𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 22

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"Are we really doing this? Michael Clifford, are you spraying paint at me?" I said, turning around to see him giggling like a kid, with a brush in his hands. "Leave me alone!"

"Michael, how old are you again?" Ashton asked from the other side of the room, painting thoroughly his side of the wall.

My boyfriend rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You both."

   I smiled mindlessly and went back to painting the little side of the wall they actually allowed me to work on. Michael had called up one of his best friends, because apparently, being pregnant, I wouldn't manage to do it as well. And even though I wasn't agreeing with this idea at all, I had to say I started to feel tired quick enough to take regular pauses throughout the whole thing.

   Michael wasn't being exactly concentrated on his task; the paint may have been white, he was still being... Messy. Ashton seemed a lot more focused. He had been quiet  the past few hours we had been together, but I hadn't questioned it; I wasn't exactly really chatty either, and also, I didn't want to talk shit in front of him. He seemed a bit judgemental and uptight, and probably the friend of his who was the least enthusiastic about us having a baby.

   So I chose to stay silent, and to let him do his own thing. I occasionally heard the sound of his voice when Michael was joking around, as always. Kind of like he felt that the atmosphere was tense.

   Michael kept teasing Ashton with his little brush, trying to get paint on his face. He had finished painting his side of the wall, and now, it seemed as if he had decided to be his childish self again. I didn't pay much attention to what they were doing, until I heard him cry out.

"Ashton, you're an asshole!"

   I turned around and he was standing there, face fully covered in paint. He was screaming at his friend obscene words, and I was staring at him, wanting to laugh terribly, but I didn't, because I could see the anger on his face.

"Mate, you were absolutely asking for it," Ashton said, keeping in his laughter. "You deserved it."

"I have to take a shower, I feel like I have some in my mouth, you stupid idiot," Michael roared back at him.

   He left the room rapidly, slamming the door behind him. Ashton looked at me and smiled slightly. He came closer to me, putting his hands in his pocket. He looked serious, but with the traces of paint on his cheeks and forehead, I couldn't really pay attention to his expression.

"Are you excited?" he asked. I crossed my arms.

"Yeah, I mean, sort of. I have to be."

He nodded. "Has Michael been doing fine?"

"He has," I said, reminding myself of the night we had shared two days ago, when we both were sure that everything was well, and sound. "At least, I think so. Why are you asking that?"

"He's just..." he looked as if he was getting ready to say something I would hate. I fought back the gut feeling and kept on listening to him. "He's not feeling very confident about the whole thing."

"About what?"

"About everything! The baby, you... I feel... I feel like I needed to tell you, he's feeling really... Doubtful at the moment."

Those words felt like a knife stabbing me in the back. "When you say doubtful, do you mean that he wants... He wants to leave?"

He shook his head no. "He won't, obviously, because he is loyal, but I'm not quite sure he is as okay about the whole thing as he says. I know he is trying, and that he wants you to be alright, because he cares. But then again, I don't think I've ever seen him like that."

"He doesn't look too stressed to me. He tells me everything."

"That's what you think," he sighed. "That's Michael. I don't want to mess up things between you guys, but... You should be careful."

"I am as careful as I can be," I retorted, getting slightly hurt. "I do everything for him to be at ease. I didn't force him to move in with me, he had the choice. I thought that it would be better for the baby. But he could've fought back, he didn't. So I was just assuming he was okay. Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe you're asking for too much from him."

"What?" I was genuinely surprised. "I didn't force him into doing anything for me, Ashton.  He could've left a long time ago, had he wanted to. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around, but I'm tired of everyone blaming me for things that are completely out of my control."

"How do you think he feels about you?" he asked, voice as steady as ever. He wasn't losing his temper, unlike me. "Lee, honestly. You're expecting his child. He's not going to leave, and you've known this all along."

"I know that you don't like me, and you don't have to. But don't you dare thinking my intentions are manipulative by any means. I've lost my job, my best friend, all because of a one night stand with a stupid boy."

He rolled his eyes, looking visibly as frustrated as me. "So you think Mike is a stupid boy? And I never said that, but you never know anyone's intentions truly."

"I don't think he's stupid!" I defended myself. "It's just the way it came out of my mouth! You are so full of shit, Ashton. I am trying very hard to like you and not kick you out of my flat, but it's getting difficult. I don't have to justify myself. I don't have to prove to you that I'm not a leech that wants Michael's money. I have way enough money to sort myself out just fine."

"I wouldn't know, I don't know you anyway!" he almost shouted, but refrained himself when he remembered Michael was in the room next to this one. "Think about him, instead of being so focused on yourself, God damn it."

"How dare you?" I was outraged. "How dare you saying that I don't think of him? I care about him! I love him, and that's the end of it. If you don't want to believe it, it's your problem."

"I'm not sure I can believe it."

"Well, if you want to upset me that badly, do carry on, because it's working. I can't believe you would think I'm that kind of person. You don't fucking know me, Ashton."

   He shrugged and went back to his wall, and I was left here, a lump in my throat. I knew that he wasn't originally exactly thrilled, and his lack of excitement hadn't bothered me until now. But the state of mind he was in was making me furious. I wanted to hold it in, to tell myself that he was just being silly, and that everything would be fine in the end, but I couldn't stop replaying our last conversation in my head.

   After a while, I left the room, feeling sad and judged in every possible way. I met Michael on the way out, and he just looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, and went in the bathroom, locking myself in it, wondering if that last smile he had shared with me was as fake as Ashton thought it was.

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