chapter one — back in black
[Sometimes a heart doesn’t grow cold because it feels nothing, but because it has felt too much.]
content warning: alcoholism, family conflict, emotional abuse, physical violence, injury
“What are we doing?!” My voice shattered through the room like glass. Loud enough to make Lauren flinch and Harry drop his spoon.
For a brief moment, everything was silent. Too silent. “Ashy, please calm down,” she said. An order. My mother. I laughed. Short. Dry. Without the slightest trace of humour.
“Why should I calm down?” My voice trembled as I jumped to my feet. The chair scraped across the floor and nearly tipped backwards, but I couldn’t have cared less. Nothing mattered less to me at that moment than a damn chair.
Because Anne Marie Irwin had decided to pack up our lives like a collection of old boxes and simply throw everything away. We were moving. Next week. Right at the beginning of the summer holidays.
“You can’t be serious,” I said, even though I already knew that she was. She was always serious when it came to running away. “Swee—” “Don’t ever call me that again.” My voice was sharp. Poisonous. “Don’t call me sweetheart. Not anymore.”
I saw the way my words struck her. The way something shifted in her expression. Good. Maybe it was finally supposed to hurt. I couldn’t call her Mum anymore.
She had made sure of that over the years. With every bottle. With every promise she had broken. “Ash… please,” she tried again, quieter this time. “This will be a fresh start. For Lauren. For Harry. For you. For me.” A fresh start. The words tasted bitter.
“A fresh start?” I repeated, shaking my head. “For whom, exactly? Maybe for the kids. But for you?” Another hollow laugh escaped me. “We both know how this ends.” Her eyes narrowed. “Ash—”
“It doesn’t matter where we move,” I continued, my voice growing louder and angrier with every word. “You’ll drink. You’ll always drink. You don’t care whether we’re here or on the other side of the country, as long as you have your damn alcohol.”
“Ashton Fletcher Irwin!” she shouted. “You do not speak to me like that! I am your—” “Your what?!” My voice cracked. I took a step towards her. “Who put Lauren to bed when she cried at night? Who comforted Harry when you couldn’t even stand anymore? Who was there when you didn’t even know what day it was?”
“What the hell are you supposed to be to me… my mother?” The word burned on my tongue. Bitter. Poisonous. “Seriously? Who has been there for Lauren and Harry all these years—and ever since they were babies?” My voice broke with rage. My heart raced. My hands trembled.
I had no control left. No restraint. There was only everything that had built up inside me over the years, finally breaking free with full force. Then it hit me.
A sharp, burning pain exploded across my cheek and snapped my head to the side. For a fraction of a second, I forgot how to breathe. Everything rang. She had slapped me. Slowly, I turned my head back towards her. My eyes darkened as I looked at her.
My mother stood frozen in front of me, her hand still half-raised, as though she couldn’t believe what she had just done either. “Ashy, I… I—” “Save your fucking apology,” I growled. My voice was low. Cold. Dangerously calm.
I shoved the chair away from me with all my strength. It tipped over with a deafening crash and slammed onto the floor. Lauren flinched. Tears filled her eyes, while Harry clung desperately to the edge of the table. The sight struck me harder than the slap.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice suddenly breaking. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m sorry, Harry.” I couldn’t look at them any longer. So I turned around and left. Not slowly. Not thoughtfully.
I disappeared from the room, ran down the stairs into the basement where my bedroom was and slammed the door behind me as though I could lock everything outside... the words, the pain, her. My fingers curled into fists. And I struck. The stone wall was hard. Unforgiving. Pain shot through my hand, brutal and sharp, tearing a loud groan from my throat.
“Fucking hell!” I pressed my right hand against my chest, my breathing coming in short, uneven bursts. It throbbed and burned, already beginning to swell beneath my fingers. Great, Ash. Never punch a stone wall. Will you ever learn?
Frustrated, I dropped onto my small bed and stared at my hand. It was already badly swollen, its skin slowly turning blue. It looked exactly the way I felt. Crushed. Overwhelmed. And still somehow forced to keep going.
“Back in Black” thundered through my headphones, much too loud and much too close, but it was exactly what I needed. The headphones pressed tightly against my ears as though they could keep everything else outside. Voices. Memories. Faces.
I lay on my stomach across the bed, the pillow crumpled beneath my chest. Its fabric scratched unpleasantly against my skin, but I barely noticed it. My thoughts were still racing in circles, repeatedly returning to the same damned words.
