Beautiful Disaster - Chapter 7
Rated: T
Solace
Chapter Summary: As Johnny sleeps in her arms, Ash reluctantly contemplates what life would have been like had Johnny not survived the violent encounter…
I can't thank you guys enough for your support! Only one more chapter to go after this! ;-3
Ash, upon noticing Johnny falling asleep, was sorely tempted to wake him up by how utterly heavy his shoulders and head felt to her small legs but another part of her never wanted him to move. Knew that right here - right now - he was completely safe from anyone who would dare do him harm.
To even think anyone, and she meant anyone who knew Johnny as the sweet soulful guy he is, would willingly hurt him even existed… it was simply incomprehensible.
Ash sighed upon suddenly feeling physically sick; heart beating far too fast and stomach churning with anxiety as she stared upon his slack, sleeping face. The rag she had just been caressing his swollen cheek with now placed forgotten to her side. Icy blue eyes took him in for a long time - her subconscious trailing away to thoughts she dared not entertain. His words and statements about what took place tonight before he arrived flitting around her mind and didn't care to give her much respite.
Johnny being jumped by some old gang rivals of his father for no reason other than relation. Hardly having any time to react before they started beating him without much rhyme or reason - to know how easily Johnny could have died tonight had he not been fast enough, coordinated enough, his skateboard not with him.
So many variables could have changed his fate; the knife that could have slipped so easily between his rib cage - the sharp blade fatally piercing his lung, liver, or vital blood vessels and him bleeding out and crying out in pain as they continued to beat him to death.
Swallowing a sudden lump, Ash felt a few silent tears slip from her eyes; darkening the line of fur on her cheeks. The churn of absolutely agony settled deep in her gut at the very fathoming had he not survived tonight. She dared not even imagine it for the very inkling was far too painful but the thoughts plagued her anyway.
Imagined herself calling his phone but he wouldn't answer (and Johnny, regardless of any circumstances at time of day or night, always answered his phone). To worry herself sick about his lack of communication and presence at practice the next morning when he'd always made a habit to never be tardy for anything. Yet, the day would go on and he'd never show up to the theater. Buster would offhandedly mention it with furrowed brows later on and it would only make it all the worse for her.
Even if Johnny was even running five minutes late, he'd call Buster to let him know…
As the day came to an close, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the music or notes any longer to stave off the anxiety gnawing painfully in her gut. Checking her phone every five seconds to see if he answered her texts to see nothing but a blank screen. Heart fluttering too fast, paws shaking when he still didn't bother to show up.
Ash would have no choice but to leave early and catch a bus to his place with a pit in her stomach; during the ride she'd be calling his phone over and over again - hoping against hope that he'd answer. Yet all she would get is his pre-recorded cheery message of,
"Hi, this is Johnny! Sorry I missed your call but be sure to leave your name and number and I'll call ya back soon! Have a good day!"
The voice that could comfort her in any circumstance only filling her stomach with hot coals of fear because it was a message she never had the chance to hear previously and now it was the only thing she heard. The messages she leaves on that voicemail getting more and more frantic as time went by.
Starting with a more airy,
"Hey, J! Call me back when you get this, kay?"
"Uh, Johnny, um, just kinda wondering where you are. It's been a few hours and wanna make sure you're alive," she'd say with an uneasy chuckle, "Anyway, call me back soon." and finally, skip to a few hours later when her voice easily carried every iota of anxiety she felt.
"Johnathan! Where in the actual fuck are you, dammit?! You better call me back the second you get this, ya hear!? If you don't, I swear to GOD, I'll kick your ass!"
…and still, he wouldn't answer, text, or even call her back.
Upon arriving at the garage she'd spent so much time before today, she'd run to the front garage door and pound her tiny fists hard on the metal surface. Waiting on bated breath for him to answer, but still no response. No sounds of his accented voice saying a joyful, if muffled, "Coming!" or "Come in!"…just utter silence greeting her on the other end. No signature footsteps and voice beyond the door; waiting in vain for him to open it and have come explanation for his absence.
Yet none would come.
Who knows how long she'd be there knocking, screaming out threats all in an effort for him to answer. Her anxiety getting worse as she continues to dial his number. Foot tapping and paws shaking as she again listens to his voicemail message and the horrible shake in her system when a robotic woman's voice says his voicemail is now full. Real, actual fear would finally set in at that moment yet she'd swallow it down, grasping onto a reasonable explanation even if there wasn't any left to cling onto…
Ash would probably end up standing there for hours, completely unaware of the police officers and crime scene tape that would be nearby accessing his murder scene just a block away. A coroner's vehicle hauling his body to the morgue without her ever knowing he was gone…
As night comes, she'd have no choice but to leave the garage.
Tempted to go to the prison where his father was incarcerated and hoping against hope that's where he was all this time but the hour was too late for visitors made up its mind for her. Ash wouldn't want to, but she'd be forced to go home; pace around, and just wait for him to call her back. All night as she attempted and failed to find respite in dreams, she'd be wondering where he was - trembling with apprehension and fear as she continues to call his phone in desperation.
