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Andy

First.

The afternoon was hot. Hotter than any day I could remember back in Utah. Of course, summers there were brutal and send you running for the nearest air conditioned building, but at least we didn’t have the humidity that the people of California had to endure, every day, all year.

Now I would have taken that as a comforting thought if my impending doom had not crashed down on me, reminding me I might end up joining the blistered skinned’ people of Berkeley.

As we drove back to my Grandmother’s house on the other side of the city, I looked out the window at all the outdoor-active people walking about. There were joggers, people on bicycles, walking dogs, food vendors and people just enjoying the nice weather. The one thing they all had in common, if not their activities, was their identically colored reddened skin. They probably wouldn’t feel the burn until long after they’d gone home to realize they’d forgotten suntan lotion.

I was pretty used to Pendant’s mellow population on the ‘unsocial’ side of the river that divided the town into two seperate parts. There was a person walking or jogging here and there, but there weren’t a lot of exercise freaks like there seemed to be here.

Well, except for Jason Downey, my fifth grade history teacher. He was always a bit weird, and I was relieved to have finally raised a grade to get out of his class. He was the classic hippie. Had long, brown hair that always looked kinda greasy, talked in a low, chill voice, and in the summer time, if he wasn’t prancing around Pendant in one of his skin-tight jogging suits, he was loading up his every possession in a cliche multi colored van, driving all over Utah and the surrounding states to play small acoustic sets on street corners.

He was a health freak, as well. Always eating this organic crap that looked like baby shit during lunch break. And sometimes I’d sit a bit too close to the teachers’ table, and catch whiff of it. I couldn’t quite ever tell if he had no sense of smell, or if he just didnt’ realize how terrible the stuff smelled, but he would down it without so much as a wince while reading the school newspaper.

Those weren’t the only weird things he ever did, either. I was 90% certain he bought weed during lunch break, as well... Because he was always the strangest during the history class following lunch. Words got mixed up, and he laughed a lot and couldn’t get mad if he tried. Of course, the other, uneducated kids jumped to conclusions to slap the heaviest label on him that they could manage, saying he smoked heroin, but they should have known at least that you can’t smoke it.

The fact alone that the school never caught on was bizarre, which launched the next part of the kids’ rumors. They claimed he got the teachers to keep quiet about it by trading drugs with them, and the whole school was run by drug addicts, which wasn’t true, but it caused enough trouble to get Jason fired shortly after. Mostly because kids were going home, and telling their parents the extravagant tales about their second period drug-addict history teacher.

My attention was drawn elsewhere when we finally pulled off the road, into the small driveway area in front of my Grandma’s house. The day had gone by so quickly, I struggled to keep up and recall everything we’d done, and wondered if we’d made the most of the time we had with her.

“That was delightful!” She smiled as my Dad heled her out of the backseat into her wheelchair. “Michael usually just brings me food and whatever I need, I haven’t been anywhere in sometime. Maybe when you all move out here we can do it more often.”

I looked into her hopeful blue eyes and forced a smile. She looked so weak, but I couldn’t even bring myself to think the negative words.

“Yeah, of course.” My Dad agreed with a nod. “Want some tea made? Coffee?”

“Some tea would be nice.” She nodded slowly as he pushed her up the slender concrete path to her front door.

“She isn’t doing well.” I whispered sadly once my Mother had closed the glass front door behind them. I remained frozen at the foot of the path, unable to make myself move forward and enter the house and home of my dying Grandmother. “I just don’t get it...” I sighed, shaking my head, combing my fingers through my hair slowly. “It was only a few months, a small cold over Christmas and now... She looks like she’s on the losing end of a war.”

“There’s got to be something no one’s saying.” I murmured to myself. “My parents clearly know something, but they’re not going to say shit because they think they’re ‘protecting’ me from the pain of loss. It’s only going to be harder if I can’t say goodbye...”

Instead of going inside, I sat down on the front step of the porch, leaning against the pale yellow siding, I looked out at her front yard, built from the ground up with years of hardwork and planning. There were butterflies fluttering about the flowering bushes and the air smelled overwhelmingly of sweetly scented flowers.

