AN
SONG ON SIDE: I Found by Amber Run, really sums up what I want Asher and y'know, the love interest, to pane out into.
This has such a slow build, I'm sorry. But like, I dunno- it's a lot of plot, and then it's like 'heya, romance'.
Banner thingy of Asher Bravermen because I'm literal trash and all I think about is my lil baby. It has some insights on his traits, and then a quote that will be coming in about five chapters.

Asher Bravermen is almost positive that he has never felt like this before. He swallows, gulps down the words that could only be described as excuses, and watches as the infamous? Thane Hale traces his throat's sudden movement with studious eyes.

"Jacket?" Asher whispers, and his free hand goes to scratch at the back of his neck in the way a teenage boy always does when he's trying to dig himself out of a hole- which doesn't actually make a lick of sense, because he's already in this pit, why is he using a shovel to try to get himself out of it?

"Jacket," Thane replies, eyebrows knitting together in an accusing expression that could only be described as possibly sassy.

"I- uh," his other hand, the one that's white-knuckling the pole of the umbrella, is beginning to fidget. He breathes in deeply through his nose before casting a glance to Rina, who seems more than interested in the interaction. Her arms are crossed, her hands hugging her shoulders to keep the cold bite of rain from invading her. "I'm not," his tongue flicks over his teeth as his mind scatters for an explanation. "I- y'know, I- a hurry, this morning, and I- well, then-"

"Why the hell are you giving him an explanation?" Rina asks through a sneer, throwing a look of disbelief- Asher didn't give people real reasons- he gave them lies- stories, almost- to make it interesting. Why is your phone cracked? Had been answered by a "You should've seen it! Outta nowhere, my mom's screaming at me to duck- and, and suddenly, a bullet knocks the air out of me. I think I'm dying, right? Until I move my hand to where the pain is- my phone caught the bullet. The only reason why I'm standing here is because of this little guy, cool- huh?" In reality, he didn't have good hand-and-eye coordination, and when Tommy had thrown his phone across their English class, glass had more or less been busted because of his butter hands.

Asher stops, interrupts his own fluster of words that have been scribbling out of him, to leave the three of them in unwelcome silence.

Why is he giving Thane an explanation?

He doesn't even know this asshole- hell, he wouldn't even know his name if it wasn't for Rina putting two and two together.

"Jacket?" Thane presses again, this time, he's unfolded his arms. He takes a step towards the both of them, the two teenagers would've taken a step back in return if it wasn't for both of their stubborn streaks of holding down their own fort.

"Home," Asher tells him. He stares up at Thane Hale, the entirety of his glory practically blinding the young Bravermen. He's finding it hard to stare him in the eyes, to level his gaze longer than a few seconds, before he turns to point his nose to the ground and kick his feet in the small puddle of thin mud and gravel. "It's home."

"Why?" Thane wonders, and he can feel his heat. Asher can feel this man's heat- like he's some kind of human furnace. It sends uncomfortable thrills down his spine that should feel like alarms.

"'Cause he's always looked better in red," Rina snaps from beside Asher, her hand wraps around his elbow, pulling him close to her side as she glares a smokey-eyed glance in full force to Thane Hale.

Thane turns to her, attention snapping to Rina like he's just realized she existed. "Who are you?"

"Rina Prescott," she tells him without skipping a beat. Her eyes stay on his, something that Asher wasn't able to do. Her lips tick up, dimples pressing deep into her ebony cheeks as she watches Thane return her gaze with just as much gusto, if not more. "Thane Hale, right?"

The older man doesn't reply. He rips his eyes from Rina before turning to look at Asher.

His hands are suddenly assaulting the collar of his sweater, Asher yelps in surprise as he feels warm fingers heat up the skin near his mark- he rips away his shoulder in attempt to cease from catching a better grasp of his older brother's hoodie, but it's vain when he's suddenly leveled with Thane's' blue irises.

There is something off about this man. And it isn't because Thane pinned him to the side of a tree last night, or that he's forced Asher into his jacket, or even now, how he's knuckle-deep in the collar of his clothing. Something bone-deep.

Asher doesn't even begin to know what it is, and he doesn't know if he wants to.

