call me poison ivy ('cause i'm far from good) - I

Aspen forgot how quiet the apartment can be when no one is around. It's been a while since he's been all alone, without anyone waiting for him when he got home from his work or from training at the sportscenter. Molly isn't there to welcome him home with a hug and a kiss, she isn't singing in the shower thinking no one is there to listen to it. She isn't on the couch with Cassidy, his crazy weird cat, on her belly, reading a book. She's not there.
So he comes home to a quiet, empty house. The apartment looks like it comes right out of a magazine. It's not really lived in. It's been like that for two weeks now, but he can't get used to it. He misses her, how she'd cook for him, how she'd make him coffee in the morning and add a little more sugar than usual to make him happy. She always left things laying around, always made a mess of his neat place. And then he made a mess of whatever it was they had together and she left.
Of course she left.
She had every right to leave. She had every right to scream like she did, to cry, to yell at him. She had every right to hit him in the face. It all still hurts, though, because he thought she'd forgive him—again, like she always did.
But this time she didn't. This time she packed her stuff and she walked out the door, leaving him and his shit behind. He hasn't had the guts to call her ever since.
So when he turns the keys and opens the door, the lights aren't on, and there's no music playing, there's no humming while she's busy making food in the kitchen. He's alone.
He doesn't even bother turning the lights on, but walks straight to the kitchen, starved to the bone. Outside it's drizzling and he's wet from the ride on his bike. His shoes leave wet stains on the wooden floor, but he doesn't give a shit. He's going to be out of here soon anyway.

When Austyn is ten years old, her mother takes her and her brother Aspen, packs their bags and puts them on the backseat of their father's Volvo. When they leave, she can feel the ashes of their family scatter around the cold asphalt.
'Don't we have to go to school tomorrow?' she had asked.
Her mother had said nothing.
She feels like that, now; Empty, like she has nothing. She hasn't seen her father in thirteen years. Doesn't know if he ever found out where she was, if he thought she had left willingly, if he found someone else to love.
She thought Wyatt was everything, thought he was it all for her. Thought she loved staying at home, thought she loved him. He always told her she thought too much. Turns out he was right.
Somehow, it always comes down to this: Some people do not want to be tied by words like I love you and I want to be with you. Some people never meant for you to actually catch them.
The weather sucks, it suits her mood. She has painted her nails black, her hair dripping, smudges of eyeliner around her eyes. She doesn't even know if her brother still lives here.

Aspen opens the fridge, staring at the boxes filled with leftovers from his mom's, contemplating. Maybe he should just order pizza, or Chinese. He knows how the food his mom makes tastes like the abhorrence she has for cooking.
Cassidy meows. He's sitting next to the fridge on the counter, looking at Aspen expectantly. He gives the cat an unimpressed look and then realizes he's probably asking for food. Fuck, he thinks, realizing he doesn't even know if there is still any cat food.
It's incredible how dependent you can get on one person. Molly apparently used to do everything around here and he doesn't know if he wants to be angry or thankful.
Maybe just both.
He closes the fridge, thankful that he doesn't have to look at those judging boxes any longer, and goes looking for cat food in the cupboard in the hall.
Sometimes the apartment still smells like her, even though she's been gone for two weeks. He hasn't spoken to Nate either, even though the boy leaves a message on his phone twice a day. He's probably been at the door a few times too, but Aspen makes sure he's either at his work or at the sportscenter and when he's not, he just listens to music loud enough to have an excuse to ignore the doorbell.

The first time Austyn dared to tell Wyatt she wanted to leave she was twenty-two, her arm in a cast and her cheek a faded blue. He had kissed her, a please, please, I love you, I can't— too harsh, to quick on his lips. She felt dirty afterwards.
When she enters the building, she lights a cigarette, inhaling the smoke as deeply as possible; her hand trembles, her neck is stiff, she's soaked. Determined, she walks up the stairs.

There's cat food in the cupboard in the hall. Molly probably left it there for him to find. She left a lot of things for him to find, now he thinks about it. The house keys he gave her when they were three months together, for example. Or the crappy poems he wrote on a sticky note every Friday for her to find on the fridge when he had a night shift—stupid little things she seemed to have kept forever, things that were like a slap in his face when he found them on the kitchen table the night she disappeared.
Aspen fills Cassidy's bowls and then goes fetch a towel from the bathroom. With his phone in his hand he walks over to the window that looks out over the lit city. Absentmindedly he scrolls through his contacts, searching for the pizza place's phone number.

