The sky was overcast, the air felt muggy, and Asher was nearly suffocating. He groaned as he pulled on the rope to bring the last boat of the day into its place at the dock. The ocean spit salty droplets at him as he fought strenuously against the tide, which seemed to be attempting to bring the boat back out to sea.

Whenever Asher was in the presence of the ocean, he felt at peace. The waves and wind swept any tension he held right out, leaving behind a welcomed chill that soothed his soul. Even the scent of the brine and salt sent his mind into a state of utter relaxation. However, when he was working along the docks, and that same ocean was spitting at his face and soaking his socks, Asher wasn't quite as enamored by it.

The usual scent of fish had attached itself to his clothing, and as he walked down the path towards the more populated area of the village, where the food was, he could swear he saw people masking their noses as he passed them.

He stopped in his tracks and stared down at himself, frowning at the sight of his wet pants and shoes. Asher had become so accustomed to the sensation, he no longer thought anything of it unless someone pointed it out. His pruney hands reached up and attempted to pass through his matted hair, a present from the constant ocean breeze.

Asher turned to head home, contemplating taking a warm shower before heading into town. The thought of being clean and completely dry was highly appealing. He stopped in his tracks once more and groaned, however, when he remembered that his daily routines were completely different now thanks to a certain silver-haired demon. Asher did his best not to start stomping in frustration.

Settling on a shower, he began weaving through the alleyways much like that morning. If he weren't native to these cobblestone paths, Asher would have been terrified. The dim lights were peeking around each corner, lighting up old cracked windows on the ground level and the dark vines that threatened to obstruct them. He occasionally kicked up trash as he quickly passed through, carelessly sending it into even darker corners of the pathway. He nearly tripped over a large can but instead sent it flying with a swift kick.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" a voice growled.

Asher froze at the voice, fearful that he had just outed an attacker from his hiding position, and now he was about to be killed or mugged. He couldn't see too far into the shadows from where the voice came, so he decided to give his new talent a shot.

Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes, concentrating his energy into them. He began to feel a familiar warmth radiate from his core and up to his face, trickling into his retinas. Opening his lids, he smiled as he stared into the shadows with his superior vision, the white haze highlighting all the once hidden objects.

"Jackson?" he asked in confusion, surprised to see his friend tucked away in the darkness.

"Yo," his friend murmured, giving him a lazy wave from his seat against the brick wall, legs stretched out ahead of him.

Asher chuckled, "What're you doing here?" he asked as he shuffled over, pushing his hands into his pockets.

As he stepped closer, he noticed Jackson's bloodshot eyes and the hint of dark circles beginning to appear beneath them. Tension surrounded his friend, encasing his body in a tight shell that screamed at anyone who glanced at him to leave him be.

Jackson wasn't one for revealing emotion, and when he couldn't help but do so, he separated himself from the rest of society. He had only seen his friend in such a position a hand full of times, and it was always for the same reason.

Asher shifted his weight awkwardly as he tried to pick his words carefully. Not only did Jackson loathe showing emotion, but he also despised sincere personal conversations. However, each time Jackson had fallen into this state, he had placed himself in Asher's path, making it appear as though Asher had just happened to stumble upon him. He didn't dare to point this tendency out, afraid he might scare the boy off, forcing him to burrow himself further into his struggles.

He knew somewhere in the back of his mind, Jackson wanted to talk, and for whatever reason, he'd decided Asher was most suited to help him.

"So, was it her that called, or one of the twins?" he asked, observing Jackson's face. It was always best to get to the point with him, and not bother with open-ended questions.

His friend huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "One of the twins. Mom would never call."

Asher's stomach sunk. While he had never experienced a motherly relationship, he knew how significant it was, and hated that Jackson's mother was so cold towards him.

"Which one?"

"Who do you think?" Jackson growled.

"Okay, okay," Asher said, bringing his hands out of his pockets to hold them up. "What'd Liam want?"

Jackson scoffed, "He wants plenty of things. For me to come home, as always. He wants mom to leave his dad, but she never will. He desperately wants Hudson to take his side for once when their dad starts tearing into him, but that'll never happen either."

Asher wasn't sure what made Jackson feel like he could talk to him about his home life. He couldn't even offer Jackson useful advice, being poorly versed in family dynamics, but maybe that was why. Jackson didn't desire help and didn't want anyone pitying him. He just wanted someone else to recognize what was happening to him and how he felt. He wanted to be heard.

"So, he called to vent to you?"

"Oh, he vented alright," his friend chuckled darkly, pushing himself off the ground. "He got the shit beat out of him tonight, for no good reason as usual. The kid is at his breaking point. Hudson idolizes their dad for some ridiculous reason, and since my dad died, mom gloms onto Jim like he's the last freaking person on earth."

Jackson glared daggers into the darkness ahead of him, almost as though he was speaking to it instead of Asher. "He wants to die," he hissed, hands curled into fists. "My ten-year-old little brother, not even out of General School, told me he wants to die."

Asher's stomach twisted into knots, "I-I'm so sorry."

After a moment of silence, Jackson finally made eye contact with him, "Sorry? Don't be sorry," he sneered. "It doesn't help anyone," he muttered, walking over to Asher.

"The second I get through my first year in the Garrick," Jackson growled in determination, "I'm getting them the hell out of there."

Asher smirked as he watched his friend dig himself out of his hole, replacing sorrow with determination. It happened every time, and Asher was both proud and jealous of Jackson for his ability to draw himself up without aid.

Jackson's eyes widened as they met Asher's, "Hey - what the heck?"

"What?" Asher asked, concerned by his friend's sudden interest.

"Your eyes, dude. They look different," he remarked, gesturing to his own eyes.

Asher's breath caught as he realized he was still tuning into his new ability. He didn't know his eyes would shift in appearance. Resentment boiled in his stomach when he realized the Captain had neglected to warn him of this.

Asher grit his teeth in annoyance. "I'm not sure what you mean," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, taking that moment to release the energy being focused into his orbs. Asher looked back to Jackson to find his friend watching him carefully, brow raised in curiosity.

"Hm," he shrugged, "must've been the lighting."

"There's not much light back here, Jackson."

His friend huffed in exasperation. "Well, they looked almost neon green instead of the usual puke green, okay?"

"Thanks," Asher deadpanned.

Jackson continued to eye him suspiciously, making Asher's discomfort increase. He could see the gears turning in his friend's mind, trying to decipher the puzzle in front of him.

"Where're you headed now?" Asher asked, trying to shift Jackson's attention in a different direction.

"Maggie's," he replied matter-of-factly, continuing to stare at Asher with a heavy gaze.

"Mrs. Welkin's cooking, huh?"

"How'd you know?"

"She's always cooking," Asher chuckled, his stomach following along with a loud rumble at the thought of dinner.

Jackson smirked, "I assume you're coming?"

"Am I invited?"

"No, of course not."

Asher's eyes widened in surprise, "Wait, what? Why not?"

"Stupid questions get stupid answers. C'mon."