Chapter 19 Asher
As the plane touched down in Tokyo, I felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach. It had been days since Jared and I had left the sanctuary of the beach house, days since we had stepped back into the glaring spotlight of public scrutiny and media attention.
The tour bus pulled away from the airport, the city lights blurring past the windows in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and motion. Beside me, Jared sat with his head bent over his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he typed out a message to his sister.
But as the minutes ticked by and Jared's phone remained silent, I could sense a change in his demeanor, a tension that seemed to radiate from every pore. And then, just as I was about to reach out and take his hand, his phone buzzed to life, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
Jared snatched it up, his fingers trembling slightly as he swiped to answer.
"Hello?" he said, his voice tight with worry. "Jenna? What's going on? Is everything okay?"
I watched as the color drained from his face, as his free hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist against his thigh. He listened intently, his eyes growing wider and more desperate with every passing second.
"What do you mean, she's in the hospital?" he asked, his voice rising with each word.
My heart clenched at the raw emotion in his voice, at the way his words seemed to catch and stumble in his throat. I reached out instinctively, my hand finding his and gripping tight, trying to anchor him in the present.
Jared barely seemed to register my touch, his expression growing more and more stricken with each passing second. And then, with a shaky exhale, he ended the call, his phone falling from his hand to land with a dull thud on the seat beside him.
"Jared?" I asked softly. "What's wrong?"
"It's my mom," he said, his voice cracking on the words. "She's in the hospital. They don't know if she's going to make it."
I felt my heart break at the pain in his voice, at the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of his sorrow. I knew how much his family meant to him, how hard he had worked to rebuild those relationships after years of estrangement and turmoil.
I thought back to the late-night conversations we had shared, the moments when Jared had opened up about the struggles of his childhood, the pain of growing up in a household plagued by constant fighting and resentment. He had told me about his father's infidelity, about the way the man had walked out on their family and never looked back, leaving Jared and his sister to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.
But through it all, Jared's mother had been his rock, his unwavering source of love and support. She had worked tirelessly to provide for her children, to give them the stability and security that their father had so callously ripped away. And though their relationship had been strained at times, tested by the trials and tribulations of life, Jared had never lost sight of the deep, abiding love he held for the woman who had raised him, who had shaped him into the man he was today.
I thought of the pride in his voice when he had spoken of his sister's wedding, the way his eyes had shone with joy as he described walking her down the aisle in their father's absence. I remembered the way he had teared up when showing me pictures of his newborn niece, the way his fingers had traced the tiny, perfect features of her face with a reverence that bordered on awe.
And now, faced with the prospect of losing the woman who had been the center of his world for so long, I could see the fear and the helplessness that threatened to consume him.
Without a second thought, I pulled him into my arms, my hands running soothing circles over his back as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt.
"You need to be with your family. They need you right now, more than ever."
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine with desperation.
"But what about the tour?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain. "What about you? I can't just leave you, not now, not like this."
I shook my head, my hands coming up to cup his face, my thumbs brushing away the tears that still clung to his lashes.
"Jared, listen to me," I said, my voice firm but gentle. "There is nothing in this world more important than family. And right now, your family needs you more than I do. I love you so much, and I will be here waiting for you when you get back."
With a shaky nod, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, the kiss soft and sweet.
"I love you too," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. "And I promise, I will come back to you."
I smiled through my tears, my fingers tracing the lines of his face, committing every detail to memory.
"I know you will," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Because you and me? We're forever. No matter what life throws our way, no matter how far apart we may be, our love is stronger than any distance, any obstacle."
When we returned to the airport, he pulled me into a tight embrace that spoke of all the love and the longing in his heart. We stayed like that for a long moment, our bodies molded together as if we were trying to memorize every curve and angle, every beat of each other's hearts.
Finally, reluctantly, Jared pulled away, his hand finding mine and giving it a final, gentle squeeze. And then, with one last kiss and a whispered goodbye, he was gone, his tall frame disappearing into the chaos of the airport terminal, his bag slung over his shoulder.
The first few days without Jared were a blur of soundchecks, interviews, and endless hours on the road. I threw myself into the music, into the rush of adrenaline that came with every screaming crowd and every pounding bassline, trying to lose myself in the chaos and the noise, to drown out the ache of missing him that seemed to throb like a physical pain in my chest.
