Nightland (m.c. / a.i.)

one

BAILEY's POV

"Hey, is dad home yet?", I ask as I peek my head through my stepbrother, Ashton's, bedroom door.

My eyes do a quick scan of the room to find Ashton sitting on his bed reading. His blond and brown hair hangs in small curls over his bright blue bandanna, completely unmatching his black tank top. 

"How should I know?", he rolls his eyes. "Ask Tina."

"Tina is at the store." I roll my eyes at his unwillingness to answer my question. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Probably!", Ashton snaps, throwing his book down on the bed. "What do you want now?"

I reflexively coil back at his sudden outburst, my small frame removing itself from the doorway. Taking quick breaths, I lean against the cream wall of the hallway. The bedroom door opens fully to reveal a much softer looking Ashton.

"'Leigh?"

I keep my eyes closed when I hear the concern in his voice. It's not that I don't want him to see me cry, but I don't want him to think he made me cry.

Fucking anxiety.

"'Bailey," Ashton presses, but doesn't touch me. "Come on."

I take another breath and nod. I feel Ashton's hand on my shoulder and finally open my eyes. Ashton stills stands there in front of me, his eyes searching mine to make sure I'm not progressing to a full-on panic attack.

"I'm fine," I try to assure him, but fail to do so when my voice cracks. 

I take a shaky breath and wish I could roll my eyes at my vocal chords. 

"I'm fine," I repeat, my voice steadier than before. "Can you drop me off at Mikey's before you head out?"

Ashton looks at me as if I'm crazy for simply asking for a ride to a friend's house.

Or maybe because he was crazy enough to get upset over that much.

"I guess," he shrugs. "Why don't you ever have him over here?"

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: you know I don't like people being in the house. Let alone my 'friends'," I sigh. 

Ashton steps back into his room and I follow behind, leaving a lot of room between us. Ashton's room is the same size as mine, but most of the space in his is taken up with furniture or instruments. He's always rearranging them and I never quite know where I can move afterwards.

"But you and Michael have been friends for like, two years? I'm pretty sure he's not in it for the money."

Ashton gives me a slight smile and I try to return it, but all I manage is a shrug. He's not wrong, but the same thing has happened with friends who were there for me even longer than Michael has been.

"He's not Lexi," Ashton assures me. "Michael probably already knows who your dad is anyways."

I sit on the small stool of the drum kit, my fingers tracing the cold rims. I gave the kit to Ashton when he moved in. I'd heard he liked playing drums. I thought it'd make him like me, but he's usually only soft on me when my anxiety flares up.

"Still not going to play?". Ashton attempts to get some reply out of me again, with another subject change. And again: all I can give is a shrug. "Why don't you just ask Michael to meet us at Music & Arts? I've got time before I've got to go."

Alright, now this is just weird. Ashton never really wants to hang out with me, and he's never really liked Michael. 

Well, Ashton doesn't really like anyone, but Michael and I in particular seem to bore him.