Chapter Text
One summer afternoon before our first year of college, Ashlyn called me on the phone to invite me over to her house to hang out.
“Ashlyn! What’s up?” I asked, my voice brightening at the sound of her.
“Heyyy...” she began, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, soft and mysterious. “Can you come over? There’s something I wanna show you.”
Her tone threw me off. There was a playful edge, almost mischievous, as if she’d done something she shouldn’t have but was enjoying it way too much. But I brushed it aside, thinking I was probably hearing things. “I think you’ll enjoy it,” she added, a grin audible in her words.
I felt a wave of heat radiate out the core of my body. Ashlyn. She was the definition of "don't judge a book by its cover." I first met her when we were in middle school several years back, I wanna say in 6th or 7th grade. She was shy and a little quiet at first, but as we hung out more and more and got to know each other, she did a complete 180 and just became shameless—in a good way. Mostly. We'll get to that.
“Uh-huh... and that is...?” I dragged out the last word, fishing for details.
Ashlyn chuckled, the sound low and enticing. “I’m not telling you... it’s a surprise. Don’t keep me waiting now.”
By the time I arrived, I was practically buzzing with curiosity. Ashlyn greeted me at the door, and for a moment, all my questions melted away. She was stunning, as always—slim but with just the right curves, her long black hair catching the light, her deep brown eyes sparkling with that trademark mischievous glint. Her soft lips curved into a smile, and I felt a familiar warmth spread through me.
“Hey,” she said, her voice as casual as if she hadn’t just lured me here with cryptic hints.
“Alright, what’s this surprise?” I asked, crossing my arms but smiling.
Ashlyn’s smile deepened. “Before I show you, there’s something you should know... I’ve been sick.”
My brow furrowed. “Sick? With what?”
“Bronchitis,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve had it for a few weeks now.”
Before I could respond, she added, “And I’ve been holding in my coughs the whole time.”
“What?!” My voice shot up an octave as her words registered.
Ashlyn let out a small, deliberate cough—low and wet, like thunder rumbling in her chest. My eyes widened. I’d never heard her sound like that before, and the sheer congestion in that single sound left me stunned.
“Ashlyn!” I blurted, half-exasperated. “What—why would you—do you want to give yourself chronic bronchitis?! This isn’t Aperture Science! You’re not testing ‘Human Respiratory Phlegm Capacity’ or something!”
She laughed, her voice raspy but filled with amusement. “Oh, that’s a good one. Can I steal that? It’s perfect for what we’re doing.”
“What do you mean, ‘what we’re doing’?!” I asked, incredulous.
Ashlyn just grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You’ll see.”
Ashlyn led me into her room with a confident stride, her mischievous smile never faltering. Once inside, she casually plopped onto her bed and gestured for me to join her. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed her phone and handed it to me.
“Start recording,” she said with a sly grin.
“Wait, recording what?” I asked, already feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.
“You’ll see,” she teased, her voice still carrying that raspy edge from earlier. With a small shrug, I hit record, and Ashlyn immediately straightened her posture, taking a slow, deep breath through her nose. Even at rest, I could hear the tightness in her lungs—a faint wheeze and subtle crackles with every inhale and exhale. She smiled again, clearly aware of how audible it all was.
“Now watch this,” she said.
She began to exhale, deliberately pushing all the air out of her lungs at a snail’s pace. The sound was unmistakable—like bubbles popping in a thick liquid, the phlegm in her airways crackling and shifting with the pressure. I watched—fascinated, a little concerned, and weirdly turned on—as she emptied her lungs completely. Then, without warning, she inhaled as hard and fast as she could.
A harsh, guttural sound erupted from her chest, accompanied by a symphony of popping and crackling noises as the thick congestion blocked and unblocked her airways. It was as if her lungs were a maze, and the phlegm was getting sucked in deeper with each forceful breath.
She repeated the process a few more times—slow exhale, sudden inhale, crackles and pops echoing in the room. Despite how intense it looked, she didn’t cough once. Not even a flinch.
“Are you... okay?” I asked, partially to her and partially to myself. “That sounded... insane.”
Ashlyn chuckled, the raspy quality of her voice more prominent now. “I’m fine. I just wanted to show off a little.”
“Show off? That was more like a horror movie sound effect!” I half-joked, setting the phone back down and shaking my head in disbelief. “Seriously, Ashlyn, you’re gonna make yourself worse if you keep this up.”
She waved me off dismissively. “Nah, I’m good. Come on, let’s hang out. I wanna see how long I can go without coughing while my lungs are still clogged.”
And just like that, she switched gears, as if everything she’d just done was perfectly normal.
We spent the rest of the afternoon together. First, I helped her set up her new hi-fi system—a sleek, powerful setup that took up an entire corner of her room. Once everything was wired and ready, we cranked up some music, letting the crisp sound fill the space. Ashlyn sat cross-legged on the bed, nodding along to the rhythm, seemingly unbothered by the congestion in her chest.
After that, we switched to watching random YouTube videos. Every so often, though, something caught me off-guard—Ashlyn’s reflexive attempts to suppress a cough. I could see it in the way her chest would subtly tense and her breath hitch. But instead of letting herself cough, she would breathe out softly, take a hard, sharp inhale, and suck the phlegm right back down, as if refusing to let it win.
It became a strange pattern throughout the day. No matter how close she came to breaking, she never fully gave in. Every time the phlegm threatened to come up, she managed to pull it back, determined to keep her airways clogged. Each time she did, my heart raced a little bit more.
By the time evening rolled around, I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Ashlyn, as always, walked the fine line between daring and reckless—shamelessly, and with a grin.
Just as I was getting ready to leave, Ashlyn stopped me with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Wait—before you go, I want you to record one more thing,” she said, already pulling out her phone and handing it to me.
I hesitated but took it, curious—and maybe a little nervous. She rummaged through a drawer for a moment before producing a plain white paper plate. Without a word, she set it down on the carpet in front of her. It didn’t take long for me to put two and two together, and when the realization hit, my eyes widened.
She must have caught my expression, because she burst out laughing—a raspy, wheezy laugh that quickly spiraled into a fit of coughing.
The laughter stopped as her body tensed, and she bent forward over the plate, coughing hard. These weren’t the soft, controlled coughs she’d been suppressing all day. These were deep, wet, rattling coughs that came from somewhere deep in her chest, each one shaking her entire frame. The crackling noise was intense, and with each cough, she expelled thick globs of greenish-yellow phlegm onto the plate.
She kept going for several minutes, alternating between coughing and spitting, until the paper plate was completely covered. The sight was... something. A mosaic of thick phlegm in various shades of yellow and green, all glistening under the light. As strange as it was, I couldn’t help but be impressed. How had she held all that in without coughing even once earlier?
Finally, she leaned back against the wall, her face flushed from exertion but bearing a satisfied grin. She took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling slowly, before letting out a long sigh.
“Phew!” she exhaled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s nice to finally have clear lungs again.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. There was something oddly triumphant about the way she said it, as if she had just completed some bizarre endurance test. And in a way, she had.
“Uh... yeah. Impressive work, I guess?” I managed, still processing what I’d just witnessed.
Ashlyn grinned and waved me off playfully. “Go on, get outta here. You’ve got your recording.”
Shaking my head, I laughed quietly as I grabbed my things. Ashlyn was nothing if not unpredictable, and today had been proof of that. As I headed out the door, I couldn’t help but feel like she had awoken something in me.