𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗

𝟏𝟏 | 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄

꧁꧂

    Setting her pencil down and raising her arms in a stretch, (Y/N) yawned before glancing behind her to the clock on her bedside to see that it was almost eleven, packing up her school work before moving to the bathroom to take a quick shower. When she was done, feeling quite refreshed, she dressed in a tank top and sweats before grabbing her empty water cup and crutches to begin the trek downstairs.

    Unfortunately, almost as soon as her foot hit the first step, a hand wound itself around her waist and pulled her close to a body.

    Startled, she flinched when seeing who it was.

    "Hello, (Y/N)," Ashton smirked as his grip on her waist tightened, giving her a pleased smile as he helped her down the stairs. "What are you doing up so late? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

    "Well, I could ask you the same thing."

    "I was working on several cases," he hummed, not elaborating—all (Y/N) knew was that he was quite a successful cardiologist who was able to get the position he was in due to being so intellectually gifted and his vast fortune.

    "Well, what do you want now?"

    "Do I have to want something to help my poor, little sister get down the stairs?"

    She shivered at the rather creepy words that dripped from his lips like sugar and honey, her brows furrowing as she stated, "You guys need to stop calling me that. And, to answer your question, if I'm being honest, the only times you do interact with me is to inform me of something. Obviously there must be something you want to tell me."

    "Hm?" He smirked, intrigued. "You're clever."

    "It's just obvious."

    "Well, then... here is my obvious answer and question: what is wrong with you?" He said with that same sickly kind smile on his face, his silvery-grey eyes however flashing with disgust and clear vehemence. "Didn't I tell you not to do anything that upsets our life? If you listened and did so... then why were Father and Miranda talking about you so worriedly at dinner after you left? It was quite an eyesore to see such things. And do you know what the most delightful part of the conversation was? When they asked us brothers if we were treating you nice. So I ask again: what the fuck?"

    "Why do you even care?" (Y/N) scoffed as she tried to jerk her arm out of his hold, however to no avail. "And why are you even here? I assume you're old enough to have a house to yourself, and if my presence here bothers you so much, why don't you just move!?"

    "I cannot move," he stated rigidly. "Even though I work as a doctor now, in the future, when Father steps down as CEO of Majime, I will have to take over as heir to his company. This house is my birthright, so why should I leave it because of you?"

    Now fully at the bottom of the stairs, (Y/N) just glared at him.

    She knew she couldn't say anything to that.

    But she was frustrated.

     Wrenching her arm from his hand quite viciously, she adjusted her crutches under her arms and limped into the kitchen to obtain the glass of water she had wanted, wishing she had just ignored her thirst and went to bed. What was more, when he offered—practically demanded—that he help her up the stairs too, keeping up the facade of a good brother due to Miranda and Takeshi sitting on the couch just opposite of the stairs chatting softly, she had no choice but to begrudgingly agree once again.

    This shit sucks.

    Why do I have to go through with this?

    Mom, couldn't you have married a guy with actually nice sons?

    Well...

    Save for Kai...

    He's actually the only one who's been actively nice to me, so I like him.

    But still!

    The rest suck, and now the oldest one keeps threatening me if I don't make peace in the household that makes me miserable!

    What am I supposed to do about that!?

     "You know..." Ashton started after the small silence between them, gaining her attention away from her thoughts. "This entire process would just be so much easier if you convinced your mother to maybe... not marry my Father?"

    "Huh?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

    "While I respect your Mother—she's kind, she's diligent, she's beautiful—and all that she does for my Father... she isn't right for him."

    "Excuse me?"

    Now (Y/N) was entirely pissed off.

    "You've seen my Mother from the pictures on the wall, correct?" He asked as he gestured with his head toward the beautiful, tan-skinned woman that she had been admiring earlier when first stepping into the house. "She had all the qualities of your own Mother, but she came from the right family. The right... background. She had all of the right connections. You and your Mother don't."

    (Y/N) finally snapped.

    Shoving him away from her and against the railing, the sudden strength that she had surprising him greatly, it was the piercing glare to her (E/C) eyes that made Ashton falter. He had never seen such a look on her face—one so full of hatred and loathing—that it made him breathless.

    "Don't you ever speak about my mother like that, you fucker!" She snapped down at him, her grip on the collar of his shirt tightening.

    "Don't be so foul," his eyes narrowed, shaking off his momentary surprise.

    "Oh, shut the hell up," she slammed him against the banister again, enjoying the way he winced at the contact. "You underestimate me just because I have fucking crutches, but you really shouldn't. I may not look like it, but I've trained to deal with bastards like you, and so far, I've been nice because mom wanted me to, but after tonight, I'm done. We may not be wealthy or classy, but that doesn't mean you can just insult us to my face. Yeah, I'll stay out of your way. I'll pretend to be happy. But the only reason why I'm doing it? It's because I don't want to speak to the likes of you again."

    And with that, she limped up the last bit of stairs and slammed the door to her room shut.

    Ashton could only watch her go.

    Running a hand through his dark hair, it becoming a bit messy from the way (Y/N) had handled him, he couldn't help but chuckle, his dark eyes flashing with interest.

    It seems I have underestimated you, (Y/N).

    My mistake.

It won't happen again.

꧁꧂