Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I Love Only Him

Chapter One: The End Of Year Seven

"It's time to move on."

"I've tried that." He stared down at his hands. He didn't fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves or pick at his skin or nails. He simply stared into his hands as if it were the abyss of the night sky. His voice was numb as he spoke. "It didn't work."

"It's been a year since you've tried," she observed. Her voice was kind and patient, though there was sadness in it too. She remembered the last time.

He blinked slowly. "That's recent enough."

"Your friends want you to find happiness, and so do I. We want what's best for you. We want you to try again— try and find someone new."

"That's not what I want."

"What do you want?"

He shook his head, silent.

"Do you want to heal?"

He looked up from his hands and met her eyes across the room. Behind her round spectacles, her green eyes watched him, analyzing him. He hated those eyes of hers, they reminded him of Him. Although, in the beginning, it was one of the reasons he picked her. She brushed her perfectly curled blonde hair away from her face. That and her hair. Yes, he had picked her because she had reminded him of his deceased friend.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters." Her eyebrows drew close in compassion.

He looked away from her and back at his own hands. He hated that face of hers, always feeling sorry for him.

When he said nothing further, she prompted, "That's maybe the one thing that matters most." She shifted in her seat, trying to meet his lowered gaze. She asked again, "Do you want to heal?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he inhaled deeply and stood. He grabbed his coat from where it was draped over the arm of the large, plush chair in which he sat. Her head followed him upward as he stood.

"It doesn't matter," he repeated. "I have tried to heal, really tried. You're my third therapist in almost eight years." His voice began to crack with withheld tears. "I've paid for countless hours of therapy. I have tried all the suggestions— not to mention multiple medications— and nothing is working." Eyes burning, he looked away from her. "There is no moving on for me." He shrugged on his coat. "I don't see the point in this anymore. I'm just wasting your time. Help someone who can be helped." He took a step away from his chair.

The woman stood and intercepted his path to the door. "Eiji, wait."

She stood before him, tall and slender. In the heels she wore, she surpassed him by an inch or two. She reached out a long arm and gently touched his shoulder. "Please stay."

He swallowed against a dry throat. "I'm sorry, Doctor Madison." He shook his head. "I just can't do this anymore."

She gripped his shoulder as he tried to step away from her. "Eiji," her voice was stern, "Those are very serious words."

He shook his arm free from her grasp. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" He shouted. They weren't his words. He would have never thought of them, let alone have spoken them, before knowing Him. "I'm not going to fucking kill myself!"

She adjusted the glasses on her nose. "Why, Eiji?" She asked him, voice steady and low. She already knew his answer.

Eiji shook his head, eyes focused on his shoes.

"Why, Eiji?" She asked again.

"Because He wouldn't want me to," he muttered. Tears pooled in his eyes.

"When will you start living for you, instead of for A—"

"Don't say His name!" Eiji snapped. He looked at her with tear-filled eyes and a red face.

There was a tense pause, filled only with Eiji's sharp, rapid breaths.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she told him quietly, her voice sincere. She internally cursed herself for making such a foolish error. She knew how precious His name was to Eiji. He did not like to hear it uttered so casually by anyone other than himself. Even then, he rarely said it outside the privacy of his own place.

Eiji nodded but said nothing.

"He would want you to live for yourself, not for Him."

"I know," he whispered. He wiped tears before they could fall. When he spoke again, his voice was low but back to a normal volume. "But I've tried, and I don't know how."

He zipped his coat and then untucked his long hair from the collar.

He stepped away from Dr. Madison. She grabbed his coat sleeve as he passed. "Please come back next week," she pleaded.

She knew what they had both left unsaid: The eighth anniversary of His death was only two weeks away. He needed her now more than ever.

He gripped the doorknob, pausing to consider her request.

"Please, Eiji?"

"Yeah, okay."

He stepped out into the long, carpeted corridor, gently shutting the door behind him. He blinked back tears as he walked toward the front of the office suite.

"Have a nice weekend, Mr. Okumura," the receptionist called to him as he passed.

Eiji nodded but said nothing in return.

Outside, the New York air was frigid and icy. He was pelted with sleet as he walked down the sidewalk. Within minutes, his face was red and quickly turning numb as ice melted against his skin.

He didn't bother to hail a taxi, nor did he bother to make his way to the subway. He trudged through the wet, sleety streets, hair whipping in the wind behind him.

He didn't go straight to his apartment. Unsure as to why, he wandered the streets for an extra half-hour before finding his way back to his apartment building.

It was something he did frequently. Dr. Madison theorized he did it, among other things, as some strange way of punishing himself for surviving His death.

When he finally made his way inside, his face was devoid of feeling, as were his hands and feet. His nose ran from the cold and his eyelashes were encrusted in icicles.

Before shedding his winter clothes, he took his large, energetic golden retriever, Buddy, for a walk to relieve himself.

He returned even more frozen than before.

He abandoned his shoes at the door. There they sat, with ice melting from the soles onto the welcome mat. In the kitchen, Eiji stood in damp socks, illuminated by the light of the fridge. It smelled faintly of food from last week that had begun to rot. He grabbed a bowl of takeout from the night before and threw it in the microwave. He stood numbly in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular, as he waited for his food to be reheated.

The only sound that filled the small apartment was Buddy quickly eating his dinner as if someone would take it from him if he didn't finish fast enough.

It had been months since Eiji had been this bad. In fact, just a few weeks ago, Dr. Madison had noted he was making some real progress. Upon her recommendation, he had been working to try to make some friends that were unattached to Him. Perhaps it would help him move on. He had joined a pilates class on Saturday mornings at a nearby gym. He was friendly with several of his classmates, though there was nothing deeper there. Still, it was progress.

But two weeks ago, he had stopped attending altogether. Dr. Madison noted her concern during the previous visit, not that he cared. By that time, he'd already fallen into the deep funk he was currently in.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone, the same regression had plagued him around the death date last year, as well as every year before that. Though in the early years, he had far fewer episodes of happiness in the interim.

The microwave dinged and Eiji turned to retrieve his food. He sat at the small wooden table in his kitchen. There was a phone sitting there, plugged into an outlet. Eiji checked it for the first time that day. On the screen were countless notifications, most of which were from a very worried Sing. He ignored them all, setting the phone down without so much as opening it past the lock screen.

After four bites, he abandoned his dinner, putting the Tupperware back in the fridge. He traded his food for a beer. Before making his way to the sofa, he slipped on an old flannel that once smelled of his friend but now smelled only of Eiji. He made his way to the lightless living room. On the wall was a photograph of his fallen friend who seemed to smile at him in greeting, though Eiji knew it was just a trick of the light, or lack thereof.

He released a long exhale as he settled on the couch. He snapped open his beer and took a swig.

His phone buzzed across the room, but he didn't even consider getting up to check it.

"I'm sorry," he told the boy on the wall. "I don't know how much longer I can do this." Tears slid from his eyes. "I can't do it anymore, A—," he stopped himself from saying His name. "Why did you have to leave me?"

In the following week, Eiji filled his days with his photography work. He worked late hours in an attempt to keep his brain distracted. He made sure to take Buddy on at least one long walk each day, regardless of the temperature or precipitation. In the evenings, he barely ate, though he drank his fill of alcohol.

Sing continued to text and call him; Eiji responded just often enough for Sing not to worry about his demise.

When Friday came, Eiji decided to keep his appointment, for His sake, not his own. He begrudgingly walked into his Friday slot with a layer of snow on his coat and in his hair.

"Walking again?" Dr. Madison asked when he arrived.

Eiji shed his coat and hung it on the hat stand near the door. "I thought you'd be happy I came."

She gave him that smile of hers that was too concerned to feel genuine. "I am very happy you came, Eiji."

He brushed the snow off his hair and rubbed the fog from his glasses. "I can't promise I'll make it through the whole visit."

"That's quite alright. I am happy for any time you can spare."

He huffed at her choice of words. They both knew time wasn't the issue here.

He sat and said nothing, waiting for her to speak as she waited for him to do the same.

