Ash is quiet on the way to the party, something Louis immediately picks up on. He nudges her in the car, blue eyes full of unabashed concern. "You okay?" he mouths, mindful as ever.
She forces a wobbly smile, one that he can probably see right through, knocking her shoulder into his playfully. "Never better," she murmurs. In truth, it's hard to wrestle with the tempest of emotions with this latest revelation. Rory had seemed - it had seemed like - she can still feel their hands brushing as he handed her the icepack - he was a good person. But now, she isn't so certain.
And she garners to reason that it doesn't matter. It's not like they're anything more than friends, and they're barely that. Their dynamic is hardly defined, barely learned, precarious, and full of unknowns. It's not like they go to Halloween parties together or call each other on the weekends. Simply put, this shouldn't be bothering her as much as it is, shouldn't be making her stomach feel like led is dragging it down. She hardly knows him, doesn't know why she's so attached; this is a feeling she should have if she discovered Robb was a heartless bully, not Rory.
It's attraction, not love. Infatuation is stretching it, but maybe even that. Rory is one of the first boys to pay attention to her; Rory is one of the first boys to catch her eye; Rory is one of the first people to pry further, to try and understand her, to understand her without even knowing.
It's attraction, not love. She hardly knows him. So there.
Her heart rings a truth that she doesn't want to hear.
Will I see him tonight? She doubts it, had been disappointed by that likelihood earlier, but now is grateful. Ash can forget about it tonight, have fun with her friends - push anything about Louis's blue eyes going empty and dull because of Rory to the corner of her mind, and bury it deep. She's always been good at that.
Tomorrow, then. She'll think about it tomorrow.
As they exit the car, the night air greets Ash, and she takes in the large house in awe. Her awe grows as she sees all the people rifling in, the teenagers and young adults milling around, the music blaring even from outside on the porch, rattling the concrete beneath their scuffed sneakers.
Daisy's father rolls down the window before they can near the house, the car prepped to drive away. "No drinking," he warns the group. "Louis, keep an eye on all of them."
Louis grins lopsidedly, saluting. "Yes, sir!"
Daisy rolls her eyes, softly exasperated, tugging on Kyle's arm and dragging him forwards. "Since when is Louis the mom friend?"
"Since always," Louis replies, grin deepening. "You heard the man, no drinking."
"Oh, I can never get away with anything with him around!" Daisy huffs. "So annoying."
Ash feels a spark of envy. It fades as quickly as it had come, dying, but it's there for a brief moment. Enough to recognize it. She wishes she had a parent to worry and fuss over her as Daisy's father does, but she understands that to Daisy, this is all she's ever known, and what's permanent and stable is precisely what people take for granted. Ash recognizes that, doesn't hold it against her - but the longing in her doesn't fade when the jealousy does.
"Ash, you coming?"
She nods in Louis's direction, heading forward. Before they can reach the house, Kyle slips into pace beside her. "Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have told you - "
"No, you shouldn't have," she quickly says, dropping her voice so Louis doesn't overhear. He's barely ahead. "But not on my account, on Louis's. You should have asked for his permission."
His jaw juts, green eyes looking frustrated. "That's something he never would have gave. He's embarrassed about it all - he shouldn't be, but he is - and I wanted you to understand. I was trying to look out for you, but I went about it the wrong way. Am I forgiven?"
She jerks her head into a nod. "Nothing to forgive." Gives in to a pause, placating Kyle's real worry. "And I won't say anything, for the record."
Some semblance of peace takes hold on his face, relaxes the lines on his freckled face. "I know you won't. You are a good person, Asher Miller."
Well, she doesn't know about that, but if it's coming from Kyle, always so pessimistic about everything and everyone, she'll accept the compliment. They cross the threshold of the door together before being assaulted by a horde of bodies. A song is playing that she recognizes, but it's a tad too loud for her tastes.
"Stick with me, would you?" Louis has suddenly appeared beside her, having to lean in and whisper to the shell of her ear. "As designated mom friend, of course." He squints, taking in the scenery. His eyes appear rounder without his glasses, more childish. "Bit rowdier than I expected."
"Bit drunker too," Ash remarks wryly. "I always thought this sort of thing only happened in movies."
"Never been to a party?"
"Not a big one, anyway," Ash replies, straining her voice an octave higher. "Not really my thing."
"Is it anyone's?" he retorts, clearly in the same boat as she is when it comes to this sort of thing.
