[ @hannahashmore ] [ District Administrative Gala 2025 ]
Gabriel left the note atop a box, on the bed in their room. The box was large, and sat neatly across the beautifully adorned spread. Inside, she would find a simple- but elegant- black dress. It would suit her tastes, and fit her beautifully. Just like everything. Or, at least, that's how Gabe felt. Hannah could wear a plastic bag and still be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Each year- in between the benefit fundraisers, and very public support dinners for inner-city charities- the city (and its many benefactors) put on a private, but lavish, gala. For a couple of hours, every single person who'd suffered the blood and sweat of public defense was honored with expensive food, too-much champagne, and a lot of socializing. It was an excellent opportunity to stoke the flames of established acquaintances, and to have their photo taken as the pristine and loving married couple that they were; a representation of Gabe's success in his own life, and one of the oldest ways of silently saying to his peers, and his clients, that he could be trusted.
He hated this stupid Gala. But his wife had always been such a good sport about it. Unfortunately, this was how a lot of their busy evenings out started now. Separate arrivals, but they'd convene in the foyer before anyone important took notice.
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"Oh." Caleb nodded, still processing that this was all happening, whether he invited it or not. "Well..." Caleb mustered his inner will, fastening a more sincere seeming smile and a nod. "You wanna see the house? It's pretty much done. Just choosing some paint swatches for the bedrooms." Caleb gestured towards the back door of the home in question. "I think we're probably gonna start moving in in the next week or so. I know Grace wanted to have you guys over for dinner, but uh... Come on. I'll give you the, uh... Sneak peak." Caleb made his way for the back door then, assuming, of course, that Gabriel would follow. "It's been a long year, but uh... She's pretty much ready to go, now." Caleb stepped aside once they made footfall in the kitchen, his hand leaning against the butcher-block counter that had yet to participate in its first meal prep.
Caleb's sudden discomfort didn't escape Gabe's notice. It rarely ever did. Although- and he would make a mental note- that his brother seemed particularly less pained to be in his presence. Briefly, he wondered if the annoyance would ever dissipate all together... but he wouldn't linger on those thoughts for too long today.
"Yeah, actually. I would love to see the house." Gabe took an enthusiastic step forward, "You know, I don't think I've ever toured a property you've worked on." Bright eyes settled over the home before him. Caleb had taken special consideration with each detail, he was sure. "Maybe I've never seen very much of what you've worked on, ever." Gabriel laughed, crossing the driveway following Caleb inside.
"Building out a house is crazy, man." He'd meant it heartedly- both light, and whole. "This is going to be your home. All of this, by your own hand." Gabe moved through the room, careful not to help himself beyond Caleb's gaze. He didn't want to push him too far, too fast. "I imagine Grace is ready to go now, too. Finally, eh?"
His gaze jumped across the room to Caleb- because, well, he was never really sure which jests were likely to land.
Caleb had been in his workshop (read: garage) when he'd heard a car pull into his driveway, summoning his attention away from the bench he'd been sanding down. Dusting his hands off onto his jeans, Caleb wandered out of the garage door, surprise on his face when he realized who the visitor was. "Oh," He sounded, nodding in greeting. "Hey, man." He wondered then if Gabriel had ever set foot in the neighborhood before this moment, which he knew was vaguely mean, but he sort of enjoyed it. "I was just, uh..." He gesticulated towards the garage. "Well, whatever." The project would keep, at least. "Shouldn't you be in court, or something?" Caleb smiled then, trying to be more polite, like Grace had coached him to be.
Gabriel hadn't really decided if he was going to stop in until, well, then. He'd considered visiting his brother for most of the day, only managing to put it out of his mind while he was, in fact, in court earlier that afternoon. "Actually done with that bit. For today. Tomorrow is looking like hell, though." There was an edge of discomfort in his laugh then. Every interaction between the two of them lately had felt like very small progress on one enormous bridge. Gabe was eager- but knew it was going to take time to finish. This was... him putting in the time. "I just thought I'd- you know-" his hands went out in front of him, and he shrugged lightly, "-stop by and see what you were up to."
Hannah's fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, the lack of warmth blaringly obvious as she considered his words. That's nice. The response almost slipped out automatically, the kind of polite acknowledgement she'd given countless times before. But she hesitated, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. "Maybe it's a chance for you two to fix things."
It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. A gentle push in the direction of something better, if he wanted it. If he cared to. Either way, Hannah would be texting Grace the second Gabe was out of sight. This was what the two of them had conspired over— progress.
