I hastily made my way up the steps of my front porch, feeling like I was going to throw up. I kept my eyes focused on the ground as I walked, feeling disgusted with not only myself, but with a lot of things. What were those things... I didn't really know... I was just mad. Mad at the world, I guess. I jammed my key into the lock, and pushed into my house, tossing my bag to the floor and slumping my back against the door with a sigh.
"Fuck." I muttered under my breath, looking around the empty living room. I picked my feet up, one by one, and walked into the kitchen to see my mom was in there, doing work at the table with her laptop. My heart insantly sank at the sight of her.
"Why are you here," I groaned, walking over to the fridge. I kinda wanted to be alone, which I thought I was going to be. "You're supposed to be at work."
"Brooke." My mother said sternly, turning around in her seat to look a me.
"What?" I snapped.
"I had no more appointments today, so I came home early." She replied calmly. "What, are you upset with that?"
"Well kinda," I said angrily. "Kinda wanted to be alone but whatever." I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my eyebrows at her, and waited for her to reply. She looked so confused at me, but I didn't really see why. I'm not doing anything wrong; I just don't want to be around anyone right now.
"Are you alright?" She asked softly, breaking the silence.
"What?" I replied, as if what she was asking me was absurd. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Well you don't seem like it," my mom pointed out. "Come on, talk to me."
"No." I said bluntly. I don't want to talk to this bitch. She probably hates me anyways.
Oh my god she doesn't hate you, I forced myself to think. She's your mother.
"Why not?" She asked me. I stepped forward and opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was sigh. I didn't actually know why I couldn't talk to her...or why I was so angry. Well, I guess I had a pretty good idea, but it's not like she would understand. I'm tired, and I think 90% of my school thinks I'm a weirdo.
"I just..." my voice trailed off. "I had a bad day, okay?"
"I understand that," my mom replied slowly, pushing the chair across from her out with her foot. "But that's what I'm here for, right?"
"No." I said rather harshly, furrowing my eyebrows and looking to the floor, wanting to run upstairs.
"Well why not?" she persisted.
Because you're not Ashton.
"I dunno." I just shrugged and lied, and began to feel really uncomfortable. My eyes wandered around the room, looking at anything else but her gaze as she stared at me. She stared at me like everyone else did today; furrowed eyebrows, mouths slightly opened, faces wrinkled in utter confusion. Kinda like how Ashton was looking at me the whole time-
"Shit, he think's your a freak, too."
"Shut up!" I said loudly, pointing my attention to that stupd fucking voice that was obviously back. My mother shifted in her seat a little, obviously startled by my outburst.
"Fuck shit I'm so done-" I mumbled to myself, shaking my head and hurrying out of the room.
"Brooke?" My mother said, her voice raising in what sounded like worry. I heard her get up and follow me out, but I didn't want to talk to her. She's starting to annoy the shit out of me, and she probably won't even understand.
Come to think of it...I don't even understand.
"Brooke!" My mother said harshly. I didn't take the time to turn around and look at her, so I just kept on walking up the stairs. I got about half way up, until my mother spoke again from below.
"Brooke Marie-"
"Don't Brooke Marie me," I spat. I turned around and glared her, gripping the banister. "I'm fine, alright? Shit." I rolled my eyes, and walked the rest of the way upstairs, until I was slamming my door behind me and slumping down on my bed. I crossed my legs over one another burried my face in my hands, and I began to cry. I didn't know why...but I couldn't control it.
I couldn't control it at all.
"Freak," I spat out tears, shaking my head. "Fucking freak."
I didn't mean to act so weird or skiddish today...and let's face it: I lashed out at Jessie for no reason. I didn't mean to do that either, actually; I guess it was just a reflex. A reflex to make sure there's no one else to give Ashton any more crap than he already gets everyday. I could see why Jessie was so confused, and why Ashton looked at me, so full of what was probably even more confusion...because why on earth would anyone just accuse someone of starting shit when they weren't doing anything at all? Jessie was just walking by, but I told her to fuck off. It's no wonder why I threw everyone off. Not to mention, I probably got 4 hours of sleep last night.
I continued to cry, throwing out words that have the big negative connotations to describe myself. I was pissed, confused, and tired, all at the same time. It took me maybe 6 or 7 minutes until I finally took my face out of my hands, and looked around the room. I stumbled off the bed, and tripped over my feet as I searched the floor, my heart beginning to pound.
"Where is it." I muttered, wiping the blurriness out of my eyes. I finally saw Ashton's hoodie on the floor, and relief flooded over me as I snatched it up, and hugged it to myself. I fell back onto the matress and stared up at the ceiling, sniffling back the tears that wanted to fall down my cheeks. The smell of the boy I love never leaves this hoodie, no matter how many times I wash it. It's soft, and warm, and smells like Ashton. I shut my eyes, and took a deep breath.