"The jacket," Thane exhales into Asher's space, lips so close it's like he's trying to give him the air he breathes for Asher's own lungs. "Wear it."

*

Asher stood above his sink, staring at the cracked reflection of his face in the bathroom.

Half the time, the bathroom smelled like old mold- they checked for it, Sebastian and Ashlynn, but after two attempts at finding the source of the mystery odor, it was concluded that his bathroom simply smelled old instead of anything that could actually deteriorate his health.

He's swishing his minty toothpaste in his mouth, his eyes focusing on the way his pink mouth tightens together and his nose scrunches up as he studies his reflection.

Two eyes, perhaps even a bit too pubescent, wide and blinking with amber irises dilated beneath the dim light; beneath his right eye, a flat mole- beneath that, whispers of freckles and beauty marks. His skin is pale- he blames it on his protective parents, who or more less plastered sunscreen on him, February to October, from his birth to age twelve. He isn't bad looking, sure- he could use a bit more... pizazz. He isn't handsome, either. Dark eyebrows, lips that are almost violently pink, a buzz-cut that made him seem he was drafted for a war.

This didn't explain the way Thane had stared at him. Hungry, almost. With blue irises blown with an almost tangible want- need. He had screwed his hands deep in the collar of Asher's hoodie, he had breathed hot air onto the teenager's neck, felt his hands push him flush against a tree- Asher has heard the deep breath of air called Thane's voice, up against his own ear.

No one had ever talked, touched, looked at him like that, almost desperate- for what? Asher didn't even pretend to know.

"Ash?" There's a knock on the door, the soft voice of his mother floods through the cracks of the old wood, efficiently knocking Asher out of his headspace.

"C'mon in, it's unlocked," Asher said through a mouth of swished water; he makes like he is busy. His hand reaches for the towel that laid crumpled on his countertop; he pretends to dry his skin up to his elbows and spits in the sink.

Ashlynn is half way out of her police uniform, the only evidence left behind happened to be her dark slacks and the white t-shirt she always wore beneath her button-up. Fly-aways stick up from her bun, her mascara is smudged in the corners of her eyes, and the smile she gives him is almost tired.

"Have a good day?" She asks him, her eyes level to his; she props the door open with her bare feet, making it obvious she doesn't want to have this discussion in his bathroom.

"It was as good as a day like this could be, mom," he confessed, taking the chance to slip past his mother to his bedroom and onto his mattress. The leather jacket he had left on his bed had been tucked onto a hanger, the neck of it hung off of the mantle of his bed- his father had no doubt done it.

Ashlynn sits down on his mattress, worried hands finding a fleeting interest in the threadbare comforter. "Tommy, he- I know I'm not really supposed to tell you stuff- like this, at least, but-"

"What?" Asher spins around from where he had subconsciously traveled to. Which happened to be beside his bed, his fingertips tracing over the zipper of the jacket.

"Calm down," Ashlynn commands almost instantaneously, looking bewildered at her son's chagrin. "I wanted to say, that, well," she gulped before she sighed, long and slow, as she swung her leg on his mattress, the creaking of his bed echoed in the bedroom. But Asher didn't care, he was focused entirely on his mother. "Asher, baby," her hands scooped out Asher's, they were smaller than his, wrinkles beginning to crease in her tan skin as she rubbed her thumb on the back of his palm, over his knuckles, up to his wrist. It was a sign that whatever came out of her mouth next could break a part of his duct-taped peace.

"We can't find Tommy," she whispered, her voice steady in his ear. "And, the way it's going- we're not going to find him. Honey-"

"Mom-"

She shakes her head, voice raising above Asher's sudden interruption. "Honey, I'm not going to be able to find Tommy," Ashlynn's eyes are wide as she continues, one of her hands slipping from his grasp to tuck beneath his ear, turning his gaze to hers. "Do you understand that? That this situation isn't a game, that your friend is in real danger?"

"Yeah, mom, I understand," Asher is shaking, basically hanging off everything that comes out of his mother's mouth.

"Then you understand why, when I told you not to come searching, that I meant it, right?" Her eyes blink up at her son. "I can't find a boy who I think of my own, if I think you're out there looking for him, too," she shook her head, taking a deep breath before pressing her lips to her son's knuckle. "Honey, I need you out of this, if not just for your safety, but for my sanity."

