The Eleventh Hour (FINISHED)

31 - What's with all these visions?

"Ash," Meadow said as they entered BooksRlife. "What are we doing here?"

He smiled back at her at the same question she asked at the gas station but decided not to comment on it. "I need more books."

She remembered his tiny stack of books that were tucked together on his dresser.

Yeah, she supposed he was right.

He was still holding onto her wrist, though she didn't seem to notice and just let him, too curious about what lay outside them than them together.

He suspected she was trying not to think of it, because she was still confused about everything.

"What's your favorite genre?" she said then.

He looked back at her. "I'd read anything, really."

"Anything?" she asked. "Like, romance and stuff?"

"Yeah," he said, "why? Do you have recommendations?"

"Yes," she stated boldly.

Like a million.

He chuckled. "You're so cute, you know."

She drew back, offended. "What's the hell brought that up?"

He looked back at her, once more. "Angel, you get so excited. It kind of reminds me of you when you were six." His eyes darkened slightly. "Before the whole problem with your parents."

They were silent for a moment.

"Were they always this way?" she said. "Or did they just turn out like that?"

"Your father was always that way," Ash explained, looking forward now. "Your mother at first protected you but was hurt so many times that she kinda went insane."

"Insane?" Meadow echoed in disbelief. "Jesus... how bad was it?"

"Really bad, Angel," Ash said, something cold in his tone. "I've never seen you cry like that."

His last words were silent as if he were saying them more to himself.

"You told me..." she said, "that I changed."

"You did," he said, tone almost back to normal. "A good change, though. But it kind of sucks that you don't really remember me."

"Does it hurt?" she whispered, actually curious. "Does it hurt you?"

"Yeah," he said, "somewhat."

He was facing away from her, so she couldn't see his expression as they spoke.

"When you said we were 'best friends,' what did that include?" she asked then.

He looked at her again. "What do you mean 'include?'"

"Like, um..." she hesitated, "in the memory you showed me. In my memories, we tended to cuddle a lot... or," she added quickly, "comfort each other."

More like he comforted her, but she didn't really feel like explaining that.

He smirked slightly as her breathing quickened. "Yeah, friends sometimes do that."

"Are we..." she said, "still friends?"

He chuckled under his breath at her shyness. "Of course, we are."

"Can we..." she hesitated, "cuddle still? Is that bad?"

"No," he said, "it's not. Friends do it."

She smiled, though he saw her cheeks light.