Please calm down. I said to myself. He doesn't hate you.
I opened my eyes a couple minutes later, and that yearning feeling was back in my heart, and all I could think of was Ashton. He seems to be the only thing I think about, no matter what. Is that weird, or...? Like, I know I love him and I care about him so much, but does he think about me as much as I think about him? Fuck, I don't even know if he loves me back. Maybe...maybe I'm overthinking how I feel about him.
"You idiot!" I yelled to myself, sitting up. Overthink? That's fucking ridiculous. I don't overthink; I've always been able to put the right amount of thought into any situation. Of course I love him, why would I ever think that I don't? Well, I've never physically said it to him when he's awake to hear me...but does that separate what my mind is telling me and how I actually feel?
"Ugh, but I do love him." I mumbled, burrying my face in Ashton's hoodie. I know I love him; it's apparent. The feelings I get around him are so surreal and different from anything I've ever felt before, and I don't know how it couldn't be love. I don't know...maybe I'm just scared of what he would say if I was to ever tell him how I feel. I've thought about this so many times: the fact that Ashton doesn't seem to think 'love' has any meaning. I get what he means when he says this, but it also makes me a little sad.
I sighed once again, and decided to call Ashton.
*Ashton's POV*
I sat the counter in my kitchen, my geometry book spread out infront of me with my pencil quickly scribbling over the piece of paper, going in and out of the blue lines while my hand was beginning to ache. I was angry, confused, frustrated, and really unable to figure out why.
Find the measures of x, y, and z... I thought to myself, furrowing my eyebrows together. Fuck. Okay, just find x first.
"Twelve over x equals x over six," I said to myself. "X squared equals twelve times six-"
"Ashton?" My grandmother said from behind.
"-Not now Grammy," I mumbled. "X equals the square root of seventy two-"
"You're muttering like a crazy person." She said softly, coming around the other side of the counter to face me.
"BROOKE ISN'T CRAZY!" I yelled, instantly straightening my back to glare at my grandmother. She stepped back a little, putting her hand over her chest, looking absolutely startled.The room fell to an awkward silence, and I sat back and continued to stare at her. I waited until the pounding in my chest died down, my breath caught up with itself.
"Sorry," I said quietly, shaking my head. My grandmother still didn't say anything, so I just chuckled at myself. "I don't know why I said that."
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"What? Of course I am," I said lightly, leaning back in my seat and running my hands through my hands. I didn't mean to lie, but I couldn't help myself. "I'm fine."
"Okay..." my grandmother's voice trailed off and she nodded, before turning around to walk over to the fridge. "What about Brooke?"
"What about her?" I snapped.
"Is she alright?" she asked calmly...though, I didn't see what there was to be calm about.
"Yes." I lied. I'm not really sure who I'm lying to more: my grandmother, or myself.
"Well then there's nothing to be all jittery about." she said lightly, turning back around to me and tossing me a bottle of water. I gladly took it, finally paying attention to the dryness in my mouth. I nodded, but only to assure her as much as I could.
"Do you have work today?" she asked me.
"Today? No," I replied. "Tomorrow, though."
"Alrght," she nodded. "I'm proud of you."
Her words made my eyes widen again as she walked past me, and I began to think about Brooke again. "Thanks." I said awkwardly. I waited until her bedroom door shut behind her, before I groaned, folding my arms over each other on the counter top and burrying my face into them. I shut my eyes, and let the room go quiet again as I sat there, trying to think of something to do to help my situation. It's not even that much of a situation...but something's telling me that it will soon grow into one. And that's something that I deffinitely didn't want, considering that I could tell I'm not going to be the only one affected by it.
I know, I overthink a lot of things. It's only been a couple days, yet something is telling me that I shouldn't think lightly of Brooke right now, because this isn't like her. I know her, and I know she's a argumentive yet calm person, which is the complete opposite of how she's been. Yeah, I get it...I worry too much. But I couldn't help myself. I don't mean to, but I can't control it.
"Except for when I'm high." I laughed to myself, hopping off the bar stool and looking around for my phone. My eyes traveled around the room for a couple moments, before I conveniently heard my phone buzz inside my backpack. I quickly dug through the front pocket, and my heart sank as I saw Michael was calling me. I only spoke to him about an hour ago, when I kind of walked out of them before we could get anything done. I bit my lower lip and wondered whether I should pick it up or not, considering how angry Michael and I both were when I bolted out of Luke's house. I sighed, but hurried to my bedroom and shut the door behind me.
