recovery // a.i.

06 // stunned

"Can I get this in paperback?" I asked, holding out the book. The boy at the counter, Ashton, looked up. A smile became visible on his face.

"Hello, Hayden," said Ashton. He took the book and looked at the cover. "Yes, just let me-"

"I don't actually want the book, Ash. I just wanted to say hi," I spoke up, cutting him off. He looked embarrassed.

"Ash?" he asked, scrambling to get to my side of the counter. He began walking towards the shelf to put the hardback book on. He looked flustered by my nickname.

"Is it okay if I call you that?" I asked, crossing my arms. He led me back to the checkout counter. He nodded in response to my question, looking down so I wouldn't see the rosy blush on his cheeks. "It's like Pokémon. Ash Ketchum. That's you."

A loud crack of thunder echoed outside and rain pattered the roof so hard I could barely hear Ashton. "I get off early today," he said as he organized the things on the countertop beside the computer. "Maybe we could do something."

"Sounds good."

I sat in the nearest chair and waited for another worker to arrive so they could take over. Ashton walked over to me. "I've gotta go change at home first. Do you mind coming with me?"

"Not at all."

We stood and exited through the glass doors. The two of us were hit immediately with pouring rain. Ashton looked around in awe.

"Maybe we should just hang out...indoors," said Ashton after he pulled me under a window awning.

Ashton's apartment was four blocks away, near Brooklyn Heights. It was a two-story apartment; one of those cool ones that always reminded me of the apartment from Everybody Hates Chris. Ashton pulled a silver key from under the metal mailbox hanging on the bricks and unlocked the door.

His place wasn't as how I imagined it: dirty and filled with hoarded things. Rather, it was clean and organized with only some things out of place. Ash declared that he'd be back soon and hurried up the stairs.

I walked the perimeter of the room and took in everything. There were many photographs in different frames. They were all of either Ashton or another boy through the years. There were many other kids in the pictures, too. They were all of many different ages.

"What are you looking at?"

The boy's words made me jump. I turned around to see a tall boy, taller than Ashton, with black and red hair. He was unfamiliar. I pointed over my shoulder at the photo wall. "The pictures. Who are you?"

"I feel that I should be asking that to the stranger standing in my living room."

"I'm Hayden," I stated clearly. He nodded in understanding.

"Ah, Hayden," the boy reclined on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, "the only name spoken by Ashton all week." I felt my face flush red as the boy opened his mouth to speak again. "I'm Michael."

I looked around the polished room. "Do you live here with Ashton?"

Michael nodded. "Ashton's been my best friend for seventeen years. He's my foster brother."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Foster brother?"

"When I was born, my mom gave me up to a foster home. When Ashton was born, his mother couldn't take care of him. His brother and sister arrived when they were born, too. We were moved to New York from Australia five years ago."

Poor Ashton. He grew up without his real parents being there for him, his only biological family lived hours away, and he lost his girlfriend.

The chill of my soaked clothes finally hit me. "It's been a while since Ashton's brought a girl here with him," cooed Michael.