Gabriel and Caleb had been at odds for as long as she'd known them. She'd stopped expecting them to mend things (at least on their own) years ago. And yet, the idea of one standing beside the other on a wedding day— as a brother should— felt like something worth remarking on.
She lifted her coffee to her lips but didn't drink, her fingers toying with the handle as she mulled over his question.
"I'll be fine," she finally said, voice even, easy. "Just one of those weeks."
And it was. Wasn't it? A string of nights spent staring at the ceiling, shifting restlessly, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing beside her and feeling lonelier than she had in years. But that wasn't something she planned to unpack over a rushed breakfast. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll get through it. Fresh flowers, too much caffeine, maybe a long drive to clear my head."
That was her fix. The things she turned to when sleep evaded her, when restlessness settled beneath her skin. It was enough. Wasn't it? Whether Gabriel noticed the exhaustion behind her eyes, whether he picked up on what she wasn't saying— that was up to him.
There was no recoil from her initial statement. Gabriel agreed with his wife. An astute observation given the number of times he'd reached out to his older brother over the years. For whatever reason, he'd always been desperate to bridge the gap between them. It was an open sore that refused to heal, and for many years, Hannah had helped him nurse it. However, there was an enormous piece of him that refused to have hope that this could really... be it. That after all of these years, Caleb would forgive Gabe for their fathers indiscretions.
"Maybe." he'd echoed, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm. Pouring the last bits of coffee into a silver container, Gabriel tightened the lid and immediately went to work on the hot, black coffee. With any luck, it would offer the jolt he needed to get over the last of his early morning workout exhaustion.
"I was thinking-" with a soft swivel on his heel, he turned to Hannah, and small, slow steps began to carry him in her direction. "-maybe you should... I don't know. See somebody." He stopped, lips pursing slightly as he considered his next words. "You can't sustain this kind of lifestyle, Han. A person can only survive for so long on a few small naps, and coffee."
The mans bright eyes softened, his focus moving over the woman who sat before him. She was the perfect wife in the version of their life that he'd imagined for himself. In most ways, that perfection held true. But day after day, he had to grapple with the way that burning desire behind her gaze had gone cold. His culpability in that gutted him. Gabriel struggled even now, to extend the concern that she deserved- above and beyond anyone else that he'd come to know.
"I'm not saying you have to. I want you to take care of yourself."
Caleb's disinterest in being an older brother was to no fault of Gabe's own. And over the years, Caleb had tried to be better - to be interested, to show attention when he could. It was as if he was missing whatever hardwiring was required to be fully human, sometimes. Gabe had been unfortunately rolled into Caleb's general feelings about his immediate family, and while Caleb often knew such a thing wasn't fair, he'd spent so long mildly disliking the guy now moving in to hug him it was a difficult thing to unravel. As Gabe embraced him, Caleb clapped his back - once, twice, the gesture actually making him smile for a brief moment. "Good. Good, then." He nodded, recovering as he reclaimed his stool.
"No, it's a shit awful idea. But it is what it is." Caleb shrugged his shoulders lamely. "And I guess a part of me is actually amused by it. I told Grace to go crazy. Every wildest dream and fantasy. Rack up a real tab. She won't, but, it'd be pretty fun to watch." Caleb had never been close to their father, the feeling of indifference had been largely mutual after he'd become a teen. But Dr. Richard Ashmore enjoyed exerting influence over both of his children when it suited him. His wedding to Grace was one such occasion where he could have some control over the situation, so as to avoid any embarrassment from his oldest son.
There were few times Dr. Dick had shown any care of compassion towards Caleb in his life. When he'd been injured by an IED was the one that most easily came to mind. He'd never expected his father to fly to Germany when he'd been holed up in Ramstein. It was the first time he'd seen real humanity in his father's eyes. And it was the last. "At least he didn't ask to officiate it. I actually thought that would be his first request."
The beer went down easy then. Easier still, as it always did, when their father came up in conversation. The relationship between the brothers was rocky at best, most days. Blood bonded them, and it was enough for both of them to keep them tied together. But the two of them had never really muddled. They were so different, in too many ways. As often as Gabe had tried over the course of his life to bridge the gap between them, Caleb had always recoiled. It was fine. He got used to it, and eventually stopped blaming himself. His own successes (and recesses) were enough to keep him busy.
It is what it is, like his brother always said.
"Alright, I had to do my due diligence in making sure you knew just how shit-awful the idea is." His tongue smoothed over the front over his teeth real quick, just before he took another long swig of the cold beer in his hand. "You know... Maybe you deserve to go a little crazy too. If 'Dick is dumb enough to open up his purse strings to you after all of these years. Maybe it's time to ring him out." He'd offered a half shrug. An understanding. So, maybe Caleb would have to play nice for a few months until the ceremony is over. If he's lucky, he gets the honeymoon bankrolled, too.