Andy hesitated before dropping down to sit awkwardly beside me. His narrow, tall frame too lanky to look correct crouched over the low step.

“My Grandpa died a few years back.” He finally spoke up after a few silent minutes, his voice clear and riminecent. “He was one of my greatest inspirations, always encouraging me to do my music, dress weird and do what I wanted with my work and appearance. He seemed to understand it, in some weird way. You wouldn’t have expected someone his age to understand, or even try. Thing is, I guess in a way, I was okay with him going, because I knew he’d always be with me... If you get what I mean?”

“She’s not dead yet.” I disagreed, already sensing what he was getting at, pursing my lips in a thin line, shaking my head. “She isn’t.”

“She isn’t getting better, either, Ash - don’t you see? She doesn’t have a lot left in her. How old is she anyways? Really?”

I looked at him, offended that he would even start this conversation. My bottom lip quivering in fear, words unable to form and throw themselves from my lips into the open.

“Ash, I’m not trying to be an ass, I’m just guarding against the worst, it could happen, it will, eventually. I just... Think you should be ready for that. There is nothing worse than something like that taking you off guard... It just... Makes you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, like there’s no air left to breathe, and all you can do is gasp and grasp for broken strings. Nothing feels attached anymore, yet in your nieve mind, everything is okay. You deny yourself closure, unable to accept the possibility of the news being true. And when you realize it is, you hate yourself for not giving in sooner. It’s just something that’s better to ease into, starting now.”

“Are you trying to make me start mourning my Grandmother’s death, Andy?!” I snapped in rage and irratation, my voice much sharper than I intended. “She isn’t gone! She isn’t going anywhere for a long time, she’s getting the help she needs and will heal and recover.”

He stared at me, his sharp blue eyes narrowed at me judgementally. “Nieve.” He repeated. “And you’ll feel the worst of the pain.”

“Excuse me?” I glared at him then. “Nieve? I’m just delaying the inevitable. Everything ends, if you haven’t noticed. I’m just trying to enjoy what time I do have. With her, you, my parents, friends, everyone I know... Everyone has a deadline. If blocking out all the negative thoughts is the only way to stay sane through this, it’s what I’m going to do.”

His mouth had been hanging crooked, ready to spring another strand of rational complaints, snapped shut.

“It’s just life...” I sighed, running a hand through my hair impatiently. “Onward and forward, always. There’s never any breaks, even when you think there is, it’s just some greater power planning the next turn of events. Anyways, I’d better get inside.”

“Ash, stop.”

I proceeded to get up.

“Ash, you’re being ridiculous.”

“True.” I agreed with a weak shrug. “But I’m also tired of pretending for all the wrong reasons. I’m doing this for me, and no one else.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but it is healthy to do that?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” I muttered, pulling open the screen door, ducking inside.

I was tired of arguing, then hugging things out, being happy and then upset again. It just felt like a cruel, repetitive wheel, that I unfortunately had to be apart of. Like a destiny route in life, I was stuck.

I closed the door behind me before he could reply, otherwise we’d just relapse back into the before-mentioned rut. I could hear the faint voices of my family coming from the kitchen, and sighed, trying to correct my composure before heading down the hall to join them.

“We still need to talk.” A deep voice growled behind me, I spun around in surprise, but no one was there, but I could still hear his angered puffs of breath. “Ash, we can’t keep dragging things out this way.”

“I can’t live with the idea of deadlines.” I almost begged, sighing. “It crushes me just to think about.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t!” I hissed under my breath, still trying to convey the frustration I felt. “It’s like living with a knife to my throat! ‘Oh! who’s gonna die today?’ ‘Who’s gonna leave me again?!’. Being involved in all of this, I-”

“Can we at least talk about this outside?” He bargained before I could continue. I narrowed my eyes at him, and sighed, yanking open the screen door, storming back out onto the patio.

Stopping, I ran my hands through my hair to relieve the anger and frustration I felt. My emotions were hardwired to my tearducts, and I cried when I was angry or frustrated. Sighing, lowering my voice to a soft, haunting level, eyes pleading, “I cannot keep on this way. You’re all about preventing mental, phyical and emotional pain, but this back and forth hack-saw is wearing me thin. We can’t keep yelling, hugging it out, crying together, and then be back at each others’ throats. Tell me, how do we fix that?”

