141 | | ash

➳ eleven

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A/N: i didn't like the idea of never have i ever bc lame so i decided to change it to twenty questions bc thats how the deep stuff comes out mwahahaa (i did update this on the other chapter so if you want more of an explanation, check it out :) )

also, this is going to be long (and action packed) but please read until the end and read the author's note :)

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"This is ridiculous," I huff adjusting my position so I'm across from Ashton. His green-hazel eyes are wild with excitement. Meanwhile, my stomach drops and my heart pounds out of my chest. How is Ashton calm? His arm is bleeding, he looks sickly, and we're trapped in a room where one of us is going to die.

No. We're not going to die. Neither one of us is going to die, today. I won't allow for it.

"You okay there, Han?" Ashton speaks up lifting his chin as he does so. I wince at the nickname. It make me uncomfortable, but at the same time, I really enjoy it.

"Don't call me that," I say closing my eyes momentarily before reopening them. I'm greeted with his sad eyes. I instantly feel bad for shutting him down. He's just trying to make light of the situation while I'm being pessimistic as usual. I sigh.

"Sorry," I murmur. "Can we just get this started." I look into his eyes. I notice how beautiful they are. They aren't completely green, but they also aren't just plain brown. They're lined with specks of color. They light up his face, but his pearly white smile has no problem doing that. It's hard to believe two days ago I wanted to rip this kid's face off.

Ashton smiles breaking me from my thoughts. "You start," he says. His voice cracks, and I know it's not because he's nervous. His hand instinctively reaches to his wound and applies pressure. I see the pain in his eyes. I close mine to avoid seeing his discomfort.

My teeth find my bottom lip and gnaw at it for answers. My 141 IQ is wiped to a solid 41 when he talks to me. "Uh," I stutter trying to think of something. It has to be something deep, like Ashton explained, but what is considered deep in a psycho serial killer's mind?

I lick my lip as the taste of metallic crimson liquid flows over my tongue. My tongue slides over the cut I made with my teeth, and I wince as a sharp pain lights up my lip. "What was your home life like?"

I scan Ashton's face for a reaction, an answer, some sort of response. He just sits there with a blank stare across his face. "Well damn," he chuckles shaking his head. "You dove right in there."

"You said deep stuff, Ash," I say not even realizing I called him by a nickname. When I see his face light up, I shake my head. "Ashton," I correct myself. "Just answer the question, please."

Ashton presses his mope-for-hair head against the wall closing his eyes. He shakes his head, and when he reopens his eyes, I see they're becoming more and more wet. I know this subject isn't easy for him, but it isn't easy for me either, and I know he's going to ask the same question back at me.

"My childhood wasn't all that great. My dad left me and my mom when I was two. My mom and I hopped from trailer park to trailer park in hope of finding somewhere to go or someone to take us in. No one ever did, though. I always remember forcing myself not to take food at a friend's house because I felt like I was burdening them. I hated being a burden."

I swallow and nod my head avoiding his eyes, which are struck with hurt. Why did that have to be the question I started with? I internally scold myself.

"Your turn," I say quietly. I'm surprised he even hears me.

"How'd you get to be so smart?" I look up and there's a smirk on his face. There's the Ashton I hate, but right now, I couldn't be more grateful this side of him made an appearance.