Punk Rock Next Door

Chapter 4

Ashton- The one who asks for too little

Last night was weird..

I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm, though it was in the other room. I blinked open my eyes, noticing I had fallen asleep on the couch. I groaned slightly and shifted in the position I had been in, stopping almost immediately as I noticed there was someone behind me.

"M-micheal, wake the hell up. You're late for work." I yelled in his ear. He wasn't really, I just needed a reason so he woild wake up. And it worked. His eyes shot open, arms that had been around my waist tightening around me, a groan leaving my mouth once again. When he calmed down and I could only guess figured out he had the day off, he relaxed behind me again, stubble-clad face nuzzling into the back of my neck, murmuring soft nothings into my ear. It made me shiver, and I felt annoyed by that. Sometimes, the smallest things that Michael does seem to get the most reaction out of me. And I hate it.

I hate that he can just make me melt in his hands by one motion.

Michael isn't my friend, he hates me.

This is all a pity act.

No one would ever like me.

Because I'm useless.

Stupid.

A faggot.

I'm just not important.

I will never understand how he was my friend in the beginning.

We have been in the same school since grade school, but something must have happened in Year 7. Why did he ever approach me? Why did he help me that one day?

*flashbackkkk*

"Nice shirt, loser. Where did you get it, your mum's closet?" These three guys had cornered me in the lunchroom, the middle one spitting insults in my face while the other two pushed me by my shoulders, soon my back hitting a corner wall. It hurt. A lot. But I was used to it. Used to it all.

"Faggot, stand up!"

"Aw, he looks like he's gonna cry! What a baby."

"Gonna run home and cry to your mummy, now aren't you?"

I curled away from them, my hands covering my face and groaning quietly as they kicked at my sides. This was normal. The names. The insults. The beatings.

And who would do anything.

No one.

Well, that's what I thought.

"Hey, idiots! Step the fuck away from Ashton before I beat in your noses." A voice boomed, sounding like it was rather angry. Which was surprising.

I blinked through the tears that had accumulated. When my vision cleared, I saw a black haired kid punch the guy who had been hitting me. He got the other two not too long after, as well.

I knew him. He was the one kid in our class who sat in the back and appeared as the kid who never cared for anyoe.

"Are you okay, Ashton? Can you walk?" The boy asked me, holding out his hand. I took it, rising to my feet with a groan. My sides were burning, I knew they were probably marked with bruises. I lened against the wall, not having the energy to walk yet. I glanced to the boy, who looked at me then turned around so his back was facing me.

"Hop on, Ash."

Ash? He called me Ash while I didn't even know his name all to well. I know its Michael.

"Uh, n-no. Its fine, Michael." I stammered, voice shaking as I felt genuinely nervous. He turned his head to look at me and shook his head, bendung his knees a little, since he was taller than me and I can't jump very well. I bit my lip and wrapped my arms around his shouoders, cheeks flushing as I felt his hands grip under my knees and lift me with no ease onto his back.