He was quiet, hands fell to his sides and his eyes dropped to the floor, face clear of emotion, but there wasa storm in his eyes. Anger, sadness, hurt and frustration.

“I should have stayed away...” He merely whispered, voice cracking because of how low he’d spoken the words. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, eyes wide, mouth suddenly dry as cotten and every word I was going to speak, gone, in a gust of sand and wind, I couldn’t recall a single thing I was going to say. It’s like a friend telling you’re they’re going to commit suicide. His whipped, crippled stature replicated it, and the punch to the stomach I felt was as bad as though he had said he would.

“What good am I?” He whispered to himself, refusing to meet my eyes again. “A friend? A few laughs and hugs? You’re right... I can never give you the things a true friend could. There’s too much trouble involved. I never should have come back, I’m only an inconvinience in your life.”

“No-”

“You aren’t the only one tired of going back and forth!” He snapped, tears forming in his eyes, my heart shattering to hundreds of tiny fragments. “I feel like a punching bag to you. You get mad at me and I have to keep smiling, all the time. I’m tired of smiling just to keep you afloat, taking all the hits to keep our relationship sound. Being a guardian angel isn’t all they say it is.” He spat out a low chuckle, but there was no humor to it.

“Guardian Angel?” I echoed, my voice strained and cracking.

His eyes grew wary, and he dropped them, ashamed. “Yeah...”

“What?”

“That’s another thing.” He whispered. “Since I refused to cross over, I was assigned you, to keep safe. You would not believe how many times you’ve almost been crushed or hunted down by some creep in an alley. It’s not that you’re a popular target, it’s just that that’s how life works.”

“That’s why you stayed?” I wondered, my voice not accusing, just curious and quiet.

“Not exactly... You know the rest.” He shrugged weakly.

“You don’t have to smile for me.” I murmured, “I’m so.. So sorry.” I looked down. I hadn’t realized how much I abused him. While I didn’t punch him on a regular basis and call him cruel names, it was just my frustrated attitude towards him that wore him thin. Out of the two of us, he had to keep things afloat constantly. And with me mad at him every other second, that had to make his job a lot harder.

I looked up again and saw his pain, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black, jeans, he stood there awkwardly, his emotions pouring out in clear, thin trails down his narrow cheeks.

Before me was a foriegn boy; he was upset, shaking, and fearful. He wasn’t the fake, smiling boy I’d come to know. The boy I’d spent the better part of two weeks with. It was strange how familiar and unknown he felt to look at right then. All I wanted to do was hug him, and I did.

Like every other argument we’d ever had, it ended in a hug. I stepped forward hesitantly, and wrapped my arms tightly around his tense, slender frame. He jumped in surprise, but relaxed.

“I am sorry.” I apologized again, pulling back a bit, he finally raised his eyes to mine. Wary, sorrowful eyes flickered to mine, and I knew that no words I could say would ever be sincere enough to get across the remorse I felt. My hands were shaking, and my heart was pounding out of my chest, my mind panicking, shouting at me to not, that now wasn’t the time, but all I could thing was that there might not be any other time.

There was a strange moment of hesitation when I looked into his eyes. But like any other time I had, a wave of calm spread over me. Another one of his strange ghost things.

But in that awkward moment, he knew, and I knew, but it was just unspoken. I leaned forward, and he did, too.

My awkward inexperience setting me back, I had seen a million times how it happened, and watching it in films and TV shows, it was always simple and straightforward. If that was the case, how come it was near impossible for me to close that gap? I could see my mirrored reflection on Andy’s face as the same awkwardness spread over his features. I realized then that he wasn’t breathing, only holding his breath in anticipation, and like me, not entirely sure how to act.

They say go big or go home, or don’t do anything if you don’t have confidence in your actions. But I decided something tiny and insignificant was better than backing away from this opportunity and letting an eternity of awkwardness continue between us.

So with that last thought, I threw all my confidence and strength aside and summoned what little I knew about the action from films I’d seen, and grabbed the nice black tie he was still wearing, yanking him down to my level, I closed my eyes before I could see his expression and back out.

