Fragile Bones

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Without you, I wouldn't have anything to look forward to," I whispered, looking past him into the hall that lead to their library.

His mouth was set in a tight line, and he looked at me warily. "I never would have expected to spend my time with someone like you."

Well, that was nice.

"And I don't mean that in a bad way," he continued. "You're just, so timid and shy. But you're so nice. I think that throws me off the most. The first person I was friends with here turned out to be a douchebag, along with most of his friends. My friends in California were the same way. Maybe not to the level of sexual assault," a hardened look crossed his face when he said this, "but not nice. And I know I'm not nice either, and that's the kind of-" He paused like he was considering his next words. "Friend you'd want to have."

"That's wrong though. I don't care if you were friends with Spencer before you knew me. What matters is that you flipped sides once knowing who he was," I replied quietly. Asher had never been this serious, at least not in a self-deprecating way. On one hand, it was mice knowing that he wasn't all rough and aloof. On the other, I didn't like seeing him like this. "And you are nice."

He turned his back to me and stirred the pasta slowly. "Are you actually going to eat this? And don't lie to me."

"Maybe," I answered hesitantly. Clearly, the conversation was over.

My answer seemingly had no effect on him because he didn't say anything to me for the next several minutes until he had finished making the food. The amount of pasta he gave me seemed tiny compared to his portion, and for that I was somewhat thankful. It was still more than I was willing to eat, but maybe he was finally grasping the idea that I didn't eat a lot.

Asher day across from me on the island and started eating his food. "He's not a bad person," he said suddenly.

I looked up from my bowl and over at him. "What?"

"My father. He isn't a bad person, not really. He writes me and my mom pretty often, but she's the only one who ever writes back."

"Why don't you?" I wondered softly.

"I know he's not a bad person. He never hurt anyone, not intentionally. But I guess I'm just angry at him. He made the conscious choice that landed him there, leaving me and my mom to figure everything out on our own." The table sat in silence for a couple of seconds while I tried to figure out what to say, but before I could he brushed off the topic completely. "The fucking things you talk about at 1:30 in the morning," he chuckled, like the idea amused him immensely. "Now it's your turn. Please tell me it's something dramatic, like you're an undercover agent for the FBI."

"There's nothing about me that you don't already know," I smiled, twisting my fork around in my food repeatedly.

"Yeah," he said simply, and for some reason it sounded like there was more implication behind the simple word than I was meant to perceive.

Over the next half hour, dishes were cleared away (Asher offered to eat the rest of my food. I don't know how he has such a fast metabolism) and he walked me upstairs to his room where I would apparently be spending the night. The idea made me anxious, but I was too exhausted to walk home at this point, and Asher seemed to enjoy the idea of me sleeping over. Probably his perverted mind at work.

The trip up the stairs was fatiguing, like it had been when I arrived but I tried not to make it obvious. Once we got to the room, I tossed my bag on the floor and was thankful that it was carpeted. I didn't want to be sleeping on an uncomfortable surface. As if reading my mind, Asher said, "You're taking the bed, I'll take the floor."

"No that's okay, you can have it," I exclaimed immediately, plopping myself down on the ground as if staking my claim.

"No," he said simply, and scooped me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing more than a feather. Of course, I knew I must be crushing him, and I fought to get out of his hold like my life depended on it. However, he held fast and managed to toss me onto the bed. "Don't argue with me sweetheart, I know you're tired."

I yawned as if confirming his statement, and scrunched up my nose. "No I'm not," I murmured, already liking the feel of the blanket.

"Just sleep," he said, folding the blanket up over my body.

While he was bustling around to get himself prepared to sleep, I let my mind wander. He had never told me why he wanted me over tonight, and I'm sure it wasn't just so we could eat macaroni and cheese together. It felt strange being in such a huge but empty house with him as my only company. Maybe he felt that way too. I spent so many years alone at school, and he probably spent years feeling alone in his own household.

We were similar that way.

My mind couldn't stay active for very long, and sleep started creeping in, abandoning any thoughts I had to dreams.

•••
A/N

Don't shoot! My hands are up! I know it's been a while (long time no see?) and it's solely because I haven't felt like writing. This is an unfortunate experience for someone who has so many people waiting on an update. Well, now you have it. Believe me when I tell you I wrote this in two nights, so it's unedited and sloppy.

I'm in the process of creating a Spotify playlist for Fragile Bones since a few of you seemed interested, and I'm gonna try to finish it along with the next chapter.

So, we have a better idea of what goes on inside Asher's head now. What do you think of Asher in the start of the book versus now? (I feel like an english teacher with these questions, but I like knowing what people think.)

Thank you for nearly 400k reads! Let's get this bad boy to 7 billion (yes that's right, I expect everybody on this earth to read it).

Off topic, but somebody give me a minecraft YouTuber to watch. I've watched too much of Dream, Georgenotfound and Tommyinit.

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Emma x