As Ashton drifted into a light slumber, the exhaustion from his intense sparring session weighed heavily on him. His body ached, and the coolness of the bottle against his bruises provided some relief.
Just as he was slipping into much-needed rest, he felt a presence near him. A soft tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his daze. Ashton snapped.
"Ashton," Ashley's voice was softer this time, lacking her usual teasing tone.
He groaned slightly but didn't lift his head. "What?"
"You should go to your room if you want to sleep properly."
He sighed, rubbing his temple before finally glancing at her. "I'll move when I feel like it."
Ashley pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, resting her chin on her palm as
she observed him. "Rough day, huh?"
"Yeah," he muttered, closing his eyes again.
A moment of silence passed before he felt something cold press against his cheek. His eyes snapped open to find Ashley holding an ice pack to his face.
"What are you—"
"Shh. Just stay still," she murmured, her focus entirely on tending to his bruises.
For once, Ashton didn't argue. He was too drained to push her away, and if he was being honest, the ice felt good against his aching skin.
As Ashley shifted the ice pack to the other side of his face, he groaned softly in pain.
"Why do you do this to yourself? Look at these bruises… If you don't keep the ice on, your face is going to swell."
"Yeah, I know." His voice was quiet, laced with exhaustion.
"How does your mother even allow this?"
Ashton didn't respond. He clenched his jaw as another sharp sting shot through him from the cold pressing against his skin.
Ashley's brows furrowed as she studied his face. "Oh god… Now that I'm icing it, the bruises are changing color. This is worse than I thought."
Her eyes flickered to his eyebrow. She squinted slightly before gasping. "Wait— is that a cut?"
Ashton looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "Maybe. I don't know."
Her concern turned into frustration in an instant. "Are you serious?"
"What?"
"Why do you push yourself like this? What are you trying to prove? Are you some professional boxer? A street fighter? Are you making a living out of this?"
He met her gaze, unfazed. "I do it because I want to be strong."
Ashley scoffed. "Oh, shut the hell up. 'I want to be strong'— you sound like an idiot."
For the first time, Ashton didn't snap back. Maybe because, this time, she wasn't just teasing him. She was genuinely upset.
He sat there, silent, as she continued to scold him like a child.
"You're not gaining anything from this, Ash. You're just ruining your stupidly handsome face, and for what?"
Ashton exhaled. "Are you done?"
Ashley crossed her arms. "Were you even listening?"
Without answering, he placed the ice pack on the table and leaned forward, folding his arms over it. "I'm tired," he muttered before resting his head down.
Ashley stared at his bruised face, the pink and purple hues deepening under the dim light. Her fingers unconsciously reached out, tugging at the hairband holding back his damp locks. His dark strands fell messily over his forehead.
His skin was warm beneath her touch, damp from sweat, but for some reason, it didn't bother her.
She hesitated for a moment before running her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back gently. Ashton didn't flinch. He was already slipping into sleep.
Her lips parted slightly as she studied him— his sharp jawline, the bruises that marred his otherwise perfect skin, the way his long lashes rested against his cheeks.
'He must be exhausted… Should I cook something for him? Or wake him up and tell him to sleep in his room?'
A small, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. 'No… he looks too cute like this. I should just let him sleep and play with his hair. It's not like I ever get to touch him when he's awake.'
Leaning forward, she rested her head on her arm, her face now just inches from his.
She reached out, gently cupping his cheek, her eyes locked onto him.
'How can you be so cold on the outside yet so soft underneath, Ash…?'
Her thumb traced slow, delicate circles against his bruised skin.
'I swear, someday… I'll make you chase me the way I chase you. Someday… I'll be the one throwing tantrums while you run after me.'
Her heart pounded as she slowly leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.
'I love you so much, baby…'
Just then, his phone rang.
Ashley jerked her hand away and sat up straight, pretending as if nothing had happened.
Ashton stirred, then suddenly shot upright. "Oh, shoot! How long did I sleep?!" He sounded panicked, as if he had just missed something important.
Ashley smirked at his flustered reaction. "Calm down, it's just 6:45."
Ashton's eyes widened.
'Shit, I'm late. Jenny told me to meet her at seven.'
He sprang to his feet. "Aunt, I have to go."
Ashley frowned. "Where? Why? Aren't you exhausted?"
"I have to meet a friend."
Her eyes narrowed. "Friend?"
"Yeah, Jen—" He caught himself mid-sentence.
His brain screamed at him. 'If I tell her it's Jenny, she'll definitely interfere. No way I should mention her.'
"Darwin." He blurted out the first name that came to mind.
Ashley's brows furrowed at his hesitation. "Darwin?" She repeated, clearly unconvinced.
"But you just got home… Look at you. You're sweaty, exhausted, and covered in bruises. Are you really planning to go out like that?"
"It doesn't matter. I just have to be there."
Ashley crossed her arms. "I don't think you should go. You're overexerting yourself."
"It's fine." Ashton dismissed her concern and rushed to the bathroom.
He showered in record time—barely two minutes, scrubbing down like a crow dipping
into a puddle.
Then, he sprinted to his room, throwing on a white t-shirt and a brown trench coat, pairing them with blue jeans. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, slicking it back hurriedly.
Every move was rushed.
Pausing in front of the mirror, he stared at his reflection. His bruises stood out.
'Great. No fixing this now… Guess I'm going on a date looking like a battered fighter.'
Just then, Ashley's voice rang from downstairs.
"ASH! YOUR PHONE—"
His stomach dropped.
'Shit. I left my phone on the dining table. If that call is from Jenny, I'm screwed…'