Ash laughs at their shared pain, pointing off towards Daisy, who is already forcing (a clearly miserable, too sober) Kyle to dance with her. She figures that if anyone would be capable of doing the impossible, it would be Daisy. She links arms with Louis, pulling him away from a stumbling drunk freshman in scant leather. "Let's see what we find outside, Lovegood."
"Lead on, Potter."
The pool area behind back - because of course a house of this size has a pool, a hot tub, and everything in between - is their sanctuary.
They settle for sitting at the shallow end of the pool, which has a cover and is remarkably uninteresting, meaning that there's barely anyone milling about. There's five people in the hot tub, with the rest of their friend group sitting near on chairs, leaving Ash and Louis some breathing room.
She's snagged some pumpkin shaped cookies on their way out back, and even drinks the cider, even though she thinks it would taste better without the alcohol. Cider is already somewhat bitter and acidic - whatever is in it makes it worse, at least in her opinion. Louis settles on only eating the cookies, something that she doesn't fault him for.
"Want to try some?" she offers, wondering if it's only because he didn't have the time to snag a cup.
"Anyone could've spiked that," Louis protests, blonde curls springing up despite the gel.
"It's already spiked."
"With other things," he reiterates teasingly, suddenly watching her closely. "I'm waiting for you to keel over."
She snickers at the image that takes hold. "Well, that would suck. You better save me if I do, designated mom friend."
He laughs with her, eyes taking on a shine that she doesn't think she's seen before. He's always happy, but it's usually a hesitant happiness, a subdued one, like he's afraid he'll get in trouble or teased for just enjoying himself. Here he is freely joyous, undaunted by whatever usually holds him back.
Louis suddenly grows quiet, eyebrows knitting together, looking a great deal solemn. He opens his mouth to speak, then falters entirely.
She sits up a little, concerned at his abrupt mood shift, setting her red solo cup to the side. "Are you going to be the one to keel over?"
At that, he exhales nervously, something between a snort and a scoff, shaking his head incredulously.
Did he overhear us? Is that what this is about? "What's up?"
He scratches the back of his neck, fidgeting, avoiding her gaze entirely. "Ash, I - can I tell you something?"
"You're my friend," she deadpans, trying to eradicate his hesitation. Oh, he heard. How awful. "Of course you can."
His eyes meet hers, embarrassment gone. "That's sort of the thing," he finally manages, tone growing more determined. "It's just that, ever since I met you..."
"Ash! That you?"
They both turn, finding Peter jogging towards them, his baseball 'costume' entirely uninspired. "I thought that was you!" As he approaches, she notes the flush across his cheeks, the unsteady sway to his strut. "Ah, some Harry Potter costumes. Very retro."
"I wouldn't call the early 2000s retro," Ash protests, livening up at the sight of her friend. Peter is someone who has always managed to lift her spirits. He can occasionally overstep boundaries, but she can tell he has a big heart, good intentions. "But thank you."
Peter jerks a nod, eyes sliding over to Louis as if just realizing his presence. Peter's slower than usual, carrying his own red solo cup, one that's likely to have been refilled a few times. "You two having fun?"
They both murmur shyly in the affirmative. A blonde girl from the deck comes closer to them, dressed as some sort of mouse, calling him by a name she doesn't recognize.
"That's my birth name," Peter fills in at Ash's quizzical look. "Pin-Zhen. Most people here couldn't pronounce it growing up so we Americanized it, much to my mother's disdain. Peter Smith." He gives a mock shudder, grinning. "She can't stand it. If you ever meet her, I hate being called that, got it?"
"So why does she get to call you by your birth name?" Ash inquires, if only curious if Peter wants her to do the same.
"She's my girlfriend," Peter winks, wrapping a large arm around her waist, dragging her closer. "Since tonight."
"Congratulations," Ash deadpans. Louis looks like he's fighting to keep his eyes on the blonde girl's face, but she notices him slip up a few times, eyes straying downwards, ears turning a shade of pink that she can catch even in the dark.
"I like your costume," Ash offers to the girl, shifting the subject as Louis tries (and fails) to stammer out a dignified reply. "I wish I had the confidence to do that."
"Oh, you could totally pull off skanky Harry Potter," the girl reasons, like it's all the rage.
"I'll give it a go for next year," Ash replies with a quirked grin.
"What I wouldn't give to see that," comes the quick - albeit slightly slurred - reply.
Ash whirls around, flushing at his abrupt appearance alone, the comment barely even registering. For someone who is visually impaired, he moves around with ease, with a deftness and softness of foot that she doesn't even have, and she's always practicing her footwork with her board.
