The Creation of Adam, Michelangelo, 1511
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Asher Alexander was living in a fever dream. And not the good kind, because such a thing did exist, believe it or notâjust ask the mythical and elusive creature known as the Etonian stoner. They weren't rare.
Anyways, going back to the topic Asher's forever fever dream, his sense of reality had grown so foggy he couldn't tell the difference between what was happening when he was conscious and when he was unconscious. For example, the disappearance of his dear friend Isaac Harley was something he still hasn't come to terms with, something he refused to accept as true and as a result spent every night gazing out his window with hopes of seeing the delinquent sneaking back in like an unskilled ninja after a night of frivolous encounters.
He always kept that window unlocked.
To make matters worse, it didn't help that no one else besides him acknowledged the lack of his best friend's presence. Teachers treated it like ignorance induced bliss. They didn't mention it because then it would end.
Scratch that. There was, in fact, one other person who acknowledged his missing state. Except, Asher was too scared to confront him, for he's been hearing rumors that the said person has been unusually sporadic as of late. They were rumors so wild about the prefect that they only worsened his ability to distinguish what was real and what wasn't.
Because of his recent loneliness, Asher found himself spending a lot of quality time with Charlie Franz, another boy who felt equally abandoned, but in his case due to the volatility of Josiah.
"I don't know what's gotten into him," his new friend stated when Asher asked about the prefect, "I beat him in mathematics. And I never beat him in mathematics."
"Has he...said anything? About Isaac's leave, that is," he pried. "My gut tells me he has something to do with it."
"That's the thing! He hasn't spoken with me at all for the past month. And when he did, he only asked for classwork because he skipped. Lately he's been spending all his time with bloody Archie and his bloody friends smoking weed in the woods and setting shit on fire. Damn pyromaniacs."
Asher threw his hands in the air. "That explains why I heard firecrackers in the middle of the night. I swear I thought I was going crazy..."
"Well I hope Josiah's eyebrows catch on fire and they burn off!" Charlie shouted dramatically as he flung himself onto Isaac's old bed, bouncing with the mattress springs. Then he mumbled bitterly under his breath. "...bastard would probably still be gorgeous."
Asher laughed at first, but the act quickly made his stomach ache. Josiah Beckett was suffering, even the blind could see that. Maybe this was how he coped. Setting fire to trees because he wanted to see destruction in places other than his own heart.
"Have you ever considered that he's...I don't know..." he dragged on, wise with his lack of word choice.
"Imperfect? Flawed? Surrounded by endless walls of facade in an attempt to never let anyone in? I know, Alexander, there was a point in my life in which he was my whole world."
Asher watched as his friend's already faint smile softened and eyes glistened, lost in a daze in which he still spent nights with Josiah. A fantasy where he took him to Italy instead, because when he saw the pictures from his trip, it broke his heart to see that Josiah had on display one of Dahlia and Isaac together, like they were the two most important people in his life, and it ruined him to see he wasn't one of them. Asher placed a hand on Charlie's back.
"Sometimes I just wish he'd let me in, you know? I wish he'd told me that he felt like a living dollâa toy of his father and everyone around him so that at the very least he didn't have to fake that damn plastic smile around me all the time." Charlie clenched his fists and grit his teeth. "I wish he told me that he fucking misses Isaac, so I wouldn't have to watch him fail miserably at hiding it and fall apart because of it. And I just wish he told me that he's practically in love with him, so it didn't hurt so much when I found out for myself!"
Asher panicked and pulled his emotionally vulnerable friend into an embrace, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. Isaac never broke down in front of him. He wasn't trained for this. All he could think of was to stroke his hair.
"Es ist nicht deine Schuld," he whispered, hoping Charlie would be reminded of his home and the person he was. Maybe he would find comfort in this instead.
Charlie lifted his face, stunned. Wide hazel eyes met his green. "You speak German?"
"I took one class," he admit sheepishly.
"I can tell..." he teased. "Your accent is horrendous." He felt Charlie move closer to to press lips against his ear. They were soft and the touch him shudder. "...danke schön, Asher."
He flushed at how raspy the boy's voice was when he spoke in his native tongue. Then he flushed even more when he realized he was still holding Charlie, a boy who made warmth tangible in his arms.
And he didn't mind it.
â§ï½¥ï¾: *â§ï½¥ï¾:* ⦠*:ï½¥ï¾â§*:ï½¥ï¾â§
A few days after Charlie's emotional rant, Asher laid in bed tugging at his blankets, struggling to fall asleep for the third night this week, and it was only Thursday. He stared out the window once again, remembering every time Isaac snuck in and he feigned being asleep, despite being furious with him.
At the moment he must've been incredibly sleep deprived, because he hallucinated the window opening and a shadow slipping its way in. His constant state of fever dream must've worsened was the first thing he assumed. When he heard the shadow swear after crashing into a desk, he realized he was awake and this was real. Someone was in his room.
Asher nearly peed himself as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Although his cry for help was incomplete because the shadow slapped a hand over his mouth, and told him "shhhh. It's just me."
He gaped at the voice despite his mouth being covered. He resisted the urge to bite and instead tore the hand off. "Isaac? Where the hell have you been?"
"William's," he said, making his way over to the armoire and rummaging through its drawers like a madman. "Where...where is it?" he mumbled.
"Where is what?" Asher asked, still in a frenetic state. "What's going on?"
"I had...money...I earned from when I used to...work..." he muttered before pulling out a tattered old sock. "Here it is!" He held the ratty garment like a trophy.
Asher didn't know what came over him, but he ran over to snatch the sock out of his hands, resulting in another curse from the blonde. "You are not getting this back until you either explain yourself or pry it out of my dead hands!"
He watched as Isaac pouted like a kid prepared to throw a tantrum. "Alright, mother."
Asher raised his eyebrows like the concerned parent he was.
"I'm not a student here anymore," he simply stated after he couldn't prolong the quiet anymore. "I dropped out."
"Huh?"
Isaac grabbed a pen and paper from his desk. "Look, it's kind of hard to explain...especially here with the amount of time I have but I can give you my address if you ever want to talk."
He scribbled words onto a torn sheet and Asher accepted the paper with no words.
"I really need that money, Ash. Please," he begged with shame. That's how Asher knew he was desperate. Isaac never did anything without confidence in his actions.
No matter how badly he wanted to convince Isaac to stay, he knew his words would be futile. Isaac Harley was and will forever remain a free spirit, never to be held down by societal chains when all he wanted to do was float. It was a terrible way of living. It was reckless and immature, and anyone with half a brain would force Isaac to stay at Eton to get a goddamn education. Isaac Harley lived a foolish, stupid life. And Ash envied him for it.
He handed the sock over.
The only thing that made him feel better about handing over the money was that for however long it lasted, Isaac had something to keep him fed and alive.
"Thanks," he said, and with that, made his way back to the window. "...Hey, uh, Ash?"
"Yeah?"
"Please visit." He opened the window. "I mean it, alright? And don't tell anyone about my whereabouts. Anyone."
Asher zipped his lips and locked it, and for the last time at Eton, they laughed together at his grand gesture. He felt an odd wave of bittersweetness overcome him as he watched the blonde throw a leg out his window, then his whole body. The only way he could tell this scene wasn't a dream was because it hurt him. And pain never lied.
He finally looked down at the paper in his hands, read the address, along with a small note that surprised him.
Thank you for being my best friend.
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I really enjoyed developing ash and charlie's relationship :P
i missed my sassy boys
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