The smoke clings to her like Wyatt did—unrelenting, sucking itself into her pores like it wanted to suffocate her, nicotine rushing through her veins like liquid fire. She had never liked the taste of ashes, but after years of living with a blaze as a boyfriend, she got used to the heat. She rolls up the sleeve of her soaked blouse and pushes the white-hot end of the cigarette against her skin. It sizzles—she lets out a relieved, pained exhale—before it dies out. When it drops to the ground, she rings the doorbell.

Aspen just hangs up on the pizza place as the doorbell rings. He stands there being confused for seconds, and then realizes they could never be that fast.
It's Nate, probably. Or Alexis. She never calls. She just comes. It doesn't matter what time it is. Could be the middle of the night, for all she cares. He sighs, walks towards the hall, towel still draped over his wet hair. He opens the door, ready to tell either Alexis or Nate to fuck the fuck off, and then he has to look twice. 'Austyn…?'

'Aspen.' The name sounds foreign on her tongue—Wyatt would only hit her harder when she mentioned him; she hasn't said his name out loud for years.
(Aspen? Where is he, then, huh? He hasn't saved you yet, has he now, sunshine? God, you're dumb. Your hero isn't here, pumpkin. He won't ever be here. If he would, then why are you still with me? He doesn't care, sweetheart. He doesn't care.)
'Aspen.' Her voice is rough, like an artist just finding the right spot, like the right way to turn the brush, to curve the fine line of paint that forms the red of lips—
'Fuck, Aspen.'

Aspen forgets how to move, how to breathe. He just stares at her, like she's some kind of ghost. She is, in a way.
'Holy fuck,' he finally says under his breath. 'Austyn, what the fuck, I thought you—I thought you died, I thought you were gone. I thought—' His voice breaks and he swallows, once, twice, shakes his head, still completely knocked off his feet.

She's sure there are words coming out of his mouth, and she's sure she asks him if she can come in, but everything is deafening—she can't breathe. Her own voice is in her head but not coming out of her mouth, her tongue refusing to turn air into sounds but all she can think is Can I come back? Do you still want me? Do you still love me? How are you? Where is mom? Am I still your sister? Am I dead?—
Her voice returns on the last word, cracking, failing, breaking. Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead?

Aspen just stands there wordlessly. He's not really sure for how long he just stares at her, but eventually he reaches out his hand, pushing a strand of her blonde locks from her pale face. When he touches her, a sigh escapes from his lips. She's real. She's fucking real.
'Come here,' he mutters, and he pulls her inside, not thinking, not doing anything but putting his arms around her and pushing her against his chest. He doesn't care how bad she smells, or how soaked she is. She's his baby sister, she's his everything, she's all he lived for, and he thought she was gone.

There's a moment, when Aspen touches her, that she flinches—a tiny movement so quick she doesn't even notice it herself. Hiding becomes muscle memory, like tensing up, like running away. Before, she knew it was a negative response. Now, the tenseness of her abdomen only seem like a good workout.
Then, she melts into him, against him, fingers pulling at his shirt. 'I'm sorry—Aspen, I'm sorry.'

Aspen holds her like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance. His breath is hitching, he's crying. 'I missed you. I missed you. It's insane, I missed you so much. I thought you were gone—forever, I thought I lost you—' He chokes on his words, doesn't know what breathing is anymore.

'I thought I lost you, too,' she whispers. 'I thought I lost you too.'

Aspen shakes his head, keeps shaking his head. "You didn't. You never will. You never—" He holds her tightly, just stops talking. He breaths raggedly, his hands are shaking. He's holding her, he's holding her. "I love you," he whispers, "I love you. I thought I'd never be able to tell you again but I love you."

'I don't—I don't—Aspen, I—' She hides her face in his neck, tears wetting his skin. 'I missed you.'

