Clean Slate » a.i. au

Twelve

         I flinch at a loud thump, instinctively gripping my pillow and blanket that remind me I'm in my bed, trying to sleep. I succeeded falling asleep once, after what seemed like an eternity of tossing and turning – and now the sound of the front door opening and closing fucked me over.

         Even though I've managed to get myself tired, I can't help my suddenly increased heart rate and clammy hands, that awaken me completely. Gulping once, I slowly get out of my bed, noticing my hands starting to shake slightly as I straighten out my blue tank top. I take a quick look at myself in the full length mirror across from the bed, frowning a little while adjusting my white shorts, and finally take a deep breath before making my way to the door of the room.

         I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like it'll get us anywhere but in a fight.

         But I still feel the need to know why he's not telling me anything. I know we're far from being on good terms, but for God's sake, we share an apartment. We live together, we see each other every day, if this is not a reason to want to know what's going on in his life, I don't know what is.

         "Ashton?" I call as I open the door of my bedroom, clearing my throat when I notice that I already have the morning voice. After sleeping for what probably was five minutes. Hmpf.

         The light is switched on, making me blink a few times, and when I look in front of myself properly again- there he is, in the middle of taking one shoe off, looking at me with surprised eyes and raised brows.

         "Hi," He says, seeming a little confused, "Were you sleeping?"

         "Yeah," I reply meekly, taking a look at his clothes; his black jeans and muscle tee don't look much different from how they were in the club earlier. He hasn't been anywhere but there, that I'm almost sure of.

         "Oh, well, then... sorry for waking you up."

         "It's okay." Like hell it's okay, but I'll let it slide. There's something else I'd rather have an argument about. "How was the gig?"

         He straightens up, as he's been bent over to untie his shoes, and eyes me with a look of surprise in his eyes. "It was good, how did you like it?"

         Now he's looking at me expectantly, nearly with a 'gotcha!' kind of expression. He saw me at the club. And he clearly doesn't feel the least bit bad about not telling me about the gig, more importantly, his band's biggest gig yet.

         "I thought it was good," I nod my head firmly, showing him I'm in no mood for playing whatever game this would've been if I was as stubborn as him. "I thought you were good."

         "Thanks," He says shortly, walking to the living room, "Said you were sleeping?"

         "Yeah?"

         "Go back to sleep, then, I'll be up for a while," His voice keeps getting quieter, until he's mumbling toward the end of his sentence. "Gonna watch some TV or hang out with Kai or something. D'you feed him?"

         "Of course I did."

         "Okay."

         "Ashton?" I call right before he enters the living room, and when he sighs at the doorway, I can almost read his thoughts – I almost made it. Almost. "Can I ask you to do something?"

         "If it's not physical, it's four in the morning and I'm not sleepy, but my body is dead."

         I gulp before speaking, forcing myself to think that he's physically exhausted only because of the gig. "Could you... please, tell me next time you have a big gig?"