Synopsis: Ashley has been waiting for this day in what feels like forever. Her wedding. With Chris. All she has to do is walk through those doors, letting her feet lead her down the aisle. And she'll be there. In front of him. But is it that easy? A story in which Ashley deals with the aftermath of all that she's done and the events of the mountain - all with the help of Chris. A companion story to 'After'.
Genre: Romance, Angst, Friendship
Ending: All but Emily survive + Josh
Rating: T/M - warnings: mental illness
A/N: heidipoo: I'm sure you'll see plenty more Josh and Ash interactions. Given then they are two extremely important people in Chris' life, I was always surprised how they hardly interacted in the game (aside from when Chris had to choose who to kill... or Josh was attacking her... not a great place to start, haha!)
EliMustang: Thank you once again for your review! I'm hoping you like this chapter just as much!
Mogitz: ahahaha, you know I love you! Lmao, just rereading your review and spotted the sass comment again. Lololol, Ash can be seriously sassy with Chris - "I hope you're going to take a vow of silence". "You were looking at your phone, you dip!". I love her sass.
Chapter 10
It is not proud
My laughter drains, leaving me with an all too familiar strain on my cheeks, tugging at my skin. It feels like I haven't used these muscles in so long. I probably haven't.
The air without Josh has fizzled, pungent with loneliness. Emptiness. It's almost like waking up from a dream, sharply being punched in the gut with the aggression of reality.
My shoulders feels stiff as I roll then, hearing my joints cracking. I wince, instantly chuckling. Ashley would have hit me for that. She hates it when I crack my joints. It makes her squeal and cringe. And screw her face up, her nose wrinkling. So cute.
No. Wait.
I forgot.
The smile dips from my lips, dragging my face down. I let out a sigh, those hopeful thoughts escaping my body like I'm a deflating balloon. It's easy to forget. To pretend that everything is normal, that nothing is wrong. For a second, it's blissful. It's hopeful. A pocket of air where I can actually breathe.
Then everything comes crashing down. My throat closes up, the fists of reality compressed around my windpipe. Because it's even easier to remember.
I sigh, massaging the creased skin on my forehead with tired, aimless fingers. Get it together, Chris, I hiss at myself. I can't keep moping about, acting like a wounded deer. Josh would probably call me Emo. "You're a coward, Christopher."
Yeah, you're right, Josh. I am a coward. I'm even too scared to let that part of me go. I pretend to be strong; I pretend to be the rock that Ashley can cling on to. But, inside, I'm a puddle. I'm quivering. I'm the sloppy, shifting sands, the blowing seaweeds that needs the rock just as much as anyone else.
"You're a coward, Christopher."
Damn right.
I grit my teeth, my intestines knotting. Frustration – at myself – grips my hands into biting fists. I curse myself.
Man up, Chris.
With a sharp groan, I snap up from my seat, irritation punching over the now empty coffee cup. It topples over with a soft thump that only polystyrene can make, and rolls leisurely off the canteen table.
Seriously. I laugh shortly at myself, my frustration seeping out of my pores, like someone has pricked me with a needle, deflating me, and I sigh coolly, drained. It's so typical me to be mad at something and then instantly diminish. Like I can never hold on to anything. I'll probably start apologising to the cup soon – why not throw the floor in for extra measure?
With a low chuckle, I bend down and pick up the cup, the polystyrene cracking in my grip. Throwing it into the nearest bin, I roll my shoulders and let out a breath.
I better go and rein Josh down before he does any more damage.
It feels like an age since that day when Josh was released from prison. Sam had asked me to come along with her to meet him outside of the gates. At first, I'd been apprehensive – Ashley was still wary of him and I wasn't even sure if Josh wanted to see me. But something had tugged me. Something had persuaded me to go.
Maybe it was our history. Maybe it was the memories of Josh as my best friend – all the years of growing up together, of sneaking midnight snacks and endlessly playing Crash Bandicoot on the PS1. Maybe it was the need for a new start, to begin again. To forgive again.
Whatever it was, it worked.
"Hey, bro," I'd offered a cautious, slightly tilted smile, keeping my hands firmly stuffed in my jean pockets. Josh had lumbered out of the prison doors, a free man, glancing around in awe like he'd never seen the sky before. He was breathing deeply, in case his chance to smell fresh air would be snatched away from him any second.
