For the writing-prompts I'm doing on tumblr. An anon asked for "Please, come with me." for AshXLance.
Alone
Having known Lance for such a long time, Ash is able to read between the lines.
So she knows what it means when he replies that he's at the park.
It means that he's alone.
All alone.
Otherwise he would have written we're.
But he didn't.
He wrote I'm.
Okay, he wrote, Thanks, Ash. I'm at the park, celebrating my birthday.
That was the reason she sent him a text in the first place.
It's his birthday today, and because they're friends, or at least, they're talking again, she sent him a text to wish him a happy birthday.
And then she read his reply, and it sent a pang to her heart.
Because she realized that it's his first birthday in years he is alone.
They've been dating for three years, and after they broke up, there was Becky.
But now it's only him.
Because Lance has never had many friends.
He always said it didn't bother him.
Because he sees himself as a loner, an artist.
Ash believed it at first, but now she thinks that he just isn't good at making friends.
And he had her to spend three birthdays with, and then Becky for one birthday, and now he probably he doesn't know what to do.
Ash bites down on her lip.
She shouldn't care, really. Lance has been a jerk and just because he apologized to her after his break-up with Becky and explained why he had acted the way he did doesn't mean she now has to spend his birthday with him.
Okay, she understands what happened a bit better now, but still.
They've just started talking again. She wouldn't consider them as friends. Yet.
But there's this thought nagging in the back of her head that no one should spend their birthday all alone.
So with a determined nod, Ash puts her phone into her pocket and leaves.
Yes, she expected him to not take it well that he's all alone on his birthday.
She didn't expect him to be drunk.
Because as much as Lance thinks of himself as a loner and an artist and a rebel, he never dared to drink alcohol underage. She doesn't even know where he got it from, but the way he's holding that brown paper bag, gives her a good idea of what is going on.
As does the way he stares into space, sitting there on a bench.
"Hello, Lance!" she greets him.
"Ash!" Lance calls out as he sets eyes on her.
If she ever had any doubt, the way he manages to slur by just saying her name, clears it out.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, slurring a bit more.
Ash shrugs. "I don't think anyone should celebrate their birthday alone."
Lance laughs, and Ash doesn't like how bitter it sounds in her ears.
"Like you cared."
"Well, I do," she says.
It's the moment she realizes she really does - as surprising as that is.
"No, you don't," Lance replies. "No one cares about me. Because I'm a jerk."
"That, you are," Ash says, because, well, it's the truth. "But it doesn't mean no one cares about you. Because I do."
Lance laughs his bitter laugh again.
"Come on, Lance," Ash goes on as she walks up closer to the bench. "Let's get you out of here."
"Where to?" he asks. "My apartment? My lonely, empty apartment?"
"Well, you could crash on my couch if you want to," Ash suggests. "We could watch a movie or listen to music or just talk. Come on, Lance, I hate seeing you like this."
"Why?" Lance asks and he isn't slurring as much as before. It does again when he speaks up a little louder again. "I'm such a jerk!"
"That, you are," Ash agrees. "Doesn't mean I don't care about you."
There's something in Lance' eyes Ash can't quite read.
"Please, Lance," she goes on. "Please, come with me."
This something in Lance's eyes she can't read intensifies and then Lance nods.
He jumps from the bench, but he's so wobbly on his legs that Ash reaches out to steady him.
Lance laughs a little at that, and Ash is somehow relieved that it doesn't sound bitter. She doesn't like the smell of beer on his breath, though.
They walk for a few moments in silence before Lance speaks up.
His voice is low, and it seems to Ash that he's trying really hard to get the words right.
"I didn't expect you to show up today, Ash."
Ash shrugs. "To be honest, me neither."
"Thank you, Ash," Lance says, and she feels his hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. "Thank you very much."
Her voice is just as low and she isn't even sure if he can hear her as she replies, "You're welcome."