"What happened to your mum?" Ashton asked Betsy one day.

She looked up from her notebook—her pinkish lips parted and her hazel eyes evidently stunned by the question.

Ashton met her gaze, tilting his head to side, similar to that of a dog.

"Oh," was all Betsy said.

She wasn't expecting the question, so she wasn't too sure on how to reply. He was asking about her mother. A sensitive topic that sparked far too many emotions.

"I know it's none of my business and you don't have to tell me or anything. I'm just sort of curious because it seems you only have a dad and I don't really know how to ask these things because well, I have both a mum and a dad and yeah." Ashton rambled, averting his eyes to a Queen poster he had stuck on the wall.

"She's dead."

Ashton snapped his head towards Betsy, eyes widened and his expression flashing with shock before switching into sympathy.

He didn't want to say he was sorry because nobody liked it when that was said—people hated being pityed. He settled on avoiding the pity and digging his nose further into the subject, even though he knew he shouldn't.

"..how did it happen?" he had asked.

Betsy kept silent for a few moments, "She committed suicide."

If Ashton was shocked before, he didn't know how to describe how he felt now. Her words stung the now cold air, and created something unexplainable between them. Something empty.

"I should go," Betsy said, running a hand through her hair.

Ashton flinched in confusion, watching as Betsy stood up and stumbled to pick up her bag before quickly rushing out of the room.

He had no idea what had just happened.