"I do not have the energy to start today," he said, breaking the silence.

She nodded. "Very well." She folded her hands in her lap. "I'm worried, you look like you've lost weight since last week."

"Since when are you concerned with my weight?" Eiji scoffed.

"And you're walking again," she continued, ignoring his remark. "Which means you're undereating and exhausting yourself. Working long hours too, I presume."

He shook his head in vague annoyance.

"Are you drinking again, too?"

Eiji sighed but said nothing.

"Eiji?"

"Just one beer each night," he told her quietly while staring into his lap.

"And wine?"

An image of his late friend filled his memory. He could remember Him, drinking wine and impressing Eiji with His ability to accurately deduce the date of the bottle.

"He's the one that liked wine."

She paid this remark no mind. "And stronger things? Whisky, vodka, bourbon?"

Eiji shifted uncomfortably in the plush chair. "Yeah, okay, I've been drinking again. Just after work."

"And after walking?" For hours at a time, went unsaid.

Eiji nodded.

"So you work all day, walk, skip dinner— I'm guessing— and, what, drink until you fall asleep?"

"I am eating," he argued.

She crossed her legs. The buckles on her ankle boots jingled as she did so. "What have you had so far today?"

"I— I haven't had anything yet."

"It's 3:30."

"I haven't been hungry yet."

"What's on the menu for dinner?"

He pictured his apartment fridge. He still hadn't been shopping since last week. The fridge smelled of rotting chicken and vegetables, though he hadn't had the energy to clean it out. To make it worse, he ran out of leftovers two days ago. The truth was he last ate the evening before last, and even then all he'd had was a bowl of white rice.

Eiji shook his head. "I haven't thought about it yet."

"What's in the fridge?" She asked knowingly.

Eiji nervously twisted his hair over his shoulder and began to run his fingers through it. It was still wet from his time in the snow.

"I need to go shopping, actually."

"Hmm. Since when?"

"Huh?"

"When did you run out of food?"

He ran a hand through the ends of his hair. "I—" He didn't finish the thought.

She let silence surround them for a moment before continuing her questioning. "What did you eat yesterday?"

Eiji pursed his lips in discomfort. "I— Okay, I've not been eating that great."

"What do you think He'd say about that?"

Tears flooded Eiji's eyes. "He'd hate it. Not that He has any room to talk. He once starved Himself at Golzine's."

"Why would you do something you know that He would hate?"

Eiji's chin dimpled as a tear slid from his eye. "I don't— It takes too much energy to eat."

"Eating is what gives you energy, Eiji. Could you buy some microwave meals since you don't have the energy to cook?"

He wiped his eyes. "What's the point? It all tastes like dirt."

"And the alcohol?"

"I don't drink it for the taste," he said, voice low and shaking as he bit back tears.

"Are you feeding your dog?"

His eyes shot up at her. "Of course."

She had been the one to convince him to adopt a puppy a few years back. A puppy would give him something to throw his love and attention at. And when things inevitably got hard, she hoped a puppy would continue to give him a reason to stay on this earth.

"Why do you consistently treat Buddy like his life is more important than yours?"

"He's an innocent dog, he's never done a thing wrong in his life."

"That makes him more worthy of food?"

"He'd still be here if I hadn't written that letter," he said softly, completely ignoring her question. More tears burned his eyes.

"Eiji," her tone and demeanor shifted. She leaned forward in her chair, elbows finding her knees. She talked softly, gently. "I know these past few weeks have been really hard. And I know we both know what next Tuesday is…" She reached out and placed a careful hand on his knee.

It took everything in him not to shift his leg away from her meant-to-be-comforting hand. It seemed to burn through his pant leg, branding his knee.

"And I also know we both remember last year…" She patted his knee and withdrew her hand. "I'm worried about you, as are your friends."

"How would you know what my friends think," he scoffed.

"One of them called my office just yesterday. They're worried, Eiji."

Eiji's eyes met hers, angry and glossy. "Sing," he said knowingly.

She nodded. "He said you're barely answering texts and completely avoiding his calls. He's worried."

"Chh. He's fine."

"He was crying on the phone."

Eiji pulled his eyes from hers. He glanced at his coat by the door and contemplated leaving. But her next sentence reclaimed his attention.

"He said he's worried you'll kill yourself."

Without warning, Eiji began to cry, this time more than a few silent tears. He choked out a sob. "I won't," he managed to say.

He caught a glimpse of tears in the doctor's eyes. "But you want to," she inferred.

He nodded violently. "I've wanted to for years," he whispered almost angrily.

She scooted to the very edge of her seat and leaned forward so she could grab his hands. "I know. So you should be very proud of yourself for still being here. Sometimes simply living is the hardest task of all."

His head fell to the arm of his chair as he sobbed. I can't do it much longer, he desperately wanted to tell her. But he said nothing. The last thing he wanted was to be admitted to the psych ward for a second year in a row.

She held space for him as he cried. When his tears slowed, she spoke again. "I am going to call you a cab when you leave here today. No more of this walking," she said tenderly. "And once you're home, I want you to call Sing." She squeezed his hands. "Not counting today, we're only three days out from Tuesday. You need someone to take care of you at least until then. Please let him stay with you, Eiji. He wants to help you."

Eiji shook his head. He pulled his hands away from hers. More tears came.

"Eiji. Why would you disagree? You need him, he wants to help you."

"I'm— I'm scared he's in love with me," Eiji choked out.

She pulled away from him, sitting up straight before settling back into her chair. "Would it really be so terrible if he was?"

"I can never love him back. I don't want to love him back."

"He knows that, Eiji."

"He's asked me to move on before. More than once," Eiji said softly through tears. "But I can't. I'll never love someone else."

"Trust me, even if you've never explicitly told him, he knows. He knows that, Eiji."

Eiji cried but said nothing further.

Dr. Madison looked at him sadly. It was no secret she too wished he could move on and find happiness in someone else, but deep down, she knew he would never love again. He'd pushed himself previously to branch out, go on a few dates, but nothing had ever panned out.

The best he ever did was to manage three dates with the same man. Dr. Madison had been so happy for him at first. It seemed things were going really well between them. Eiji seemed to really like the man. On the third date, they were intimate. Eiji tried to drink himself to death directly after. It landed him in the hospital, followed by a short stay in the psych ward once he was medically stable. He swore it was an accident. No one was too convinced. That was last year, the week before the seventh anniversary of His death. Eiji hadn't seen anyone since.

"I can't love anyone else," Eiji repeated.

"He knows," she said for a third time. "He just wants to take care of you. Let him love you anyway."

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: T-Minus 4, T-Minus 3

When Eiji arrived home, Sing was waiting for him in his apartment. He sat on the couch, Buddy draped in his lap. Buddy slept peacefully, under the slow stroking motion of Sing's hand upon his fur.

Eiji knew Sing was there before even unlocking the door, for light was streaming out from the crack under the door. Eiji kept a small light on in his bedroom for Buddy, but otherwise, he typically kept the place dark. He liked the dark, especially when he sat with His picture in the evening. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but it was comforting.

"Sing," Eiji said cooly as he entered the apartment.

"I know you're not happy I'm here," Sing began, "But I'm not going anywhere. And I wouldn't have to show up like this if you'd just answer your damn phone."

Eiji said nothing. He untied his shoes and removed his winter coat, taking longer than necessary to prolong the inevitable of joining Sing in the apartment.

"I don't need a babysitter," he decided to say.

"I never said you did."

"Sure act like it. You and Dr. Madison both."

"We're worried about you. It's almost the—"

"I know what day it is, Sing!" Eiji shouted through the small apartment. Buddy's ears perked up. "And I know what happened last year! But I wasn't trying to die last year! I just—" he placed a hand on his chest, forcing himself to slow his breathing. "I lost control."

Sing stood from the couch, uprooting Buddy in the process, and walked toward Eiji. He towered over him in the entryway. "If that's true, it only makes it scarier."

Eiji stepped away from him, walking into the kitchen. "If that's true," he mocked. "It is true. It's not my fault no one will believe me."

