fortissimo. | ashton irwin a.u.

0.2

part 1- sophomore year in scenes.

[ beginning of 2nd semester ]

"okay, okay. i've got a better joke for you." my best friend, michael, said. "what do you call a pansexual guy named nick who works at a cd store?" i roll my eyes.

"what is it, michael?" we are almost to the choir room, and i couldn't be more grateful to have these horrible jokes end.

"pan nick at the disc co."

"oh my god! that's genius, michael, i've actually never heard that before!" i start laughing.

"i know, i'm great."

"ha, good joke mochol." i say.

"wanna know another joke?" he asks while opening the door for me.

"no." i say, truthfully.

"okay, here it comes. it's my favorite joke, okay? you have to laugh."

"just say it." i sigh.

"your face." he starts laughing as we walk to the back corner of the room and take our seats. he's clutching his stomach, and his head is thrown back, his eyes are squinted closed and he might be in his cutest state right now. he's such a kitten.

as soon as he starts to calm down, the bell rings. our music teacher, ms. palcso, walks in. "hello 3rd period! so good to see your beautiful faces!"

"when are we getting our assigned seats, ms. palcso?" an annoyed boy in the front says. he has the most popular girl in school, bryana, drooling over him and touching his muscles. i cringe.

"today, ashton," his name is ashton. "thanks for the reminder." she says.

"okay. everybody stand in the front of the room." palcso says. i groan, i hate going up and down the risers. it's so much work.

michael picks me up and piggy backs me down the risers. what a good best friend. when we get down, i notice that kid named ashton gave michael a dirty look and he returned it.

"what's going on with you and that ashton kid?" i ask. i've never seen them together.

"nothing." michael says neutrally.

i raise my eyebrow at him.

"it's nothing, really. i promise. just – just don't go near him or talk to him, alright?"

"why? what's so bad about him that i shouldn't even talk to him?" michael never keeps anything from me.

"he's just not a good person, okay?"

"michael, seriously. why won't you tell me anything about him?" he's frustrating me.

"stop, michelle." he demands.

"michael, i'm not letting this go. just tell me!" i whisper-yell.

"shut up, michelle! this conversation is over." he says.

"fuck you." i say to him and move across the room.

"okay, class. starting with the sopranos and going from right to left in the sections," ms. palcso explains. our risers are huge and each section sits next to each other, and i'm a soprano. i sit next to the baritones, who are right in the middle. there's a lot of guys this semester, so it's going to be hard to balance it perfectly. with my luck, i'll be next to the guys, "rebecca, izzy, sami, and michelle. next row." i go up to my seat and sit down. i'll be by a guy, great.

ashton is staring at me, and michael is staring at ashton. what is his problem with him?

"okay, baritones. again, going from right to left." blah, blah, blah. can we sing now? "luke, and michael. next row." at least i sit next to michael. that will be good when we make up. if we make up. "niall, calum, and ashton." ashton sits directly in front of me. that messes with my ocd. the three sections aren't precisely split up.

ashton walks up the risers along with niall and calum, and michael puts his hand on my thigh. before ashton sits down, he winks at me. michael grips my thigh harder and i push his hand off mine.

"get your hands off me, michael."

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"what's wrong with me? try what's wrong with you. we aren't dating, and even if we were, that hurt, you don't dig your nails into a girls' thigh."

"i'm done with you, michelle. i'm trying to protect you."

"i can take care of my own self, thank you very much."

"really? you can? well i guess i shouldn't have helped you when your mom –"

"jesus christ, i hate you so fucking much." i roll my eyes.

"feeling is mutual, mishy." i cringe at the nickname. my father, the dead son of a bitch, used to call me that.

"i hate you, i hate you so much." i scoot farther away from him and into a girl named sami. "oh, sorry sami." i mumble.

"its cool." she smiles a warm smile at me.

"thank you." i smile back.

"so, what do you –"

"michelle, you look really hot today." ashton turns around and interrupts sami.

"yeah, alright." i huff, "so, what were you saying?"

"oh, just that –"

"no, i'm serious. you're like, really hot."

"and you're like, really annoying."
_____
[ last day of sophomore year ]

i hold hands with ashton while walking down the hall to choir.

"what are you doing over the summer, babe?" he asks me.

"well, michael and i," i pause. it hurts to say his name. "we were going to go to california in the u.s. together. but now i'm probably bringing my cousin." i shrug. i miss michael. ashton squeezes my hand while i open the choir room door.

"we'll talk later, alright?" he gives me a kiss.

"whoa, kids. no pda in this classroom!" ms. palcso says. we groan and pull apart.

we walk up the risers, and as soon as the bell rings, we sit down.

michael changed seats to sit in the front instead of near me. he hates me. he blocked my number after i told him i hated him on the third day of the semester. that was the day i got sent home early for crying. that was also the day ashton irwin found my phone number and started texting me.

"i love you." he says, sending me out of my flashback-type thing.

"i love you, ashton." i reply.

--
[ same day, 20 minutes later ]

"sopranos, louder!" ms. palcso yells. we have our concert tonight and she is really stressing herself out. "i hear everyone except michelle!" 

"michelle, sing louder!" ashton turns around to say. i stick my tongue out at him.

gross, we're that couple now.