Ashton closed the book and pushed it away from him, biting his lip as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He'd been reading some poetry to try and keep his mind from wandering toward his recent loss, but of course in a book of poems, one had to come across death once in a while. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands, his black hair falling over his eyes now, obscuring his vision. The tears started to pour, and soft silent sobs racked his thin frame, but no one noticed. For all anyone cared, he could be dead. He hadn't made the time for friends yet, seeing as the only people he was ever really close to had been killed by the very man that was at fault for his existance. He had plenty of people that liked to pick on him though.

Due to that, he didn't want to be recognized. A striped dark gray and black hoodie clothed his thin frame, hood flipped up to hide his face. Under this was a Silverstein shirt that he'd bought at a concert a few weeks before the tradgedy, but that happy moment of rocking out felt like years ago, now. He hadn't been to a concert since that one, and he would usually be craving to see another. But he really couldn't care less about his lack of concerts at the moment. His dark jeans were damp in spots because of the tears falling from his cheeks, and it was a long time before he made move to wipe them away. He silently thanked the fact that he'd remembered to wear his waterproof eyeliner today, else it would be all over the place. He wiped away the tears and took a minute to regulate his breathing, and then finally the shaking in his shoulders stopped.

Sometimes, when he was feeling down, Ash got the random urge to write a song, or sing one. Right now he wasn't in the right state of mind to right one, he was too sad, but singing was alright. He had been listening to Mayday Parade earlier, and just like that, he started to softly sing words under his breath.

He sang for a while, then bit his lip gently as it came to the end of the song, because it was always this part that hurt him the most, the spoken words. "And I can live without you, oh, without you I'll be miserable... at best..."

Chocolate brown eyes turned to glance at the newcomer, drowning with their emotion, but all the same, very hard to read past. While Ashton wasn't a very sociable person, and preferred to just back off and get out of everyone's way, he was a sweetheart as well, and he didn't like to act rude. So the shy teenager release his hold on his lip, nodded once, looking away while he did so. He didn't really like to talk much, and when he did his voice was so soft it was barely audible. He blinked shyly and stared at his shoes, his dark hair falling over to shield his face.

He didn't look at her as she said her name, but he did nod a second time, a barely noticeable bob of his head. He made no move to take off the hood that shadowed his face in darkness, nor did he really give her any form of recognition at first, except for the tiny movements of his head. But he realized that many people would find it rude if he were to simply ignore them when they were introducing themselve, so - still not looking up from the floor, he replied, "I'm... Ashton. Ashton Garcia."

Since she asked if she could sit down, he pulled the book of poetry closer to him so there was space on the table for her stuff.

Ashton's soft lips twitched into what would once have formed a smile for the teenaged boy, but now just bore the slight resemblence of one. "Thank you," he said shyly, looking down as soft blush colored his cheeks. He really wasn't used to being complimented on anything, so it made him really shy and withdrawn when someone told him they liked something of his, whether it be his name, his hair, his guitar playing, or just anything else really. Especially from a girl. While Ashton had never before had a girlfriend, he was quite the gentleman around the girls, so they made him skittish.

Ashton's mouth dropped open a tiny bit when she told him that her older brother had massacred her family, leaving only her alive. Seeing as she'd only just met him, he hadn't expected anything like that, and a wave of sympathy crashed over him, as well as sorrow for his own loss. He bit his lip as the anxiety rose in his throat, swallowing hard to stop himself from crying. Taking a gulp of air to try and calm his nerves, he brushed his black hair from his eyes and glanced at her. He had to say something - he wasn't just about to ignore that. "I... I'm so sorry," he breathed, his soft voice still containing the shock.

When she asked him that question so outright and simple, he couldn't help but to flinch slightly, his chocolate coloured eyes tearing up instantly at the words. He bit down hard on the soft felsh of his lip and shook his head. "N-No," he choked out. "M-My father... killed... them. My mother and little brother." He looked away now, because the tears were pouring down his cheeks. His dark curtain of hair fell over his face again, concealing it. The hurt was overwhelming, it was hard for him to breath, now.