Aspen holds his hand against the back of her head, the other between her shoulder blades, pressing her against him. He wants to ask what happened to her, where she went, why she looks so utterly destroyed. But he doesn't, he just holds her. Quietly he takes the towel off his head and wraps it around hers a bit, since her hair is soaked. "I missed you too," he murmurs, his voice still thick with emotions. "Where did you go...?"

Austyn stills. 'Just—Just away. It doesn't matter.' Her voice is soft. 'I'm here now.'

Aspen feels how she tenses up and decides he isn't asking any further. He lets go of her, gives her a reassuring smile. "You wanna take a shower? I still—I still have your stuff. Your room is—Everything is still there. Except that you can't—you can't sleep there now, the bed isn't—I kind of broke some things." He shrugs, looks at her apologetically. "You can sleep in my bed, though. I can manage on the couch... And there's pizza, in a moment, if you're hungry." He can't stop talking, he doesn't know what to do. Molly would know what to do, she knows Austyn, she knows people.

Austyn nods, once, twice. 'Shower,' she says. 'Shower is good. I'll—I'll take the couch. It's alright.' She looks around. 'Where is the bathroom? I—'

Aspen shows her the bathroom. "Just use my stuff, I'll buy some for you tomorrow... Or maybe there's some of Molly's left, I honestly have no idea, I still need to do that thing where I throw her stuff away," he says, then realizes Austyn doesn't know about Molly and him, and he bites his lip.

Austyn nods, not saying anything, and goes inside. She undresses slowly, body taut with fatigue and bruises. The hot spray of water burns along her back, too many wounds not yet healed. The inside of her elbow stings, flesh burned on top of thick, scarred skin.

Aspen gets his phone and scrolls through his contacts, stops at Nate's name. He hesitates, then presses twice and holds the phone to his ear, fingers still trembling. He sinks down on the couch, vision blurry from the stupid tears. He hasn't cried in three years.

Austyn knew Wyatt was no good when she moved in with him; knew he had a temper, knew he wasn't known for his infinite patience and loving caresses. It was what drew her in in the first place, what she thought she needed in a man. Someone to be the boss of her, someone to tell her what to do and what not to do.

When Molly found out about Nate and him, she wasn't surprised. She'd looked at him, nodded and smiled, like she'd known it for ages.
He hasn't talked to Nate since she left and he's not sure if they're still on good terms. Still, he waits until the guy picks up, knowing he will, he always does.

'Hmm?' Nate grunts while picking up the phone, eyes still closed. It feels like it's been seconds since he closed his eyes around ten, but he knows it's been longer.

Aspen sighs in relief. 'Hey, it's me—it's Aspen. I'm—fuck, I woke you, didn't I—I'm so sorry. It's just—' He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 'She's back, Austyn is back and I don't know—I don't know what to do.'

'Wait, what?' Nate grumbles. 'Austyn? I thought she was—You said she was—'

'I thought so too,' Aspen breathes, 'I thought so too and now she's here, she's in the shower and I don't—I don't know, Nate, she's not dead, she's not—' He chokes on his words, tries not to cry, not now, not like this.

'Do you need me to come over?' Nate asks, rolling out of bed, wide awake. 'I can be over in twenty.'

Austyn turns off the shower, soft towels weird on her rough skin. She hasn't showered that long in years.

Aspen hesitates, then breathes out a quivering 'please, please, I need you here'. He hears Austyn turn off the water. 'She's—she's almost done in the bathroom, I need—I'll see you in twenty.' His fingers clench around the phone.

Nate says 'yes, yes, I'll let myself in, don't worry,' and hangs up biting back the stupid I love yous that always seem to want to bubble up to the surface when Aspen is concerned. He dresses quickly, runs a hand through his unruly hair and jumps into the black fiat punto evo parked in front of the apartment.

'Aspen?' Austyn calls cautiously. 'I don't—I don't have anything to wear.'

When the phone call is ended and Nate's voice is gone, Aspen just stares down at the black screen, not doing anything. He jumps up as if he's been stung when he hears her voice. 'Wait up, I'll get you some…' He rushes towards the guest room, where he still has a bag with her clothes.

Austyn gets the bag from Aspen quickly, not giving him the time to look at her ravaged body. When the opens it, she eyes it with confusion. 'I don't—I don't know if I still fit these,' she says loud enough for Aspen to hear, barking out a forced laugh. Her thin fingers pick out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top that was a bit too small for her, but now hangs loosely around her frame.

