Asher has been staying at my house. He only has his car keys and his backpack, but he refuses to step back into the King mansion to get his clothes. Between my house and Oliver's apartment, though, he has enough stuff to get by.
The last two weeks have been quite hard for Ash. Never in a million years could I imagine going through what he went through, and I feel absolutely terrible.
Ash is finally starting to become more and more like himself, but I know he is still not okay. He's just not showing it.
Ash has been quiet, that's for sure, but even still, he never once has pulled away from me. He's sheltered himself, but I guess that doesn't apply to me.
At the lunch table, he's quiet. At the flower shop, he's quiet. Even when he's at my house, he's quieter than normal. I understand, though. Everybody handles difficult situations in different ways.
The guys keep asking me what's wrong, but I would never tell any of them what happened unless Ash wanted me to. I tell them, "it's private." My boyfriend has had people in his business his whole life, so I don't want to add to that.
In this situation, I feel so helpless. I'm trying to be there for him, but I don't know if I'm doing anything right. I can't tell. My boyfriend is definitely someone who needs to be treated with a lot of care and patience, but I feel like it's not enough.
Even when he is asleep next to me, he looks restless.
I look at my alarm clock and it reads 6:34 a.m. It's still dark out right now, but I can tell that the sun is trying to break away from its confines.
I would go back to bed, but there is just too much on my mind. Playoffs are coming up, my boyfriend is going through a tough time, and even my mom is having a little trouble at the shop. If my mom ever told me anything, though, it's that something has to get a little bit worse before it gets better.
God, I hope that's true. Not just for my sake but for Asher's as well.
Ash starts whimpering and shifting beside me in the bed.
"Ash?" I ask softly, but he doesn't stop.
I push myself into a sitting position. I peer down at his face through the scarcely lit room. He has tear tracks running down his face, but his eyes are screwed shut.
"N-No," Ash whines, and his body begins to shake.
"Baby, wake up," I say a little louder, tapping his shoulder. Yet, he still doesn't stir.
"P-Please don't," he cries. "Don't h-hurt me."
I don't want to scare him, but he has to wake up.
I start running my hand up and down his thigh. I lean closer to his ear as he continues to mewl. I kiss underneath his jaw, not suggestively, but in a way that's hard enough to wake him up.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers for Football
RomanceAsher King's life has revolved around putting up an involuntary mask to hide his true self. With successful parents boasting about his 'pretend' success, Asher feels as though the life he is living was never his to begin with, and a home of happines...