Misc. Books 1. Chapter 1

In the summer of 2014, on a hot summers day in the middle of school I got a phone call. The person on the other end of the phones name was Ashton, and he was one of my parents' really good friends. He told me that my parents and only sister had been in a freak accident and had died immediately after impact.

My life changed, and on that day I remember that I cried and cried until there was no more tears left to shed. I remember going home to that empty house that I shared with my mom, dad and my sister Shirley. That same night of the accident I had slept in my parents bed, surrounded by big pillows and a big fluffy duvet. I had nightmares of mutilated faces, of guts pouring out of there stomach and of so, so much blood.

The morning after was probably the worst, though. I woke up with a false sense of security and walked out of my parents room and down the hallway to see if they were there like they usually would be. I remember making some joke as I walked down the hall. It was a pretty stupid joke, and from any person watching from the outside would have found it morbid.

I had said, "The bacon smells burnt Mom!"

But when I had walked down that hallway to the kitchen that my family usually occupied in the morning when I had woken up late I saw nobody to great me. Shirley wasn't giving me some snide remark about how my hair looked like a complete and utter mess, or how I still hadn't put a shirt on yet, and mom and dad weren't there – one cooking breakfast while the other one sat at the table with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. It was normal, and that's how it should have stayed.

Reality had hit me hard that morning, and instead of trying to do anything to help the grieving process I sat in the middle of the floor. I don't know how long I had really sat there when I found out everything had been taken away from me, but it must have been a pretty long time because the sun, when I had finally come to my senses, was set high above the house and the floor beneath me was too warm.

I remember a shrill ring of the phone, I wanted it so bad to be mom or dad that I had jumped up and answered the phone without a hello, and only a really hopeful yet broken "Mom, dad?!"

There was a long, long silence before I even got an answer.

I remember hearing the voice that had called me at school, were I had been studying for my finals in college. It was low and deep and throaty, "John," just the sound of my name being called made tears pop into my eyes, and I could see them, start to spill over, my vision blurry. "John I – I – oh god I am so sorry that I had to call you like that at school yesterday. I – well, there are some people that need to speak with you… and they are coming over soon to discuss some things okay?"

I nodded, but felt stupid and sad when I remembered that this person, this person who I was desperately trying not to hate, couldn't see me. I didn't respond back to him, only sobbed before hanging up the phone.

The rest of the time was sort of like a blur, I can't really remember but some people had come to the house and had discussed funeral plans with me. And all I remember thinking at the time was 'how dare you? How dare you come into my house and discuss these stupid things with me when they only just passed away yesterday?' It was something like sad rage. I vaguely remember that when they left, I knew that I had decided on cremation.

That night, I had broken into the alcohol cabinet, and drank myself to sleep. Dreams plagued with gore and monsters.

A/N: Whats up? Comment maybe? yeah i started a new story, i think i am going to try it out and all that so yeah :3


	2. Chapter 2

A/N so disclaimer: i don't own anything mentioned here, such as the amazing TV series Pitbulls and Parolees

It had been months since that day.

When I had actually met this man, Ashton, who I tried to convince not to despise too much, was when social services had come by to check on my health. See, my parents had a crap load of money saved away for everything that they did – and in their will everything went to me. I had finished highschool a month after the accident. At the time I didn't leave the house much and I tried to keep to myself when I did. See, lived in a fairly small city so not to many people bothered with you, but at the same time a certain amount of people knew me through my parents so when I didn't go out I did get recognized quiet a lot.

So anyways, when the social workers did stop by (For gods sake please don't treat me like a child in 17.) they came by with a man with sandy blonde hair and fiery rusty red/orange eyes. I didn't pay him much mind and focused on what the social workers wanted which was simple – a look around the one story house and a chance to just talk with me personally. I showed them the place, and how I had kept it the exact way that it was before and had told them that I was residing in the master bedroom – which was absolutely off limits to them.

When we were finished the tour of the house I had lead them into the livening room, which had dark chocolate coloured walls with a feather like design on one wall, and a window that looked into our small back yard opposite to the feather. The couches where all leather, a love seat and then a seven seat leather couch with recliner chairs. In the middle of the couches was a small glass table with pictures strewn about with my family – they hadn't been touched since before the accident – and across from the recliner seven seat leather couch was a flat screen TV which had a show called "Pitbulls and Parolees" playing.

The three social security workers and the blonde man with the beautiful eyes sat down on the seven seated chair and I took my spot in the loveseat, as I sat down I pulled my knees up to my chest and tried my best to force a smile. With one hand I had pushed up my 'nerd' glasses and asked with the most enthusiasm that I had tried to muster "So what do you want to know?"

I remember them asking a crap ton of questions, I believe that it took almost an hour before one of the workers, who I called twitchy because of the way her mouth moved when she talked, said "John, I don't believe that I have introduced you to Ashton yet." She said motioning to the blonde haired man with the beautiful eyes. He had been watching me, watching me throughout the entire time that I was answering questions.