"I fear he's not qualified to officiate unless you're having the procession in hell."
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A soft exhale left her lips as the silence stretched between them, neither uncomfortable nor entirely easy. Hannah's fingers traced the familiar curve of her wedding band, a habit long since formed. She barely noticed she was doing it anymore.
She could already picture how this would go— a quick exchange, a handful of pleasantries, and then nothing. Nearly every conversation they had lately seemed to trail off into unfinished thoughts, like a song that faded out instead of reaching a proper ending.
Hannah missed her husband. Not the man standing before her now, buttoned up and distracted, but the one who had once slipped notes into her textbooks. The one who had pulled her into stolen kisses between library shelves. The one who sent flowers every week they were apart— just to show he was thinking of her.
But more than ten years now separated the two men.
She yearned for connection, so she leaned into the brush of his fingers as he passed, seeking out the warmth, the familiarity of touch. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"I miss sleeping through the night," she admitted softly, honesty slipping through the cracks before she could smooth it over. The weight of recent days colored the words, making them heavier than she intended. She hesitated, then glanced up at him. "What about you? Sleep alright?"
The man was no stranger to the chill that surrounded them. He wasn't devoid of emotion. In fact, Gabe had been quite the opposite. It was his penchant for feeling that pushed him down the path to his career. His natural incline to come to a persons aid just happen to flourish into something profitable. Between them, they shared a very comfortable life, with many trappings. Their kitchen was filled with lovely, well maintained equipment, and modern furnishings. It was tasteful, because Hannah had great taste. But no matter how nice, and inviting, it felt…
Empty.
All of those years trying to become the master of his own education, and he'd never really figured out how to talk out his personal problems. Their life had moved past the question of: is this weird?, and comfortably into: who caves first?. It unnerved him, and so, he did his best to keep it from the forefront of his mind.
Gabriel proceeded to the counter nearest the sink, reaching into a cupboard to pull out one of many to-go containers for a lot of coffee. "Not sleeping, again?" His glance shifted briefly into her direction, hazy green eyes inspecting her face for obvious signs of exhaustion. "Anything to worry about?" Translation: anything he needed to concern himself with? Of course he cared if she wasn't feeling well, but Hannah was a grown woman. She always seemed to take care of herself; in the brief moment he considered it, he couldn't remember the last time she'd sought him out for comfort.
He cleared his throat.
" I slept fine." And he did. Like he always did. Just… fine. "I saw my brother yesterday." Almost twenty-four hours since the two of them had last exchanged words. Not entirely out of the ordinary for the two of them. "He wants me to-" He'd stopped abruptly, a small burst of laughter parting his lips as . "He wants me to be his best man."
âťťWhen truth is replaced by silence, the silence is a lie.âťž
gabriel ashmore
Age: 35
Gender & Pronouns: he/his/him
Occupation: Assistant D.A. for the City of Ann Arbor (State of Michigan)
Neighborhood: Burns Park
biography
Gabriel came into this world like a treasure.
To his mother, Salma, he was a gift—something she never knew she wanted. He was a bundle of soft skin and constant cries that she'd suddenly give her life for. His full head of dark hair and vibrant blue eyes played the lead to a meticulous blend of her own features and his father's, too. He was her first child, but Richard's second—a second son, just two short years after the birth of his first.
With another woman.
Like most young kids, he was unaware of the bitter indiscretions of his father. They'd created a complex dynamic that framed the early years of his life in layers of emotion and unspoken tension. Richard Ashmore- the reputable local doctor- was the kind of man who'd knock up his mistress just months before his wife's tragic passing. He'd managed to turn Gabe's entire existence into a matter of local opinion, a caveat with connotations that the boy would only come to understand as he got older.
Despite the soured taste on the tongues of the neighborhood, as he grew, the boy's life was pleasant. His mother doted on him; packed his lunches with care, softened his clothes, brushed his hair. It didn't occur to him that the decidedly different treatment between the two boys was deliberate. His older brother, Caleb, had lost his mother shortly before Gabe was born. To him, Salma was the most wonderful mother a boy could ask for, so of course they would share. She could not replace Caleb's mom, but she would take care of him in the way that only moms could.
Because boys needed mothers, and surely, two boys was a good amount to have.
But Caleb kind of... came and went. He'd spend summers with his grandparents, and Gabe went off to summer camp. As soon as the youngest was old enough to start school and begin making friends, he'd been enrolled in any and all groups and playdates that he (or Salma) desired. Their father, for the most part, had been hands-off- although he almost always made it home for dinner, something Gabriel had always reflected on fondly.