But I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness, the sense that something vital was missing, a piece of myself that had been ripped away and left behind on the other side of the world.
It was a relief, then, to have Mason by my side, his steady presence and quick wit a welcome distraction from my own thoughts. He had stepped into Jared's role without hesitation, his keen eyes and sharp instincts a constant source of comfort and security.
But it was his interactions with Dylan that truly brought a smile to my face, their playful conversations and subtle flirtation a much-needed source of levity in the midst of all the stress.
It started from the moment Dylan learned of Mason's new role as my temporary bodyguard, his eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and delight as he bounced on the balls of his feet, his energy practically vibrating off him in waves.
"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. "If it isn't the man of the hour himself. The big, bad bodyguard, here to keep us all safe and sound."
Mason rolled his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest in a gesture of mock annoyance.
"It's a job, Dylan," he said, his voice flat and unimpressed. "Not a coronation. And I'm hardly big or bad. I'm just here to make sure you idiots don't get yourselves killed or kidnapped by some crazed fan."
Dylan grinned, his eyes sparkling with a challenge.
"Oh, I don't know about that," he said, his voice dropping to a purr. "I think you're plenty big where it counts. And as for bad, let's just say I have a feeling you could be very bad if you wanted to be."
Mason's eyebrows shot up, his mouth falling open in a moment of stunned silence. But then, just as quickly, he recovered, his lips twitching with the barest hint of a smirk.
"Careful, now," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep talking like that, and I might just have to show you exactly how bad I can be."
Dylan's grin widened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a gesture that was pure, unabashed flirtation.
"Don’t threaten me with a good time," he said, his voice breathy and eager.
Mason chuckled, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"You're impossible," he said, but there was no heat behind the words, only a fond sort of resignation.
Dylan preened, fluttering his lashes in a ridiculous display of false modesty.
"I prefer the term irresistible , actually," he said, his hand coming up to rest on Mason's chest, his fingers playing idly with the collar of his shirt. "But impossible works too, I suppose. In fact, some might even say it's part of my charm."
Mason raised an eyebrow, his gaze dropping pointedly to the hand on his chest.
"Is that what they call it these days?" he asked dryly. "Charm? Because where I come from, we have another word for it entirely."
"Oh?" Dylan asked, his voice pitched low and sultry. "And what word might that be, pray tell?"
Mason leaned in close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Dylan's ear as he whispered a single, filthy word that made my cheeks flame and my eyes widen in shock.
Dylan let out a squeak of surprise, his hand flying up to cover his mouth as he stared at Mason in a mixture of delight and outrage.
"Why, Mason," he said, his voice breathless with laughter. "I had no idea you had such a dirty mouth on you. I'm scandalized, truly."
Mason smirked, his eyes glinting with a wicked sort of humor.
"You ain't seen nothing yet, darlin'," he drawled, his accent thickening with every word. "Stick around long enough, and I'll show you just how dirty this mouth can get."
I laughed at their antics, my heart lightening with every teasing jab and flirtatious remark. It was clear to anyone with eyes that there was something brewing between them.
But of course, they continued denying it, both too stubborn and too proud to be the first to blink, to lay their cards on the table and take that leap of faith.
It wasn't until a few days later that I began to suspect that one of them had finally found the courage to make a move.
It started with little things at first - a favorite candy bar left on Mason's bunk, a funny meme taped to the mirror in his dressing room, a silly hat perched atop his head before concerts, much to Dylan's delight and amusement.
At first, Mason seemed to take it all in stride, his eyes rolling heavenward with every new discovery, his lips twitching with the barest hint of a smile. But as the gifts kept coming, each one more than the last, I could see the wheels turning in his head, the suspicion blooming behind his eyes like a flower in the desert.
Finally, after a particularly garish bouquet of balloons appeared in his hotel room one night, Mason turned to Dylan with a raised brow and a pointed look.
"Alright, out with it," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "What's with all the gifts, Dyl? You trying to butter me up for something?"
Dylan's eyes widened, his hand coming up to rest on his chest in a gesture of mock offense.
"Why, Mason," he gasped, his voice pitched high and dramatic. "I'm shocked and appalled that you would accuse me of such underhanded tactics. Shocked and appalled, I tell you!"
Mason smiled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze never wavering from Dylan's face.
"Cut the crap," he said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice, a glimmer of something that might have been fondness in his eyes. "We both know you're behind all these surprise gifts. The only question is why."
