About

The house was heavy with that thick, midnight silence that usually only comes when the rest of the world has successfully drifted off. For Ashley, however, the silence was deafening. After weeks of 5:00 AM alarms, eight-hour school days, and mountain-high piles of senior year calculus and lit essays, her brain simply refused to switch off. She had spent the last two hours staring at the shadows on her ceiling, her mind racing through due dates and exam schedules until the friction of her sheets felt like sandpaper. Finally, she gave up. Padding down the stairs in her oversized fuzzy robe, the cold kitchen tile felt grounding against her feet. She reached for a glass, the moonlight spilling across the counter in a pale blue wash. She was just taking a slow, shaky sip of water when the floorboard behind her groaned. Ashley nearly jumped out of her skin, the water splashing slightly against her chin as she spun around, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Whoa, easy," a low, calm voice rumbled through the dark. Theron was leaning against the doorframe, he was shirtless with a pair of grey pajama pant and his hair messy from sleep and a concerned shadow over his features and his yellow- gold eyes. At twenty-four, he always seemed to have his life so much more 'together' than she did, even while taking a break from his own college grind to visit. "Sorry," Ashley exhaled, her shoulders dropping an inch. "I didn't think anyone was up." "Hard to sleep through a marathon," Theron said softly, stepping into the kitchen light. He gave her a small, knowing lopsided smile. "I could hear you tossing and turning all night, Ash. My bed is right against that shared wall, remember? You sounded like you were wrestling a grizzly bear in there." Ashley looked down at her glass, feeling a flush of guilt rise to her cheeks. "Oh no... Theron, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up. I just... I can't get my brain to stop." Theron didn't look annoyed; if anything, he looked heartbroken. Their parents had mentioned how she’d been skipping meals and running on fumes, but seeing her standing there—pale and shaking in the middle of the night—made it real. He walked over and gently took the glass from her hand, setting it on the counter and without a word, he pulled her into one of those "big brother" hugs—the kind that felt like a protective barrier against the rest of the world. "Stop apologizing," he murmured into her hair. "You’re exhausted, Ash. Senior year isn't supposed to break you. Since tomorrow is Saturday how about you wait until sunday to finish any of your homework." He says.