I expected something like this to happen, and yet my body still tensed and I still felt my face start to pale. Something I was doing must have alerted them because one of the workers got up and started to rub my back – and I know that they were trying to sooth me but it just wasn't helping. I stood up, and I could feel the world start to twist and turn, I just wanted to get away – anywhere away front his man who I had no fond memories of.

"Um… excuse me, but I think I have to go lay down for a little bit. Thank you for your time." I had said, I remember it so clearly – the pain and the suffering I had been getting through and then feeling it all again when I knew for certain that this person was somebody who I knew had nothing but bad news to tell me. I looked back once before heading down the hallway only to see him looking back with sad eyes.

I remember hyperventilating in my parents' room, and when I finally calmed down I could hear the whispers from them down the hallway.

"I don't think that I would be the best choice in the matter." A deep silky voice that brought back bad memories.

"it says in Mary and Brent's will that they wanted you to look after him if his god parents weren't able to. Ashton his step parent's committed suicide, and know you are the only one left for him. Your things will be packed and be here by tomorrow morning."

"But-!"

I heard the door slam.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N once again i don't own the things such as Pitbulls and parolees or Bring me the horizon - and lol whats up with John today? also the font is smaller in the last paragraph but i don't know why so whatever XD

It's been a month since Ashton came to stay with me, we don't talk much but I know that every time he looks at me he thinks I blame him. I guess I have almost come to terms with myself – he isn't a bad man, he was only put into a bad situation that a lot of people shouldn't have to go through. Especially like something I went through, I feel bad that he had to be the one to tell me, and I know that I shouldn't have acted to irrationally and childishly. I probably will not ever tell Ashton this though, and I have a feeling that he knows that I will never tell him anything more that he has to know.

It was strange, being out of my parents bedroom in some skinny jeans and a Bring Me The Horizon band t-shirt, almost like everything was back to normal. I sat on the couch, the long seven-seated recliner couch. My feet stretched out on the far left recliner watching my favourite show Pitbulls and Parolees. I wasn't exactly watching it, but more like feeling bad for the dogs and what they had to go through – I guess im just a sucker for a sad story. My mom used to say that all the time. I smile fondly at the memory, and reminisce a little more, only breaking out of the daydream when I feel the dip on the other side of the couch.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Ashton starts slowly, like he is talking to a wounded animal. He doesn't move and I know that he is probably feeling really uncomfortable and I know that he is because I am too, and I haven't moved an inch since he sat down on the other end of the couch at all.

"Um," I said and try to find the right words to express something I didn't know how too, like I was speaking a different language – human interaction was always a hard thing for me to do. _Step one, make small talk _I think to myself as I open my mouth again and slightly glance his way – he is already looking at me, "Yeah I, um, haven't been feeling too good lately." I cough slightly to emphasize the point I'm trying to make, the point that I will try to take this step. That I will try and make a friend out of the person that I have been living with, yet ignoring, for a month – brushing off his attempts at talking to me.

He doesn't respond for little while, and I've started to get back into the show, its only when the commercial break comes on and I sigh because commercials always seem longer than the actual show itself that he speaks to me "I'm sorry."

I turn to him, and oh god I have forgotten those beautiful eyes, and it's actually the first time I have even looked at him properly. Ashton has a squared jaw, with a little stubble on his chin and eyes that are lit with some sort of fire that I cant identify properly. His hair is in all different directions and is the colour of the light sands on the beach. It makes me remember a memory of when I was little, when my family and me went to the beach and enjoyed the sun but not the seaweed. He had small dark bags under his eyes, I would assume that he had had a big loss of sleep because of the fact that he had been making his home on the loveseat couch all the time.

I don't know how long I had been starring at him, but his cheeks tinted the lightest shade of pink and then he turned with a small 'humph'. I smiled, like a real smile and then said cautiously, "I don't… hate you." I said quietly. I watched as Ashton whipped his head back around and narrowed his eyes in curiosity so I continued, my confidence quickly fading, "I, um, I know it wasn't your fault for the… accident that happened with my parents and I, um, just wanted you to know that you don't, um, need to feel like you owe me anything…"

I tried to smile when I heard Ashton give a almost relieved sigh, and watched as he ran his hands down his face with a smile that brightened his eyes up even more. It made my smile become a little bigger and I gave a little giggle of my own – "oh god," he said with the smile in his voice, I don't think he really meant to but he reached over and wrapped a pretty muscular arm around my shoulder and pulled my in close for a hug, laughing a deep throaty laugh as he did so, "God kid, I actually thought that you hated me so much! When you didn't come out of your room I was so worried I thought you blamed me and everything." By the time he had come to the ending his voice had quieted down to just a whisper and he held me close. It was sort of… comforting. I hadn't been held in a long time. It almost felt like it made my heart swell.

"Hey, don't cry," Ashton, said after a while, and he gripped me even tighter. I didn't understand until I wrapped an arm around his shoulder to get to my face, and my cheeks were wet with tears. I let out a small sob, and fully wrapped my arms around him. He was so warm – it reminded me of my family it made me feel so much more full, not as empty as I felt months ago. I smiled lightly and put my head o his shoulder. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep in his arms – not bothering to think of anything except for this welcoming warm


End file.

Misc.  Drama, Hurt-Comfort