School was more of a social chore than anything. His grades were just fine, but his social calendar was always hectic. He'd dipped his toe into just about everything, with no shortage of confidence, or boyish charm, to hold him back. There was the soccer team and drama club. As a Junior in high school, he'd spearheaded the organization of a trip to Washington D.C. to meet a group of senators-- along with the rest of the student council, (but that's not usually how he tells the story).
He was there to see his brother off to boot camp. Despite Caleb's recoil at every attempt Gabe had ever made to bond, he didn't relent.
College crept up on him, and before he had made any huge decisions about his major, he'd enrolled at UA2 in an attempt to complete his 'general study' courses. It was one of the only times in his educational, and professional career that he had faltered.
Behind the scenes of a life that he had, in all respects, been grateful for, his father was immensely critical of his success. Publicly facing, and even though Richard Ashmore's family had been built upon the ashes of his first marriage, Gabriel Ashmore was his legacy. The doctor thought quite highly of himself; and placed his intelligence and bravado on a shelf high above most of the people that they knew. So he expected that when Gabe was carving his own path, it may have varied in size and weight, but the general direction would remain the same.
Gabriel, of course, wished to veer.
There was fallout from his decision to stay in Michigan. Any number of college acceptance letters would have pleased his father. As a young man, Gabe had never had a real, adult argument with either of his parents. It had been his first, and was the first time he had gone any length of period without speaking with Richard Ashmore.
Three rigorous years at the University of Michigan went by much quicker than he'd thought they would. In part because of her.
Hannah Bailey.
She was beautiful. A dreamer. Someone that Gabriel came to lean on heavily as they raced through their studies and challenged each other at every turn. They didn't date at first- not for a while- as glamorous as mediocre folk made college seem, Gabe had a hard time finding time to date at ALL. There had been a girl here and there, but they'd all come and gone. There was no foundation of friendship, or mutual respect. None of them made him want to reach further, or succeed more wholly.
'Graduate in Three' was his rallying cry, and he was on the fast track. His junior/senior year was the last year he'd spend in Michigan before he went away for law school. Three more years, and he'd finally be ready for those internships, and his future as a lawyer who had the chance to make a real difference. But first?
First kiss, first date. In THAT order.
By the time he'd left for school in Tennessee, she had agreed to be his wife.
Three hard, emotional years of back-and-forth flights, weekends that were too short, and lonely holidays, and Gabe had graduated in the top 20 of his class at Vanderbilt. When he finally could return home and be with the woman at the very core of his drive, there was no word to describe the elation he felt to finally be allowed to settle.
As it turned out, The Ashmore's, having stood the test of distance and space, were struggling a bit with how time had matured their relationship. Gabriel was so taken with Hannah, that he'd never stopped to consider what common things they shared; what that might keep them tethered to one another for the years to come. Their ideas about settling, and what their future would hold, seemed to separate when forced together. Like oil and water, Hannah's dreams of a family directly clashed with Gabriel's ideal life with his wife.
Them. The two of them. Building, traveling, loving, enjoying. Everything this world and their lives had to offer. When the pressure started, he'd begun to bury himself in the idea of their future that he kept alive in his mind. Their financial success, all the good that they'd do... and no children that they would be responsible for. Tiny humans whose success he'd need to take a personal interest in. Whose entire life would teeter on how good, and present of a father he could or could not be. As he got older, he didn't think he would ever be ready. The idea of fatherhood became less and less appetizing...
Even as his wife had so coveted the idea of being a mother. It left a friction between them. As Gabe's working hours became longer and longer, and his weekends faded away, so did the strength of their physical intimacy as the tether of their vows grew weaker. He'd at least had something to show for his work: he'd become an assistant prosecutor in Washtenaw County, and from the outside, Mr. & Mrs. Ashmore were just perfect.
In reality, everything was the furthest from.
GABRIEL ASHMORE has the face claim of OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN and is written by CEE.
Caleb wasn't a deeply social creature - he never had been. Grace was the one who kept a social calendar, who flourished with company. He had suffered enough injuries in life that all Caleb craved was quiet. To be left alone. But like any human being, Caleb had obligations to more than just himself. And, maybe, he had dreams, too. And sometimes dreams cost money - more money than Caleb had, certainly. And when those dreams cost money... There would always be Dr. Dick. No, not a porn persona. His father - Dr. Richard Ashmore. But to Caleb (and Gabe), there was a far more charming moniker for the man.
And that money would always have strings attached.
