Moonlight embraced Ashley as he rushed up the driveway. His heavy footsteps went hand in hand with the tumultuous beating of his heart, as his anxiety gripped onto him like a shadow.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to the junkyard. He knew he should have stayed home and slept on time, ready for the following school day, like a dutiful son was supposed to.

In that moment, the house he had grown accustomed to appeared as a disorienting mirage before him, hazy and foreboding. Ashley paused in front of the door, trying his best to steady his labored breaths before entering. It didn’t work.

With one final exhale, he unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open.

All the lights were off, save for the lamp emitting a small glow from the living room. The air was thick with a sense of tension that Ashley rarely experienced anywhere else. With the calamity that he knew awaited him in that dimly lit room, the home felt more like a minefield than any kind of sanctuary.

“Father?” Ashley treaded lightly, voice holding a hint of trepidation, as he closed the door behind him. “It’s me. I’m home.”

As he quietly stepped into the adjacent space, the anxious teen caught sight of his father. On the leather couch—one that anyone would call unfitting for the outwardly decrepit house—sat David Bennett, remote in hand, staring blankly at the mindless show playing on the TV. The forty-six-year-old man didn’t even spare a passing glance at Ashley as he slowly approached in the background, and just took a long sip from his glass of water.

“I should have expected as much. Foolish of me to hope for anything more.” he muttered, only slightly under his breath. “Where were you, Ashley?” His words were clipped, yet sharp as a knife slicing through the uneasy stillness.

Ashley swallowed. The boy scratched his arm as he hesitatingly moved forward, stopping just a few feet shy of being alongside his disengaged parent. He began, almost in a whisper. “I thought you and mother were supposed to be out of town for the next few days.”

A stoic expression remained on David’s face, despite the words that followed. “Plans change. Now, answer my question. Where were you?”

A plethora of excuses had run through Ashley’s head on his way from the junkyard. None of them sounded convincing, but he had no choice. He had to try one.

“I was in the city, with my partner. That is, for the school project I mentioned to you before.” His hands tightened into fists that gripped the fabric of his pants, but he still attempted to keep his tone even. “We were at a museum, collecting photos for our presentation. It was far away, so that’s why it took some time for me to return.”

A cynical frown incased David’s lips as he took another gulp of his drink. When he then placed it on the coffee table beside himself and stood up, Ashley subconsciously took a step back.

“Is that so?” The man towered above his son even from several feet away, the contrast in height intensifying the gravity of his presence.

“Yes, I—”

“Because if that were the truth, you would have told your mother and I about it beforehand. As opposed to sneaking around behind our backs.” 

Ashley struggled to find the right words, sweat beginning to form on his pale skin. Before he could open his mouth to defend himself, his father continued.

“It’s no use. I already know everything you said, and intend to say, is a lie; I can see it in your eyes.” His voice was still ice cold, yet there was a hint of rising aggression. “You were not doing anything other than wasting time, and now you want to come in here spewing nonsense, taking me for an idiot?”

“No, father, I didn’t—”

He cut Ashley off again, with a stern hand in the air. “You always do this. Taking it easy instead of focusing on what’s important. How nice. I wish your mother and I had that luxury.”

Ashley’s face sank. The harsh words couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I don’t need you to disappoint me. What I need is for you to make yourself useful, and stop acting like a spoiled child.”

When he was finally given the chance, Ashley meekly replied to his awaiting father. “…I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” He whispered. “Please, trust me on that.”

“Trust is earned. And you always fail to convince me you deserve any.”

David abruptly stepped up beside him, minimizing the distance between them. Ashley involuntarily flinched at his imposing presence.

“Do not think of pulling this kind of behavior again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, father.” Ashley mumbled. The spirit in him, which was so prevalent just an hour ago, had dampened beyond recognition.

As the man gave him one more discerning glance over, Ashley turned away without another word. Defeated, he withdrew to the confines of his bedroom, closing the door behind him with the quietest click he could manage.

Once concealed in privacy, Ashley roughly threw off the dirtied shirt that only served to give him away even more. He sat with a thud on his bed, hands placed against his forehead in frustration. Behind his glasses, the teen’s vision started to blur.

He struggled not to blink, because if he did, he would cry.

                                                                                           ****

Ashley always did what he was supposed to.

He woke up, dressed the part that caused him to be made fun of by his peers, went to school, did beyond what was asked of him, returned home, slept. Then, repeated it all again the next day. That was always Ashley’s routine. His life. It was the reason why he had the accolades of his teachers, even as a new student in Meadowbrook. The reason why his wall was adorned with all kinds of awards and certifications acknowledging his academic excellence. The reason why he was ultimately friendless, and boring in the eyes of many, including himself. Miserable. 

And for David Bennett, it didn’t matter. It was never enough.

Xinyi, Ashley’s mother, pushed him to be his best and focus on his studies as well, but never beyond what was unreasonable. She wanted him to get into a good university, and have a good life, and that was fine. And, if he so happened to get a B on an assignment—although a rarity—she would survive. But in his father’s case, Ashley might as well not come home.

Pressure. That was all the man was willing to give his son.

Ashley’s earliest memory of its start traced back to when he was around five years old. When his kindergarten teacher met with David to praise the boy on how well he was doing in class and recommended him for an advanced program the school provided, Ashley was beyond excited. He looked to his father for his approval, for a smile, something. But no. Instead, the man sustained his deadpan expression, and questioned why Ashley wasn’t instead eligible to skip a grade entirely.

Why was being number one so important? Why couldn’t he take it a little easier? Why was his best never good enough? It seemed like it went beyond wanting Ashley to have a good life as an adult, yet he couldn’t question it, and just got accustomed instead. 

He could never deviate from the path his father wanted for him. Any small mistake, even if it was the first Ashley made in weeks, was met with anger and disappointment, as if he was some complete failure. Endless lectures for minor offenses, yet no praise for everything else the teen had achieved.

The confrontation that night was an example of that. But it was worse than it had been in past years. It had all become worse. And all because, in the time leading up to the Bennetts’ move to Meadowbrook—

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. What was done was done, and he would just have to be more careful. He couldn’t get carried away again. Not by…

Ashley sat by his window, glancing at the house next door. The light in the room before him was still off, although that was not unexpected. He’d left Hunter out there, in the city at midnight, all alone. The pretty boy covered his face with his hand, fingers pressing against his forehead in shame. He felt terrible now that he had a moment to think, and knew he’d have to make this up to the blond, somehow.

He wasn’t all that sure that the other teen would even care that much. Would he?

With a sigh, Ashley’s eyes fell on his lap, as he absently played with his fingers.

Hunter.  

Sitting there in the newfound serenity, Ashley’s thoughts remained on the delinquent. He seemed so carefree, so happy with his way of life. Having the freedom to do whatever he wanted…Ashley wished he could have that, even just for one full night, without any interruption from the likes of his overbearing father.

He wished he could have stayed in that junkyard with Hunter, for just a little longer.