"Do you think Ash would believe you?"

Eiji's eyes filled with something akin to hatred. "Don't say His name," he chided through gritted teeth.

"Why? Why are you so against saying his name? It doesn't change anything to say or not say his name."

"I don't want you to say it!"

"But why?!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHY!" Eiji turned from him to hide his tears. He opened the fridge and looked inside, knowing full well that, besides beer, he wouldn't find anything edible inside.

Sing was quiet then. He watched Eiji as he pretended to look for something to eat.

"There's nothing in there," he said after a pause of silence. "I already checked."

Eiji closed the fridge and moved on to the cabinets.

"Judging by those bottles," he gestured to the overflowing trash bin that was heavy with empty beer cans and liquor bottles, "You've been getting all your calories from alcohol." Sing stepped into the kitchen and sat at the small round table in the corner. "I have every reason to worry."

Eiji stared at the container of rice in the cabinets. He shut the door and returned to the fridge where he plucked a beer from the shelf.

"That's not going to solve any of your problems."

Eiji slammed the fridge, beer in hand. "Dammit, Sing! Do you think I don't know that!?" He popped open the beer and gulped it. "I know it fixes nothing! But at least it quiets my brain! It's once a year, can't you just let me be sad in peace!?"

Sing stood from the table. Eiji backed up as Sing stepped closer.

"What?!" Eiji asked with burning eyes and blurred vision.

"It's not only once a year," Sing said quietly. He attempted to pry the beer from Eiji's hand, though Eiji didn't give in easily. They struggled with it for a moment. In the end, they crushed the can, sending liquid running down both their forearms and onto the floor.

"Fuck," Eiji cursed. "That was the last one."

Sing nodded. "I know."

Now empty, Eiji loosened his grip. Sing tossed it into the trash.

Sing placed his strong hands on Eiji's shoulders. "No more alcohol. I'm gonna order some real food."

Eiji averted his eyes in anger.

"You can hate me, but your liver loves me."

Eiji scoffed. "Whatever."

"You sure don't make it easy, though."

"What's that?"

"Loving you."

Eiji pulled away from his hands. "I don't want you to love me. I don't want anyone to love me."

"Exactly."

"The food's here," Sing said, looking up from his phone. He moved toward the door. "You better let me back in," he said as he slid on his tennis shoes.

Eiji didn't move from his spot on the couch; he was cocooned in an old, patchwork blanket that everyone assumed once belonged to Him, though Eiji never said one way or the other.

"If you're so worried about it, don't lock it when you leave," he muttered.

Sing said nothing in reply. The door closed.

Eiji lifted his head to peek at the door. Sing hadn't locked it. Eiji's head fell back to the couch. He considered getting up to lock the door, to lock Sing out, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The boy on the wall was watching him. He had already seen Eiji at his worst, but this would be a new low. He left the door unlocked.

After a few minutes, Sing returned, carrying two large pizzas and a two-liter bottle of Coke.

Eiji sat as he entered. His eyes widened with fear, and he clutched the old blanket close to his chest. "Why is there so much?"

Sing kicked the door shut. "Relax, no one else is coming," he answered, reading Eiji's mind.

Eiji relaxed just a hair. "Why did you buy so much, then?"

Sing set the pizza on the kitchen counter, out of Buddy's reach. He made them each a plate, loading three slices onto each plate, and poured a soda for them both.

Sing made his way to the living room and handed Eiji his plate. "You haven't been eating. Don't think I can't tell. Take it." Reluctantly, Eiji did. "So now you get to make up for lost time."

Eiji looked at him as if he had three heads. "You expect the two of us to go through two? Tonight?" Eiji fully knew that he hadn't eaten a full, adult-sized meal in at least two or three weeks.

Sing sat on the sofa beside him. "Whatever we don't eat tonight, we finish tomorrow."

Eiji shook his head. Two pizzas would last him a week or two. "That's insane," he said quietly, his voice filled with disbelief.

Sing took a bite of his slice. "Mmmm, no," his mouth chased the stringy cheese that trailed from his slice, "What's insane is you just thinking you can starve yourself and I'll just sit by and watch."

Pain flashed across Eiji's face. He stood. "Screw you," he whispered. He moved to lower his plate to the floor. As if on cue, Buddy began trotting over to them.

Sing intercepted the plate, pulling it toward himself before Buddy could claim it. "Sit back down," he said calmly. Upon hearing the command, Buddy sat, though Eiji remained standing, the blanket still draped around his shoulders. "Sit, Eiji," he said again, more firmly this time. Buddy barked. Eiji rejoined him on the sofa.

Again, Buddy barked.

Sing looked at the dog, annoyed. "What?"

"He wants a treat for sitting," Eiji explained, in a soft voice.

Sing tossed him a pepperoni from his own plate. He gave Eiji his plate back. "Eat."

Eiji accepted the plate, hands shaking slightly. "I— There's no way I can eat all of this."

"Just fucking eat and see how far you get."

Eiji's dark eyes continued to stare at the pizza.

"Eat!"

"I will!"

"Show me!"

Eiji shoved the slice into his mouth. He took a massive bite, chewing quickly and swallowing. He bit into it again and again until he reached the crust. He quickly ate the crust as well and then licked his fingers clean.

"Happy?" He asked Sing.

Sing raised an eyebrow. "I still see two slices on that plate, Okumura."

Eiji's mind reeled, suddenly flooded with memories of a similar conversation he'd once had with Him.

"What the fuck is this, Okumura?" Ash asked, staring into the bowl Eiji had set before him.

Eiji squinted at him, trying to appear upset. "Miso soup."

"It looks alive," Ash frowned at the soup.

"That's because it's fermented," Eiji told him, unable to hold back his smile. "So I guess, in a way, it is alive."

Ash pushed the bowl away from himself. "I'm not eating that."

Eiji pouted at him. "At least try it."

Ash said nothing before muttering, "Fine." He tasted the soup.

"Well?"

Ash huffed. "It's not half bad."

Eiji beamed at him. "It's delicious," he corrected. "And good for you too. Eat up!"

"Eiji?" Sing asked, snapping Eiji back to the present.

"Please don't call me that," Eiji said solemnly.

"What? Oku—"

"Hey!" Eiji interrupted. "I just asked you not to."

Sing's mouth snapped shut. He watched Eiji's eyes fill with tears. "His name is already off limits. Since when is yours?"

Eiji took a shallow breath. "Since now. I'm not in a good headspace, Sing. It makes me think of Him."

There was a long, harsh pause filled only with the sounds of Eiji's troubled breathing.

"Finish your pizza," Sing said at long last.

Miraculously, Eiji finished all three slices of pizza.

Not so miraculously, he didn't keep them down.

"I ate too quickly," Eiji said as he leaned his forearms on the toilet seat.

Sing twisted his hair out of the way. "I'm sorry," Sing told him remorsefully. "I pushed you too hard."

Eiji hurled into the toilet bowl again.

"We should have started with one."

Eiji wiped his mouth with a handful of toilet paper. He tossed it into the water and flushed it.

"Can I make you something else?" Sing asked after a moment of quiet.

Eiji pulled away from the toilet and looked up at Sing with sad, exhausted eyes. He didn't want anything, but he was beyond the point of arguing. "Can I have some rice?"

Sing nodded. "Rice it is."

Eiji passed out on the couch, belly full of rice, by 9:30. He was cradled in the old, yellow and orange patchwork blanket, still wearing the clothes he'd worn to therapy.

Sing watched over him from the comfort of the armchair while the TV played softly in the background. Sing's eyes drifted to the picture of the blond on the wall. His stomach churned, though not from too much pizza.

Eiji was unraveling quickly. If he wasn't careful, he was worried they'd have a repeat of last year.

Or worse. God, how he feared something worse.

"Why'd you fuckin' leave us, Lynx?" Sing muttered to himself. He stared angrily at the photo on the wall. "Why'd you leave him?"

"Why don't you go to pilates today?" Sing asked as Eiji brewed coffee.

Eiji poured the water into the machine. "I have missed the past few weeks."