A move. Next week. A new town. Seriously? I stared blankly ahead before rolling my eyes and letting out a short, dry laugh. It wasn’t real laughter. More like a bitter sound of disbelief. What was moving supposed to change?
As though a different place could fix anything. As though problems could simply be packed into boxes and unpacked somewhere else... tidy, clean and solved. I slowly turned onto my side until I was facing the wall. Cold. Grey. Unimpressed. Exactly the kind of wall I needed. The rhythm of the music vibrated through my body.
Without thinking, my fingers began tapping through the air, drumming the beat directly into my thoughts. With the next movement, a dull pain travelled through my injured hand... uncomfortable, hot and demanding. I briefly grimaced. But I didn’t care.
The physical pain was nothing compared to the chaos inside my head. It was tangible. Real. Simple. I continued drumming, more slowly now, feeling every pulse inside my knuckles as I allowed the music to drown out everything else.
I didn’t notice the two small figures entering my room. For a moment, they remained silently beside the bed. The music had completely wrapped itself around me and cut me off from the rest of the world. Lauren noticed my hand immediately. The swelling. The bluish discolouration. Her lower lip began to tremble before small, warm tears gathered in her eyes and silently rolled down her cheeks.
Harry moved closer to her, pressing himself tightly against her side and partly hiding his face beneath her summer dress, as though he wanted to protect himself from everything he couldn’t understand. “Ashy?” Lauren’s voice was quiet. Shaky. Careful. I didn’t hear her. She released a barely audible sigh, gently moved Harry away from her and slowly approached my bed.
Every step appeared deliberate, as though she were afraid of frightening me. When she reached the edge of the bed, her hand trembled slightly. She hesitated for a moment before carefully placing it on my forearm. I flinched and immediately lifted my head. Lauren. Then Harry, who stood uncertainly in the doorway, watching me with wide eyes.
My heart contracted painfully. Their faces looked so small. So sad. Far too young for any of this. I quickly pulled the headphones from my ears, let them fall carelessly onto the bed and immediately drew Lauren into my arms. She clung to me as though she had been waiting for exactly that and began to cry softly.
I looked at Harry. He didn’t need an invitation. With quick steps, he approached us, climbed onto the bed and nestled against my other side. Their heads rested against my shoulders. Warm. Trusting. “I’m so incredibly sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you had to see that earlier.”
They pressed themselves closer to me, as though they were the ones trying to hold me together. “Ash?” Lauren’s voice was barely more than a whisper. She raised her head. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red. My heart ached. I gently rested my uninjured hand against her cheek and wiped away her tears.
“Lauren, I… I really didn’t want you to witness our argument,” I whispered. Then she did something I hadn’t expected. Very carefully, she took my swollen hand between her small ones and pressed a gentle kiss against it. “I know, brother heart,” she said softly, looking up at me with her large eyes. “But it hurts me that… that you hurt yourself.”
I felt Harry nod in agreement beside me. “Shit,” I muttered, immediately grimacing. “Crap… damn it… did I seriously swear again?” By the third time, I looked at them. They began to giggle quietly. A small smile tugged at my lips. Very slightly. Mission accomplished.
“I’m sorry, my sweethearts,” I continued more calmly. “I was just… really, really angry.” “Because of Mum?” Harry asked shyly, looking up at me. “No… yes… no,” I replied quietly. “I’m just frustrated that she decided something like this so suddenly. Without planning it. Without speaking to me.” I inhaled deeply.
“Moving is a big deal. School, travelling, everything around it. Those things need to be considered.” Lauren slowly nodded. “I think Mum wanted to tell you earlier…” “Yeah,” I said quietly. “But earlier would have been better.” I sighed. “I promise you that I’ll speak to her again.” “But without arguing,” Lauren requested softly. I nodded.
Silently, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Then Harry’s. Both of them nestled even closer against me. And for one brief moment, everything felt just a little less broken.
Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of Highschool Love. 🤍
Ash’s story has only just begun. Behind his anger is a boy who has carried far too much responsibility for far too long and a heart that has learned to protect itself by keeping everyone at a distance.
I would truly love to hear your first impressions:
What do you think of Ash so far?
And do you believe moving away could really become the fresh start his family needs?
Every comment, reaction and theory means more to me than you know.
★ everythingaftermidnight 🌙 ★
Picture generated with AI.