The second Josh's eyes had met mine, there was a recognition in them. A flicker of realisation. And his face had cracked in a grin; "Cochise."
That word – that single word – had burst inside my chest, filling me up with warmth. So many memories were tied to those seven, simple letters. And, as soon as I'd heard them, I couldn't help but grin too. It was effortless.
Yet, before I had a chance to even respond, Sam had boldly bounded for him and captured him in a hug. In one swift move, she managed to knock all that fresh air right out of him.
I think I saw him blushing.
I jerk out of my memories. A sharp, buzzing in my pocket stabs against my thigh.
Exhaling, I stick my fist in my pocket and pull out my cellphone. One text.
Sam: Have you seen Josh?
Didn't take her long. I'm surprised she didn't text me even earlier.
My phone instantly buzzes in my hand, like she's had an after thought.
Sam: How's Ash?
I don't answer. As much as I know Sam means well – I think it's impossible for her not to – Josh needs to approach her on his own. Sure, throwing a guy into a situation where he has to choose to shoot himself or the girl he likes speeds things up a bit. But Josh needs time. And space.
And so do I.
I plop my cellphone back in my pocket, feeling the familiar weight against my thigh. Breathing in the new energy Josh left lingering around with the dust particles, I amble out of the hospital canteen, tracing my feet back towards Ashley's room.
"Excuse me?"
I reach out to grab the attention of the passing nurse – the one from earlier. The one Josh duped into thinking he was me. I have to stiffly bite my lips to stop them quirking up in a smirk at the stupid memory.
Startled, the nurse stumbles to a halt, blinking up at me with innocent, enthusiastic eyes. I cringe. I feel bad that I let Josh tease her like that. I hope she didn't get in trouble for it. I'd feel even worse.
"Yes?" She asked, her lips poised to answer any question. Then a flash of recognition flickers in her eyes. "Oh! You were wanting to go to the psychology ward! This isn't the right way. Let me show you-"
"Ah, no," I sheepishly smile, apologising for interrupting her. She folds her lips quickly, making up for her mistake. "Actually, I wanted to ask; where did Jo-" I cut myself short before I make the mistake. "My friend go?"
"Oh," her face brightens – this one is a question she can answer. "His fiancé's room. Just down the corridor."
My face drops. A huge rock plunges in my stomach. Plop. Wallop. Thud. I should have known.
"Thanks," I mutter, not even managing to scramble a smile back on my face as I brush past her down the corridor.
"I haven't even told you what room number it is!" the nurse cries behind me, panicking that she hasn't fulfilled her job.
I shift my shoulders uncomfortably, acutely feeling the clammy skin of my palms. "Don't worry," I grumble. "I know."
In panic and indignation, I pace down the corridor, my heart thumping in my chest. The soles of my shoes scuff against the cold floor, squeaking. I squeeze and un-squeeze my fists, I try not to visualise the worst thing that could happen.
If he has hurt her. If he's done anything to her-
My heart thumps. My feet skid to a stop.
Wait. Chris. You trust him. You're supposed to trust him.
My back slouches. Thank goodness there's no one hear to witness it. I breathe out slowly, the tension rolling from my shoulder blades.
You do trust him.
The realisation hits me like a slap in the face. Like a punch in the gut. Josh would probably be the one to do it.
It's Ashley you're worried about.
I know it's the truth. It's stupid to deny it. Ashley; ever since the prank, she's been terrified of Josh, or what he means. I can't really blame her. She wasn't Josh's best friend. She wasn't obliged to forgive him, to stand by him no matter what. In some sick, bizarre way, Josh and I had taken our own kind of wedding vows when we'd become best friends. 'Til death do us part.
My heart rattles inside the prison bars of my ribs.
It's Ashley I'm worried about. What she could do. How she could react. What she's capable of.
I can't really trust Josh to be sensitive.
I swallow hard, catching sight of the outline of Ashley's room door not far away. Just up the corridor. A few paces away.
With a calm enough breath – so I don't go barging in there, burning with flames of anger – I piece my way down the corridor, focusing on my steps.
A bubbling laughter trickles through the doorway. I freeze. Ashley?