"Hello?" I said as I picked the phone up, slowly walking further into my bedroom.
"Hey." Michael's voice replied.
"Hi." I said awkwardly. The line went silent, and I found myself stopping in my tracks, furrowing my eyebrows as I stared off and waited for him to say something.
"I'm sorry," Michael sighed. "We all are actually."
"For?" I asked, settling down on my bed. I crossed my legs together and faced out the window.
"Making false assumptions about Brooke," Michael replied as my eyes seemed to find a lot of interest in all the cars that sped by on the street below me. "It was uncalled for."
"Its okay," I said. We both went quiet, before I sighed this time. "I can see why you would think that, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah," I answered, my heart sinking. "But I don't know what to do about it."
"That's weird." Michael said casually.
"How?" I asked.
"Because you always have a solution." Michael laughed.
I never found the value of x, I thought to myself, my heart sinking even more. All I got to was the square root of seventy two.
"Well thanks," I played along as much as I could. "But yeah, I'm a little stumped here."
"Just talk to her," Michael said. "Whats the worst that could happen?"
She could hate me.
"I don't know," I lied. I looked out the window, and I sighed again. "Okay. You're right."
"Don't worry," Michael assured. "You're Ashton. You know your way with words."
"Thanks," I laughed. "I'm sorry for flipping a bitch earlier."
"It's no problem," Michael answered. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I agreed and said goodbye, hanging up the phone. I glanced out the window for the 10th time, but only to have my attention drawn back to my phone as it started vibrating again. This time, Brooke was calling me. Well shit.
"Hi," I said into it, laying my back against the matress.
"Hey." Brooke replied. I payed close attention to her tone of voice, because it sounded tired... and well, quite sad.
"Sorry, I-" She kept talking, and she sighed. "Yeah. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" I asked. "What is there to be sorry about?"
"I dunno," she said. "I'm being a weirdo."
"Aren't we all?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling and running my free hand through my hair. The line went silent, and I guess she was taking my words into a little consideration, because she wasn't saying anything.
"Are you alright?" I spoke up again to break the silence.
"Wh-what?" Brooke stuttered. "Yes of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because I'm not stupid." I said as casually as I could. The line went silent again, and I was beginning to feel worried. Again.
"I know you're not stupid," Brooke sighed after a couple moments. "I never said you were. I'm just...tired."
"Is that all?" I asked, genuinely concerned. If that's all it is..then why does it bother me so much?
"Yes," she assured, followed by a small laugh. "Ashton I'm fine."
"Okay," my eyes wandered out the window, and I sighed.
"Ashton."
"What?"
"I'm fine!"
"Okay okay!" I laughed, and my muscles relaxed a little as she laughed too.
"I'm gonna bring you something tomorrow," she said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Well I can't tell you that!" Brooke laughed."It's a surprise."
"It's my mixtape, isn't it."
"Fuck you Ashton."
I broke into laughter, propping myself up one elbow. "Aw I'm excited," I chuckled. "I bet it's really good."
"It's really not," Brooke replied. "But I'm giving it to you anyways."
"It couldn't be bad at all," I assured. "Like I said. I've taught you well."
"And I'm internally grateful," she laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
"Okey doke," I agreed, though I was a little sad I had to hang up the phone soon. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"What? No Lovey?" Brooke joked.
"Shit sorry," I laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow Lovey."
With that, we both hung up the phone, and I dropped mine onto the floor with another sigh. Her previous words replayed in my head as I sat up, and shook my head.
"She's not fine." I muttered to myself.
...
*Brooke's POV*
It was 2:30 am, and my eyes shot open. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty, and it felt as though I was no longer able to tell where I was. I scrambled out of my blankets, my eyes blindly searching through the black of my room. I had absolutely no idea what I just dreamed about, but it was scaring the crap out of me.
"Shit shit shit-" I muttered, stumbling out of bed. As soon as my feet hit the carpet I was only dragged back down by the weakness in my knees, until I was face to face with the floor. I lifted my head and looked around, but everything was dark. And I literally mean everything. I couldn't see one thing, or distinguish where exactly I was. I knew I was in my bedroom, but it didn't feel like it at all. It felt like I was in hell.
I managed to prop myself up on my forearms, taking in what little oxygen I could before flipping over onto my back to stare up at the dark ceiling. I layed my hands over my stomach, and shut my eyes. It was obvious by now; I was alone and hypervenalating. I don't know why, or remember how long ago I fell asleep, or what even made me wake back up. All I could focus on how scared I was, and how much of a freak I probably looked like right now. My mind went blank, though, after a couple minutes of airless breaths and quiet groans of frustration.