"Ignore him, he's had a little bit too much to drink." That said, Peter doesn't look particularly concerned. If anything, Rory's cousin looks positively thrilled to see him letting loose a little.
"Maybe we ought to get him some coffee or bread," Louis pipes in, eyebrows drawing together in concern as he assesses him, saying what Ash can't find the words to. Rory is shallow and pale, unsteady, and missing his cane. When Peter continues to dazedly flirt with the blonde, the cousins practically staggering, Louis stands, "I'll grab both of them some coffee or bread."
The blonde bats away Peter's hands, offering to accompany Louis before Ash can as she knows her way through the house and the kitchen cabinets. Louis looks utterly terrified at that concept, but nods weakly in her direction, blushing in the ears all over again.
"Don't worry, I'll take over as designated mom friend," Ash says, unable to fight the urge to tease. "You two take your time."
Louis rolls his eyes, barely able to meet Ash's gaze, following behind Sophia (who she now knows the name of as Peter is sinking to his knees in all his dramatic glory and begging her not to leave him).
"Maybe you ought to sit, Rory," Ash comments, leaning up and lightly touching his palm, which is sweat ridden and clammy. "You're going to fall into the pool." Responsible cousin, Peter is not.
"Next to you? Always." He's not so graceful this time as he collapses onto the ground next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder. Even drunk Rory is perceptive because as his skin brushes her cheek, he accuses her of blushing, which is completely unfounded and ridiculous.
"Am not," she protests, cheeks blazing.
"Are too," Rory states, poking her cheek gingerly. "Do you always blush when I'm around you?"
She pauses. He's not wearing his glasses, which she didn't really notice until now. Without them, she can make out the color of his eyes, which is a golden-brown in the dim lighting, almost like the color of honey. There's a small jagged scar underneath one of his eyes, which looks like it had been deep despite its short length.
"You're drunk," is all she can finally muster, but it's halfhearted. "Both of you are drunk and terrible for making me and Louis babysit you lot."
"Louis? From our class?"
"Who else?"
That sickly sweetness fades from his expression, dopey grin fading. "He's a good guy, that Louis. Always has been a good guy. Y-you should tell him that, from me."
"Tell him yourself when he gets back." She doesn't think she can help some of the hardness that leaks into her tone.
There's exaggerated hesitation on Rory's face. If there's one thing about alcohol, she likes that it brings out the truth in people. "I'm not sure he'd like to hear it from me," he finally murmurs, eyes watering.
The ache in her chest lessens, if only a bit. There's immense relief that there's guilt, that he's a good person just as she thought, (because a good person owns their mistakes, regrets them, cries over them) but she also doesn't think she can stand to see him cry. She's never really been able to stand it with anyone.
"You never know if you don't try," she suggests softly, encouragingly. "Louis is - a very good person, just like you said. He's also very forgiving. If he hated you, he wouldn't have gone in to get you coffee."
Rory wipes at his eyes before any tears can fall. "That's true."
"That is true," she repeats, keeping her voice gentle. He's always been skittish, that one. Less skittish now, but she has to be careful around him. Not in the same way as someone like Helen, where Ash has to walk on eggshells. Rory is the eggshell; breakable, delicate. She thinks she's only starting to fully realize that now, regrets how she acted around him before.
Louis and Sophia return from the sliding glass door in the back, handing the coffee to both of the boys. They're both careful due to their altered states, making certain both boys have a solid grip on the mugs before backing away. There's a few slices of plain bread too, hopefully to ease them both back into better states and to soak up the alcohol.
Ash thinks she sees it when Louis does, just when the blonde boy's breath hitches slightly. There's red scares - barely white - marring both of Rory's wrists, in a horizontal manner; deliberate, long, deep. Louis subtly rolls his sleeves up before moving back to his position before, expression forlorn and tight, blue eyes distant.
Ash watches Rory carefully as he takes a few sips, hands at the ready in case his hands go unsteady.
"Thank you, Louis," Rory says excitedly. "You're a good guy, you know? One of the best." A hiccup. "Everyone's just jealous of how smart you are, you know."
She's not sure how Louis will respond to that, doesn't quite know the full extent of history, is slightly nervous. After a brief pause, Louis smiles brightly in Rory's direction, eradicating any anxiety Ash might've had before. "You're a good guy too, Rory. We should all be friends."
Rory is quiet for a long time. He wipes at his eyes one more time, voice breaking. "I'd really like that."
Peter, as always, ruins the moment by retching into the grass behind them.