Song of the chapter: The End Of All Things – Panic! At The Disco

Ashton's POV

Emmie and I ate at the restaurant on one of the upper levels of the tower. I made reservations for us earlier this morning, but apparently I made the mistake of skimming over the description of the restaurant when I looked it up online, because I found out the hard way that it revolved. We couldn't feel it, but the restaurant slowly circled around to give its guests the best dining experience with a spectacular 360 view of the city. It didn't help that we were seated near one of the windows.

Despite the nausea and flashes of dizziness every time I attempted to glance out the window, it was worth it. She's always worth it. I don't think I can say that about anyone else.

After dinner, I take Emmie to Bondi Beach. It's not that far of a bus ride from where we are, and I'd hate to waste what remains of a great cliché sunset to end our date with. I almost forget how calming the beach is. The happy spirits of the remaining beachgoers scattered along the shore uplift my own. The wind whistling against my ears harmonizes with the ocean's song of crashing waves. Crimson touches blue as the sun casts its last rays of the day over the ocean.

My friends and I came here countless times to hang out or escape the stress of school. We even got in trouble once for starting a small bonfire here. Thankfully the police officers didn't charge us and let us off with a warning as long as we left the property. Even though she wasn't there, I can imagine how Emmie would react to being caught in engaging in our illegal stunt. She'd probably shout at me and my friends and go off about how her academic career would be forever ruined, while I'd laugh at how cute she looks with her puffed out cheeks that always make their appearance when she's mad.

Sometimes I wish it were easy to replace one person from a memory with another. It'd make reminiscing so much more enjoyable.

I carry Emmie on my back as we walk across the beach towards the shore. Her feet have been killing her since we left the restaurant and fresh blisters are beginning to form near her toes because of her sandals. I didn't want her to torture herself with every step accompanied with an "ow," so I made her take off her shoes and climb on my back when we got off the bus.

Once we are closer to the water, Emmie slides off my back and cuffs her jeans as far up as she can. "I've never been to a beach before," she says, wiggling her toes in the sand and giggling at the gritty texture.

"Never?" I ask.

"I live in Denver—it's not exactly close to the shore," she says, her sandals swinging at her side as she carries them by the straps. As we walk, her gaze travels from the shore to the ocean stretching father than we can see. "Is this the beach you drew in the sketchbook you gave me?"

"Nothing gets past you," I tease. "It would have been prettier if I actually drew it in color. Black and white don't do it justice. My memories were tainted at the time and it reflected in my art. But I like to think the memories I have now are more pure and real than anything else; they're unadulterated. And my art shows that, now."

We find a clear area away from most of the beachgoers and sit on the sand. Emmie situates herself between my legs and rests her head back against my chest. Water grazes our feet as the ocean waves crash and recede. I take a shallow breath. I know Emmie can feel my erratic heartbeat trying to burst its way through my chest because I can feel it too. And I don't think it will stop even when I start speaking.

I take another shallow breath, but it does nothing to prepare myself for what we have to talk about. "I thought that when I would have a kid I would be happily married and over the moon about being a dad," I say. "I'm neither of those things. How bad of a father does it make me for not being fond of my own daughter?"

Emmie's body is completely still and her breathing is questionably even. "It doesn't make you a bad anything," she says. "It's not your fault you didn't know about her."

"No, it's just my fault for unknowingly impregnating my ex."

Emmie turns just enough to let me see her frown.

"If I had known about Reina from the start everything wouldn't be as fucked up as it is now. Nat could've found a way to tell me—"

She cuts me off. "But would you have listened?" she asks.

My lips fall into a straight line and I clench my jaw. There's no doubt in my mind that I would have ignored every word that fell from her lips if Nat tried to talk to me about it back then. I wanted zero contact with her and hearing an explanation wouldn't have been a strong enough reason to speak with her again. Not after what I saw her do; not after the lies were released the moment I walked in on her and Nathan. It still makes me sick thinking about it.

"What did you and your dad talk about?" Her question is like a saving grace to my unwanted reminiscence.