Nate eyes the clock worriedly, exceeding speed limits and praying to all Gods everwhere that he doesn't get into an accident and that all cops are busy doing some real stuff, like catching the rapist that's been active in a small town up north. When he recognises the apartment buildings that surround Aspen's, he pushes the pedal in some more.

'I know, I just—I kept them, maybe there's something in there that still fits,' Aspen says, voice wavering. 'We can look for other clothes tomorrow, it's late anyway, I just… wasn't prepared, obviously…' He's babbling, he's fucking tired.

Nate enters the house at the exact same time Austyn walks out of the bathroom. They both freeze.
'What—'
'As—'

Aspen stands there for a moment, thinking about what to say. "Um—Austyn, this is Nate. He's um—he's—we're kind of together? And kind of not. I don't—" He takes a deep breath, searches for the right words.

'Above all, we're friends,' Nate clarifies. 'I heard—Aspen called—'
Austyn doesn't say anything.

Livingroom I
Livingroom II
Livingroom III
Kitchen
Aspen's Bedroom
Unfinished Floorplan

Aspen nods, makes a vague gesture towards the livingroom. "Let's just sit down. Do you—do you want something to drink, Austyn?" His voice has a strange tone.

Austyn shakes her head, pulls the sleeves of the vest the pulled over the tank top over her fingers, a habit she got when she was younger. It made her feel safer, somehow. Wyatt didn't want her to do it, told her it looked childish. His way of teaching was hard, but it worked. She doesn't know why she can't help but seem to do it again, now.
'I'll get us something,' Nate says, walking past them to the kitchen. 'What do you want, babe?'

Aspen shrugs. "There's—there's probably some beer in the fridge. I still need to do some grocery shopping, I don't know—" He wants to say he doesn't have a clue how to adjust to Molly leaving, but he doesn't want to bring her up again. Not with Nate.
He sits down on the couch and runs his hand through his hair. He's tired. "You sure you want to sleep on the couch? My bed is big enough for two, or I can take the couch. You're—you look tired." She doesn't only look tired, she looks destroyed. And he's pissed about that.

Austyn shakes her head softly, smiling a what needs to be reassuring smile, but even she can feel how forced it looks, skin taut around the corners of her mouth. 'The couch is fine. It's just until I find something else.'
Nate comes back with a beer and two water, putting the bottle in front of Aspen while he hands Austyn the glass. 'I know you said you didn't want anything,' he says, 'but you need to stay hydrated.' He takes a sip of his own glass and sits down on the couch, leaving enough space between him and Aspen.

Aspen looks at her, shakes his head. "You don't—you're welcome to stay, I don't mind, it's not like I have people around anyway..." His hand unconsciously slips into Nate's. "I'll fix the guest room tomorrow, it's—there's stuff I need to clean up in there, but it'll be decent tomorrow." She looks faded and he wants nothing but to hug her like there's no tomorrow.

Austyn shrugs, says 'we'll see,' like there's any chance she's going to leave Aspen after she just had him back.
Nate doesn't react on the hand holding, doesn't know if this is the 3AM speaking, the lack of sleep, the return of a long lost sister. He squeezes, though, comfortingly.

Aspen is quiet for a while, then silently asks her: 'Do you want me to tell mom you're back…?' He holds Nate's hand like his life depends on it.

Austyn shakes her head. 'No. No no no. You can't tell mom—'

Aspen hesitates. 'She deserves to know, you know? How am I supposed to—to keep this—you, to keep you away from her? She's concerned about me, because I messed up with—with Molly. She comes by every week.' He heaves on a shaky sigh.

'You can't—' Austyn is surprised by the ferocity of her voice. Softer: 'You can't. I don't want mom to—to see me like this.'

Aspen nods slowly, takes a sip from his beer. 'Alright. Alright, I won't tell her, I promise.' His hands shake as he puts the bottle back on the table. 'I'm—I need to go to bed, I can't—I can't think straight.' He gets up from the couch, wavering on his feet.

Austyn nods.
'I'll get you some blankets,' Nate tells her. 'To get you settled in.'