Nova was astounded. Her eyes widened in shock; the way a young child's eyes would enlarge when they tore through the precise decorative wrap that had obscured the gift they had always dreamed of. Her pupils did not expand in the pleasure of a present, but instead, Nova was astonished by the amount of music inventories she had skedaddled into.
Aligned across the rich maroon walls were thick amber ledges, holding ancient records. Throughout the dainty store were charcoal shelves brimming with a variety CDs. The miraculous posters of classic and modern musicians bedecked the bare walls with detail. Whereas, the ebony crates carried extraordinary merchandise of tuneful virtuosos.
Her fingertips swept across the compact discs, contemplating on what she should purchase. Nova was that type of girl; the type girl to spend hours in one shop and still have the unsurety clouding her mind. Her eyes ranged from Frank Sinatra to Snow Patrol. Nova intermittently raised one CD, only to once again place it down.
“Nova,” a voice uttered.
Her breath hitched in fear, just for a second. She knew exactly who it was. She could detect his distinctive voice from miles away. His tone rang in her mind late at night; she was certain that she had acquired to memorize his voice. "Ashton," she breathed without shifting to face him.
“What are you looking for?” he asked, inquiry evident in his tone.
She shrugged, her tongue skimming her lower lip. It was habitual for her case. “I don't really know.”
Nova didn't talk much, nor was she the social type. Ashton knew that, but he still attempted to speak to her. He believed, from beneath the barricades she held up, there was something tragic that weighed upon her shoulders. Curious, was he. “Do you want me to help?” he questioned, chucking his hair from concealing his eyes.
Again, Nova shrugged, her shoulders jerking upward, and then downward, a signal of being unsure. She apprehended the fact that she did know. She did want him to help. Though, if Nova spoke to Ashton to aware him that she required his aiding, she understood what she would have tangled herself into.
“You should buy one of the Coldplay albums,” Ashton suggested, taking her frequent gesture as a yes.
Nova's rosette lips ascended into a slight grin. It's his favourite band. She thought.
“I have all of them,” her figure spiraled to face Ashton when she informed him.
Instantaneously, Ashton beamed an indication of satisfactory. He took a stride forward, toward the shelves. His fingers lightly brushed each and every one of the music cases; his gaze skimming through the endless amount of music recordings. Then, he grasped onto an album which was veneered in somber colours.
Ashton's left hand reached for Nova's diminutive right hand, then situated the album into her palm. “How to Save a Life, The Fray,” he stated, before unclasping his left hand from her arm.
Nova faintly laughed; but it was enough to surround the area in her melodic tune. Then, she repeated after him. “How to Save a Life, The Fray.”
Repeatedly nodding his head, Ashton agreed, an amused smirk forming on his face. Expeditiously, the sixteen year old boy plucked the drab album from her hands, already aware of what he was to do next.
Nova was quite dumbfounded, but she did not question Ashton when he dashed from her, muffling a silent be right back.
Patiently waiting, Nova self-consciously tugged upon the sleeves of her periwinkle jumper, adorned in frosty snowflakes. Once she glanced upward, she saw that the shop was swarming of customers, unlike when she had previously strolled in, when it had been completely deserted, as the desert would have been.
Minutes later, Ashton returned. The CD was out of sight, receded. Ashton smugly simpered, his hand, abaft to his body stretched outwards, unveiling the compact disc from within a livid plastic bag. “Have it, it's on me,” Ashton nonchalantly insisted, as if giving Nova something was not at all unusual.
Her cocoa eyebrows knitted together, puzzlement conspicuous on her soft features. “Pardon?”
Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, urging the disobedient strands that shrouded his eyes backwards. “I work here — well, my family owns this place. Have it. It's on me, Nova,” he responded, suppressing a brief, yet contagious chuckle.
Straightening the wrinkles upon her lavender sweater, she gnawed on her lips. “Your family runs this place?”
“Well, my mom does,” Ashton replied, lifting a hand to his blond hair, and then twisted the strands.
Her breath puffed from her mouth, clouding into the air, and she sighed. She couldn't manage to take it, she wouldn't. “No, it's alright. I'll pay for it.”
Ashton didn't want her money; maybe he never did, so he assured her. “It's okay. Have it.”
“Are you sure?”
His hands raked his cardinal t-shirt; he nods of agreement.
And just like that, Nova's lips twitched, she smiled of gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, alas, her feet hastily urged herself towards the door. "I mean it," she mumbled, even considering that he was no longer able to hear her voice.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Ashton » Ashton Irwin
Fiksi Penggemar[DISCONTINUED] ❝ A smile had always been etched across your delicate face, even though I knew you weren't happy. And maybe that's why I love you, for how you always managed to stay strong every single day. ❞ A compendium of love letters from...
