Stay | afi

five.

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She left him with  a gentle kiss and a lingering question of if he'd see her again. Ashton noted that there was a smile painted on his lips for the first time in weeks that wasn't forced, and a easiness to his shoulders that felt unnatural but fantastic.

He couldn't quite work out if the great sex, the anonymity or the blond bartender was responsible for those things and tried not to think too hard about it. He didn't want to ruin it for himself even though he seemed to be extraordinarily good at doing so.

It was much earlier than he usually started his days but he took his tea to his office- a room filled with instruments, notebooks and a hundred kinds of pens (each one earmarked for a particular kind of writing). The sun was fully in the sky now but since the office windows faced the mountains, it merely reflected off the snow and tree dusted surface, offering back a soft golden glow that reminded him a bit of the way the water reflected early morning light back home.  He missed home, though he hadn't spent significant time there since he was a teenager. He paced a circle around the room, letting his fingertips dust over the tops of several instruments before settling at the piano.

Ash wrote a song. Or maybe five. He wasn't sure how many it was as the words and melodies melted fluidly into hours and he got lost in creating, but when he stood up again his joints were stiff and the sun was high in the sky. So he made lunch, and his mind wandered back to Violet despite his best efforts.

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By the time I got home the sun was up but the rest of the house remained sleeping. I made my way to the kitchen to start coffee before I crept toward my room to grab a book and enjoy the rare peace and quiet.

I poured a cup of coffee and padded to the couch, lamenting my much less exciting view of other houses. It never took long for me to get engrossed in a book, and by the time my sister's voice pulled me back to reality I'd forgotten I was still wearing Ashton's pants.

"The prodigal daughter returns," she mused with a smile as she raised her mug to me.

"Don't be an idiot," I told her, closing my book as I grinned at her.

"I'm not," she shot back, "but you might be. Who was that guy?!"

"Wait how'd you know I was with a guy?" I asked curiously.

"Well for one he was in that picture you sent me. And for two, you're wearing his pants," she plucked at the material of Ashton's sweats that I was still wearing.

I opened my mouth to reply though I'm not sure what to say when all hell broke loose. In the space of a breath, the baby started crying and the dog barking and I leapt to my feet to handle both before they woke Audrey up.

I hadn't even made it half way down the hall when the knob of their bedroom turned and her wild curls and big blue eyes peaked around the corner.

So much for that, I guess. She saw me and her eyes lit up as she flung the door open wide and I saw she'd also liberated her brother from his crib, his chubby feet kicking when he glimpsed me. It's a chorus of "mama"s and hugs and I sank into their love, extra grateful for the perfect timing to escape my sister's interrogation.

I lifted them both and carried them to the couch where we all cuddle in for morning cartoons, but I didn't miss Kate mouthing over the tops of their downy heads, "Later".

No one seemed to notice the pants except for the dog, who rooted his big sooty head into my thigh and snuffled at the material. Big curious eyes peered up at me and I just shrugged at him. At least he can't ask questions.

We settled into our Sunday morning and as the day wears on, it's almost like that night never happened. The rest of the week was mostly normal too, and even the traffic in the bar returns to a manageable pace. I have time to breathe during my shift and I do my best not to use that time glancing at the empty place at the end of the bar.

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In an effort not to make things weird, Ashton kept his distance from the little bar and its alluring bartender. By Thursday, he'd tried every other bar in town and even resorted to buying his own whiskey and drinking at home.
But none of the other bartenders got his drink just right and home was lonely and boring.

On Friday, he'd run out of options and he told himself he just wanted to see a familiar face. He told himself the writing environment was just right, and the whiskey was good.

He told himself a lot of things, but none of them explained the way his pulse picked up and his mouth inexplicably lifted into a stupid grin when he saw Violet behind the bar.