"Come on," Sing said cheerily, "They'd be happy to have you back." He was feeling more charitable today. He wasn't sure how long he would last, but he planned to refrain from scolding the other man today.

Eiji pressed start. "Then I'd have to explain why I was gone."

"Just say you've been busy."

"I haven't been."

"So?" He tried to smile casually. "They don't have to know that."

Eiji reached into the cabinet beside him and pulled out two coffee mugs. One was red with cartoon dalmatians running around the mug's center. Eiji's sister had bought it for him when she visited last. She said his dishes lacked character, so she bought him something fun. The other was an old, white mug with a chip in the lip. On the front, it read in time-worn paint: "I ️<3 New York." That one came from Him.

The rest of his mug collection, which wasn't very large, was filled with generic, cream-colored diner-style mugs decorated with two thin brown stripes upon the lip.

"I'm not very good at lying," Eiji told Sing.

He handed Sing the dalmatian mug.

"What happened to New York?" Sing asked, in reference to the mug.

Eiji frowned at the chip in it. "I dropped it."

Sing's brows drew close together. "But you're always so careful with it."

Eiji set it carefully on the counter. "I had too much to drink."

"You were drunk."

Eiji nodded and looked away from him. "Yeah, okay, I was drunk."

"You were doing so well for a while."

"No, I wasn't," Eiji said, staring at the coffee pot. "You're just seeing me now that I've stopped pretending."

"For a while, you were better. Better than this at least."

Eiji didn't argue, he knew Sing was right. Still, deep down, he never felt 'better.' "For a time it was easier."

"It will get easier again soon."

"You mean after Tuesday." It wasn't a question.

Sing nodded. "I mean after Tuesday. Maybe not right away, but it will."

Eiji's eyes lifted from the coffee pot and met Sing's. He gave Sing a sad, fake, sorry-excuse-for-a-smile. "It'll be year eight, I know how it goes."

"When you feel as shitty as you do, sometimes it's easy to forget things will get better again."

The coffee pot chirped. Eiji poured them each a mug of black coffee. He added milk to Sing's.

"It's a hard day for you, too," he said as he handed Sing the coffee.

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement. He sipped the warm, rich liquid. Eiji never skimped on coffee; Sing loved the expensive light roast he bought from the cafe across town.

"Do you miss him?" Eiji asked, referring to Lao.

"Every day." He sipped his coffee. "I miss them both."

Eiji sipped from the chipped New York mug.

"I'm sorry, I know you hate Lao, but I do still miss him."

"I do."

They sat in silence for a moment before Eiji started to move toward the living room. "Dr. Madison thinks I should try to forgive him." Eiji unlocked the balcony door. "But I don't think I ever can."

He opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the small, metal balcony complete with two small, metal chairs covered in snow and ice.

They stood there for a moment, without sitting. Sing wiped the snow off the chairs anyway, mindlessly.

"That's just therapist talk." Sing wiped the moisture onto his jeans. "You don't have to forgive him. I don't forgive him and he's my own blood."

"You don't forgive him?" Eiji asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

Sing looked at his friend. Not only had Lao killed someone he cared for, but he had also completely destroyed Eiji in the process. He looked at the busy street below. "Don't think I ever can."

Eiji's face turned tranquil as his eyes drifted to the traffic below them. "Thank you for that."

"You should never feel guilty about hating Lao," Sing responded, reading Eiji's mind. Shivering, he sipped his coffee. "Let's go inside, it's fucking freezing."

"You have to let me walk, Sing!"

"It's thirteen degrees outside, you don't get to walk."

"Buddy needs a walk!"

"I will walk him."

"You're killing me, if you don't let me walk!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Sing replied, rolling his eyes.

"Please! If I can't drink, you have to let me walk."

Sing stepped closer to Eiji, in an attempt to intimidate him. "I don't have to do anything." His plan to not argue hadn't lasted long. Not even an hour after breakfast, they were already shouting at one another.

Eiij's face turned grim. "I also don't have to let you stay here."

Sing gave a short, wild, sarcastic laugh. "Just try and make me leave."

Eiji's eyes narrowed. "It's my apartment," he threatened, "I could call the police."

"You won't."

"I might."

With his head, Sing gestured to the picture on the wall. "What would he say about that?"

Eiji's fierce face fell and he looked away from Sing. He didn't argue that He wasn't watching, for Eiji very much believed that He was. "At least let me walk with you," he said after a moment.

Sing grabbed Buddy's leash. "Fine."

Eiji bartered for an hour-long walk in exchange for Sing to do a 'secret favor' for him. Eiji knew he'd likely hate whatever it was. Still, he agreed.

"So what's this secret favor?" He asked, mockingly. Eiji untied his shoes and left them with his coat at the front door.

Sing did not move to remove his outer layers. "It involves me leaving for a bit." Sing held out a gloved hand. "Keys."

Eiji stared at his open palm for a moment before plunging his hand into his pocket to fish out his keys. "Fine."

Sing closed his hand around the keys and stuffed them in his coat pocket before Eiji could change his mind. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Don't change the locks," he said sarcastically.

"Ha, ha."

"And please still be here when I get back," Sing added, more seriously.

"Don't bring anyone else with you," Eiji told him. "I am not up to visitors."

Sing nodded. "You got it." He turned to leave. "Later."

Over an hour had passed by the time Sing had returned.

Eiji was lying on the couch, the patchwork blanket was pulled up to his chin. Sing fumbled with the grocery bags he was holding. He left them at the door as he made his way, shoes still on, to sneak a glance at Eiji. His eyes focused on his side. Eiji breathed in, then out. Sing relaxed. He tiptoed back to the door, being extra quiet now, so as not to wake Eiji.

As quietly as humanly possible, Sing cleaned out the fridge. He threw away the remainder of the rotting food and gave the shelves a quick clean. He then began to fill the empty space with fresh food. He hadn't skimped on groceries, purchasing fresh fruits and vegetables, quality cuts of meat, and even fresh salmon. Now, he just needed to get it all inside the fridge.

"You were gone way longer than twenty minutes," Eiji said groggily from the couch. He was sitting, his blanket draped around his shoulders, with his hair all a mess and bags under his eyes. He watched as Sing finished putting away the groceries.

"Thanks for shopping for me, Sing. Gee, no problem, Eiji, I am always happy to help you out," Sing mocked.

Eiji flopped back to the couch. "I never asked for help."

"I know."

Sing continued fitting food into the fridge like he was doing a jigsaw puzzle. He moved things around noisily now, not because Eiji was awake, but because he was irritated.

"You didn't have to lie about how long you would take," Eiji said from the couch, head facing the ceiling. "I wasn't going to kill myself while you were out."

Sing dropped a bag of apples he was wrestling into the fridge. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath.

Eiji sat again. "Aren't you going to say you know?"

Sing fit the apples into the fridge on the second try. "I don't know."

Eiji glared at him from across the room.

"I still remember last year, ya know."

"Last year was a mistake," Eiji spat. "How many times do I have to—"

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Sing turned away from the fridge. He crawled across the kitchen floor until he could see where Eiji sat on the couch. "Did you forget that I'm the one who found you that night?"

Eiji averted his eyes from Sing's. "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

Sing huffed. "Maybe you've lied for so long you're starting to believe that's true."

"Oh, fuck you," Eiji muttered.

Sing stood, clutching a bottle of soy sauce. "Fuck me? Fuck me? I'm the one who found you," he pointed the bottle to his chest, "Passed out in your own vomit, shaking and pale. I'm the one who got ya to come to and you couldn't even tell me your name! I'm the one who called an ambulance. I'm the one who rode with you to the ER and didn't leave your side until they made me. I'm the one who was there for you in the hospital and after. And still, I'm the one you just keep pushing away. And still, ya have the nerve to lie to me and say it was an accident when we both know it wasn't! Fuck me? No. No, no, no, fuck you." Silent tears streamed down Sing's cheeks.

Eiji sat speechless.

Sing huffed angrily and returned to the fridge. He emptied the contents of the last grocery bag onto the floor and finished putting everything away.

