Patrick
I woke up the next morning with Ashley wrapped in my arms. We had fallen asleep watching TV last night, after I sang to her. She was still asleep, her head on my shoulder and her arm slung over my stomach. There was an unfamiliar weight on top of my leg, and I moved it slightly to find that it was Ashley's casted foot lying on top of me. I stopped moving, not wanting to disturb her, and leaned my head gently on top of hers.
There were no words to describe how happy I was, holding her in my arms. I almost wanted to kick myself for never realizing how I felt about her before. We both could have avoided so much heartache and so much pain, if only I had realized it years ago. But that didn't matter anymore, because the danger was gone. It was just us now, and this was perfect. I still haven't actually asked her to be my girlfriend, but I guess it was pretty much a given at this point. Pete knew, but Joe and Andy were only speculating when they saw us yesterday. I wanted to make it official today. I wanted everybody to know.
I had only been laying there for a few minutes before I felt Ashley stir against me, turning her face into my neck. She let out a long sigh and snuggled as close to me as she could get. I smiled to myself and held her close, looking down to kiss her forehead. "Morning, Ash," I whispered.
"Mmm," she hummed, barely awake. "Morning, Trick." She stretched her arm that was slung over my stomach, her hand immediately returning to my shirt. She grasped it lightly, sighing again.
"Still sleepy?" I chuckled, running my fingers through her hair.
"I'm awake," she mumbled, not at all convincing. But she sat up anyway, turning to smile at me while she leaned against my chest.
My fingers were still tangled in her hair and I slowly released them, careful not to pull her hair as I looked up at her. "I want to take you to the studio today," I whispered, gently running my hand up her side. She smiled at me, biting her lip.
"Another rehearsal?" She asked.
"Nope, just us."
Ash smiled at me wider then, her eyes sparkling. She was so beautiful first thing in the morning. It was a strange thing to realize this, because I had always known she was a pretty girl, but this was different. Years ago, I would look at this girl and recognize the same nose that Pete had, the same shape to her lips, and the same eye color. They were almost identical, but now, she looked different to me. She wasn't just Pete's little sister, she was a woman now, and a beautiful one at that. Her eyes were a stunningly light shade of brown, like Pete's, but they were somehow brighter. They had these beautiful specks of gold shining throughout them, which seemed to capture even the tiny amount of morning sunlight pouring in through the windows. Her lips were full and defined, much like Pete's, but they were more kissable than I would ever describe my best friend to be. The nose, unfortunately, would always mark her as a Wentz.
She sat up a little more, taking my hand and pulling me up into a sitting position with her. "I need to stop at Pete's for a shower and some clothes," she stated, running one hand through her messy hair.
I gently moved her so that she was straddling me, making it more comfortable for us to both sit up like this. "Just shower here," I whispered, pulling her into a hug and resting my head against her chest. She giggled and laid her head on top of mine, sighing.
"I still need clothes, Trick."
"I'll find something for you to wear."
"Okay," she whispered, turning her nose into my hair. We sat like that for a long while, not saying anything. If I could, I would have been perfectly content just holding her like this for the rest of the day. Nevertheless, I eventually had to pull away and look up at her. She smiled at me, her eyes still looking a little sleepy.
"Go shower, and I'll make us breakfast, okay?" I suggested, grinning at her and trying to hold back from kissing her. I wanted to just smother her in kisses right now, but I needed to make this official first. So, I was a complete gentleman as she nodded and got off of me to start walking towards the bathroom. She had been here enough times to know where towels and everything were, so I went to my bedroom to find her something to wear. I ended up finding an old button down shirt that was much too small for me now, along with a pair of skinny jeans that were crammed in the back of my dresser, probably too small for me as well. I stopped by the bathroom and knocked, waiting until I heard her yell that I could come in. I opened the door to a cloud of steam and set the clothes on the counter. "I brought you clothes," I told her, hazarding a glance at the shower curtain that she was standing behind. "Just an old shirt and some pants that I think you can probably fit into."
"Thanks, Trick," Ash called over the sound of the water. I nodded, as if she could see me, and awkwardly hurried out of the bathroom. I went to make breakfast then, deciding that I could probably handle scrambled eggs and toast. I did alright, not being the best cook in the world, and set out two plates. While I was pouring a glass of orange juice for each of us, Ash walked into the room, her hair already dried and brushed away from her face. I smiled up at her, admiring the way she looked in my clothes. The shirt was a little long on her, and I couldn't help but notice that it seemed a little less roomy than it should be in her chest area. The pants looked less like skinny jeans and more like regular jeans on her, but they seemed to fit well enough. Either way, she looked absolutely adorable, and undeniably beautiful.
"Mmm," she sighed, smiling as she sat down at the table. "This looks delicious."
"I tried my best," I laughed, sitting down across from her. She giggled and took a bite, smiling as I stared at her for a reaction. "Good?" I asked.
"Perfect," she stated, quickly shoveling another forkful into her mouth. I smiled at that and began eating as well, a little surprised that she wasn't lying about my cooking. She finished quickly, downing her orange juice in one long gulp. I smirked at her, remembering all the times she had eaten with the band when we were younger; She'd always had one hell of an appetite.
"There's more in the pan if you want it," I said, gesturing toward the stove. Ash looked at it, then looked back at my plate.
"Are you sure?" She asked.
I frowned a little and nodded. "Go ahead, Ash."
