#;apt306

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton's apt #306 - night. 25th april. @ruthellry

"Do I have to? You could just save them for emergencies instead, y'know," Ash grumbled at the set of pills placed in his palm and a cup of water in the other while Ruth did her routine check on the rest of his injuries. Though he knew there was no other answer other than yes, so he downed them all anyways. By now, he was able to sit up in his bed at least, and the past few days and nights had been weathered through, physically, mentally, emotionally, somewhat coming to terms to the state he's in and the reality of things now - almost.

But the withdrawals were the things that hit him more than he thought they would, so he wouldn't question Ruth's, perhaps nor Vikram's, prescriptions. The routine had been set and familiar now, Ruth coming in morning and night check ins, medication and food brought, sometimes with or without the other doctor. It felt like he was back at that hospital again despite here in his own apartment. Ash winced at a dull pain as she worked, trying not to let it show. He was familiar enough with her routine, starting to change his own bandages that he could reach on his arms, nodding towards his ankle, "the swelling's gone today, think I could walk on it?"

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton's apartment #306 - day. 2nd may 2026. @amxlia-ryder

"You sure you got everything you need? I still have some extra blankets, bedsheets, oh- Dawn's old bed for when y'all visit," Ash placed the box of things down, the final one to help really get Amelia settled down in a new apartment. Sure, staying all together like a family again would've been nice, but surely just being across the hallway was just the same. A part of him simply just.. reluctant to ever let his apartment go. He even gave Maisie his room as he moved his bed to the corner of the living room by the window, replacing on of his desks and moving that to a different corner. The simplicity of his apartment made things easier to rejig around.

A part of him was reminded of Charlie's words just the day before though, nerves growing again at the thought of every bad reaction to ripping the band aid. Maisie was already out playing with June for the afternoon, the wedding was over, a small lull washed over the township, he knew he ran out of excuses now. "Hey mom.." he started before she had the chance to take the her leave, feeling his mouth dry out at the anxiety of it all, "should we.. talk now?" He promised that they would, ever since she stepped into the Wexley. He felt like a teenager again as if about to admit to some embarrassing, dumb mistake, but worse. He leaned back against the kitchen counter with a helpless laugh, "I don't even know where to start.. what did- Charlie tell you already?"

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton's apt #306 - day. 27th april. @emberwexley

The last few days of battling through his tattered body and mind had felt like a century. Despite being free, he had been waiting for some shoe to drop, Sada to take him back, the vaccine being fake, the virus to take control, someone to just kindly take him out of the pain. Yet today after day, nothing. Nothing but lying in his own pit of uselessness and self worthlessness. Everyone keeps telling him to rest, and he really doesn't know how to. The itch was crawling under his skin to do something, be useful, before his life ends again.

He sat up for the first time in days of lying down, hunched over his work desk bringing back up papers and his notebook Aggie found, willing his mind to start working and stop thinking. Because every thought had been nothing but terrible. The withdrawals comes and goes in waves, and the wave was coming with the nausea and headache. Ash lightly hit his forehead down on the desk repeatedly like a tick of a clock as if to fight everything pain with physical pain. He hadn't even heard someone knock or open the door or come in.

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton's apt #306 - day. 24th april. @rhianwells

Ash hated the fact that people could come and go, he's lost the right to his only personal space in this building, previously if he wanted to be alone, he could simply protect his space and boundaries, not anymore. Warranted, most that have come and go in the past 48 hours were faces Ashton had been most comforted to see, yet also most ashamed of having to face him that way. People he cared about, people he should be protecting, people that didn't deserve him at his worst, yet they were the people he was most thankful for.

But when the door clicked opened yet again, he wished it never did. Ashton barely moved from his positions in the apartment unless someone moved him, ankle still screaming in pain every time he tried to walk even just to the bathroom (god to get to the bathroom without chains restricting him back was uncanny). Mostly, like today, he was left on his bed, curled up and drifting in and out of consciousness from a fucked up mixed stew of the virus, the vaccine, the medication, the hunger and the lingering fever. But this time he was awake enough to peel open his eyes, as they darken with confusion at Ria standing there. There was a flurry of emotions seeing her, having not even seen her much in weeks, as he tried to keep his biting words to a minimum, "..what does Sada want."

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton's apartment #306 - morning. 23rd april. @hannahxinterrupted

After Charlie left, Ashton found himself falling back into the deep haze after exerting way too much energy to stay focused on talking coherently with her. He had appreciated her pulling him out of the pit that morning however, now being alone again, it was too easy to slip from his grips and fall back in. The shitty feeling that he couldn't quite place why other than due to withdrawals came and went in waves, the tide had receded while Charlie was here, making it easy to justify hanging on, but now it came back in full force over his head, threatening to drag in under water. The meal Charlie brought still sat on his bedside table, honestly the smell probably made him more nauseous. And so he pulled the covers over his head, curled into a ball, riding it out as the ugly thoughts swung back in. What's the point on hanging on? Maybe a lack of air underneath the covers here can knock him out to a painless dream.

He wasn't left alone for very long, or maybe it was long, it felt long, Ashton couldn't really have a grasp on time, only pain, assuming Charlie had come back to make sure the food was eaten, "I don't want to eat, I'm fine." Those were better greeting words than kill me, right? Right. The words were pathetically muffled into blankets, not really sure of the new presence with him that morning. And if it was anyone here to hurt him, all he could think of was might as well.

[ashton-ryder]

//int. ashton’s apt #306 - dusk. 23rd april. @beauclary

After Charlie left that morning, Ash was really starting to feel the effects of being awake for one, the heroin withdrawals for another, physically and emotionally exhausted from crying for last. Yet he couldn’t do anything about it but lay in bed and ride it out. He was in and out of consciousness for most of the early day, battling the nausea, and headaches, and pain, vaguely aware of someone visiting - Beau? Ash couldn’t really remember. He was spoken to, he said some words, and then he succumb to some kind of surface level of sleep with the mixture of everything assaulting his senses.

By the time he clawed through unconsciousness and the heavy weight suffocating him, the sun had lowered to filter into his windows, looking to set soon and usher in the night. He groaned at the pounding in his head intensifying the more he pulled himself awake, the nausea getting him to at least sit up, feeling the room spin with him as he did. But once his vision could focus again, Beau was still seated on a chair by his room, reading one of his books. “You’re still here?” Ash rubbed his eyes and the tear stains away, blinking until the blurry figure cleared up to morph into Beau, "told you it's fine, you didn't hafta stay and sit here doing nothing," he weakly chuckled but gaze clearly appreciative of his friend's gesture.