"I didn't start drinking that night with the intention of dying," Eiji said at last.

Sing closed the now-stocked fridge. He stayed silent where he sat on the kitchen floor.

"That's the truth." He paused. "But there was a point… when I realized I was really drunk, but I still had some wits about me. I was so disgusted with myself and I was just… in so much pain that I— I don't know, it just seemed like an easy way out."

"For sleeping with that guy?"

Eiji was quiet for a long time.

The sound of Buddy grooming his fur was the only thing that filled the tense air.

"I still hate myself because of it," Eiji said finally.

"He would have wanted you to move on."

Eiji shook his head. "Everyone keeps telling me that. That's why I tried," he sighed, "And it almost killed me."

Sing didn't say anything for a long minute. "I'm sorry, Eiji."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry living is so hard for you."

Strangely, Eiji smiled a small, sad smile. "Sing?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sticking around… even though I'm such a dick."

Sing stood and joined Eiji on the couch. Without a word, he pulled Eiji's blanket-wrapped self into his side.

"I'm sorry too," Eiji said. He sniffed, nose running from quiet tears.

"You'll have to be more specific," Sing answered, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There was a dreadful pause before Eiji said, "For not being able to love you the way you love me."

Sing released a long, hissing exhale. "We're not supposed to say that bit out loud."

Eiji lay stiff at his side, tears seeped from his closed eyes. "I know," he whispered.

It went unsaid that that was the reason Eiji pushed Sing away. Sing knew. Eiji knew Sing knew. Neither of them had to acknowledge it.

"But… thank you," Sing added quietly.

"You deserve to move on, too."

Sing said nothing, but Eiji could feel his shoulders shaking with tears.

Don't leave me like he left you, Sing wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to voice those words.

Reruns of Seinfeld played in the background as Sing and Eiji settled onto the couch. Sing handed Eiji a bowl of homemade Japanese curry.

"Eat."

Eiji poked at it with a pair of chopsticks. "Smells good." He tried it. "Tastes good too." He forced a smile. "Like Mom used to make."

Sing snatched the remote and turned up the volume. "You don't have to force yourself to be nice to me."

But Eiji had voiced what they both knew yet never said: Sing loved Eiji. And now that it was out in the open, even though they'd both known it for some time, he felt the need to be nicer to him.

Eiji shook his head. He shoveled rice and curry into his mouth. "Thanks for shopping," he said, finally. "I'll pay you back."

Sing shook his head. "It's fine, Eiji."

"No, really, I want to."

"Seriously, don't worry about it."

"But I want to."

"I said don't worry about it."

Eiji smiled softly into his food. "We could go around in circles all day."

There was a lull.

"They finally had pickled red onions again," Sing said.

"I saw that."

"I know you love those things." He plopped a piece of mushroom into his mouth. "Thought I'd use 'em on Monday for fish tacos."

Eiji's face grew sad.

Sing felt his demeanor change. "I didn't mean it like…" his voice trailed off.

"Like pickled onions are an incentive to stay alive till Monday?"

Sing cringed. "Yeah."

"But didn't you kinda?"

Sing picked at his rice, letting it fall from his chopsticks instead of moving it to his mouth. "Sorry."

Eiji could feel anger boiling inside him. He picked up the ice water on the coffee table and chugged it. "We were doing a good job at being civil. I'm not gonna yell, even though you deserve it. But that hurts."

Sing sucked his lips inward so that his mouth was a tense line. He nodded. "Sorry."

Eiji nodded and focused his attention on the TV as if nothing had happened. "Elaine looks like a pilgrim in that skirt."

Sing couldn't help but smile. "The nineties were weird."

Eiji fell asleep on the couch soon after eating. He'd eaten half his food. Sing was satisfied with that. It was better than him overdoing it and throwing it back up.

Sing gently picked up their dishes and moved to the kitchen to clean up.

He washed the dishes by hand and quietly put them away.

His mind wandered as his hands went through the motions of washing, drying, and putting things in their place.

He thought about how much Eiji suffered, especially lately. He cursed himself for falling in love with him, though he had never tried to. He didn't even realize he loved him until that fateful day last year. The threat of Eiji's death awakened him to the reality of his feelings, but he was certain they'd been there long before that.

He finished the dishes and walked back into the living room, drying his hands on a dish towel as he walked. He stared at Eiji's sleeping form.

"Maybe I should move in here for a while. Someone's gotta look after you," he said to himself. He glanced up at the picture on the wall. He watched over them like the eyes of God. "That's probably what you'd want."

"Huh?" Eiji stirred into a seated position, glasses askew. "What?"

Sing's eyes left the green ones on the wall. "Sorry. Talking to myself."

"Oh," he flopped backward and closed his eyes.

Sing stared at him silently for a moment. "Think you could migrate to your room so I can take the couch?"

"You're staying again?" Eiji asked, eyes still closed.

"At least until Tuesday."

"Mmmm."

Eiji made no effort to move.

"Eiji?"

"You can," he yawned, "Take my bed. I don't sleep in there much these days."

He stared at Eiji quizzically. "Cuz Green Eyes is in here?" He asked after a moment.

Eiji said nothing, but Sing knew he had guessed right. Sing lingered a moment more before pulling the patchwork blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over Eiji.

"G'night, Eiji."

"Night."

Eiji's room was cold and immaculately clean. Sing got the impression the perfectly made bed hadn't been slept in for weeks. He wondered briefly when the sheets were last cleaned, though it wasn't like they had any chance of being soiled from sex. He knew, for a fact, that Eiji hadn't slept with anyone since the man last year.

Goosebumps rose on his skin. His eyes found the heat vent that had been pulled shut. "He really doesn't come in here much," he muttered to himself as he kicked it open. The vent opened loudly with a bang; hot air began to pour into the room.

He pulled back the blanket and climbed into bed. His nose was bombarded with the smell of laundry detergent. Clean after all. Part of him wished they weren't. He rolled onto his side, forcefully tugging the blanket around himself, and tried to shake such thoughts from his mind.

"Sheets are clean!" Eiji called from the other room, as if reading his mind.

Sing smiled sadly. "Thanks," he replied in a voice too quiet for Eiji to hear.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: T-Minus 2

In the morning, Sing slept far longer than he had intended. The first night at Eiji's, he had fallen asleep in the armchair by the TV, and he had awoken early due to discomfort and the sun's bright rays. After all, Eiji never closed the living room curtains. Sing had tried several times before and had been scolded each time. He didn't understand why Eiji wanted them open, but then again, there were plenty of things he didn't understand about Eiji these days.

His body was grateful for the dark room and the extra sleep today, but his brain was already burning with worry. He checked the time. Six minutes after ten thirty.

"Shit," he cursed and practically jumped out of bed. He stumbled into the hall, eyes scanning for Eiji.

"Eiji?" He called, anxiety thick on his tongue. "Eiji?"

"Getting in the shower," Eiji called from behind the closed bathroom door. The bathroom door opened into the hall. Eiji poked his head out. His long hair fell messily over one shoulder and onto his bare torso. Around his waist, he held a towel. "Did you need to get in here?" He asked Sing.

"No, I…" his eyes found Eiji's chest, and widened as he realized how small Eiji had become. His collar bones protruded more than usual, and even a few ribs peeked through his chest. "Eiji… you've lost a lot of weight." As soon as the words left his tongue, he regretted them.

Eiji's face screwed up in anger. He retreated into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Sing said through the door, but the shower water was already running, and he knew he would get no response from Eiji.

Eiji took a long time in the shower. Sing was right, he was becoming quite thin. He clasped his fingers around his wrist and wondered when he'd become so scrawny. He looked down at his legs. Despite all of his walking, he was lacking muscle tone. He wasn't eating enough to maintain the look of a runner, let alone an athlete. Then again, he hadn't resembled an athlete in many years.

Since His death, his physical form has fluctuated depending on his mental status. During good times, he was a healthy weight and exercised enough to keep himself in shape, though not enough to overdo it and make him look how he appeared now.

