[dated to March 16th]

All Asher had really wanted to do was curl up and die that morning, but, as it turned out, his luck had only proven shitty enough to make him wish he were dead, and not actually bad enough to grant that wish.

That just fucking figured.

He had every intention of staying in bed that day -- how bad could things go if he didn’t move? -- but that hadn’t gone as planned. His bed frame had collapsed, which only got him out of his own bed and into the empty one on the far end of the room, that fucking tiki thing grinning at him from the nightstand.

That bed had collapsed in on itself, too.

For some reason or another, he hadn’t wanted to risk anyone else’s bed -- even if Jamie was a dick and deserved a broken bed, but Asher didn’t want to hear any shit from him -- and instead risked leaving the confines of the dorm room.

The clothing box had still insisted on giving him jeans for the second day in the row, much to his disdain, and the shirt it gave him hadn’t helped either. But a blazer hid a multitude of sins, such as that shirt, even if it made it completely likely that he’d suffer a heat stroke out in the humidity of the day. Of course, that hadn’t sound too terrible to him. Being unconscious was the next best thing to being dead.

After stumbling over Onyx, being whacked in the face by a door and tripping down the stairs out of the Compound, Asher made his way… well, he wasn’t sure where the fuck he was going, but when he found it, he’d know.

And he had.

It wasn’t any place special, just beneath a (harmless enough looking) tree. He just hoped the tree wasn’t intent on falling over on him while he sat or something. Pulling out a cigarette and his lighter, he tried to light the thing over and over again, but didn’t even manage so much as a spark. Asher kept at it for a bit, gritting his teeth and growling quietly before he threw the lighter with an aggravated grunt, only to have it ricochet off another tree trunk and hit him in the head.

"Mother fuck--" And there it was again, that same taunting grin, the fucking tiki idol nestled in the grass by the roots of the tree beside him as he reached for his lighter. But rather than yell or kick and scream or set the thing on fucking fire (again), Asher just sat there beside it quietly, looking thoroughly defeated.

Why was this his fucking life?