Last Dance || 5sos

Chapter Twenty

Ashton's Pov: 

I know that I shouldn't have drove away. Since I did, I should have drove away and brought her with me. I can't believe it! He made her cry, broke her heart, and there she was, walking beside him, his arm wrapped around her. Did I miss something? I guess so, it would seem. I've known her for most of her entire life. I've loved her the entire time. And what do I get? A constant stab in the heart as a reminder that she'll never love me like I love her.

I don't know why I love her. If I did, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. But I do. I'm in love with this girl, my best friend, and even though I see her all of the time, am with her all of the time, it's like she hardly knows I exist sometimes. I couldn't stay there and watch her hang on him all night. How was I supposed to know she would be there? She told me that she was hanging out with friends. What else has she lied to me about?

I get out of my car, slamming the door, kicking an empty bottle that's laying around on the ground. It smashes in the street, but I leave it there. Eventually, the anger in me boils over, and I have to let it out. I drop to my knees on the gravel, clenching my hair in my fists, and just scream, because I don't know any other way to get rid of this feeling. My legs are shaking, but I force myself to stand. "He stole the person I love." I admitted that I love her, and she still doesn't get it. She'll never get it. I could tell her straight to her face, I love you, and she would probably think I was joking. Either that, or she would say it back, but it won't mean the same thing.

I get back in my car, taking off again. I don't wanna go back to school. I don't wanna go back to that party. I should go back, just to punch Luke in the face. But if I did that, Noelle would never forgive me. How could she do this? Just go crawling back to him after the shitty way he treated her? He'll always fuck things up. He always had. I can't say that it's always been his fault, but a lot of the time it is. He'll hurt her again, and when she comes back to me like she always does, it only hurt more. Not her though, no. I would never hurt her. But she hurts me constantly, without knowing it, and I put up with it because I'm in love with her. I'll always love her, no matter how hard I try to get over her. Sometimes you never stop loving people. 

She's at that party with Luke, while I'm here alone, now standing in her bedroom, looking at all of the pictures she has on her walls. There are pictures from every age. Pictures of her with her father, pictures of her entire family, pictures with friends... I know I shouldn't even be here. It's pathetic, and I know that I need to be packing, but I'm drawn here. As I look around her room, I glance over at the ledge by her window. Only her and I knew of the chest that was underneath. If you lifted the top, there was a compartment underneath. However, it was always locked.

Luckily, one of the advantages of being her best friend, is knowing where she keeps her keys. I walk over to her vanity, opening the blue jewelry box that she has. She has two. The one she uses for it's intent is red. This blue one was a gift from her father, and it's where she keeps her most precious items, like the key to the chest. I grab the small key, unlocking the chest, and flip it open. Things from her childhood line the floor of the compartment, but what I'm interested in, is her green photo book. 

I pull it out, closing the chest and sit on the ledge. Looking at the cover, I sigh, and hesitate. Did I really want to open it? It could easily make me feel worse, but I decide to go ahead and do it anyways. When I open it, I read the front page. This writing is much more recent than when we started this album, because we were so young when we made it. 

I can survive without money, I can survive any illness, but I can't survive without my best friend. He's seen me cry, he's seen me breakdown. He's seen me at my worst, and my best, and he's still here. He's been there through rough times, when I get angry at stupid things. He tells me I'm not crazy when I convince myself I am. He's cheered me up when I've needed it, he tells me that I'm beautiful even when I know I look bad. I don't know where I'm going half of the time, but I know that if I asked, he'd be right beside me. There's no one else in the world that I would rather have as a best friend, and I consider myself lucky, because not many people have what we have. I'm proud to have him as a best friend, and I hope he's proud to have me too.

I dare to open the album, and thumb through the pages. There are pictures of us when we were as little as nine and five. We looked so different then. Looking back, I wish that it could be that simple again, when I didn't know that I loved this girl. I guess in the back of my mind I always have, but I didn't realize it until we were older. Flipping through, I finally reached more recent photos. Everything in this book were pictures of the two of us, with the occasional photo that had a few more of our friends, or her siblings in it. I laugh when I reach the photos where my hair is straightened. There were a few years that I had done that, and looking back, I kind of miss it.

There are pictures from her birthday parties, pictures from summer cookouts and poolside pictures, and pictures from when we used to go camping. One of my favorites is a picture she took when she was on my back. I was giving her a piggyback ride, with my straight hair and sweatshirt on. It was summer, at my birthday party. She was fourteen, and I had just turned eighteen. I almost laugh, looking at it, because she looks so beautiful, even then, that even though she's making a silly face she still looks perfect. I had posed with my tongue sticking out to the side. I flip to the next page, and keep looking.

Soon, I come to the end, and realize that the last picture is the one that I took when I took her out for ice cream. I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to take the a picture like that. My arm was wrapped around her, and she was leaning forward from laughing so much. I had given her a kiss on the forehead and took the picture. That was also one of my favorite pictures of us. She was so annoyed when she found out that I had taken it, and I had just laughed. But I sent it to her anyways, and she told me later on that it wasn't so bad. I knew that she had liked it too, even if she wouldn't come out and say it officially. 

I sigh, closing the book. As I go to put it back, I notice that one had fallen out, and was sitting in the bottom of the chest. I pick it up, placing the album down gently first. I had honestly forgotten about this picture, even though I had taken it for her. It was dated the year that her father died, a few days before Valentine's day. We were in her house, in the living room. She had on one of my beanies, and had her arms around me in a side hug. She had kissed me on the cheek for the picture, whereas I was looking at the camera, smiling. I would have looked at her, but this is how she wanted the picture to look. Again, my hair was straight in this picture. I turn it over, and see that there is something written on the back of it, in her hand writing. 

Every girl needs a best friend to help her laugh when she thinks she'll never smile again.

I smile, putting the picture back inside the album, in the front. Maybe she would never know just how I felt about her, but that didn't change that I would always love her. I'd get my heart broken over and over just to be there for her. She's worth it.