He already knew he was not doing well mentally, he hated the physical reminder. Furthermore, he hated the fact that Sing had seen him.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and finished his shower.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom again, he was fully clothed with freshly dried hair.

"Where ya going?" Sing asked from the living room.

Eiji wiped the steam from his glasses. "I have a client." He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with his bag containing expensive cameras and their various lenses.

"Shooting anything interesting?"

Eiji shrugged. "Not really." He set his bag on the armchair and unzipped it. He began checking to ensure he had plenty of SD cards and that all his batteries were charged.

"Family portraits?" Sing guessed.

Eiji almost laughed. "Not really the season."

"Oh, yeah, I guess no one gets family photos in the freezing cold."

"Not once we're past Christmas." Eiji re-zipped the bag. "It's an engagement shoot."

Sing fell silent.

"I do engagements all the time," Eiji said, voice calm but tense.

"But so close to…"

"Well, maybe if you'd stop reminding me of the date, I could forget!" Eiji snapped.

Sing, saying nothing, simply raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Fine," Eiji blurted. "But just— All I'm asking for is— " He didn't finish the sentence because he didn't know where it was going. He wanted to ask Sing for normalcy, yet at the same time, this time of year could never be normal again.

"I get it," Sing said softly. "Sorry."

With Sing at his heels, Eiji walked toward the door with his bag and pulled on his winter coat. "You don't need to apologize to me all the time. I'm not gonna break."

"S- Got it."

Eiji pulled on his winter boots. "I'll be back in a few hours."

As a photographer, he saw his fair share of engagements. It didn't matter what time of year it was, they were never easy for him to get through. He saw a wide array of 'love.' Some couples married for money, some for convenience, and some for love. The ones who married for money or convenience could be in love, though often they seemed to only "like" each other at best. He also saw couples that actively seemed unhappy. Those were the strangest cases. It seemed, for such couples, that engagement photos were simply a way of keeping up appearances rather than a way to encapsulate their love.

Regardless of the sincerity of the love, Eiji found engagement photos to be absolutely exhausting, though he never let this show during the sessions. This was, ironically, exactly what made the sessions so draining. Eiji had to force himself to seem undeniably excited for each couple, when, in reality, he was saddened to see what he would never have.

This particular couple, according to Eiji, was disgustingly in love. True, genuine, love. His face was sore from smiling, albeit forced smiles, by the time the shoot was finished.

When Eiji returned to his apartment, it was well past five.

"That took forever. How'd it go?" Sing called across the apartment when he entered.

Eiji didn't answer right away. Preoccupied with putting away his winter clothes and equipment, he disappeared into his bedroom. Around his left arm was a shopping bag. Buddy chased after him, begging for attention.

When Eiji returned, he was dressed in joggers and a sweatshirt to chase away the winter chill. The shopping bag still hung around his arm. He walked into the living room and stood before Sing.

"What's in the bag?"

"It was awful," Eiji replied, addressing Sing's first question. "They were stupidly in love." He reached into the bag and pulled out a six-pack of beer.

"Eiji—" Sing began, his tone scolding.

"There's only six," Eiji said, talking over him. "I don't need to get drunk, I just need to drink." He pulled a can of beer from the plastic packing rings and held it out to Sing. "Drink with me."

Sing looked at the can but made no move to accept it. "Have you eaten today?"

Eiji looked into his eyes for a moment before asking, "Did you make me eat anything?"

Sing opened his mouth to speak, but Eiji continued, answering his own question. "Then, no, I haven't eaten."

Sing glared at him. "I should make you eat first."

Eiji waved the beer in front of him. "Just drink with me."

Sing glared at him a moment longer before swiping the drink from his hand. "Fine."

Eiji pried a can for himself from the packaging. "We'll split the pack." He sat on the couch beside Sing.

They drank in silence, watching the snow fall outside. In Eiji's apartment, high above the city, they could not see the street below without getting much closer to the window. The snow fell against the darkening sky, especially visible against the tinted glass of the tall building beside Eiji's.

"Does snow add charm to engagement photos?" Sing asked, breaking the silence.

Eiji huffed. "People only book outdoor photos in the winter if there is snow— or at least a promise of snow. Helps when it's actually falling while we shoot." He gulped his beer. "People can deal with cold when it's snowing."

"Which reminds me, how long did it take? High was fifteen today, you guys must have been freezing."

Eiji clenched his jaw. "Just ask what you want to ask. You already know it didn't take that whole time. Why do you need to hear me rat on myself? I went walking after. Happy?"

Sing tried hard to not raise his voice. "No. Eiji—"

Eiji turned toward him. "Can you just not? I already know you're pissed. And I know He'd be disappointed. And I know everyone worries about me. So I don't need a lecture." Tears welled in his eyes, causing him to look away from Sing.

Sing studied his profile. For whatever reason, these engagement photos upset him more than normal. Sure, it could be the timing of the session so close to the death date anniversary, but Sing got the impression there was another reason.

"Can I see the pictures?"

A tear slipped free from Eiji's eyes. "No," he said quietly.

"Why?" Sing's voice was cautious.

"I think you already know why."

"He looked like him?"

Eiji shook his head. "No," his voice was hoarse. "He looked like me." His voice cracked. Tears fell. Eiji removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Looked like me when I first came here… when A—" he stopped and cleared his throat. "When He was still alive." He inhaled shakily. "They booked online, I didn't know what they were gonna look like."

Sing draped a comforting arm around Eiji's shoulders. "And her?" He asked after a moment.

Eiji shook his head. "Two guys," was all he got out before his shoulders began to shake with tears.

Sing held him tighter. "Fuck, that's rough."

Sing gestured to the picture on the wall with his beer. "Did you two ever bang?" He asked, tongue loosened by alcohol.

Eiji was on his third and final beer, as was Sing. Eiji was used to drinking, his alcohol tolerance made that clear. Sing, on the other hand, did not make a habit of indulging in alcohol after seeing how it claimed Eiji in hard times.

"You've asked me that before," Eiji replied. There was a hint of amusement on his lips.

"Well, did you?" Sing asked again anyway.

"The answer is still the same… no."

"But is that the truth?"

Eiji nodded, eyes sad. "It's the truth."

"But you guys probably wanted to."

Eiji looked down at his hands. "I know I wanted to. I don't know about Him."

"Didn't you ever ask?"

"No."

"Why?"

Eiji shook his head in disbelief, "Because of His past," he answered, voice sharp. To Eiji, it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But now you'll never know."

Eiji sighed. He looked at Sing whose face was flushed from drinking. "It doesn't matter, I wouldn't have asked that of Him." Eiji swirled the last inch of beer around and around in the bottom of the can. "If I had asked, He might've said yes without actually wanting all that." He downed the last inch of beer. "I think one of the reasons He liked me was because I never asked."

"'Cuz you loved him too much to ask?"

Their eyes connected. "Yeah."

"He loved you too, Eiji."

Eiji rolled his eyes. "How would you know?"

Sing drained the last of his beer from his can. "Everyone knew."

Eiji looked away, eyes tracking the falling snow. "Not like it matters now."

"Sure it does," Sing punched Eiji's arm affectionately. Eiji looked at him. "You get to know that the man who loved no one… loved you."

"He loved other people." Eiji thought of Shorter and Nadia, Skipper, and Max.

"Not the way he loved you."

Eiji released a breath, long and slow. "Why do you stick around, Sing? I'm getting old. I'm boring. I haven't had a new hobby in— ever? I'm—" he pulled at his long hair, "disheveled. I don't cut it because this hair—" he fiddled with the very ends of his hair, his voice growing louder, "Is the same hair that was on my head when the dead man that I still love roamed the earth!"

Startled by his change in volume, Sing flinched.

"I'm in love with a dead man," Eiji repeated, quieter this time. He turned to look at Sing. "Why on earth do you stick around?"

Sing's eyes bored into Eiji's soul. His gaze fluttered from Eiji's eyes to his lips, then back up to his eyes. He stuck around because he loved him, and after three beers, he momentarily forgot about Green Eyes watching him. He leaned in and ran his fingers through the ends of Eiji's hair.