She smiled and got up, refilling her plate and returning to eat it. Just before she took her first bite, however, she looked up at me with a shadow of sadness on her face. "It's been a while since anyone cooked for me," she stated, not looking at me as I looked up at her. I remembered that day, not too long ago, when Pete had told us that she hadn't eaten all day when he'd picked her up. She had slaved over a stove for Josh, but never eaten a thing herself. I didn't reply, because she looked embarrassed that she had said anything, but only reached my leg out beneath the table and hooked my foot around her good ankle, pulling it a little closer to me. She smiled, just barely. I vowed right then and there that I would make breakfast for her every morning that I could.
***
Ashley
Patrick walked behind me into the studio, holding the door for me as I hobbled in on my crutches. He flicked the lights on, and I went to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the glass in the recording area. Patrick smiled at me, winking as he walked inside to start setting up his equipment. I had no idea what we were doing here, but he had told me on the way here that he wanted to sing me a song. He sang to me all the time, so I had no idea why we had to come to the studio, but I figured it out pretty quickly when I realized he was setting up a keyboard, and not a guitar.
He glanced up at me through the glass, and motioned for me to hit the record button on the soundboard, so I could hear him. He tapped his microphone a few times until I heard it, and I gave him a thumbs up. He sat down in front of the keyboard and pulled the mic down to his lips. "Can you hear me?" He asked.
I nodded, pressing the intercom button. "What are you gonna sing for me?"
He smiled at that, biting his lip as he grinned at me. Rather than answering, he simply started playing. I didn't recognize the song right away, but the moment he leaned into the microphone, I knew exactly what he was singing. "Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did, I've got what I paid for now. See you tomorrow, hey Frank, can I borrow a couple of bucks from you? To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda. You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me...." I blushed hard and smiled, leaning on the soundboard as I listened to him. He didn't look at me while he sang, shyly keeping his eyes turned down to the piano keys. "I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley, and I'm tired of all these soldiers here. No one speaks English, and everything's broken, and my Stacy's are soaking wet. To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda. You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me...." I watched the way his fingers danced over the keys, and the almost imperceptible way he gently bobbed his head to the music. His hair bounced over his forehead, some of it falling over his eyes. "Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking. A lot they can do for me. I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open, and I'm down on my knees tonight. Old Bushmill's I staggered, you'd bury the dagger, in your silhouette window light go. To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda. You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me...."
Finally, Patrick glanced up at me, just in time to see me beginning to tear up. He knew I loved this song; When I was little, I once requested him to sing it for me. The boys had just released their first album. Patrick had been only seventeen then, and I had been fourteen. I remembered that day clearly as his voice carried over the speakers to me. We had been sitting in the garage of my parents' house, all five of us, and Patrick had been perched on a stool, absently strumming a tune on an acoustic guitar, while the others took a well-deserved break. Joe and Pete were joking around together off to the side of the garage, and Andy was still sitting at his drum set, his nose buried in one of his comic books. I was sitting by Patrick, watching him move his fingers expertly over the fretboard. Finally, he stopped for a moment, lost in thought. He looked over at me, his brow furrowed. Give me a song, he had said. I had thought about it for a moment, and then a random song came to mind, that I really wanted to hear him sing. Tom Traubert's Blues, I had told him, blushing when he smiled at my suggestion.
I was broken out of my thoughts by the final verse of the song, when Patrick's voice suddenly bore a new strength to it. I looked at him through the glass, admiring the way he was bent over the keyboard, his eyes squeezed shut as he belted out the lyrics. He was so passionate, so absolutely moving in his talent, that it brought me to tears again. "And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace, and a wound that will never heal. No prima donna, the perfume is on an old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey. And goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers, and goodnight to Mathilda, too." I quickly wiped my tears, and Patrick simply stared down at his hands for a moment, letting the excitement of the music leave him as he calmed himself.
He finally looked up at me, his lips pursed thoughtfully. I didn't say anything, but I didn't even bother to grab my crutches as I stumbled to the door. Patrick jumped up quickly, catching me as I walked through the door. He caught me around the waist, holding me up as I balanced on my good leg, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I hesitated a moment, just to look into his eyes, and then our lips were crashing into each other. I tangled my fingers in his hair, desperately trying to pull him closer, and he lifted me off of my feet for a moment, holding me against him as he forced himself to pull away from the kiss. I looked up at him curiously as he set me back down, and he moved one hand from my waist to gently brush my hair away from my face. "Ash," he breathed, biting down for a moment on his bottom lip, which was a little swollen from our kiss. "I know this is happening fast, but...well, I don't know if you even feel the same way, I just...I really like...I mean, I've cared so much about you for so long -"
"Yes," I stated, cutting him off.
Patrick blinked at me, his jaw going slack for a moment as he wrapped his head around what I'd said. "You...what?" He asked, eyes widening.
"I said yes," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair again as I stretched up on one toe to be closer to him. "You're asking me out, aren't you?" He nodded quickly, almost comically as his hair bounced on his head. I giggled and brushed my nose back and forth against his. "Then I'm saying yes, Trick," I assured him.
Without waiting another second, Patrick lifted me in the air again and kissed me, spinning me around as he laughed into the kiss and smiled happily as he set me down again. I was just as happy, if not happier, as I stared up at him. My best friend, my boyfriend, and one of the two most important people in my life. He and Pete had saved me, even though I hadn't realized that I'd needed saving. But I am so glad that they did.