Shattered (Continuation of: The Chase) ▹ Ashton Irwin

Chapter Forty Five

"Talk?" Ashton asked. His voice was a little quiet and also pretty weak, much weaker than when he had answered the door. We had stood in a pretty awkward silence for a while, with Ashton standing there, gripping the door and almost gaping at me... and me just waiting for him to answer. I had said that we needed to talk, even though I really don't know what I necessarily need to talk to him about. I have a lot of things on my mind... a lot of angry things. Part of me feels as though I just need to let it all out, but everything else in me was telling myself to just leave.

Ashton looked a little surprised, like he was shocked that I wanted to "talk" to him. I remembered how we used to have talks; we would talk about everything, like the kind of heart-to-heart convesations people want to have with their best friends. It looked like that's what it seemed like to him and that I just wanted to talk, but I'm not sure if that's what I was personally intending to do. I was more than angry at this point, just bubbling with fury until it finally all pours out of me. My life is over, and there's no one to blame but him. My mind was battling itself, some of it telling me to leave and the rest telling me to get on with everything. I honestly don't know why I came here, but I'm going to explode any moment and I don't know where else to go now.

"Yeah," I murmered, clearing my throat. "I can come in, right?"

"Of course." Ashton nodded. He looked reluctant to open the door as he slowly pulled it all the way open, staring at the ground as he did so. My hands gripped each other even tighter when I finally stepped inside, awkwardly shutting the door behind me and leaning up against it. Ashton took a few steps further inside with his head hanging low and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He definitely looked a little nervous, if not shocked to be even seeing me. We haven't spoken the whole week practically, but now we were face to face. I don't know if Ashton had anything to say, but I surely did.

"What's up?" Ashton asked, spinning back around to face me. We stood at a substantial distance from one another, and the air felt extremely awkward. For the first time in what felt like since we first met, it was awkward with it just being us. That's how it always used to be: just the two of us by ourselves, without a care or feeling of uneasiness. But now, it was just like how it was when we first met. Last year, all those months ago...before any of this happened to me.

I didn't know where to start. Where do I even beging to explain these feelings of regret and anger and sadness? I wanted to get straight to the point...I wanted to just scream out and ask him why he dragged me in so far. He really did, didn't he? Yes, he did. I've been thrown too far, and I'm feeling just as desperate for everything to go back to normal as I'm feeling enfuriated.

Just get straight to the point. I thought. Don't keep wasting your time here.

"Really?" I asked him, my voice a little quieter than before. I was scared, yes, but I could sense that my courage will return soon enough. "You don't know what's wrong?"

"Um...no," Ashton shook his head. He looked extremely concerned and quite innocent, which only angered me more. How can he not see it? How can he not see it in me, like I finally did?

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, stepping closer. I, on the other hand, stayed glued to the door, ready to just leave. "I would be happy to talk about it, whatever it is."

"Uh, well yeah," I replied. "There's a lot wrong, actually."

"I haven't seen you all week," Ashton said softly. "Have you been bothered this whole time? You could've come over earlier -"

"No." I interrupted. Luckily, my voice was a little louder than just a few moments ago. A little bit more powerful and confident, for the more I looked at him the angrier I was getting. I kept having little flashes through my mind, of all the wrongs I've comitted and all the things I've ever said to anyone. All the things that I am finally regretting, all that I can link to the boy that I somehow fell in love with. The one who I was standing across from.