the third person

16

ASHER

"Hannah, it's midnight." I whispered as she grabbed my hand and pulled me outside my apartment. She'd used the secret knock we had when we were dating, two light knocks then a nail scratch. 

I left the door open behind me and she looked at me fiercely. "How long has it been since your father was home?"

I awkwardly brushed my hair and sighed. "4 days."

"Did you check his room?"

"What- why would I? We're not even allowed to go in his room."

"Check his room."

"Why-"

"Because I happen to know something about leaving fathers, Ash."

I clenched my jaw as I got what she was trying to convey, and silently nodded. She sighed, looking around to see if we had company. We didn't. "You have to stop him."

"Who?"

"Art."

"From what?"

"... killing himself."

"What?" 

"Keep it down, will ya?" She gave me an incredulous look. "He said something yesterday, and I just- just... keep an eye on him, okay?"

"I... I would, but I sort of can't."

"What do you mean?"

"Hannah, my surgery is tomorrow."

"The... big one?"

"Yes, the big one."

"...balls."

I raised my eyebrow at her language.  "And I have to be there in the morning, which means I have to go sleep."

"Oh please, 'cause you were totally sleeping right now."

"I was trying!"

She paused for a second, looking around nervously yet again. "What are the chances?"

I frowned at her question. "Of what?" She just looked down and up again. "Oh, you mean of my being alive this time tomorrow? I'd say 50-50."

"You're freaking out."

"I literally am not."

"You try to be funny when you're freaked out. You're freaked out."

"...okay, goodnight, Hannah."

"Ash, if you don't survive tomorrow, that'll be the death of both of you."

I gazed at her carefully. Her expression held sincerity and a tinge of annoyance. I tried to remember a time when I loved this girl in front of me. Her freckles, her frizzy hair, that acne, those eyes, those lips, I tried to remember a time when I loved all that. A similar scene flashed before my eyes as I looked down at her in the dim hallway light. A few years ago, we'd been in the same position, but we'd been making out. She'd looked at me like with love then, now her eyes just held grief. 

Not for a person who died, but for a love that did. 

"Goodnight, Ash." Her words were curt, undemanding of any reply. She walked quickly up the stairs and I heard her shut the doors to her own apartment.

I spun around to walk into my own apartment and almost crashed into Art.

"Geez, dude!" I rubbed the back of my neck and took a few deep breaths to calm my heart and looked up at him incredulously. "Bro?"

"Why does Hannah think Dad left?"

I stared at him a few moments before answering. "You heard the full thing and the only thing you wanna know is-"

"Answer the question."

I scoffed as I closed the door behind me and walked into our bedroom. He turned the nightstand on and the yellow light lit the room. 

"Mom's parents didn't like Dad because he did some embarrassing job which I don't know about. They didn't approve of the relationship, but Mom eloped. Her parents are rich people who don't care about their own blood, but more of their reputation, so they had Ma killed. Dad knew it, but he still asked them to help with the money because the only thing that kept him with us was Mom. Dad never wanted kids. He makes no effort, Art, you only see what you want to see."

"But Grandpa-"

"They care." I looked up at him. "They care, Art, because they're old and we're the only grandkids they have. He didn't want you to feel bad."

"Dad-"

"Money. He was using us to get money from his in-laws. He probably ran away with it all."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I pay attention and look for logical facts not intuitive feelings."

"You mean to say you doubt everyone you've ever loved."

"Yeah- don't make this about me, you heard what Hannah said out there-"

"Ash, one thing at a time, please."

We shared a glance and I raised my hands up in mock surrender. 

He sighed. "So we don't trust Dad."

"Nope."

"But I love him, Ash."

"I love him too, Art. But he's not worth it. He doesn't see us as the kids of a woman he once loved, he sees us as liabilities."

"I get that he hasn't been the best father, but he can't just-"

"We're checking his room."

"We're not allowed to."

"What's the worst that could happen, man?" I get up and slap his shoulder once. "For all we know it could be filled with assassin stuff."

"Or maybe he was a stripper."

"Dude." I shoot him a glare as we walk towards Dad's room. "You don't just say that."

He shrugged. "He could be, I mean have you seen him-"

"No, I haven't, Art. And you know why? Because I'm not gay!"

He scoffed. "Appreciating someone's physical features has nothing to do with sexual orientation and everything to do with vision."

I mimicked his way of speaking and he slapped me at the back of my head, leading me to punch him on his chest, which led to some awkward close-space punching and hitting that can only be associated with siblings.