me anything else about Natalie until you're ready," Emilia says, looking straight ahead. "I think you've had enough for one day."

"Okay," I reply shortly. Even though I want to keep on telling her things, I don't think I mentally or emotionally can right now. "Can we talk about something else?"

"I guess this wouldn't be a good time to talk about Jared, huh?"

"Emmie, I just finished talking about the one person who I'd rather have erased from my memory; give me some time to recoup," I joke. I don't even have the energy to get mad at the thought of Jared. Talking about Natalie took more of a toll on me than I thought. "That reminds me," I start, "what's your favorite flower?"

She tilts her head as she thinks. "I'm not much of a flower person, but if I had to choose it would be orchids. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'd much rather be painting flowers for you."

_____

A/N: It has been so long since I updated to the point where I forgot what I was doing with this story. I'm sorry for the long wait! I only have 2 weeks left of school and then I can get back to regularly updating. I hope you guys liked this chapter! Thank you all for your continued support. It literally means the world to me. Please keep on voting, commenting, and sharing! You guys are the best!

I love you! -Rebecca xoxoxoxo

P.S. I am starting a new story and have the prologue already posted. It is NOT fanfiction. It is non-fiction and it is based on my personal experiences which I have wanted to share for so many years. It is called In Control and I would love it if you guys checked it out.