dream catcher : afi

1.6

Managing to get Ashton to be my friend, with some terms of course, was almost the same as being with Ashton before.

"Let me ask you a question, Sky." He looked at me, the credits of AHS rolling on the screen.

"Sure, what is it?" I asked him.

"What's your favorite thing in life?" He tilted his head at me.

"Wow." I chuckled. "There's a lot...but I think my brother is."

He smiles slightly at my answer. And I was being completely honest; without my brother, who knows where I would be in life. Michael brings out my anger, happiness, sadness, and laughter. I could get so mad at him and tell him I hate him, yet I never actually do. A few hours later, we're probably cuddling and chatting away. He'd annoy me a lot and I'd get mad, yet I'd realize he's just looking out for me. I know I'm a bitch sometimes too, and I thank him for putting up with me. All in all, he was the only family I ever had that stuck with me after our parents died, and he was the only one that protected me (the best he could) from Jason.

All in all, Michael Gordon Clifford is my favorite thing in life.

"Good answer." Ashton smiled.

"What about yours?" I questioned. He paused to think for a minute.

"Music." He finally said. "And chances."

"I like music too." I smiled.

"Really? What type?" He asked.

"Well, I love Halsey. I like One Direction. And I love All Time Low..." I mumbled.

"I love All Time Low too." He grinned, revealing two deep dimples in his cheeks.

Looking down at his Metallica T-Shirt, I nodded.

"You're a band boy, eh?" I chuckled.

"Yeah." He chuckled.

"I don't really know many bands." I admited.

"Seriously?" His jaw dropped.

I shrugged. "I don't really listen to music much."

"How can you not?" He said, almost amazed.

"I don't know, I like the silence." I sighed. "But I'll listen to Halsey, she calms me."

Without warning, he took my hand and pulled me up, almost dragging me up the wrecked stairs.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Showing you real music." He shrugged.

I didn't say anything, instead I let him drag me to wherever we were going.

The second floor wasn't much better than the first, it was just as destroyed.

He kicked open a door which revealed his bedroom, and to my surprise, it was completely different from the rest of the house. It was a normal bedroom; it had dark walls that didn't have paint crumbling off, the curtains weren't moth eaten, the bed was big and looked incredibly inviting even if it was messily made. There was a nice desk with a laptop on it, there were bookshelves filled with books and CD's, there was a Radio-CD player in the corner, there was even a beanbag to sit on, posters scattered the walls and to my dismay; a drum kit. Sure there were shirts scattered on top of the carpeted floor but it wasn't dirty, the room looked oddly clean for a teenage boy.

"Sorry for the mess." He mumbled, quickly straightening his bed better.

"What mess?" I giggled. "It's really clean."