playing with the air // m.h.

find me because i'll never find you // part one

find me because i'll never find you // part one

I find myself waking up slowly, twisting and tangling in my white sheets as I look for the last bit of warmth left. Eventually I give in and stretch myself, the pain of my right ankle being much more evident now. Clad in a massive jumper and warm high socks, I maneuver myself out of bed and head towards the kitchen.       

The sun had barely risen; it couldn't be past eight o'clock. I stand on my tiptoes to reach one of my favorite mugs off the top shelf where Ash—despite being totally aware of my struggles—always seemed to put them. To my pleasant surprise the kettle was already filled and on the stove, all I had to do was turn it on, signifying that Asher was already up and about. I look over to the stainless sink, where a white and light pink mug—featuring a cutely drawn cat, of course—laid, confirming my assumption. As the water heats up I go grab my laptop, placing it on the kitchen island and beginning my morning search of anything particularly interesting. After scrolling through several social media and reading of a festival, a few drunken parties, and several gigs set to occur within the next few weeks, I close my browser tab and pull up Spotify. Deciding to start up some indie tunes, I finish making my morning white tea.

I had just started reading a story on a creative writing site when the sound of Asher unlocking the door and coming in caused me to look over. He had a bag from the nearby drugstore in his hand and his nose was tinted pink from the winter air.

"Good morning, love" I mocked a British accent, still stood at the island with my Grinch mug in hand—what, it was December.

"G'day mate," He shot back in a down right awful attempt at an Australian. "Pop yourself up." He pointed to the counter, not necessarily looking at me as he walked to the opposing surface and began emptying his parcel. I raised an eyebrow before pushing my mug and laptop slightly to the left so I could jump myself onto the counter top.

"What's this for again?" I ask, swinging my legs slightly until I hit my right foot on the cupboard and hiss from the pain that jolts up it.

He turns around, unpackaging what looks to be an ACE bandage. "I figured if I didn't pick anything up you'd let that heal wonky, and we can't have our great Houdini handicapped in anyway." He eyes my socks, then finally looks me in the face with an are-you-serious expression. He sighs, "Fine, hand me your leg, I'll wrap it over these for now, just come get me when you need it redone." I pop my right leg up, level with his hands, wincing a little when he starts to wrap the sore area. Asher had a summer job as a lifeguard back at a community center in America, so he'd taken plenty of first aid courses. "Theeere we go!" He smiles victoriously, "Do you work today?"

"Not til late," I answer, reaching for my Grinch mug and taking a sip.

"Do me a solid and spend at least an hour with ice on that then? I doubt its seriously hurt but it may be a mild sprain and you shouldn't go bouncing about like you do." My cheeks flushed, he was right I did have a tendency to dance about the flat when I was bored and it was too early to venture, mostly to songs you would've found featured in 2000's warped tours. "C'mon now," he helps me down by putting his hands under each of my arms, it really is such a curse in the place to be only 5'2". I roll my eyes and turn to face my computer once more.

"Uh uh, what did I just say about the ice?" He points over to our main couch very assertively. Honestly Asher was just a middle-aged soccer mom in the wrong body, its some Freaky Friday shit I swear. With another heavy eye roll I trudge myself over to the couch, immediately cuddling myself up in a blanket and flipping on the television. Ash and I had a pretty nice flat, certainly not due to our jobs I assure you. My father's grandparents were pretty loaded and felt even more guilty after everything that happened; so welcome to Casa de Pity. One of the few things my mother wound up teaching me was to not refuse the generosity of people you owe nothing emotional to. The lofty flat apartment was pretty bare when we first moved in, but over the little bit of time we've managed to make a nice indie/grunge vibe—minus the giant flat screen and decked out kitchen. Despite the spacey indoors, my favorite "room" was still the fire escape. Its where Ash and I would have our deepest conversations and best laughs. It was normally decked out with our little plants and a mini garden we never seemed to master, but we pulled most of that in due to the cold. Now there was only a few pillows to sit on and an artsy hand shaped ashtray I had found online and thought looked incredibly cool. Suddenly I feel a weight drop to the couch beside me, and the remote snatched out of my lap.

Beside me, Ash was munching loudly on cereal. I look down to see an icepack in his lap that I grabbed and placed on my ankle. "Those better not be cocoa pebbles," I say sternly. To which he tilts the bowl, displaying colorful Froot Loops to me.

"Y'know it's good you don't go to hospitals, you'd be so rude to the nurses," he jokes with a lopsided grin.

"What time do you work?" I tilt myself away from him, sticking my uninjured foot under his leg to steal warmth.

"Noon," he scrunches his nose in theatrical disgust.

"Rock stars rise early," I tease, prodding his arm. "Beau may be about, I managed to leave my guitar at his."

"I noticed, fine way to top off the night I may say." I elbowed him lightly.

"Hey could you nab my phone off the charger for me?" I pout playfully, "Doc says I have to stay off my foot."

"Remind me next time to just pull a Kentucky and shoot you like a horse," he mutters sarcastically, rising from the couch none-the-less.

A few moments later my phone is dropped into my lap and Asher has gone to do the morning dishes. How domestic, I smirk. After unlocking my phone I pull up Beau and I's conversation and send him a text.

☽ destry ☽

•hey, can you bring my case by later? I left it at yours.

☆ beau ☆

what're you on about? You didn't leave anything here

                                      •I'm nearly certain its there, can you double check?

your guitar case? darling some bloke has it.

tried to drop it by last night but you already headed off

•what do you mean some bloke?
                                       •did you get his name? #?

hmm. no, I didn't, totally slipped my mind.

Sorry doll, I got a bit wrecked after you left.

•thanks.

            I groan in annoyance, how can Beau be such a ditz? And how am I meant to find my case now?!

            "Something wrong?"  Asher comes up behind me, now dressed in fresh clothes for work, trying to read the messages.

            "My case isn't at Beau's. Apparently some guy has it." I lean back to look up at him, upside down though.

            "Could you have left it at the venue originally?" he started to zip his jacket and pull his hat on.

            "Yes of course!" I bounce and clap at his brilliant memory—defiantly better than mine at the moment.

            "I'll check about while I'm working alright? Someone probably saw who picked it up," He jostles my hair before heading towards the door. "Be good alright? Don't forget to ice!"

•••matty pov in the next part. I promise that eventually each chapter will be one part. Also the top pic is a vague photo of Asher, I'm trying to make a lil Polaroid theme with those ♡ xx