Asher blinked, eyes owlish as he realized Officer Andre ratted him out.

"Yeah, yeah- I'll stay out of it," Asher whispered back to his mother.

He almost believed the lie himself.

*

The house is asleep. The old, thick curtains that have shielded the privacy of the house from the outside world are pulled back, letting the street lights flood into ever dark crevice every room had to offer.

Asher's feet were light on the staircase, two in the morning was the usual break-and-regroup for Bowser and himself. The mutt, whose paws might as well be as big as his head, is surprisingly silent. He snorts every thirty seconds or so in anticipation for the adventure of his bathroom break in the backyard.

The teenager opens the screen door with careful fingers, desperately trying to keep his volume down because his mother has a shift in four hours and his father needed all of the sleep he could get. Bowser slips between the door and Asher, obviously impatient.

"Yeah, okay," Asher whispers to Bowser; the dog only breaks into a fleeting run to the corner of the faded white picket fence as a response.

He watches as the dog's red coat disappears into the slip of the dimly-lighted yard.

"Cathy, I know it's early."

Asher spun on the heel of his bare feet, snapping his attention to his mother's voice. He takes a quick step to the other side of the room, careful not to be seen in the shadows of the hallway from the kitchen.

She's sitting with one of Sebastian's shirts slipping off half of her shoulder, plaid pajama pants she's had since Asher was a baby were threadbare and loose around her hips. Coffee is sitting in front of her, papers are peppering the kitchen island.

It'd be a comforting sight if she wasn't tapping her cigarette on the side of the coffee mug.

She hadn't taken out a pack of Marlboros in years.

"The results," Ashlynn said into the home phone that was connected to the landline. "They in yet?"

Asher drops to the ground when his mother stretches in her chair, waiting for the answer on the other side of the phone. He's tucked between the coat rack and the antique lamp that's a heirloom. It looks like an ugly stick with a lightbulb. (Asher loved it.)

Whatever is said between his mother and Cathy is enough for Ashlynn's fist to bang on the countertop.

"Damn it, Cathy," she curses into the phone. "I have to release a report in less than eight hours, a boy who is basically my own missing, and journalists practically foaming at the mouth to get an interview with anyone from Hollow Grove," Ashlynn huffs; Asher watches as she twirls the cigarette between her thumb and forefinger before snuffing it out in her old coffee.

"I'm not mad at you, Cathy," she breathes. "I was just hoping that damn DNA didn't come back unidentifiable, scares the shit out of me, y'know. Just, July Night, it can't happen again. It can't. I don't think this town will be able to take it."

Asher wraps his hands over his knees as he listens, her voice is riding on the edge of tears. God, he hates that. It could possibly be the worst sound in the universe, to hear his mom cry.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Ashlynn sniffs into the phone before she gulps. "Cathy, test the hair again, send it back to the lab- call in favors, anything. Get this matched up with something, alright."

Asher sits in silence as Cathy's reply to his mother is longwinded, no doubt a lengthy monologue of how she'll do whatever is in her capability.

"And, and Cathy," she whispers to the phone. "If anything happens to me and Seb, get Asher the hell out of Hollow Grove."

*

"You never change, do you?" The deep voice filters through Asher's sleep-ridden mind, causing the teenager to paw haphazardly into the air at any preferred direction before burrowing his face into the solace of his pillow.

"Still skinny, still- yeah, still nerdy," he hears something toying around with the DVD collection that dominates half of his book shelf, owning an array from the original Star Wars to all of the Charlie Chaplin classics to every single Marvel movie. "Still have this mutt," someone ruffles Bowser's fur, causing the sleeping dog to move into the comfort of the hand. "Still a hundred percent of the Asher Bravermen I know."

"Oliver, get the hell out of my room," Asher grumbles into his pillow, kicking up his feet on the mattress to push himself into a weird pile of long limbs beneath his comforter. "It's Sunday, man."

"You aren't even excited your favorite brother is here?" Oliver, instead of being a sane human being, jumps onto Asher, covering his brother with every inch of his own body, laughing.