"I don't think your hair looks disheveled," he said, instead of answering his question.

Eiji's eyes tracked Sing's hand. "I hate it," he said softly.

"If you hate it, you should cut it." Sing tucked a strand of loose hair behind Eiji's ear. "You don't have to throw it out, you could save it."

"Do you like it?"

Sing smoothed the length of Eiji's ponytail, twirling it around his finger as he did so. "Mmm, yeah, I do, but it's only your opinion that matters." His fingers reached the ends of Eiji's hair and stayed there, rubbing the damaged ends between his fingertips. "I've always loved your hair."

Eiji closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, Sing's eyes were on his lips again, only this time, they lingered there. Eiji resisted the urge to pull away. "I think you're drunk, Sing," he said graciously.

"I'm not drunk," he whispered.

Eiji's fingers encircled Sing's wrist and pulled it away from himself. He clasped Sing's hand between both of his own. "I think you are."

Sing looked at their joined hands. He sighed and, after a moment, pulled away. "Sorry."

Eiji shook his head. "I'm the one who made you drink."

But they both knew that wasn't what Sing was apologizing for.

Sing rose from the couch and walked to the window. He watched the cars and pedestrians on the street below. "Please don't ever leave me the way he left you," he uttered so quietly that Eiji couldn't make out his words over the distant sounds of the street.

"Huh?"

Sing glanced over his shoulder at Eiji. "Nothing." He watched the snow fall. "I think you're right; I think I'm drunk."

They both knew he wasn't, at least not properly drunk, but it was easier to pretend.

"You're such a lightweight," Eiji said humorously.

Eiji could see his smirk through the reflection on the window.

"Nah, you're just a drunk," he teased back.

"Oh, get fucked," Eiji laughed.

Sing had missed that laugh. "You have such a filthy mouth."

"Not worse than Him."

Sing scoffed. "I don't know about that."

"How's he fairing this year?"

"Not good."

"But better than last year, I assume?"

"Worse."

"Surely, he couldn't be worse."

"He is. At least last year he was trying to be happy. This year… I haven't seen him this bad in some time."

"Does he have anyone?"

"He has Sing."

"He always has Sing."

"Well, what did you mean then?"

"Any lovers this year?"

"No one since last year. I've been watching."

There was a pause.

"Are you worried he'll try again?"

"I'm always worried about that."

"Will you stop him if he does?"

"Of course."

"You didn't last year."

"I didn't know last year."

"Because you pulled away when he found love."

"He didn't find love."

"But you'll go to him this year."

"If you'll let me."

"Please, I cannot stop you."

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: T-Minus 1

Sing,

Sorry again for making you drink last night. Hope your headache's not too bad. There's Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I went out to run some errands, not sure when I'll be back. Can you let Buddy out in a few hours?

-Eiji.

"Motherfucker," Sing said through gritted teeth.

He stared at the note for a second before pulling out his phone. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?! Answer your goddamn phone! Call me back before I file a missing person's report!" He ended the call. With shaking hands, he searched through his contacts for Dr. Madison's name. Before he could dial, Eiji texted him back.

"I'm alive.

Didn't run away either.

I'll be home in time for fish tacos."

Sing scoffed. He dialed Eiji's phone again; this time, Eiji answered.

"What?"

"Was that so hard!?"

"What?" Eiji asked again, there was no humor in his voice.

"What do you mean what? You can't just disappear the day before—"

"I didn't just disappear. I left a note."

"Eiji, just—" Sing's voice cracked with unspilled tears. He cleared his throat. "What errands?"

There was a long pause.

"Eiji."

A gust of wind blew into the speaker of Eiji's phone.

"Where are you, Eiji?" Sing asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"I needed to be with Him, Sing." Eiji's voice was quiet, broken with tears.

"You're at the cemetery." He was already up, pulling on his shoes and coat. "Stay put, I'm coming down there."

"Please, just— I just need to be alone for a bit."

Eiji ended the call.

"Fuck," Sing cursed under his breath. He dialed Max on his way out the door.

Eiji stumbled into the graveyard with a brown paper bag filled with alcohol.

He hadn't intended to lie to Sing when he wrote the note that morning. He had planned on running errands. He needed to drop off film to be developed and grab new SD cards while he was at it. He also needed to pick up some new shoes; he'd worn the soles of his current pair thin. And yes, he had also planned to pay Him a visit since he knew he wouldn't have the strength to leave the apartment tomorrow, on the actual day.

But then he had passed a magazine stand. And on the cover of a magazine close to the bottom was a man with blond hair and green eyes. Albeit the model's eyes had more blue in them than His ever had, but the resemblance was still there.

Suddenly, he didn't care about his shoes or the film in his pocket or his need for new SD cards. The film held photos that weren't for any client, they were photos he had taken for his own enjoyment, so it wasn't a pressing matter. Everything else could wait.

He had slipped into the next bodega he saw and bought a bottle of whiskey.

He now trudged the all-too-familiar path to His grave. Snow soaked his shoes and the bottoms of his pants. Apparently, shoveling a path to the dead wasn't the city's top priority when it came to snow removal.

In the distance, he could make out His headstone.

Aslan Jade Callenreese.

Tears were already wetting his face and turning to ice on his skin.

He collapsed in front of the headstone, not caring that snow now covered his lower half. He pulled the whiskey from his bag. He didn't have much time; he knew Sing would be here as fast as he could.

"Don't start," he told the headstone, knowing full well He would not approve of his drink. "I bought the one You like." He poured an ounce onto the snow. "That's for You." He took a sizable swig. "Sing will be here to get me soon, so You don't need to worry." He fiddled with his brown bag. "Oh, and I brought You these," he pulled out a dozen red roses. He gingerly rested them up against the headstone.

He sat there for several long minutes, saying nothing at all. He continued to drink straight from the bottle. He occasionally poured out a small amount for the body six feet below.

"Sing almost kissed me last night," he said, breaking the silence. "I could see it in his eyes. He didn't, but he wanted to." He took another drink. "But he was drunk." Eiji sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could move on. Would You hate me for that? Everyone says that's what You'd want, but…" he didn't finish the sentence. "Sing loves me, it would be so easy to be with him. Except I don't love him like that. Anyway…"

The wind picked up, pelting Eiji's face with falling snow. He set the bottle in the snow and pulled his coat closer to his body. "'Ts freezin'," he said, words beginning to slur from alcohol and the cold. "Wish You w're here. Really here. We could be inside— with a fire and," he choked on his words. Suddenly, he was unable to speak, caught up in a fit of tears. "I— I'm— sorry. I c-can't."

He reached for the whisky and took a long, gulping drink that warmed his insides but left him coughing when he finally pulled the bottle away from his lips. "I wanna be with You— I can't— be here all alone anymore."

He sobbed.

He drank.

He sobbed some more. Drank some more.

He threw up in the snow. Bile burned his throat, and the cold snow burned his skin. He ate a handful of snow to extinguish the flavor of his own digestive juices. His mouth burned. Everything did. The pain was grounding, in a way.

He gave in to the sorrow.

He wished he were dead.

When Sing arrived, Max was with him.

Eiji was sobbing, soaked with snow from the waist down, and horribly drunk, but he was conscious. Both men were relieved.

Eiji kicked his legs and tensed his body, making it nearly impossible for them to pull him away from the grave.

"Eiji, Eiji," Max cooed, "Let us help you."

But Eiji wasn't eager to be helped. He thrashed and screamed and clawed at them as they pulled the whiskey from his hands. Max emptied it into the snow. Eiji wailed; it was a bone-chilling sound that bounced off the other tombstones.

They waited for him to expend his energy before prying him off the ground.

They left the roses for Him.

"Come on," Max said, as he draped Eiji's arms around his and Sing's shoulders. "Work with us here." He and Sing stepped forward, waiting for Eiji to do the same. "You gotta walk, Eiji, or we'll all die of hypothermia."

Sing couldn't speak; he was too busy choking back sobs of his own.

Eiji didn't move, sobs still stealing his breath.

