#cbapk.docx

[cbapk]

Y’all aint gonna fuckin’ believe what I’m already working on a new chapter of.

-A

[cbapk]

"Just give me a chance" and "I can't believe you!" With ash and evan

A year and a half later, I finally figured out what to write for this angsty shit.

―――

"Just give me a chance," Evan said, heart racing, breaths coming swiftly, "Ash, baby, please, I'll make it up to you, I swear, just-"

He hadn't meant to. Really he hadn't.

It was an accident.

But there would soon be a bruise in the shape of his fist purpling just under Ash's left eye, and she was furiously throwing her clothes in a bag and she hadn't looked at him in half an hour. She hadn't even spoken to him. Not a word.

Not so much as a peep.

He was panicking.

He was panicking hard.

He hadn't meant to hit her.

She zipped up her bag and turned in his direction, face stormy. He realized he was between her and the bedroom door. He was shaking.

She wasn't.

"Move." She said.

The first word in half an hour.

He numbly stumbled sideways out of her way.

"Ash," He said, weakly, turning to watch her go, "Please, I'm sorry,"

She didn't reply.

He trailed after her at a distance, blood rushing in his ears. Was she really going to leave?

Just leave him here?

Leave him in their house, the house Lochlier bought them. Leave him to face not only losing her but Lochlier's anger when she found out. Leave him here like they hadn't been together for seven years, like they hadn't faced everything together so far, like he hadn't wasted his youth robbing houses to pay for them to be able to stay together.

He couldn't live without her. He didn't know how.

She couldn't just.

Leave.

Could she?

She stopped at the front door.

"I can't believe you." She said, without even looking back at him, "Get your shit together, Evan. I can't keep being your girlfriend and your therapist and your mother. Call me when you can get into a disagreement without hitting somebody. I'm going back to Henrico County."

"Ash," He said, voice breaking.

"Goodbye." She said, and she still didn't look back when she walked out the door and closed it behind her.

The lock clicked from the outside.

Evan shot up in bed, panting. The clock said it was only two in the morning.

Ash was curled peacefully on the bed next to him, brow pinched in mild discomfort or confusion. There was no bruising on her beautiful face, except a tiny little spot on her chin where she'd bumped a counter. Her hair was artfully braided to avoid tangling in the night, splayed across her pillow while her face had somehow ended up on the very outer corner of his pillow.

She was beautiful, and, more importantly, she was here.

He took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. He reached out with shaking hands, brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. Smoothed his thumbs over her face, under her eyes.

She hummed and leaned into the touch.

That had upset him far more than he'd wanted it to, that dream.

He hadn't had a nightmare about hurting Ash and her leaving him for it in years.

He swallowed down the tears threatening to blur his vision. Let one hand slowly move, laid it over her belly. She was a little squishy by nature, but the bump was becoming obvious.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It was going to be okay. He was going to be fine.

Ash wasn't going anywhere, their baby was fine, and he hadn't actually hurt her. Not on accident or on purpose.

It didn't make the dream hurt less, or seem less possible. In fact, thinking about the baby that was due to join them here in only a handful of months made him more anxious than he could put into words.

But he took the dream, he recognized it for what it was ― that being his anxiety eating him alive ―, and he tried to move on. He'd have to keep trying, keep being better than his father, but he could do it. He could.

He wasn't going to slip up badly enough to run Ash off.

Moreover?

She wouldn't leave him for one slip up. She'd kick his ass and then they'd figure out why he'd slipped and how to avoid it in the future.

He took another deep breath, and he laid back down, cradling her head against his chest and smoothing his hand over her belly.

He lined his breathing up with hers the best he could and hoped, maybe foolishly, for a less eventful sleep to claim him between now and sunrise.