"I told him he was a grandfather," I say. "He's always known about Reina, but he didn't have the common decency to tell me. I could've known the moment she was born, but he didn't act on his suspicion. He decided to take Natalie's word for Nathan being the father. It was weird talking to him about it. I was angry, but he was so calm and understanding. We've never had a civil conversation like that before."

I half-expected Dad to scold me like he always does, but not once did he judge me. Maybe it was the alcohol that made him nicer. Or maybe he was trying to be a father to me after all these years.

I let out a short, pathetic laugh. "Do you want to know what's terrible, though? Dad suggested I drop Reina from my life. He's terrible at giving advice. I told him no, but is it bad that I'm actually starting to consider it?"

Emmie cranes her neck to look up at me, but I keep my eyes settled on the crashing waves in front of us. "You are?" she asks, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

"I don't think I'd actually go through with it," I say. "Reina may not know who I am and she probably wouldn't remember me if I chose not to be involved, but I can't turn into my dad. I spent most of my childhood without my dad around. My brother and sister didn't grow up with a dad in their lives; all they had was me. I don't want my own kid to go through that even if I don't know her. If I can prevent that then I will." My gaze falls and meets with her grey orbs. "What do you think about that?"

She turns back around to her previous position and I wrap my arms around her waist. "To be honest, I wanted you to say that," she says. "I know broken families can't be prevented sometimes, but if there's a chance to better a child's life then I say take it."

"But what if it doesn't better Reina's life? What if it only complicates it? I'd be throwing reality at a two-year-old, and that's not fair to her."

She's quiet for a moment. "I know."

"I can't stay here, Emilia," I say, my voice cracking. "I moved to get away from Natalie. If I stayed I'd have to see her all the time. I'd be forever trapped in a past that remains to exist now because of Reina. It may sound childish, but I just want to go home, to Denver. It was a mistake coming here. Nothing is going the way I want, and I don't know what to do."

Emmie's sandy feet graze my own, and she finally turns her body far enough to face me. "Right now, everything is being influenced by your dislike towards Natalie and Reina," she says. "You say you don't like Reina, but I don't think that's true. You wouldn't be in this situation, wracking your brain, if you didn't have the slightest care for her. And I think that scares you."

From the moment I saw her, Reina's image hasn't left my mind. I've tried to block her out but she always comes back. And when she does, I grow curious of what I've missed during these two years. What did she look like the moment she was born? What was her first word? What are her little quirks? Is she allergic to anything? Is she left or right-handed? I don't feel obligated, but it scares me how much I want to know about her.

I bow my head and whisper, "It does. I'm not ready to be a dad, Emilia. How am I supposed to make a choice when either option will change my life?"

"You finally have a choice," Emmie murmurs. "It's not as glamorous as it sounds, is it?"

I deserve that. I deserve the hell out of that. I don't blame her for holding that against me. I encourage her to. She has every right. I said words that I regret to this day, pulled a dick move, and glorified the idea of having a choice in a situation. Now that I have a choice, I have no right to complain. The fucking irony.

"You should visit her," Emmie says. "Reina, I mean. Natalie said you can see her whenever you'd like, and I think you should take advantage of that."

"That's supposed to help me?" I ask.

"I don't think you'll be able to make a decision if you don't. The only interaction you've had with Reina involved her pushing you out of the way to get to Natalie."

"Thank you for reminding me that my daughter pushed me away upon our first encounter," I say sarcastically.

"I know you care about Reina, but you'll never know how much you care about her if you don't see her."

I hug her tighter. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Then she might be the one who'll make the decision for you."

I hate everything about this. I put myself in this situation. I was stupid and made a haste decision that I thought would better my life in the long-run, but it has only worsened it. No matter what I choose to do, I with either gain or lose something, someone.

I turn my head and kiss the patch of skin on Emmie's neck above the collar of her shirt. Salt from the ocean mist, that cast a light sheen on her skin, lingers on my lips when I pull away. "Why didn't you say you love me last night?" I ask. "Do you not?"

To have to ask such a question physically hurts my entire being. My lungs feel constricted (not just from the humidity) and every muscle in my arms and legs ache and throb. She has never not said it since she started. I'm panicking and I don't even know her answer yet.

