“I’m sorry.”

That was all Ashley offered Hunter when they met in class the next day. He provided nothing more in the way of an explanation as to why he suddenly took off from the junkyard. Nothing about how his father had torn him to shreds, both on the phone and in person. Nothing about how he fell asleep that night, holding back all the emotions and thoughts that were eating him up inside. Nothing about how he just wanted to run away and never look back. He couldn’t.

But, to his surprise, Hunter just regarded him for a moment, expression unreadable, before responding with a simple “it’s cool.” The lackadaisical response confused Ashley slightly, as he half-expected more prodding from the usually curious delinquent. Instead, Hunter kept his gaze fixed on the textbook before him, casually flipping through its worn pages. He then changed the subject altogether by questioning Ashley about something concerning the project. Something he surely wasn’t interested in because it was about their schoolwork for goodness’ sake, but he had asked anyway.

Ashley answered him, to which Hunter just nodded and continued scribbling away at his notes. The spectacled boy observed the other teen’s face for a second, trying to get a better feel for his thoughts, if there were any on the matter.  

Could Hunter tell something was troubling Ashley, but didn’t want to overstep by asking? Could he tell that it was serious?

Blinking away the bewilderment, Ashley decided to turn his attention back to the work as well, letting the topic of his father fade entirely.

He glanced at Hunter in his periphery, seeing his dark blond eyebrows furrowed in disdain as he skimmed an article on steel production advances. Ashley couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips, before he continued reading.

                                                                                          ****

The week went on without any other notable events, save for the fact that Hunter and Ashley finally completed their project and turned it in. It felt like an eternity to finish—once again, thanks to Mr. Thompson’s indecisiveness—but they did it. Now, all that was left to do was wait. As was his usual, Ashley went above and beyond in terms of research, which received grand, and honestly embarrassing, praise from the history teacher. The man implied that he would surely get an A for his half, while giving Hunter an unprofessional side eye. Somehow, Ashley didn’t care for that.

In the time that they had worked together, Hunter kept his word, and put in as much effort as he could regardless of how much he hated it. Slogging through the material was clearly torture for him, but he still did it. If only Mr. Thompson had bothered to see that.

With the submission of the project, the students of Meadowbrook High were now, thankfully, on winter break until a week into the new year. The days were getting even colder as December’s end approached, although it still didn’t snow.

It was Sunday evening when Ashley sat in the living room, alone, staring out the window at the various Christmas decorations that adorned the neighboring houses. The vibrant, twinkling lights contrasted with the stillness that had settled onto Lavender Street. Although he had obviously been on break from school before, it felt strange, not having any type of work to occupy his exceptional mind. Or rather, it felt strange, not going over to Hunter’s house to do research for countless hours. He had no reason to visit, now. Ashley blinked.

He had no reason to talk to Hunter anymore at all, really.

And did that…bother him?

Before he could think about it any further, Ashley’s thoughts were silenced by the front door closing. The boy instinctively sat upright and adjusted his sweater so as not to have it appear wrinkled.

His shoulders relaxed when he caught sight of his mother, entering the room with groceries in hand, eyes pleading. He immediately rose from his seat to help her, which earned him a weary, yet grateful, smile. “Thank you, Ashley.”

“Of course.”

After placing the items on their counter, Xinyi sighed and wiped a hint of sweat from her brow. She turned to her son, clasping her hands together. “So. While I was in town, there was something I came across that I wanted to run by you.”

At that, Ashley cocked his head to the side, slightly. “Really? What is it, mom?”

Mom. A diminutive form he could only use on her. For David, it was always “father.”

She rooted around in her designer purse for a moment, and pulled out a flyer. Ashley’s mouth nearly went agape as his gaze flickered across it. Madame Perrault’s Dance Academy.

“This was displayed on a bulletin board when I entered the market.” Xinyi handed the paper to the teen, whose face remained stunned, but became increasingly hopeful by the second. “You haven’t danced in so long, and I was thinking, especially considering that you are on break…you might like to begin again.”

Ashley’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. It was true, he hadn’t been able to attend a ballet class in ages. In their old town he tried to go at least twice a week, given he had time between his schoolwork and other extracurriculars. If he had the chance, he would go every day. 

His father did not entirely disapprove of the activity, as being well-rounded in not only academics but also creative endeavors looked good on college applications. But, everything else, like math or science, was still prioritized. Dancing was fine, so long as it wasn’t an interference towards what really mattered.

Ashley would never dream of letting the man know just how much he loved it.

He grasped the flyer, his excitement starting to dim as these thoughts, along with other ideas of potential obstacles, entered his mind.

“…can we afford it?” The boy ultimately muttered. He asked that, but honestly, didn’t want to know the answer. His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, to which he looked at her, noticing her fatigued yet reaffirming expression.

“This, just like everything else, will be taken care of. Do not concern yourself with it, Ashley.”

“Are you sure?” he asked tentatively. The middle-aged woman closed and reopened her eyes, with a peaceful inhale.

“I am fully aware that moving in the middle of the semester to a new city was not easy,” Xinyi tucked some strands of her long black hair behind her ear as she spoke. “Nothing has been easy. For any of us.”

Ashley gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod. She continued. “But, despite everything, despite what you may have been told, you’ve been working so diligently. You’ve earned this.”

Xinyi gave him one last smile, before turning away to put the groceries in the refrigerator. Ashley couldn’t contain it; he ran up and hugged her, practically glowing from happiness. He showered her with numerous thank-yous before retreating to his bedroom, wanting to dust off his old ballet shoes right away.

                                         ****

It was unlike him to have done it, but that same evening, Ashley found himself on Hunter’s porch, hand poised to knock. They had no reason to talk anymore. Yet, there he stood.

Ashley chalked it up to him being so excited about starting dance again, that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He just wanted to share the news with someone, even if it was the troublesome boy he had only interacted with up till now because of a forced partnership. No other reason.

He tapped on the door delicately with his knuckles, as refined as ever and not considering that the sound may go unheard with how light it was. When he noticed the knob being turned, Ashley straightened up, subconsciously. He was surprised when he wasn’t greeted by Hunter, but instead an average-looking man who bared no resemblance to the blond.

“Hello.” Ashley began, although not entirely sure what to say. He didn’t know if this was Hunter’s father, or someone else. He figured it would be best to treat him as such, regardless. “I’m Ashley, I live next-door. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The pretty boy extended a hand, which the other shook, firmly. Seemed friendly enough. “Hey, name’s Mike.” He placed his hands in his pockets. “So, uh…what’s going on? Do you need something?”

“Oh, yes, pardon my sudden intrusion. Is Hunter home?”

Mike raised an eyebrow at the rather ordinary question, and Ashley wondered why. “Hunter? Hm.” The man glanced behind him, into the quiet. “Not sure.” Ashley blinked.

What?

They lived in the same home. How could he not know if Hunter was there or not?

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Mike chuckled under his breath. “I figure he’s probably out there raising hell. That’s usually what he’s up to, I guess.” He eyed Ashley a bit. “You don’t look like the type to be a friend of his. Are you?” 

“I suppose you could say that,” he replied, somewhat flatly. Ashley then paused, thinking. It wouldn’t be wrong to ask, would it? “Um. Are you Hunter’s father?”

Then, Mike was the one to pause.

“Ash?” came a voice from behind, cutting through the slight tension in the air.