For a moment, Dylan's bravado seemed to falter, his cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink as he dropped his gaze to the floor, his fingers twisting nervously in the hem of his shirt.
But then, just as quickly, he rallied, his head snapping up and his eyes flashing with a defiant sort of pride.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "I am a paragon of innocence and virtue, a shining beacon of purity in a world of sin and debauchery. I would never stoop to such tactics."
Mason's lips twitched, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a hint of genuine mirth.
"Is that so?" he asked, his voice dry as dust. "Because I seem to recall a certain someone promising to, and I quote, 'rock my world from here to eternity' if I agreed to be his personal bodyguard for the day."
Dylan's blush deepened, his mouth falling open in a moment of stunned silence.
"That was taken entirely out of context!" he sputtered, his hands waving wildly in the air as if to ward off Mason's words. "I was merely expressing my appreciation for your dedication and professionalism, nothing more."
Mason hummed, his head tilting to the side as he studied Dylan's face with a calculating sort of intensity.
"Funny," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. "Because I could’ve sworn I heard the words 'gag reflex' being thrown around somewhere in there too."
I nearly choked on my own laughter at the expression on Dylan's face, his eyes bulging comically as he gaped at Mason in a mixture of horror and embarrassment.
"I never...!" he stammered, his words tripping over themselves in his haste to deny the accusation.
But Mason just smirked, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall and sauntered past Dylan, his shoulder brushing against him in a gesture that was halfway between a challenge and a caress.
"Relax, Dyl," he said, his voice warm with amusement. "I'm just messing with you. But for the record? I happen to think balloons are a highly underrated gift. Especially when they come with a side of shameless flirtation and thinly veiled innuendo."
And with that, he was gone, leaving a sputtering, blushing Dylan in his wake, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in a moment of stunned disbelief.
It was a pattern that continued over the next few days, Mason giving as good as he got with every teasing remark and subtle prank. Like the time he replaced Dylan's hair gel with hair color, leaving him to take the stage that night with a head full of shimmering locks that caught the light like a disco ball.
Through it all, I could feel the tension between them growing, the sparks of attraction and desire that crackled like electricity in the air. It was only a matter of time, I knew, before one of them finally gave in, before the dam burst and the floodgates opened, releasing a torrent of pent-up emotion and unspoken longing.
As the days turned into weeks and the miles stretched out between Jared and me, I found myself clinging to every text, every phone call, every tiny scrap of contact that tethered me to him.
Me:
Darling J,
I wore your old t-shirt to bed last night, just to feel close to you, to breathe in the scent of you. Is that silly? I don't care. I used to think I was broken, too damaged to be loved. But you've taken all my shattered pieces and made them into something beautiful, something whole. I'm in love with you, every beautiful, complex bit. You are my answered prayer, the punchline to the cosmic joke of my life before you. I thought I knew what it meant to love, but you've rewritten all the rules, redrawn all the lines.
Loving you is a revelation, a revolution. It's showing up, even when it scares the hell out of me. Especially then. Because that's what you do. You take my hand and help me face down the monsters, stare down the demons. Take all the time you need there. Be present. Let yourself feel it all. The good, the bad, the decades overdue. I'll be here whenever you need an escape, a friendly voice, a shelter from the storm. That's what we do, right? We hold each other through the hurricanes. I love you more than there are stars in the sky and fish in the sea. Come back to me soon.
Forever and always,
Your Ash
Jared:
My beautiful Ash,
I don't have your way with words, but I'll try my best to tell you what's in my heart. I'm sitting here in the hospital cafeteria, a tear streaming down my face. Seeing my mom like this, so fragile, so unlike herself, it breaks me in ways I didn't know I could break. But then I think of you, of your smile, of your unwavering faith in me, in us, and I find the strength to keep going.
Your message... it's everything. You're everything. I feel like I've been wandering through life asleep, and you've woken me up. I wish I could hold you right now, lose myself in your warmth and your love. Soon, my darling. I'll be back in your arms before you know it, and I'm never letting go again. You're my soulmate, my destiny, my forever. I'll love you until the stars burn out and long after.
Always and forever,
Your J
Some nights, when the loneliness and the fear threatened to swallow me whole, I would scroll back through our messages, my eyes tracing over the words like a lifeline, like a promise of better days to come.