Hoping, praying to hear his voice and an explanation of where he'd been - and she even swore she wouldn't yell at him or even be mad…As long as he answered, she'd be relieved…but he wouldn't even as the next day came.
No sleep, no rest, only anxiety fueling her to go to Moon Theater the next morning. Hoping against hope he'd be there. Perhaps his phone was busted and he was just busy…every iota of her heart and soul hoping that's all it was.
Yet, inevitably, she'd find out the horrible truth who knows how long later.
Whether it be some police officer visiting Buster's office to ask about Johnny's history and to tell him the news. Imagining Buster calling them up to his office for a meeting to deliver the horrible news of her best friend's passing. Tears lining Buster's blue eyes when he tells them all that Johnny is deceased…Or something as brutal as seeing a short snippet on the evening news right after the weather report. A few short sentence statement of him being stabbed to death - murdered - in some dank alley. Nothing more, nothing less. Johnny, being the victim of some random gang violence; killed without anyone held responsible…
How easily her life (as well as all those who knew him) would have changed forever…
Ash couldn't help but recall the last meaningless conversation they had earlier in the day. Something stupid and random that didn't have any bearings - a quick mutter of 'see you later' or something about a set they played later in the week. A few exchanged texts that held no value or sentiment she felt toward him or vice versa…nothing meaningful…
To think it could have been the last real conversation they ever had…
Johnny could have been dead now and she wouldn't have known. Still playing her guitar in the hallway not even semi-aware that her best friend was alone - dying, bleeding to death alone in a cold, dank alleyway somewhere without anyone to help him. Lungs filled with blood not being able to speak or call for help before he died cold and alone without anyone but the killers knowing about it until his blood-soaked dead body was found by some passerby the next day.
Ash, on the other hand, would wake up to a bright sunny morning and not even realize anything is amiss until later when he never showed up to work…
It absolutely killed her inside…
Yet this was reality and that thankfully didn't happen.
Breaking out of those overpoweringly haunting thoughts, Ash's hands trembled when she touched his warm furry cheek. Fingers gingerly brushing back the soft fur that covered it; a somewhat smile rising to her face as he flinched at the contact for only a second before leaning his head into her palm. Ash's smile fell as she took in his slack face - fear and anxiety causing her mind to be flooded with visions of seeing him in a casket at his funeral. The cakey make-up not hiding the bruising and beating he'd received in his final moments.
Cold.
Stiff.
Dead.
The very thought broke her heart into fragmented, sharp pieces scattered inside her chest cavity.
A beautiful, promising life cut horrifically short by a jailed father's rivalry - killed only as retribution and payback by some punks who'd never know or even care what a wonderful person they murdered in cold blood. Someone who'd give the shirt off his back, last dollar in his wallet without question, and a constant source of encouragement and positivity to all those who were blessed enough to know him.
They would have killed him…for nothing…
Ash didn't want to fathom about what a life without him would have been like….
Best friend, confidant; the sweet guy she could tell anything to and he'd never judge her. Always a constant source of inspiration and an ever-present encouragement that she'd never knew she needed until after she had it. The smile he always wore whenever she'd see him whether it be in the theater for practice or when she'd go over to his place to bum around and eat his food; casually leaning against his side and absorbing his warmth while watching a movie. So many times they fell asleep just like that…
Them, being on the fragile cusp of this strange relationship - teetering on the edge of something far greater but neither were really sure what yet.
Ash's feelings for him were largely ignored over this time; how his beautiful brown eyes had her stomach churning painfully, heart hammering whenever he'd grasp her hand or envelop her in one of his signature spine-bending hugs. How whenever she found himself in his arms that she found herself feeling safer than she'd ever felt before…and that she never wanted to leave. Yet, even if it didn't go anywhere, having him in her life as her best friend was enough even if there would always be that nagging feeling in the back of her mind…
If Johnny had died tonight - there would be a million and one things she would have regretted for the rest of her life.
Regret not thanking him more, spending more time with him outside of the theater, being as encouraging to him as he was to her. Miss seeing his smile every morning and getting those late night texts nearly every evening before they fell asleep. The smell of his cologne and leather jacket sticking in her nostrils when she fell asleep with her head on his bicep. British-accented voice so soothing whenever he spoke or sang. She'd miss every little thing about him and regret more than anything for not telling him that for so long now that she -
Ash swallowed back a lump, mind echoing with things she wanted to say and do - the desperate desire to not leave this theater until every single one of them is taken care of. Her hand lifted; ready to push at his shoulder to wake him up but she stopped herself.
Almost as if removed from a trance, Ash shook her head. Refusing to wake him up from his restful slumber for some half-assed attempt at saying shit she really wasn't prepared to say or even comprehend at this point in time. Telling herself to simply be thankful that he was here and in one piece if a big banged up - warm, breathing, alive…
…and she was damned determined to keep him that way.
So, for right now, Ash just relaxed back into the couch; her taut quills poking at the upholstery for a second before stilling and allowing her to rest against it. A few deep breaths leaving her mouth as she watched Johnny slumber and couldn't help but smile when she knew for sure that he was going to indeed wake up…
