So, okay. I'm new to the whole publishing my stories thing. I don't want to ramble, but long story short, this was gonna be a one shot set to "No More Pills," by Benjy Davis Project. It's a kick ass song, so listen to it if you haven't. Anyway, I kinda just whipped this out and decided that a one shot wasn't what it was going to turn out as. I guess it'll be a few chapters. I don't know where it's going, to be honest.
I don't own Spencer or Ashley, or anything else to do with South of Nowhere.
Enjoy. (:
I've still got perfume on my skin.
It's been twenty minutes since you went.
I know I should fall asleep.
I know I won't fall asleep.
I had loved Ashley Davies since the moment I saw her in the tenth grade. She'd just had something. Something I needed. Something I wanted. Something I craved until the first time I let her kiss me, and something I'd craved every moment after that. I'd loved her through all of the break ups. I'd loved her through all the good times. Hell, I would love her even when she ended it with me for good. But with her...god, it wasn't ever for good.
Over for Ashley meant we were done sleeping together. We were done living together. She was done consulting me when she was dying to have a cigarette, or getting ready to drink way past the appropriate stopping limit. But over didn't mean that she was done talking to me, or telling me she loved me, or calling me beautiful, sexy, or gorgeous.
It was worse than actually being over, really. I had absolutely no closure, and I was like, dead on my feet. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all. I wanted so badly to have her just leave me alone, but I knew the second she did, I'd fall to fucking pieces and that'd be it. I'd beg to have her back, and she'd have the power over me that she subtly already did. I was letting her have the best of both worlds. She still had me while she could do whatever the hell she wanted. She knew it. I knew it. Everyone knew it.
So, I never told her to leave me alone. I stuck by her when she got a boyfriend, even. I watched her status change on Facebook to reflect said boyfriend. He looked nice enough, really. But I hated him. I hated him with a fucking passion. Aiden Dennison. Muscles. Dark hair. Everything I hadn't known she'd liked. I removed her as a friend after a while. She didn't even notice, I'm sure. That's how little I mattered.
I guess that's why I was so fucking shocked when I heard the banging on my apartment door at 3 AM. I knew it was her, without thinking. I knew she was probably drunk. I knew exactly what she'd do exactly when she walked through the door. But still, I got up and let her in.
We sat on the couch for a while. She laid her head first on my shoulder, and then on my lap. Within seconds, her perfume was all over me like a tattoo. Something that'd never wash off. I sat there and I listened to her tell me how much she loved me. How much I meant to her, and how I couldn't possibly ever understand how much I meant to her. I listened and listened and fucking listened. I was letting myself feel shittier by the minute, but I was an addict. I was an Ashley addict, and I was utterly fucked.
She talked for at least an hour. An hour I'll never want to forget, but an hour I'll never get back. I didn't know what was worse; her saying all of this to me, or me knowing that she wouldn't remember it all in the morning. But I loved her. And i couldn't just walk away. Before I knew it, the same words were spilling past my lips, too. And I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. But she did. "I...can't. I can't do this." She was up fast. Gone faster.
And I was left sitting there, crying like a fucking idiot. Crying cause I knew it'd happen. Crying because I couldn't do anything else. Crying cause I knew the only thing that'd make me feel any better at this point was unattainable. I wouldn't sleep. Not for a really long time. She was killing me. I knew it. She knew it. Everyone knew it.