It's followed by an equally unusual, rumble of coarse laughter. I press myself against the door, listening, eyes widening. Padded, uneven footsteps, giggles and chuckles. Everything I had not expected to find when I came to this door.
And I can't help but feel it's not a good thing.
With a steady hand on the handle, I click it, the door creaking as I push it open.
Josh is stood in the centre of the room, legs wide, a goofy grin on his face as he performs for Ashley. He coughs, his hair a mess – and I suddenly realise it sort of resembles my hairstyle. I subconsciously lift my hand as if to inspect it, to cover it – and he holds his cellphone in his hand.
"You used to call me on my cellphone," Josh drawls out the familiar tune, pitchy.
"You're right!" Ashley practically squeals, huddled up – in anticipation and excitement – at the head of her bed. "He's always looking at his phone!"
Instinctively, I pull the door back a bit – just in case they see me. Just to shield me.
They're talking about me. Joking about me.
Jealously niggles at my bones. I should be happy to see such a smile of Ashley's face – on both their faces. But something stabs in my chest. Ashley's never been able to have that much fun with me. We were either caught up with nightmares or with court cases or with weddings. There was never time. There was never air.
And yet. Last night, the first time we've just been able to let loose – and that's the time she breaks down.
How is it that Josh can so easily – effortlessly – make her feel carefree again without causing that. I'm her fiancé. I should be able to do anything for her.
My energy wilts, frustration at myself lingering – but without any stamina left to sustain it – and I slowly push the door all the way and step into the room.
"Chris!" Ashley lights up, instantly turning her eyes to me. I force myself to smile back, though the relief of seeing her isn't faked.
"Hey, bro," Josh stutters like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. But he accompanies it with a blinding, sheepish smile. His eyes are alive – more than they have been in ages. He's in his element. If he didn't have a criminal record, he'd be great working with kids. He grins in Ashley's direction. "You're gonna be discharged."
I eye Josh carefully. Warningly.
"Really?" Ashley sparks, her eyes sizzling in excitement. They snap to me, hopefully. I feel my stomach drop to my toes. "We can go home?"
My jaw is stiff. "No, Ash," I say carefully. "You're not ready."
Ashley's face creases in confusion. Indignation. "I feel fine," she states plainly.
My breath shudders. She doesn't know what I know. She doesn't realise. I step forward, piecing my way over to her bed side. She's stubborn, but not enough to not allow me to take her hand. "We just-" I try and explain, finding her eyes with my own. "We've got to stay here a little bit longer. Until they find out how they can fix you-"
"I don't need fixing," Ashley sets her lips, her eyes strong. Yet her hand in mine is still as soft as it has ever been.
"She doesn't need fixing," Josh agrees. I send him a sharp gaze. Okay, maybe it wasn't the right wording. Maybe I'm too cautious with her, like she's a child. Like she's something breakable.
But I'm scared. I don't want to hurt her more than she already has been hurt.
I don't know how to do this. I've never known how to do this. Ashley isn't Josh. Ashley isn't the same.
And yet; maybe they're more similar than either of them would like to admit.
Ashley squeezes my hand with hers. I carefully look back at her, finding her gaze. Finding the settling, familiar place where we just have to look at each other to know. She's a lot stronger than I think – than I allow myself to think. I know she can tell how I'm feeling, even if she doesn't understand the full scale of it. Suddenly, I know what she's trying to say. You're not alone, her eyes whisper. You know that. And I realise she's right. I've never been alone.
I've got her. And, I chuckle, I've got Josh too. I glance at him, the tiniest smile tugging at my lips. He raises his eyebrows then proceeds to wiggle them. I stop myself from snorting and settle with shooting him a virtual shove in the shoulder.
Besides Ashley is strong. Even if it doesn't seem like it now, she's always been strong. I don't have to look after her on my own. She can help me. We can do it together. We can fight whatever this is together.
"Chris," Ashley says, her voice steady. I look at her. At every inch of skin, of each freckle, of each eyelash that still belongs to the Ashley I loved – to the Ashley I was going to marry. To the Ashley I am going to marry – and I breathe. "Take me home?" She asks. No, she says. And her words linger in the space between us. A place that never moves in time – always steady, always there.
I part my lips, breathing out. Feeling myself nod. "Okay."