"Get off of me, fat ass," he grumbles, his mind finally catching up with his body, which is wildly twitching beneath Oliver, looking for a way of escape. By default, older siblings usually conquer in play fights, but this was just unfair. Asher was practically dead to the world up until thirty seconds ago.

"Been gone for months, you don't call, you don't pick up, we having trouble in paradise-"

"Oh God," Asher's voice filters through his pillow. "Your girlfriend is literally downstairs, go and admit your loneliness to her."

"Can't, dad says I gotta be the gentleman and let her sleep in my room. By herself, and because we have like ten rooms filled with nothing but smelly antiques like some creepy hoarder horror movie, he's making me drag the blow up mattress in here," Oliver rolls off of his brother, holding onto the edge of the bed to keep himself from falling off of the side of the twin-sized mattress. "And, because he doesn't trust me, we're going to be bunk buddies for three weeks."

"No," Asher said in horror. "I'm not sharing my room with you."

"It's only three weeks," Oliver said, grinning with the deep dimples every Bravermen child inherited. "You really don't like me?"

"I like you just fine Ollie, but we're both teenage boys," Asher whispered through gritted teeth. "With frustrations... if you get my drift."

The stupid smile that had smeared across Oliver's face from ear to ear is wiped off completely.

"Well," Asher pushed, rolling out of his bed and onto his bare feet. He stretched up, bare chest to his brother as Oliver pretended to be blinded by his pale skin. Oliver thought himself hilarious. "I'm only being pragmatic."

"Asher," the oldest Bravermen grinned. "I don't know if you need to get laid, or need to meet our heavenly savior, Jesus Christ."

*

Sebastian ran into Asher's room to herd both of his sons into the living room. It smelled like pancakes and bacon, and if by telling anything by Sebastian's 'Kiss the cook' apron, it had definitely been a long morning of preparing breakfast for his son's return to home.

"You've grown a mile, damn," the high voice of Christina came from the dining room, where she was already poking at her strawberries and cantaloupe. Her brown eyes were blown wide as she stared up at Asher. They hadn't seen each other since the beginning of August, and it had been an unbearable departure.

"Chrissy!" Asher grinned, tugging the shirt he had grabbed from his dresser over his head as he ran to the college sophomore.

Chrissy, for some odd reason, thought Oliver was the best thing next to sliced bread. It didn't actually make sense, considering she was an introverted intern at a small publishing company, and Oliver happened to be an extraverted douchebag who was running on a sports scholarship for his business major.

"Still don't understand what you're doing with my brother," Asher joked as he hugged her tightly. She grinned into his shoulder, laughing at his humor until she shrugged.

"He's not all bad," she replied, glancing at her boyfriend since freshman year of high school. "Plus, he happens to have a really nice ass."

"As much as I know the quality of someone's ass is important, I, unfortunately, do not want to know that you think my brother's butt is that of quality," Asher said through a disgusted gasp and gritted teeth.

Chrissy smiled, before she brought her ebony hands to either side of his cheeks. They had thinned out since the last time she had seen him, his back has straightened, he still stands like a kicked puppy, but Asher is obviously growing into his skin. Into a young man.

"You got a haircut," Chrissy told him, feeling the buzzcut and running her hand through the short, dark hair.

"No one told me bangs weren't exactly my thing until this summer," he explained, laughing as he leaned into her palms like a touch-starved child.

"Please, everything is your thin-"

"Sometimes I wonder if you're my girlfriend because you actually love me, or if you love my brother," Oliver stares at his girlfriend with feigning forlorn eyes. As response, Chrissy only smiles and taps a chaste kiss to the youngest Bravermen's forehead

"Guys," Sebastian is in the living room, one hand in his sweatpant's pocket, the other viscously pressing patterns of numbers on the remote. He's standing three feet away from the flat screen, eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he tries to work the 'thingy-majig'. "Your mother is two seconds away from being on tv."

That catches their attention.

Three pairs of feet rush to the living room, Chrissy making herself comfortable on the chair. Oliver and Asher splay out on the love seat, the elder of the two wrapping his arm around the back of Asher's neck and rubbing his fist into his hair.

