Imagine [L.H]

29

A/N This was the closest I could get to a "uniformed" Ashton so here ya go that made no sense, whatever! Enjoy!
LACEY'S POV:
I walked hurriedly to work, I was going to be late. I didn't want to be punished again for a stupid thing.

I began jogging towards the building, eyes wide as I already saw Ashton walk inside the building.

He was now wearing the suit men had to wear; a leather suit, like mine, except the sleeves were cut off.

I caught up to him in the elevator, stopping the small moving box-like object before the doors completely shut.

"Hey," I breathed out, trying to catch my breath.

He shot me a small smile and waved.

I pushed the button to the top floor, we were both going to go there anyways.

The ride up was really awkward due to the quietness.

The elevator finally came to a stop and we walked over to my office, I had to practically jog to keep up with Ashton. He seemed to be rushing.

We walked inside my office and Ashton awkwardly stood in the middle of the room as I rummaged my desk for my notepad.

When I finally found it I went to sit on the couch and motioned for Ashton to come sit.

He came with his notepad too, hopefully he'd use it more than last session.

The short sleeved uniform exposed scars and healing cuts, I now know for a fact that he self harmed.

"So Ashton," I began and he turned to look down at me.

"Why do you think suicide was the answer to whatever problems you're having?"

He narrowed his eyes at me and quickly wrote on the notepad.

It read:
Suicide meant I didn't have to deal with the problems, so I had a way to escape.

I nodded and wrote down the cause on my own notepad.

"What does self harm solve?"

He scribbled letters onto the paper, looking pretty concentrated on what he was writing.

He turned the notepad so I could look at it:
It makes me feel physical pain, so it kind of distracts the pain in my heart and inside me to somewhere else on my body.

"So it's a distraction?"

He nodded.

"From what pain? What caused you to self harm?"

He, once again, quickly wrote something onto his notepad:
I experienced loss a few years back.

"Who passed away?"

My girlfriend.

"How long ago?"

Two years ago.

"How long have you been self harming?"

Two years.

He must be addicted.

I nodded, I've experienced loss too.

Well, I've been left behind by someone I cared about.

My mother.

"Are the pills working?"

He shrugged.

They are working because I hadn't seen him smile until earlier when we were in the elevator.