The deep breath I took in didn’t calm me in any way, nor relieve me the way it normally might have. I couldn’t quite make myself move beyond that, so I decided on a countdown before things could get too terribly weird.

3... 2... 1...

Squeezing my eyes shut, beyond the point that it was actually comfortable and romantic looking, I bashed my face forward, lips seeking whatever surface in front of me.

“Ow!” I exclaimed in surprise, knocking my nose into Andy’s, ruining the heartfelt moment with my clumsiness, staining my cheeks a dark shade of embarrassment.

Andy threw his head back in laughter, and I backed away from him, looking down, dropping my arms straight as needles to my side, feeling my cheeks burning bright red, my heart pounding out of my chest. My stupdity would forever mock me from this moment on.

“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone?” Andy wondered with genuine curiosity through his fit of laughter.

My cheeks burned brighter and I avoided his eyes. It didn’t really matter now, anyways, because if you’ve gone and fucked up your first attempt, it destroys any chance of you ever wanting to try again.

I pouted in embarrassment, annoyed that I’d screwed things over yet again.

“Hey, it’s cool.” He continued to chuckle, which did not make me feel any better at all. “Everyone’s got a first time. Hell, my first time was with a girl six years older than me who I’d been lying to just to date, and if that isn’t awkward as hell, I really don’t know what is.”

I lip twitched, I wanted to laugh, but was still wallowing.

“We dated for ages.” He recalled. I could tell he was trying to make me smile, but he didn’t sound fully happy. “I always avoided tricky topics like birthdays and whatnot, wouldn’t let her ever come to my house, because if she did, she’d see all the recent photos of me around and start to question things. I remember when we broke up, all it took was for me to say ‘Hey, so look... I’m a child’. And she was gone. Didn’t even want an explanation, she was so done.” He laughed a bit.

A tiny smile came to my lips.

“Then there was Scout. We’d been friends forever, but she wasn’t my first love. And believe me, it’s more awkward to love your best friend than anything. Getting it out in the open could really fuck things over.”

I winced, understanding immediately what he was getting at. “I screwed things over, didn’t I?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then frowned, shaking his head. “No, no, I don’t think so. Do you want the truth?”

I sighed and hung my head further. “Not really, shoot.”

“It would have happened eventually.” He winked, then vaporized on the spot.

Notes

Do you guys know how many days of stressful contemplation I put into that ending? Hahaha I couldn't decide if I wanted it here, or later, or much, much later. If I wanted the perfect 'heel popping, eyes closing romantically' kiss or if I wanted the clumsy 'The Princess Diaries' kiss that made you cringe just reading how awkward it is.

Essentially, how many first kisses are perfect and skilled? In my attempt to make the experience as cringeworthy and realistic as possible, I might've just sacrificed any confidence Ash had for the next dozen chapters XD Regardless, I'm glad it's finally out there, even though I'm still feeling a little wishy-washy about it, but it's still going places.

Writing a story that you no longer feel intwined with is very difficult, being that when I started this, it was March, and I was crazy obsessed with BVB at the time, the weather was stormy, and the music I was listening to at the time inspired me so much I was able to write an update, sometimes two, a day. Now that all of that had faded to a normal level of love, it's harder to find that inspiration. That's why yesterday I randomly bought Avenged Sevenfold's 'Waking The Fallen: Resurrected'. The few songs I'd heard by the band already had inspired me, and the cloudy album artwork perfectly fit what I'd always invisioned art-wise for this story. With this new inspiration, I'm going to write as much as possible. Thank you all so much for your support, regardless of how slow I often am haha.

Shoutouts!
- anathema
- Andley_Coma

Comments

I just want to say, I am here to support you no matter what you do <3

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/12/20

Oh gosh, I'm getting weird vibes towards this "sketchy" part of town.

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
5/8/19

I am absolutely in love with this book!

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/30/19

Poor Ashley. Poor Andy. Poor Asheen. Wow, what a story! :)

Merelan Merelan
4/29/19

I am conspiring so many theories about this book my head hurts... lol... anyway, great chapter as usual! Can't wait to read what happens next

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/25/19