"Idiot," Asher yowled, kicking up his feet into Oliver's ribs in retaliation. "One friggin' hair on my head is worth more than your soul, man."

When Oliver was going to make the final blow, a wet willy, and Asher two seconds away from giving a cruel nipple twister, Sebastian turned to the three of them.

"Be quiet," he snapped at the boys, and both brothers instantaneously shot up at attention. Asher soothed his scalp with soft, prodding fingers; Oliver rubbed his pinky finger on his clothes, successfully wiping off his salvia that was meant for the wet willy onto his Led Zeppelin shirt.

"Your mom is coming up next," Sebastian warned. "Best be quiet or neither of you will be getting any breakfast."

Kelly Bradshaw, a news anchor for Good Morning Louisiana, appeared on channel 7. A pressed navy-blue pant-suit and dark berry lipstick decorated her already picture-perfect face. "A recent report coming from Hollow Grove, Louisiana has the Big Easy running in turmoil."

The screen changed to the scene at City Hall, where Ashlynn stood with both of her hands wrapped around a microphone. She was dressed in her best uniform and her hair slicked back. But there was no amount of concealer that could hide the toll this search was causing her. "As most of you know, our boy, Tommy Lupine, has been allegedly kidnapped after this Friday's football game. The only thing I am at liberty to say is that this town is looking for him. And, I, personally, will not rest, until Tommy has been found."

Kelly Bradshaw zoomed on the screen, smiling into her microphone after taking a sip of her morning coffee. "This isn't the only run-in with strange mysteries the town has had crossroads with. Nearly a decade ago, a day that is nicknamed 'July Night', had a casualty of four adults, ranging from a young ex-con to the town's mayor, and five minors receiving fatal injuries that had reportedly all children survived- but rumors have it that one of the surviving victims of July Night may be Tommy Lupine."

"I'm not at liberty to say," Ashlynn said, staring anywhere that wasn't the camera.

"Tommy was last seen at Hollow Grove's football stadium, he was wearing the blue and gold football uniform. Six feet and three inches, athletic build, with a large scar from his jaw to his shoulder. If you have seen this boy, call the number below immediately," beside the news anchor, last year's Spring pictures hover above the emergency number.

"Wait- what?" Chrissy looks uncomfortable from where she sat on the chair, her ankles crossing as she stared around the room. "Tommy's missing?"

"Yeah, Chris," Oliver sits up from where he's slumped. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I told you last night."

"No, no- I thought you were talking about his dad," Chrissy's voice is tight, almost screeching as she stared wide-eyed at her boyfriend. "I thought he showed up for a while and wondered off with a bottle in his hand and a cigarette in the other," her lips quivered.

"Does it matter?" Oliver finally stood up from the love seat, looking for the source of her fear as if he could bat it away with a few flicks of his wrists. Something about the way he looked at her, amber eyes wide as he tried to understand, had Asher almost envious of the both of them.

"Yes, it matters. Oliver, I don't know if you've realized, but every time you see my fucking tits, there's a scar from my naval to my collarbone," she didn't mean to sound viscous, but she did. Her hands were clutching up at the collar of her shirt, as if her mark would crawl up her skin and wrap around her throat.

"This doesn't have-" Oliver tried, hands going to Chrissy's shoulders, before he's interrupted by his younger brother.

"She's right, you know," Asher whispers, he doesn't mean to make the silence between each word deafening, but he does. Sebastian is staring, watching the trio of teenagers as they seem to fall apart. "Ma still doesn't know what exactly July Night was, and hell- what I saw at the stadium, it wasn't... I mean, we were all so young when it happened, but I swear, Ollie, it was the same... thing."

Oliver glances up from where he stands, finally peeling his eyes off of Chrissy to Asher. He shakes his head, denying it. "You say it like this bastard isn't human."

"Yeah," Asher replies, his hands slip to grasp his knees, his teeth worry his bottom lip. "I am."

AN

Not my best. sorry.

What about that Thane and Asher interaction, eh.

One more chapter and Part One is officially done.
Comments give me life, and feedback. Cause I need it. Is it getting boring?
Is this even interesting?
What do you like about it?
Please tell me, because I honestly like to read them and also need it for my growth as a writer.