Burn ▹ Ashton Irwin

thirty nine

The next moring, I woke up painlessly, feeling as though I never even had that horrid nightmare in the first place. I must've forgotten about what I had dreamed about for the rest of the night, because after Ashton woke me up once I never woke up screaming and crying again.

It was Ashton, sofly snoring in my ear, that got me to open my eyes and realize it was now the morning. Bright sunshine bled through the dusty curtains on the window, just missing my face but streaking a thin line over our bodies that ended up fitting so snugly under the soft white sheets. I didn't realize until I became fully alert of my surroundings that Ashton was spooning me from behind, with his top arm tucked tightly around my waist and his face buried into the back of my neck.

I didn't want to wake him up just yet, so I laid there with my eyes open and my arms stuck under my pillow, staring at the wall and listening to Ashton snore beside me.

Unfortunately, the first thoughts that popped into my head were those of the horrible dream I had last night. I really don't want to think about it, nor do I want to make such a huge deal out of it, but I just can't get it out of my mind. My constant anxiety over Ashton's safety is forcing me to believe that these dreams actually mean something. I've always been a little scared that Ashton's going to get hurt by someone who hates him (which is a lot of possibilities), and now it's only become worse. What made last night so much more worrying was the fact that I killed him. It was me.

I don't know what's going on with me. I really don't. Five months ago, I wouldn't have cared this much, and I probably wouldn't have even had the stupid dream in the first place. I don't know when I suddenly got so superstitious, but it needs to stop.

It looked like it was at least noon outside the window. I was getting lonely after spending another good 20 minutes caught up in my thoughts, so I decided to at least see if Ashton was remotely awake.

"Ashton." I whispered, trying to look at him over my shoulder. I didn't expect him to answer, which he didn't. He was still fast asleep.

When I tried to move my body just an inch to reposition myself, he fastened his arms around me tighter and grunted under his breath. I couldn't help but quietly chuckle to myself. "Ashton," I sang softly, reaching behind me to tossle his messy brown curls through my fingertips. "Wakey, wakey."

"Stop," he mumbled, rolling forward so he was practically ontop of me. He pulled his leg over so he clung to me like a baby koala, like he always does. "Go back to bed."

"It seems late out," I said. "I think we slept in."

"Well there's nowhere really go," he yawned, gingerly trailing his lips to the back of my ear. He pressed one small kiss to my skin and then flipped onto his back. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

I turned onto my side so I faced him again, putting my head back on his chest like how it was when we went back to sleep last night. "That's true."

We layed there in silence for a really long time after that. I could tell that Ashton was still half asleep and probably planning on staying in bed for a while, and I almost felt guilty for it. I felt like all the drama I caused last night left him tired and sleep-deprived. I don't know how late he ended up staying awake, just to "protect" me. I hope it was no more than maybe 10 minutes.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, playing with the hem of his t-shirt between my fingers.

"Sorry for what," Ashton whispered back. "Dammit, Stubs. What did you do this time?"

I laughed. "I feel like I've fucked up at least thirty times in the last forty-eight hours."

I heard Ashton sigh as he hugged me tighter to his chest. "Shut up." he said.