hellbound; cory | ACKLEY BRIDGE

ASHES TO ASHES

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inhale, in hell there's
heaven
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"they've taken her."

"taken — taken who?" i said to missy, rifling through my bag for my keys.

"hayley."

i stopped in my tracks, snapping my head up towards missy. "no," i barely managed to whisper.

i could see her trying not to cry, the water in her eyes but her pursed lips. all she could do was nod and i lunged her into a hug. i wanted to cry myself.

as soon as i'd found out what the money was for, my heart dropped to my stomach. but i was too late, it had happened yesterday. she'd asked to borrow it from miss keane. they couldn't even have a funeral. feeling the guilt consume me, like i was drowning in it, i ran home without waiting for one of the boys to come with me like they did most nights, because i knew what i had to do. i had a couple hundred pounds rolled up in one of my socks, my 'emergency' money (my nicotine addiction funding). i needed to find it as soon as possible so i could find the booth sisters and give them the money for nana's ashes. it was the least i could do.

"uh, cory," i said distractedly into my phone, which was between my shoulder and my ear cause i was using both hands to hold nana. i couldn't drop her. god, i couldn't drop her.

"uh, cielo," he mimicked me down the phone, and i could just imagine his smug face.

"you live near missy, don't ya?" i asked, biting my lip as i came to her door.

"the next estate down, why?"

"are you busy?" i asked, carefully placing down the urn. i held my breath, clutching my phone in my hands again, pressing the doorbell before legging it as fast as i could. i knew that missy hadn't wanted to borrow money from me in the first place, i didn't want her feeling guilty cause i'd bought the ashes. i just wanted her to have them.

"never too busy to see a pretty lady," he chuckled.

"oh — shove — off," i wheezed, bent double round the corner from missy's house trying to catch my breath. i had the stamina of an obese 70 year old man.

"are you out of breath?" he asked, trying not to laugh down the phone, but i heard him.

i resumed walking and rolled my eyes, secretly loving it when he made fun of me. we're not exclusive, i tried to remind myself, not exclusive.

"and what if i am?"

"it's alright babe, you won't have to worry. i like being dominant, if you know what i'm saying."

"cory!" i gasped, half way between shocked and finding it hilarious.

"i prefer dadd—"

"do not even go there cory wilson or i will slap you so far into the future your balls will be sagging!"

"spend a lot of time thinking about my balls?" he said, starting to giggle like a kid half way through the sentence.

"cory!" i repeated, i actually couldn't believe him. he was unreal.

"i can seeee youuu," he sung into the phone.

"what?" i asked, tearing my eyes away from the floor to look up into the street. i was still a good few minutes away from his house. "where are you?"

"unless the girl with pink hair and a big arse is someone else—"

"you are actually unbelievable," i murmured into the phone, turning my head over my shoulder. funnily enough, there he was, the cheekiest, smuggest face i'd ever seen. i hung up with an eye roll, changing direction so i was walking towards him with my arms folded across my chest.

"we're not gonna run to each other like they do in the movies?" he shouted down the street.

"piss off," i shouted back, middle finger in the air.

"you're breaking my heart!" he over dramatically exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest and doing a ridiculous little stumble as if he'd taken a blow through the rib cage.

"you should've taken drama," i snorted, now standing next to where he sprawled himself on the floor, hand still over his heart. i reached my own hand down and he grasped it, and i went tingly as i pulled him up.

"i'm that good?"

"no, you're just a massive attention seeker," i quipped sassily, interlocking my fingers with his when i realised he hadn't let go. he began to swing our arms, a massive smile breaking out on his face which i caught out the corner of my eye.

"we can't go back to mine," he said kind of quietly, like he didn't want to let me down, slowing the swinging. which is stupid, he wasn't 'letting me down'.

"if this is because of jor—"

"it's not, it's not, i promise. it's just...well, you're you. you have this big expensive house and a rich dad and nice things and —"

"don't tell me you think i'm gonna be some snarky judgey bellend," i said, a tiny bit hurt that he'd think that about me. "i've been to your house before, and i wouldn't care if you lived in a shed!"

"it's not that either. it's my dad. he's not your biggest fan."

"why? because of my dad?" i scoffed. "i didn't ask him to be a pompous prat."

"i know, cielo, it's not your fault. he just has this pent up anger inside of him. like, he hates everyone and everything, and the fact that your life is 'better' than his makes him mad."

i furrowed my eyebrows, he's jealous of a child? as i thought it i realised how internally sad he must be, how hard he must be trying. "i'm sorry. look, it doesn't matter, i know a place."

and so, on the roof of a bank that had shut down a couple years ago and never got renovated, we sat and watch as the sky melted into pinks and purples, my head on his shoulder, hand in hand.

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song
solo — frank ocean
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