#feat. asher

Santiago, Kali, Liza, Ben, and Asher! They all accept me and my awkward as fuck weirdness...even if there's only so much Santiago can take before he locks me out of his office.

Asher... I guess there's gotta be a lesson in there somewhere. Apart from all the heartache and crappiness, I know I'm glad he was a friend when I needed him to be. Even if feelings weren't reciprocated and we didn't work out in the end, he was still my friend before he was anything else to me. I'm glad for those years together at least.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

My relationship with Liza is actually my first official relationship, but when I was...sort of with Asher I would get jealous. I hated that he'd give others more attention than me. And with Liza... I don't know. I guess I was afraid that I wasn't good enough for her since I wasn't good enough for Asher. So I was jealous of Jackson and I do get jealous sometimes still. I know it's probably dumb because Liza and I are married, but yeah... I do get jealous.

"that would be asher, river, and tomas... lord help me. okay, i think i would fuck tomas, marry river, and kiss asher. you're not supposed to fuck your roommate, right?"

send me a 👌for my muse to drunkenly confess something

As the semester dragged by, the chances to meet up with anyone in a social context seemed to dwindle rapidly. Normally, Aksel often found solace in that reality; it was honestly nice to back out of previously made commitments, especially when he didn’t have to go to great lengths in coming up with some flimsy excuse. Grad school was a rock solid justification for borderline antisocial tendencies. What sucked though was that he had genuinely begun to rely on Asher for something — for a reprieve, a person to whine at, someone who understood. Like, seriously understood, not just in that pseudo-compassionate bullshit way he felt often on the receiving end of. So while he usually loved an excuse to tell someone they had to cancel their plans to get coffee—a kind of innocuous plan he never commonly made with anyone he didn’t have to study with or want to date, but that was before he found a friend in Asher— this time it pretty much sucked.

He coughed into the receiver of his phone, ill-timed as it was the exact moment he heard a beep, signally he had begun to leave her a voicemail. “Ah faen,” he started, voice tight from lack of oxygen. He sat with his shoulders hunched at his desk, notebook paper and textbooks strewn messily, and a joint pinched between his fingers. “Hey, hey. Sorry, uh. I can’t make it tomorrow morning, I’ve got—” he paused, then made a derisive sound, “all this dumb shit I have to do for lab and I’m way behind and stressed as fuck.” He took another hit, hoping to smooth over those fraying edges. “It sucks,” he said on an exhale, his tongue loosening. “‘Cause I was kinda looking forward to hanging out and stuff. But you get it, you know? I just wanted to talk about, like, our uh… our shit. Silver shit. I never get to do that.” He paused again, a little quieter and more distant: “You get it.” He watched the smoke drift up toward the ceiling and remembered that he had to open a window or his dad would kill him. Then in the next breath, he realized he couldn’t recall why he decided to actually call Asher. Who was he, his mom? “Text me or something. Sunday should be cool.”