Possessive (Completed)

Far

"Hey Asher." Garrett walked from Shea's front door. Shea had rushed out the door during Simon's panic attack, and Garrett was walking to his car to drive home. He imagined that the night was over. "They kissed." Garrett said after taking a swig from his beer bottle.

"They what?" He heard Asher yell from over the phone. "How do you know?"

"Ashe. Chill." Garrett ran a hand through his curls. He was tipsy, but not quite drunk yet. "I've been hanging out with Shea, since you ditched me, and he invited me over, and I heard them-"

"You heard what?"

"Oh Shea! You're so sexy!" Garrett imitated Simon's high voice.

"He said that..?" Asher's voice softened, and crackled slightly.

"Not in so many words..." Garrett staggered and took another swig from his bottle, "But they were kissing."

"It doesn't matter. Why are you telling me this anyway?"

"You've been a real jerk to me, but I know it's because of you're in love, and I know you're really a good dude."

"I'm not in love." Asher insisted.

"Whatever, I just thought you should know. Listen, I know you're not going to give up on Simon, and that's alright, but just... just take it easy for a little while. Lay low, this thing with Shea isn't going to work out.. Simon.. He's struggling bad. You need to let things work out, and let Simon breathe for a minute-"

"No. I've got to get rid of Shea." Asher's voice had regained it's original strength.

"Asher. Don't do something you'll regret. You hear me? Don't-"

"Where are you?" Asher prodded.

"Shea's house." Garrett sighed.

"Where?"

"Don't do this. Not with his home, whatever you're thinking, its crossing a line." Garrett pleaded.

"Where. Is. It." Asher's voice was firm and filled with deep fury.

"Out in Cambridge. It's pretty far from the city, it isn't worth making the whole trip out here..."

"Cambridge?" Asher repeated.

"Yeah. On Essex Street." Garrett inhaled sharply, "Promise me you won't do anything with that information."

"Cambridge?" Asher whispered. "That's not in our district."

"So?"

"So why doesn't he go to the Cambridge School? He shouldn't be at Boston Central, he should be at Cambridge High." Asher explained.

"Don't you dare do what I think you're going to do. Simon is taken, but-" Garrett began, but was cut off by the click of the machine. Asher had hung up the phone, and there was nothing he could do.

....

Asher threw his phone across the room, and it crashed into the wall breaking into a million pieces. Asher covered his eyes with his hands, and let out an exasperated scream yanking at the front of his blonde hair. The word 'taken' shot round his head crashing from side to side. He wanted to punch the wall. He wanted to trash his room. Most of all, though, he wanted to destroy Shea.

Asher couldn't remember when he'd become like he was, he didn't remember how he became exactly like his father, but as he looked at his phone he knew that was exactly like what his dad would do in a fit of rage. Asher was broken, and anyone who got to know him could see that he was really barely functioning, and was chugging full speed toward a brick wall. Asher's mother was rich, and so growing up he'd had everything he'd ever wanted, and he'd grown accustomed to that, but Asher's parents also engaged in horrible violent screaming matches and he'd grown accustomed to that as well. Asher wanted Simon, and not in the way he wanted a new phone, but in the desperate, clingy, stupid, love struck way he knew he'd never be able to have him. Not with Simon being taken. Asher was desolate and depressed, and in no good place to be making decisions. Pain was fueling him in the way that it had for the entirety of his life, and as he'd always done before, he intended to do something terribly unhealthy to break the feverish pain.

His mother hadn't spoken to him since the day the police took his father away. He felt her justified; it was his fault his father was gone anyway, and he tried to emulate his father because those were the qualities and traits that his mother held on a high pedestal. Asher would never forget what his mother had said to him on that day...

"What have you done?" His mother's voice shrieked in his memories.

"He was hurting you. I can see the bruises-" A child Asher was cut off by a slap across the face, a slap which the now fully grown Asher could still feel the pain of.

"He never hurt me as much as you just did."

"He never hurt me as much as you just did."

"He never hurt me as much as you just did."

Asher sat on his bed with his head in his hands wide awake for the rest of the night.