[broken] // a.irwin

0.1 // Her

Her [alana]

Ashton .. Ashton ... Ashton.

that one word, one name, one wondering thought in my head and it just won't get out. Why did I think of him so? Why do I let this boy, this stranger who reads old vintage classics at dinner and listens to his deafeningly loud, old vintage music from those earphones instead of talking or even acknowledging anyone else, get into my head and never escape out of it ? My mind isn't full of math equations or homework deadlines; instead there's a new problem for me to solve and it's called Ashton Irwin.

he sits alone on a wide circle table in the far corner of the canteen room, no one daring to approach him ... i could easily sit by him right now if I didn't have such an irritating fear of rejection. the thought of this boy telling me to fuck off or simply ignoring me and my trembling hands, scares me horridly! i have such an burning desire inside my body to be able to talk to this strange yet beautiful boy and get to know something about him, anything .. his favourite movie? Colour? Season ? Band?

these random and completely useless questions that are still so very unknown to me, keep wondering around in my head, whirling around my mind nagging me for their answers, wanting me to find out their stories and reasons and I still don't know any of them. it's quite sad to think I've thought so much into these simple facts yet never had the balls to go up and explore this boy, this non talkative adolescent who seems to be in his own world, the complete opposite to my own unique world.

however I seem to start making up these questions' answers in my own head, trying to work out for myself what this boy loves to listen to when nothing in reality interests him, what colour his bedroom walls are that he wakes up to every morning and stares at when he can't sleep at night, the movie that could change his mood completely from sad and depressed to grinning with humour at a cheesy joke some famous actor got payed to say.

the band question is quite easy to figure out the answer as Ashton Irwin is known for his dirty, rather un tidy band tees including the classic yet annoyingly over used names like Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Arctic monkeys and Rolling Stones. guessing what band is next on his black t-shirt is a weird yet totally amusing game for me, my own great music taste is my best friend when it comes to winning the one player game and I tend to smile every morning when I see another tee that's welcomingly part of his large collection of bands thrown all together in his drawer that he opens with a tough yank. nothing is more attractive than a bandana obsessed punk with good band t-shirts and skinny ripped jeans.

Reading Wuthering Heights this time, Ashton focussing his flawlessly glowing hazel eyes through the clear lens of his brown glasses and picking out every word of the messy page of the borrowed book from the local library down the street - my own personal hotspot to go to at the weekends instead of boring, drunken parties with unfaithful couples and overly drugged up teens wanting some attention from needy yet lonely strangers. the old classic looks fairly small cushioned in this boy's hands, his fingers gripping tightly on the paperback as the story seems to be getting intensely exciting, the corners of his perfectly plumped lips curling up into a small yet entertaining smile that instantly brightens up my shitty day.

his eyes are so drawn into this book, it makes me uncontrollably jealous. how can such a simple, well known novel have the attention I want from this effortlessly beautiful boy? all I want is those heavenly hazel eyes focussing on me, trying to read me like a book... Dying to know my story, wanting to be part of it as one of the main characters, wanting to know all the parts of me that would bore anyone else in the world.

the thing that makes me so obsessed with those eyes is that they're so familiar to me, like he's been in my dreams before, either from last night after hours of trying to get to sleep without over thinking like always, or in forgotten dreams from years ago when boys were the enemy and Barbie dolls were the love of my life!

those eyes send me somewhere else from this horrid school building full of idiots, obsessed with being popular and loved by all; they send me to happiness, where home could be forgotten with the worries and mistakes I overthink of late late at night. they make me feel different, innocent and like I've just woke up, as a new person, like a new start .. a new day. a crazy, unfamiliar feeling from a pair of very familiar and pleasant eyes.

with all my indulging stalking habits taking over me and my mental state, I seem to let the whole world disappear. the eyes reading the bold words in that well written book still focussing down, away from mine staring back at them. the idea of him never knowing my unexplainable love for him comforts me. I've never ever talked to him before, well not from what I can remember. no one will ever understand my hidden love for this stranger, god I don't even understand myself. he will never notice me. all I can do is keep dreaming, keep praying and secretly admiring those hazel eyes..

// the eyes linger on the pages, flicking the over touched paper for the next moment awaiting in this tensioned book ... thoughts of whats to come float around in his messed up head, the suspense hitting him harder than ever. the need to continue reading overpowers his large, worn out fingers as they automatically turn the next thin page. his eyes taking a single break from the boring layout of randomly put together letters, now suddenly connected to another pair of chocolate brown eyes. that one second of witnessing those eyes that seem too similar for comfort, hits both of the lonely teenagers in a way of understanding... a stare full of resemblance, history and hidden secrets. a deadly stare at that. the two teenagers freeze, eyes joined like a bewitched spell, both stuck staring, examining each other's sad eyes ... just wondering why and how the other pair of eyes look so broken.