Misfits

twenty-two

The sun was shining bright as my will to live slowly but surely crumbled to pieces with every step I took towards Asher's house.

It wasn't hard to find, and he had sent me his address earlier so I could use Google Maps. I was surprised to see that it was even smaller than Michael's house, with a dull garden and a few dry bushes that were probably supposed to make up for the lack of decoration. The flaking off plaster gave it a neglected look, and my steps turned hesitant once they led me towards the garage.

The garage gate was open, and I was met with the sight of Asher in a tank top. He was in the middle of lifting an apparently very heavy cardboard box off a shelf, and I quickly walked over to him to help carry it.

"You're late," he stated once the box was placed safely on the ground.

"That's because I didn't want to come," I replied, eyeing the thin layer of sweat on his shoulders and neck. Jesus, I was not prepared for physical work.

Asher cracked a grin. "Ready to show off your muscles?"

"I can't even open a jar of mayonnaise on my own, so you might want to reconsider that question."

The boy rolled his eyes and nodded towards the shelf in front of us. "We just have to get everything off of it so we can throw the shelf out. We should be done in an hour, if we work quickly."

I mentally groaned at the work that laid ahead of us. "Where do we put the stuff? We can't just let it sit around in the middle of the garage, do we?"

"Sure we do," Asher shrugged. "My mom's parking the car outside once she gets home from work. Let's get to business, shall we?"

With a weak shrug as a response to show that I had given in, I tossed my phone on one of the boxes next to me and joined Asher in front of the shelf. I wouldn't get out of this situation anytime soon anyway, so better get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Jesus Christ," I groaned as I lifted the nearest box off the shelf. "What do you store in here, stones?"

Asher eyed the box before taking it from me and setting it down safely. "This one's for my childhood books. You better be careful with this."

I raised a brow. "You actually keep all that kids' stuff?"

"Uh, yeah. We also kept all my exercise books from elementary school, where I learned how to write and all," he replied with a shrug. "You didn't?"

My forehead turned into a frown as I took a second to think. "Nah. Mom just threw everything away when we moved in with Eliot."

Asher stopped for a brief moment, studying my face before turning back to the shelf.

"That's a pity. I like looking at the nonsense I wrote as a child."

I cracked a grin as I watched him reach for another carboard box. "Really?"

Before he could even register what was going on, I had opened the box he had just set down for me, and took out the first exercise book I spotted. Asher raised a brow as I flipped it open.

"Woah, your handwriting was messy," I commented as soon as I set eyes on the few words scribbled down on the first page.

"It still is," Asher replied with a shrug, leaning against the shelf and watching me as I flickered through the exercise book.

My grin widened. "Susie lent me her pen, I am not giving it back because it's my favorite color," I read out. "You were such a hardass as a child."

"Hey, I still am," Asher said.

I eyed him skeptically, causing him to playfully punch my shoulder. A laugh escaped my throat as I closed the exercise book and tossed it back into the box.