I finally sat up, and I put my fingers to my temples, trying to concentrate on what the fuck just happened. I couldn't understand it; it was maybe 3 or 4 minutes, yet it felt like hours upon hours of being trapped inside a dark and boiling pot of mixed feelings of confusion, desperation, and anger.
"Why did you wake up." I muttered to myself, shutting my eyes again. "You fucking coward."
I sighed, and rested my back to the wall, letting my eyes wander around even though I still couldn't see anything. There's no fucking way I'm falling back asleep, now. I don't feel tired at all to be honest; maybe it's best I don't even try to lay down. I thought about nothing for a little while, until I found myself slowly getting up, my knees still quite weak. I told myself to quit feeling so helpless, and I walked over to where I could tell the light switch was. I quickly flicked it on, and shut my eyes against the sudden light.
"Fucking dammit," I said to myself. I opened my eyes back up a couple moments later to let them adjust, and I looked around the room. The blankets on my bed were tossled, my pillows were all over the floor, and my whole room in general has managed to become a mess in the past couple days.
Without thinking, I spun on my heels, and quietly opened the door. The hallway was dark and stretched out infront of me, and it made me shutter. It made me think about that one night where I stood infront of the same hallway, only to walk down it and get a slap to the face with reality, along with my mom; literally. I pushed that memory out with anger, and quietly tiptoed out of my room, and down the hallway. I made sure to be as quiet as I could so I didn't wake anyone up, but I somehow got myself all the way downstairs.
I wasn't sure why I was down here, but my legs carried me through the living room, and all the way into the kitchen. I turned the lights on as well, and made my way over to the fridge. I guess I was just hungry or something. My eyes traveled around, looking for something that sounded somewhat good right now, but there was nothing that appealed to me. But after a couple minutes, I realized I wasn't even hungry, and I was confused on why I came down here. Honestly, I had no clue as to why I'm down here.
That is, until my eyes came across a six pack of beer.
I eyed the brown bottles, my head tilting to the side. I wasn't sure why these were here; my mother doesn't drink. My father does, but he isn't even here. I guess no one bothered to throw them out when he went away for a little.
I remained silent, until that voice in my head came.
"Take them," it said to me. "Drink them."
I shook my head, and backed up from the open refridgerator. I leaned up against the counter, but my eyes seemed to be glued to the bottles. I studdied them; from the silver caps to the way the refridgerator light made the liquid inside have an orange-ish tint to them.
"Alcohol is a great thing, Brooke," the voice said. "It'll relieve your tension."
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Only for a short time."
"So? Better than nothing."
That made sense. I couldn't take the weakness in my knees, or the constant times my heart has been sinking for no reason for the past 20 minutes. From all the times I have dranken, I will admit it relieves my stress, but there's a huge piece of the equation missing here. I only drink with Ashton, and he's not with me.
If I think about it hard enough, I'm almost positive it's Ashton who makes my stress go away, not the chemical- filled liquid that rested in the bottles just a few feet away from me. Why would I drink them now? This early in the morning, by myself?
It made absolutely no sense, but I couldn't control myself.
I acted quickly, snatching a bottle from the case and stepping right back to where I was. I felt the cold glass in my hands, my fingers wrapped around the top. It was the cliche Bud Lite, which is what I've had many times before. I liked it. I liked it a lot, actually, and now that I look more closely at the bottle, I began to want it more.
"Fuck it." I said to myself, popping the cap off. I set the cap down on the counter behind me, and stared down at the bottle's opening for a couple moments. I moved without thinking, and held the bottle to my lips, pouring down the cold liquid. It tasted bitter and harsh in my mouth, and it almost burned as it ran down my throat. But, as painful as that sounds, I ended up throwing my head back and shutting my eyes, smiling to myself.
I took another gulp, and let the alcohol wash through me, sending chills of pleasure up and down my spine. It felt good, really good, and maybe even good enough to make me chug down half of the bottle and quietly groan in satisfaction.
"See? Told you is was great."
"Not now I'm drinking." I mumbled, taking out two more bottles. I held them in my arms, and closed the refridgerator with my foot. I turned to go back to my room, and I made sure to keep quiet until I was shutting my door behind me, and setting down the bottles onto the floor. I rested my back up against the wall again, and downed the rest of my first bottle of beer, taking the second in my hands.
"This is so bad," I laughed quietly, opening the bottle up. "I'm so not fine."
I sighed, because I couldn't help it. I know...Ashton isn't here. And I know, that he's the ease to my stress...and yeah, I usually do this stuff with him.
But in that moment, I didn't give a shit, and I began to drink some more.