She doesn't waste a second to say, "I do, Ash. Of course, I love you."

It almost makes me happy that her assurance doesn't sound like assurance; it sounds more like she's professing.

"I'm just—" She cuts herself off, almost as if she's ashamed or resistant to say.

"You can tell me," I encourage, rubbing her arm.

It's still warm outside, but goosebumps travel up her arms beneath my touch. "I'm scared too," she says. "Not only for you but for myself. I'm scared and overwhelmed and the thought of you staying here to be with Reina is giving me nightmares even when I'm awake. It scares me to think I might have to ride the plane back to Denver alone."

I've told her before that I would never drop her for someone else. And that 'someone else' was always in reference to Natalie. I still stand by my word. But I never thought the 'someone else' we would have to worry about would now be Reina.

"You think I'm going to leave you..." I breathe, completely stupefied by this idea that leaves a haunting look in her eyes. "No, baby, no. I would never even think to do that to you. Is that was your nightmare was about?"

Strands of hair fall and hide parts of her face when she nods, but it doesn't hide the wetness welling in her eyes.

"You're reason enough to choose not to be in Reina's life," I say.

"But I don't want to the reason you don't," she says. "I love you, Ashton, but how can I live with myself if I were to be the reason for taking a child's father away from them? I'd be selfishly depriving Reina."

My jaw slacks and not even the disappearance of the sun can break my fixed gaze on Emmie. "Are you trying to tell me to stay here?" I regrettably ask.

She shakes her head. "I'm trying to tell you to leave me out of your decision."

That's not the answer I want to hear. It's the furthest from it. I want her to tell me what she wants because even though part of her thinks she's trying to do the right thing, I know it's not what she really wants.

"Emilia, you are one of the most selfless people I've ever met," I start, cupping her chin and forcing her gaze to meet mine. "You can be selfish. You deserve to be selfish. I want you to be selfish. Please be selfish."

She bites her bottom lip as it begins to tremble. Her cheeks dampen and each tear falls onto my hand. She opens and closes her mouth, struggling to speak, and I beg again. "I don't want you to leave me," she croaks, failing to choke back her tears as they spill uncontrollably. "I don't want to lose someone I love again. Not like this."

All I can do is pull her close to my chest to shield her from every person who passes us to leave the beach. One woman stops to ask if everything is okay and even with my assurance, the sympathy in her eyes remains as she glances over her shoulder when she walks away. The rolling waves drown out Emmie's sobs and incoherent words, but I can still feel her trembling shoulders and jagged breaths.

"I had a plan, Emmie, remember?" I mumble in her ear and lace my fingers through hers. "I planned to hold your hand like this every day. I planned to tell you that you are the most beautiful girl I've laid eyes on. I planned to annoy the living hell out of you like I always do."

I hear a soft, weak giggle between her sniffles and she pulls away from my shirt. Past the reddened eyes, the blotchy skin, and runny nose is the same smile she wore when I first told her my plan.

I continue. "I planned to help you when you needed someone. I planned to never let anything ruin our friendship because it's the most sacred thing to me. I planned to like you more and more as each day passed. You know better than anyone how persistent I am; I will follow through with my plan."

She cries again but with a smile. And it's the most beautiful smile I've ever seen her make.

By the time Emmie composes herself, most of the crowd at the beach has reduced to only a few groups of people. She dips her feet into the ocean water one last time before I give her a piggyback ride from the shore to the bus. Then when we get to the hotel, I carry her on my back up to our room where I make love to her. Twice. And I recite my plan back to her. And I tell her I love her. And I smile like an idiot when she says it back, because I am so fucking lucky to have someone as broken as her love me.

___

A/N: First chapter of the New Year! I hope it was a good one! My heart hurt when I was writing this. Soooo many feels. It's a little short, but everything is there.

I haven't done this in a while, but here's the question of the day: Do you still visualize the characters as members of 5sos or do you picture them differently now?

Please keep on voting, commenting, and sharing! Thank you for being so amazing. 

–Rebecca xoxoxoxo