With two beers in hand (a second round), Caleb weaved his way back through the throngs of customers back to the high top where he and his brother sat, Caleb doing his level best to be remotely personable. It wasn't Gabriel's fault, really. Actually, it wasn't his fault, at all. Which is what made the inauthenticity of the purpose behind this meet up all the more reprehensible. But Caleb felt he had to do what he had to do, and it was a worthy sacrifice to make. As he slid the IPA over to Gabe, Caleb awkwardly cleared his throat, looking across to his younger brother. "So, Dr. Dick agreed to help Grace and I with the wedding." He paused to take a healthy swig of his beer then, as if it would steel her nerves for the topic at hand. "And, uh, I was thinking, since it's going to be a real thing now... If you would, uh..." Caleb gestured towards his brother. "Be my, you know. Best man."
It would almost seem too simple to describe Gabe's relationship with his older brother, Caleb, as rocky. Both men were now solidly in their 30's, with spouses, careers, and real responsibility. There was a time in his life where he never thought he'd make it here, and now that this was his life, he wondered how it had arrived so quickly.
As a young man, he had always imagined his relationship with his big brother would be a little… different. Whether it was Caleb's intention or not, he was someone that Gabe looked up to. To a boy- someone who's mind had yet to be tainted by the complexities of humans and their conjunction- he seemed independent. Smart, strong, and completely uninterested in having a brother. This of course fueled Gabriels interest in his attention and, though he grew from that yearning with both time and distance, he still sat there next to Caleb and relished in his company.
Gabe grabbed the beer by the neck and brought it to his lips with no hesitation. His brother spoke of their father- Dr. Dick, and what a tremendous Richard he had been, and continued to be. A firm line formed across his brow as he glanced over, bright eyes combing Caleb's expression for humor. Jest. Something.
"Oh?" His brother continued, and when he'd finally asked Gabriel to be his best man, he was… confused.
"Are you serious?" He groaned lightly, putting the beer down and holding his hands up, "I mean--" he composed himself, pumping the breaks on his unintentional recoil. "Congratulations, again." A grin split his surprised expression in half, and he rose from his stool across the table to attack his brother in a spirited hug; a gesture of sincere support. "Of course I'll be your best man. But--"
And of course. Of course there was a but.
He took a small step back and leaned back against the table, grabbing his beer once more.
"Money. From Dick? Are you sure that's… a good idea?"
Hannah hadn't realized how long she'd been sitting at the dining table until she reached for the mug and found the warmth had faded. She frowned, wrapping both hands around the ceramic as if she could coax the heat back into it. Outside, the sun had already climbed higher, spilling golden light through the kitchen window. It was a beautiful morning— the kind that should have felt peaceful, soft.
Instead, it just felt still.
She could hear Gabriel moving around upstairs, the distant sounds of dresser drawers opening and shutting, the faint rustle of fabric as he got ready for work. They were both creatures of habit. Mornings followed a routine, the same motions, the same spaced shared but rarely felt.
She wondered if he'd noticed she hadn't come back to bed after waking up too early, or if he'd just assumed she was already downstairs. A few minutes later, she heard his footsteps descending the stairs, crisp, even, predictable. She didn't look up right away, instead swirling the untouched coffee in her hands as she waited for him to break the silence first.
Gabriel awoke this morning, like every morning, at 4:30 A.M.. Hannah wasn't always next to him- some nights she barely slept- but she was never too far, and so he was rarely wracked with worry. He'd make his way to their in-home gym in the basement, where he'd do a warm-up, and run a mile or two, depending on how he felt that morning. Some days he'd weight train, some days he'd focus on cardio.
He was alone every day.
It didn't bother him the way that it used to. There had been so many long nights at the firm (and sometimes, the courthouse), that time and distance had loosened it's grip on his heart. Just knowing she was in the same house as him was comforting on some level- his wife was dear to him. He loved her. But the air between them was often filled with silence.
After his workout had finished, he showered and prepared for the day. Gabe chose a similar suit to the one he'd worn the day before, and his closet didn't vary too much from one color group to the next. He'd had a few pieces that popped, but they were mostly gifts, or clothes for special occasions. He'd hated having to waffle over his wardrobe in the morning. If everything was similar, he could dedicate more energy to stretching out his morning. A longer run. A nicer breakfast.
A conversation with his wife…
"Good morning." Gabriel mouthed a greeting as he rounded the corner, his steps light and sure. He walked behind her, slowing to brush his fingers lightly against her shoulder as he passed. "Sleep okay?" His tone often betrayed his interest, as his mind wandered past the conversation and onto his list of things to do today.
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