Sticky Notes ~ Ashton Irwin

~Part Five~

My eyes nearly fall right out of my head when we speak in unison. We turn our heads as fast as hummingbirds and stare at each other for at least five straight seconds.
"How... Wh-" he says with as much disbelief as me before rembering the given orders from Justin. "We need to move before he checks up here." He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up as we walk single-file down the hallway. He is clearly nervous around Justin and I feel bad for the poor guy; he should at least get credit for putting up with the antichrist he's got down the steps.
"Ashton, how long have you been here for? You know, working as Justin's full time butler?" I ask in all seriousness.
"Honestly, it's only been about half a year or so, not too bad, I can only hope it isn't a lifetime deal I've got on my hands." He chuckles.
As we reach the end of the hall I can see clear inside Ashton's room. He's got almost as much as I do, plus blue walls and a few posters. There is a small lamp in the corner set on an old wooden dresser that, I pressume, is full of clothes. Beside the dresser is a bookshelf made for elves, it only has about a four book capacity. His bed is covered with plain white sheets and next to the bed, a mirror. Getting closer I can see there is a Nirvana poster, AC/DC, my personal favorite: Green Day, and a Blink-182 poster in the corner above the lamp. Next to his mirror is a giant Hayley Williams poster out of a magazine. I sit on the bed while Ashton stands and seems tense.
In attempt to break the silence, I start. "So I notice we've got a similar taste in music?" I question.
"Serious? Well, check this out." He walks to a closet I didn't notice before, and opens it. He pulls out rope and sets it aside and I am thankful he didn't surprise attack me. Ashton reaches behind a few things and eventually digs out a set of drumsticks. "Signed." He says. "By Travis Barker." He nods his head with cockiness.
"No. Way. I..." was all I could manage. I admit I was jealous. We sit and chat for a few minutes when Asthon jumps up so quickly that I jump with him. He runs to the "elf-shelf" and pulls out one of the books. The book is dusty from being so untouched, it has a red and white cover, and automatically I know exactly what it is. He walks over and sits back down and promptly asks, "What year?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Give me a year."
"Uh, 1987?"
"No! I meant your graduation year! What was it?" I remember what we said about West Wood High.
"Oh, I was supposed to graduate three years ago, but I dropped out. Some things happened and it's cloudy but I think it was big. I can't exactly remember..." I trail off, wondering where he is headed with this.
"That's my year, too." He flips through the pages until he gets to the grade pictures, where everyone in the school gets either glorified or mortified by the way their yearbook photo turns out. I have no idea what my picture looked like because of Joseph's whole excruciating façade, but I know that I probably would like to regain that bit of memory.
Ashton turns to one of the pages and looks more carefuly, scanning his finger across all of the pictures and stops at one. He looks up at me while handling the yearbook over and I see. The picture in the yearbook is me.