simmer down // a.i. [ON HOLD]

[46] 'there's no beating a first love'

'Emma?' Ashton whispered as he poked his head into the corridor, eyebrows furrowing. 'What are you doing?'

I froze, the picture still hanging from my fingertips. He was staring at me, and I watched his gaze travel down to the photo in my hand. Ashton's mouth dropped open a little.

'Oh...'

I stepped forward, feeling my stomach twist as his face fell, a sad frown replacing his curious expression.

'Ashton, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snoop, the photograph, it slipped out from the frame, and I picked it up, I was about to put it back, I swear -'

'Can I see that?' Ashton spoke softly over the top of me, and moved into the hallway, holding a hand out. I gulped, and gave him the picture.

'Ahh,' he sighed, and raked a hand through his curls slowly. 'This wasn't how I wanted to have to explain it to you.'

I bit my lip and watched him touch the face of the girl in the photograph tenderly.

'I should've told you sooner.'

'I think I already know.' My hand found his, and I looked at him carefully, trying to gauge what he was thinking. 'Ashton, I want to keep being a part of your life, if you'll let me - and I understand you'll tell me when you feel comfortable with... whatever happened. That's fine, and I -'

'No.'

Ashton stopped me, and tightened his grip on my hand. The piece of photo hung from his fingers still.

'No?'

'No. It's time I told you. I need to stop treating it like a disease, something untouchable.'

'Are you su-'

Ashton held a finger to my lips.

'Shhh. Come on - I want to show you something.'

Still holding my hand, Ashton led me up the hall, past the dimly-lit lounge room. We crept up the stairs together, softly treading over the worn floorboards, until we reached a shut blue door.

The door was covered in stickers, old and faded. Apple stickers, surf brands, collectibles, bumper slogans and a ton of band stickers. Right over the middle of them, in the centre of the door frame, was a mini chalkboard that said "Ashton's Room".

In the dim light of the hallway, we stood there in silence, both gazing at the door. This was Ashton's childhood, right here. The room where he'd grown up - the room where he'd slept and done his homework and hung out with his friends. Seeing your boyfriend's old bedroom was special itself, but at that moment I knew there was something deeper going on.

'Come on,' Ashton murmured, dragging his eyes away from the door. He gently pushed it open and led me into the room, flicking on the desk lamp like he'd done it a million times before. It was everything I'd expected - posters on the walls, a frayed rug across the floor and an old guitar leant up against the wardrobe. A bunch of dusty-looking soft toys watched us from Ashton's bed, and the digital Dragon Ball Z clock blinked from its place on an old CD player. 11:54 pm.

I realised I was still standing motionless in the doorway when Ashton touched my hand softly, looking concerned.

'Princess? You okay?'

I smiled.

'Just trying to imagine what it must have been like... you, growing up in this room.'

'Oh.'

Even in the shadow, I could see the familiar redness spreading across his cheeks. He smiled shyly and tugged at a stray curl, tucking it back behind his ear. Taking a seat on the old wheelie chair next to the desk, he motioned for me to sit on his bed. I sunk into it, folding my knees up and looking at Ashton, waiting.