The Fault in our Scars - Ashton Irwin

Chapter 7

It had been three weeks since Ashton's incident at the morning show studio. I hadn't seen or heard from him since. The only way I knew he was still alive was by sporadic texts from the boys on his condition and  the constant stream of tweets related to his mental state. I had barely left our apartment and the only visitor I'd had since Anne left with Ashton's belongings was Michael's girlfriend, Sara. She'd come to check on me at least once a week since the incident, always updating me on how he was doing. He wasn't showing up for rehearsals, typically hungover or still drunk from partying the night before. He'd been seen with a countless number of girls, most he'd met at whichever club he was at for the night, and none were with him more than a day. The band was struggling to stay together. I was all he'd talk about when he was drunk, and when he was sober, which apparently was rare, he'd stay silent and stare into space. Hearing updates about him struggling broke my heart, which almost felt impossible, considering how broken it was to begin with.

I woke up to my buzzer being pressed repeatedly. I rolled over at looked at the clock on the bedside table. 11:43 am. All I did was sleep these days. It was the only way I could escape all the pain I was feeling. I slumped into the hallway, pressing the call button on the buzzer box. I already knew who it was.

"Come on up, Sar. I hope you brought wine." I said into the box. I could've sworn I'd heard her roll her eyes. When she arrived at my front door, she was empty handed.

"No wine, no entry." I said as I barricaded the doorway. This time I know she rolled her eyes.

"That's the last thing you need right now. You look awful. When was the last time you showered? And seriously, you need to stop wearing that shirt." She was referring to Ashton's shirt, the one Anne left behind for me. I'd barely taken it off since he left.

"Why are you here? Just to bother me?" I couldn't help my attitude. She grabbed my hand and dragged me into the living room. We sat down on the couch and she turned on the TV. But I wasn't watching whatever was on, all I could focus on was the empty drum kit that sat next to the TV center. It looked like a skeleton without the only thing that gave it life sitting on the plush little stool behind it. Sara paused whatever show she was watching and turned to look at me, biting her thumb nail.

"Molls, you really need to see this. You're probably not gonna like it, but you at least need to see it." I thought my heart was going jump up and out of my mouth. I knew it had something to do with Ashton, and I didn't know if I was ready to see him. I sat in anticipation, and a little bit of dread, as Sara pressed the play button on the remote.

It was an interview on a day time talk show. Ashton was the featured guest. He was there alone, this was not an interview to promote the band. This was an interview to exploit his illness. I felt nauseous.

I'm sure you've all heard about the recent news surrounding pop-punk sensation, 5 Seconds of Summer's Ashton Irwin, and his struggle with suicide and depression. Why was he agreeing to do this? He didn't like people knowing his very private life. He's agreed to sit down with me today and talk about how he's handling everything. There's been rumours spread of excessive partying, the use of drugs, hoardes of girls, and a struggle to keep the band together. We'll see what he has to say after this. I'd had enough, I hated the way he was being sold for a story. This was real. His illness affected more people than just him. I wanted to get up from that couch and run to him, wherever he was, but I stayed put and waited with Sara in silence until the commercial break was over, and the screen broke back to Ashton sitting in a red velvety chair next to the show's host. I couldn't look at him. It hurt too much. I grabbed the remote from Sara's lap and turned off the TV.

"I couldn't do it. I'm sorry." I stared at my hands folded in my lap. I felt like a child. Sara grabbed my hand.

"I know it's hard, but you should've heard what he had to say. You know he went there hoping you'd watch it." She was right. There's no way he'd sit there and exploit himself for fun, he wanted me to hear what he had to say. But I wasn't ready. I asked Sara to sum it up for me.

"Are you sure? I'll tell you if you're ready to hear it." I was. I nodded for her to continue. "Basically, he's still sick. He's having a hard time. The boys want him to get help, but he refuses, saying this is his problem, not theirs. He still loves you, but he doesn't want to involve you in this mess... And he's seeing someone else, but Mikey says it's not serious, just a distraction..." She trailed off, waiting for my reaction to what she'd just told me.

"Is he fucking serious. What the hell did I do to him?" I was angry. "I gave up everything to help him. Why is he blaming me for this?!" I was furious, and it took everything I had not to break his stupid drum kit, mocking me from across the room. I didn't do this to him, I was not the cause of his problems.

"Well I didn't come here just to torture you with this information." Sara said, still cradling my hand in her lap. "Christmas is coming up and I was going to fly home to be with my family." Like me, Sara was from the US, and our families moved to Los Angeles to be with us while we were staying with the boys on the US leg of their last tour.

"I know Ashton and the boys are the only family you have here, so I thought it might be good for you to go home... I already bought your ticket. We leave tomorrow morning." I didn't know how to react. Part of me was thrilled to leave this sad, empty apartment and be with my family back home. Yet part of me didn't want to leave, because that meant leaving Ashton behind too.  

"It's what's best for you, you know that. My suitcases are in my car outside. I can stay with you tonight and help you pack some stuff up. Our flight leaves at 5:35 am." I really didn't want to leave Australia, but deep down I knew it was what needed to happen. I'd been given a few weeks off work to deal with this mess, so I had plenty of time to get away. Sara and I stood up from the couch to begin packing.

I fell asleep that night the same way I had every night for the last couple of weeks; I tossed and turned, worried about Ash, over-thought everything until I worked myself up. I picked up my guitar from the floor next to the bed and began to strum random chords. Music was the only thing that calmed me down. Without even realizing it, I began to play the chords to the boys' song Beside You. I sang the entire song until I was so tired from crying I was able to lay back and fall asleep.

The next morning, Sara woke me up and handed me a coffee mug. It was time to leave for the airport. We rolled my suitcases out of my apartment, and as I locked the door behind me, it felt like I was locking some of my sadness there too.  As I left our apartment building for the first time in weeks, I began to feel more human and less heartbroken zombie. Even in the dark hours of the morning, there were a few random paps waiting outside. They snapped pictures, the bright flashes catching me off guard, making my eyes water. They asked me how I felt about Ashton's new relationship. I'd forgotten about what Sara had told me. Hearing it again from a stranger felt like a punch in the stomach. Sara helped me push past the paps and loaded my suitcase in the backseat while I climbed in front.

As our plane was taking off, I stared out the window. I couldn't shake the feeling of how foreign Australia now felt. I'd been here for over a year now, it was beginning to feel like home. That was until the only home I had up and walked away.

HERES A BLURB/RANT: I've been seeing a lot of crap on Twitter lately, namely some rumours that Ashton is cutting again. In case you didn't know, this story is based very loosely on my own struggle with depression, and frankly I don't appreciate people taking something so serious so lightly. Depression is not "cool" or "hip", it's not quotes on tumblr or sad songs. It's serious, it's miserable, it's a daily struggle, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I would be humiliated and pissed off if I got on Twitter and saw a bunch of strangers talking about my past, something very personal, like I hadn't sat in my bathroom alone crying, feeling like literal shit, and taking a razor to my arm because that hurts worse than living does. Please think about what you're doing before you tweet. Ashton is a real person, with real feelings. He is well known because of the band but that does not give us the right to exploit him. Give him your support and love instead of your bullshit rumours for attention. That is all, carry on.