a/n: takes place during the second season.
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"Do you ever feel like you aren't a real person anymore?" I ask, my head and the bottle of tequila clutched in my hand tilted up at the sky and the dim Los Angeles stars, and the idea that I'm just a little more fucked up than I thought I was crosses my mind.
Ashley flicks her bic idly, pipe stuffed with pot in her hand and the wind blows her hair gently into her face and I can't help but be reminded that I think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
"Like Pinochia?"
"Pinochia?"
"Pinochio with an A since you're a girl," She informs me, offering me her pipe and bright orange bic in exchange for my bottle.
I give her a half smile for her effort, hit the pipe and ignore the way the smoke makes my throat burn, not because I've never smoked anything before but just because it's really fucking harsh.
I look back up at the stars and trace the big dipper with my eyes. When I was a little kid I bought a huge ass book of all the different constellations and the months out of the year, but when I sat outside and tried to find my favorites it was always the wrong season or I was just incapable of finding them and so I'd stare at the stupid big dipper instead and now I can always always, always find it. Always. It's kind of a useless talent, but one day if I'm abducted by aliens and left on some random planet that happens to look exactly like Earth, I'll be able to tell I'm a long way from home when I can't find the big dipper.
Stupid big dipper. It'll be nice to look at the sky and not see it for once.
That's assuming I'll be abducted by aliens one day.
"No, not like Pinochio. I mean, I know I'm like, human and everything, it's not like how Pinochio's a wooden doll and he wants to be a real boy and everything." I pause, wondering just how much I'm slurring all my words and I'm gonna say it's probably a lot because the stars over my head are all warping and dancing across the sky. "It's just like, my whole family's forgotten I'm here. And they keep talking about me and what they're going to do about my 'problem' and they've got this fucking therapist trying to make me straight again and I keep saying, you can't fix me, I'm not broken or fucked up this is just who I am and it's like I'm talking to a brick wall."
"So you feel ignored?"
She's still downing her tequila like it's water, which I'm not sure if I mentioned before and if I didn't, she is, and it's a little bit terrifying and I can feel my liver cringe a little bit watching her.
Not really, because I don't think livers can do that because livers are not separate, functioning, parasitic beings capable of feeling pain or even seeing, so I don't think that my liver actually cringed.
It does hurt my stomach though.
"Sorta. I dunno. Not really. A little?" I ramble on because I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say and the stars are still dancing and it's fucking beautiful and I let myself fall back into the grass so I can watch the drunk show a little better and the little droplets of dew feel so good on my face. "It's like I disappeared and they're discussing what to do with a table. You know? It's like I'm not real or I'm not there anymore and it's like I'm just sitting here watching the show,"
"So you're like someone who's completely paralyzed but they're aware of everything going on around them? Like one those crazy stories they have every now and then in the paper and they're reallyyyy fucking creepy if you think about them too long," Ashley states, getting lost in her drunken ramble for a moment before she lays down beside me and lights a cigarette.
"I was looking for something a bit deeper,"
She shrugs and flicks her Zippo and for a moment it looks like her entire cigarette has caught fire and burnt to ashes, but then she flicks the lighter closed and blows smoke rings and it's a little obvious that the whole cigarette did not burn to ashes.
"The stars are dancing," I tell her, pointing and the sky and giggling like I'm three years old again and I watch my arm sway back and forth over my head for a couple of seconds before I realize that it's making me nauseous. "It's beautiful,"
She glances at the sky for a split second, probably just to entertain my idea that she might possibly believe that the stars are dancing anywhere but inside my head, and then says, holding the bottle away from me, "You're cut off,"
"Fuck you, you're a shitty bartender,"
"Why thank you, my darling,"
She's actually right. One of us has to drive home eventually, and I highly doubt it's going to be her. I don't think she'll be able to legally drive for a couple of days.
I look at her for a second, and then stare back up at the dancing stars and put my hands behind my head and completely lose myself in being drunk and stoned and life is beautiful.
"I'm afraid things won't go back to normal." I say finally, twisting my fingers around in my hair nervously.
I hear her shifting next to me, and then she's resting her head on my chest and her fingers find mine.
"They won't," She says, playing with my fingers.
"So my mom's never gonna love me again," I mumble defeatedly.
"Did I say that?" Ashley asks, propping herself up on her elbow, and she looks at me and I look back at her, and then she kisses my cheek softly.
"Pretty much,"
I feel her fingers trace along my jawline, over my neck and then her lips on mine, and I'm reminded yet again how much I love kissing her.
"No, I didn't. Normal doesn't exist," She kisses me again, kisses my cheek and down my neck and then lays her head back down on my chest. "Your mom isn't my mom, you know? She'll love you no matter what, she just needs her time,"
"How do you know?"
"Because. I do," And somehow, I believe her.
I sigh and kiss her forehead and run my fingers absently across the bare skin on her back and the gentle breeze feels so fucking nice.
"What if you leave?"
She's silent for a moment, and I think I caught her there. She's Ashley Davies, she's never been one for commitment or love or anything else like that, at least from what I've heard.
Then again, I was never one for liking girls. I was a cheerleader and blah blah blah.
"I promise I'll love you forever, Spence," She finally says, kissing me again, but it's much softer this time, and she's got this weird way with words and making me believe everything she says, so I believe her now too and I just smile at her and kiss her back and I feel so much better now.
"I'm a table,"
"You're my favorite table ever, then,"