A Certain Romance || Ashton Irwin

Michael Works His Magic

My least favorite thing about sleep were the mornings when you woke up (or at least tried to wake up) and your eyes were crusted shut. May it have been because of allergies, you were still tired, or solely because you spent the previous night upset. You skipped to the saddest songs on your iPod, changed into your PJs, and requested to have every strongly sugared food delivered to your room.

Waking up, I still had the stinging feeling in my eyes - that, of course, I had to force open because of crying so much and so ugly - my nose was stuffed as well and if I had to be completely honest I felt like I had been run over several times by a dump truck. I also had that feeling of emptiness within my lungs that somehow felt refreshing at the same time.

I lied in bed longer than necessary for a Saturday, ignoring my phone that wouldn't stop going off. It was pathetic of me to be lying in a sulk and acting as if my friends didn't exist right now. I was doing this because of a boy, a god damn stupid boy. I'd remind myself of that and a voice in my head would tell me that it wasn't just any boy, it was Ashton Irwin. I didn't know what made that voice believe Ashton Irwin was different from any other boy I had encountered. What made him so special?

"You awake, Buggie?" My dad lightly tapped on the door.

"Sadly." I replied.

He still wore his PJs and unstyled hair. He looked just about exhausted and done with life as I was as he took a seat on my bed.

"Everything all right?" He chuckled as he pulled hair away from my face that had dried against my skin over night.

"Just that time of the month." I patted right below my stomach. "Cramps have been pretty bad this time around." I didn't dream about telling my dad I was down because of a boy. Nope. Unlike others I didn't care to get any fatherly advice on what I should do to get over said boy.

"I'll bring you up some Advil and water, yeah?" He poked my forehead, finding joy in the unseen part of my face that had gone hidden behind a fringe for a few months. "Ashton's here by the way. Want me to let him up?"

Oh God.

I quickly sat up, dragging my knees to my chest and hugging them. "Please tell him now isn't a good time. I don't want to see him."

"Did he upset you?" Universally we could all agree that the terrible thing about our parents was their ability to ask too many questions. We could never say a thing without it being questioned. I just needed my dad to say "okay" and send Ashton back to Australia so I could forget about his stupid face.

"It doesn't matter."

"Hey." Arrie peeped into the room. "Just sent Aaron away. Told him he was unwelcome here."

"Well," Dad patted my hand. "That's been solved..." He excused himself with the statement, "I'm hungry." and left me to drown in self-pity and possibly take Arrie down with me.

Arrie made himself comfortable in the empty spot on my bed next to me, locking his fingers behind his head and crossing one ankle over the other. "I didn't want to say anything last night, but I knew there was nothing I could say to make you feel better when we got home." He silenced to let me take in his words. "I have special orders from your brother to keep you safe, even emotionally, and I've failed. I'm supposed to be your big brother while Sam is away trying to fix things, but I fucked up."

"Guarding my emotions is my own responsibility, Arthur." I hugged my legs tighter.

"Don't call me Arthur."

"Why not, Arthur?"

"It makes me feel like a grandpa. I'm only 26, Sage."

"Sorry." I mumbled. "Do you know how much trouble Sam is in?"