without a voice » cth + afi ✓

shenanigans

calum

"When do you think you'll be ready to speak?"

I averted my eyes from the guitar in my hands to Ashton, whose hazel eyes were curiously watching my expressions. I narrowed my gaze on him, feeling just a tad bit uncomfortable with how close he was to me. I sighed quietly, blindly reaching for my notebook and pen while my eyes drifted to my fingers still playing with the instrument's strings.

However, I didn't find my notebook and pen, so I met Ashton's gaze again only to find that he had them in his own possession. I huffed at him, pouting as disappointedly as I could.

"You gotta ask for it," Ashton said, a small smile forming on his lips. I could tell he was playing nice, so I smiled too, but that didn't mean I was going to speak. I just stared at him and shrugged my shoulders, bringing my full attention back to the acoustic guitar threaded in my arms.

It was pointless to even ask for it. It's not like he would get a reasonable answer out of me.

"Can you at least say 'hi' or something?" Ashton pressed on, leaning in closer to me. My one source of communication was now lying on the floor next to his seat, so I ignored him. I wasn't going to answer unless he gave me my stuff back.

And I wasn't going to trust him anyways, and I probably never will. That's how my life is and it will never change as far as I'm concerned.

"You're difficult," Ashton teased, mocking a sigh before he retrieved my notebook and pen from the linoleum music room floor. I happily reached for it, but that was before the hazel eyed boy retracted it only slightly. "Will you answer my questions if I give these back to you?"

I looked at him with an "are you serious?" expression, rolling my eyes and nodding my head in annoyance. Ashton beamed and politely handed me my stuff, and just so that I didn't make him any more upset I obliged to his words of question.

I wrote - in the order of which he asked me - my answers to his inquiry, "Never, no, and there ya go."

I grinned proudly at my choice of response, peppily holding up the peice of paper for him to read it. I was especially glad I could make it rhyme.

Ashton rolled his eyes, although I could tell he was amused by my sassy reply. After that, I tossed the pad of paper and writing utensil to the floor as a sign of wanting to move on with what we were doing. In this case, I wanted Ashton to teach me more about guitar and other instruments, maybe even drums if I got just a tiny bit more comfortable around him.

I'll have to see. I'm not confident that Ashton and I will get as close to being friends as he suggested when we met a couple days ago. So far, he was getting nowhere with me. Although I did appreciate the lessons he was teaching me.

Just as Ashton was about to start explaining something to me, the door to the music room flew open and in sauntered Mr. Clifford's son himself. I grimaced at the bright red hair, the piercings, and the tattoos. My cringe didn't stop growing at the combat boots, black ripped skinny jeans, and the heavy metal band shirt adorning his body.

Every time I saw him I felt like throwing up.

"Michael! What did I tell you about barging in?" Mr. Clifford scolded, standing abruptly from his chair as his son approached his desk.

"Uh, you said not to do it, right?" Michael answered, raising his eyebrows. A sly smirk was always plastered to his face, and it made me feel even more sick to my stomach.

Michael Clifford was definitely my least favorite person on the entire planet. I'm pretty sure the evil girls at this college weren't even at as high a level as he was on my "Don't Trust" list. In fact, he's on the "Completely Avoid" list as well. Not like he even really noticed me in the first place, unless it was to beat me up.

Michael Clifford is my number one bully.

"What do you want?" His father mumbled, sitting down once more. The music teacher didn't try hard to hide the fact he was giving his son a judgmental stare.

I didn't pay any attention to the two, but Ashton seemed curious of who this punk rock wannabe was. I leaned toward the ground to get a grasp on my paper and pen, writing out a sentence to explain Michael to Ashton. I shook my head and tapped his shoulder, gaining his attention quickly. I then held up my message, carelessly waiting for him to read it.

"Well then," Ashton muttered so that only I could hear. "Are we done? I don't wanna be here any longer than you do."

I set the guitar in its stand that was located beside us, nodding my head as I stood up. It had been a long day for me, so a yawn erupted from my mouth, almost silent. Ashton tiredly followed behind me out of the classroom, waving as a response to Mr. Clifford's goodbye.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Cal," Ashton said as we neared the exit of the building. I didn't really register the fact that he had used my nickname, but I couldn't care less. I nodded again at him. "Like always."

Not a lot of students were around since they were either back at their dorms or out somewhere, considering it was after hours. Ashton volunteered to tutor me on a few things before heading home, and as much as I didn't feel like it because the whole thing was one-on-one, music was a magnet and I was being pulled to it. I needed to do this. I wanted to.

"See you around," Ashton waved as I made my way outside, giving him one glance before beginning to walk home.

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I really don't know what to say down here, so I guess I hope if you read this you enjoy it? That's what I'm writing this book for anyway. All you Cashton trash out there ;) no shame, I am cashton trash too :')