"Come on, kiddo, don't make me carry you."

Still, Eiji couldn't move. He tossed his head from side to side, flinging his glasses into the snow for Sing to retrieve.

"Alright then." Max shifted his grip and maneuvered Eiji into his arms.

Eiji fought against him for only a few seconds before giving in. He cried in Max's arms, while Sing wept silently at his side.

"Let's get you home."

"I'm not aiding in a kidnapping, am I?" The cab driver joked as Max and Sing kept Eiji pinned in the center seat.

Max sounded annoyed, "Just helping a very drunk, very sad friend get home safe."

The driver made eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. "Alright," he said, drawing out the word as if he didn't quite believe him. He shifted the car into gear and headed back toward Eiji's apartment.

"You fellas take care now," the driver said as the three men shuffled out of the backseat.

They stumbled into the apartment building and to the elevator. They received a few odd stares though, had it not been early morning, it wouldn't have been completely out of the ordinary to see friends helping their drunk friend home.

Buddy barked excitedly as Sing unlocked the door.

Max left Eiji by the front door and disappeared down the hall. Eiji collapsed on the doormat, still crying, though softer now. Max returned with a bath towel.

"You're soaking wet," Max said, sorrow on his tongue. He ran the towel through his long hair before easing Eiji's coat and shoes off him. "Help me get him to the bathroom," he said, looking at Sing.

Sing stood frozen, watching with wide, watery eyes.

"Sing. Sing."

"S-sorry." He moved to Eiji's side. "Y-you—" he stopped and cleared his throat. With a deep inhale, he composed himself. "Come on, Eiji, stand up."

Eiji didn't move. His tears picked up again; he gasped for air between sobs.

Max and Sing stood over him, powerless.

"Does he have anything he can take to calm him down?" Max asked.

"He has valium, but… I don't think he can take that while he's drunk."

"...No…fuck." Max dropped to a squat beside Eiji. "Hey," he began sternly. He gripped Eiji's shoulder. "I know all you want right now is to sink into the floor and melt away."

Eiji released a sorrowful moan.

"But Sing and I aren't going to let that happen, so you may as well let us help you. You need to stand up so I can help you change into some warm clothes before you freeze to death."

Eiji sank further into the ground until he was lying in a wet pile of shoes and snowmelt.

"Okay." Max stood. "You grab his feet," he told Sing. "I've got his arms."

On three, they hoisted him off the ground. Eiji whined as they carried him down the hall.

"Bathroom?"

"Bedroom," Max decided. "Bathroom's a tight turn."

They went straight, instead, to the bedroom where they lifted Eiji onto the bed.

"He's getting it all wet," Sing said meekly.

Max rummaged through Eiji's dresser looking for pajamas. "He can sleep on the other side."

"Noooo," Eiji moaned.

"Yes, Eiji, you can. The other side is still dry."

Eiji made a long, incoherent whine of disapproval.

"No, that's not it. He doesn't like to sleep in here," Sing explained. "He likes the couch."

Max looked puzzledly behind himself at Eiji. "I'll make a deal with you. You change into dry clothes, I'll move you to the couch."

Eiji's protests quieted. "I can—" he pointed to the clothes Max was holding, "On m'own."

"It will be a whole hell of a lot faster if I help you."

Eiji's eyes drifted to Sing, then back to Max.

"I'll leave," Sing said, taking the not-so-subtle hint and turning toward the door. It closed softly behind him.

Max was quiet for a moment, curious as to what had just transpired."Alright, up."

Eiji did as he was told, propping himself into a sitting position. Max helped him out of the sweater and shirt he was wearing. He replaced it with a dry, oversized sleep shirt. Max noticed how thin Eiji had become, but he didn't say a word. He then tugged off his wet socks and added them to the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Okay, stand," Max said, standing himself.

Again, Eiji obeyed. He was wobbly; he gripped Max's shirt to maintain his balance. With great efficiency, even with his soaked clothes, Max stripped, dried, and re-dressed Eiji's lower half.

"There," he said, placing proud hands on his hips. "Good to go." Quietly, to himself, Max added, "I guess all those years of wrestling Michael into clothes paid off. Huh, it's been years since I've had to do that." His attention shifted back to Eiji. "No, don't sit back down, the bed's all wet. Come on," he guided Eiji, slowly and carefully, out into the living room.

Sing was drawing the blinds to block out the early afternoon sun.

Eiji settled on the couch under the old patchwork blanket. He said nothing to either Max or Sing for a long moment.

"Everything's spinning," he complained at last.

Max left the room and returned with the bathroom trash can. He set it beside the couch. "In case you need to hurl."

The room spun more intensely as Eiji nodded.

To hide his tears from the other men, Sing wandered into the kitchen.

Max plopped in the chair opposite the couch. "Try to get some rest, bud."

Max watched over Eiji like a guardian angel. Miraculously, Eiji had calmed down. His eyes slipped closed. The gentle sounds of Sing switching out the dishwasher filled the air. Exhausted from tears, Eiji drifted to sleep within minutes.

Hours later, when Eiji woke, the world was dark, save the blue light coming from the TV. Max still sat in the armchair opposite the couch, while Sing was outstretched on the floor with a throw pillow beneath his head. They were watching something Eiji didn't recognize.

Groggily, he managed to shift into a seated position. It stirred his stomach and his head, causing his eyes to close momentarily.

"And he's up!" Max said victoriously, as Eiji's movement caught his eye.

Eiji winced at his booming voice. Max laughed, and Eiji's hands went to his ears to muffle the sound.

"Please," he muttered quietly.

Max offered a vague apology.

"Feeling any better?" Sing asked.

Eiji's attention shifted to where Sing sat on the floor. He looked entirely drained, with dark circles under his red, puffy eyes. Eiji thought he remembered most of what had occurred, at least to some degree, though he hadn't remembered Sing crying. He hoped he hadn't said something he couldn't take back. Or perhaps Sing cried due to Eiji's pain rather than his own.

Tears suddenly burned Eiji's eyes, and he had to avert his gaze. He simply nodded in response to Sing's question.

He shifted so that he was only occupying one couch cushion. He pulled the patchwork blanket close to himself and gestured to the couch cushion beside him, wordlessly offering Sing a place to sit that wasn't the floor.

Sing moved slowly to the couch, legs stiff from the floor. He flopped down beside Eiji, accepting his unspoken peace offering.

"I made some food, if you want some," Sing said, offering a truce of his own.

Eiji shook his head, "Maybe in a bit."

They all sat for a moment without speaking; Eiji's eyes appeared blank as he stared at the TV screen. From the looks of it, it was some sort of war movie, he reckoned Max was the one who had selected it.

Max's phone dinged. "Jess is asking where I am. I should probably get going." He stood from his chair, eyes studying Eiji and Sing. "Is it cool if I head out?"

Eiji opened his mouth just to shut it again without speaking. Max's eyes were on Sing. For once, it wasn't Eiji he was worrying about.

Sing thought for a second before nodding. "I think we'll be alright."

"I'll have my phone on me."

Sing nodded in understanding.

Max's attention shifted to Eiji. "Take care of yourself, Eiji." He patted his blanket-clad shoulder. "You need anything at all, let me know."

With that, Max made his way to the door.

Once Max was gone, Eiji and Sing were left with only the TV to break up their tense silence.

"I fucked up again," Eiji said at last.

"We don't need to talk about it right now."

Eiji turned toward him. "We do," he outstretched a hand and hovered his fingers above Sing's temple, "You've been crying."

As if on command, Sing's eyes filled with tears that he quickly blinked away. "Do you really want to die so badly? Why are we not enough for you?"

Eiji closed his eyes and contemplated his questions. "You are enough. I'm just—" Eiji folded forward, adjusting himself so that his head fell to Sing's lap. "I'm just so exhausted."

"Exhausted from life." It wasn't a question.

"Mmhmm."

"So am I, Eiji, but you don't see me trying to fade away any chance I get."

"I never claimed it wasn't selfish."

Sing said nothing for a moment. "I think you should call Dr. Madison in the morning."

"I'd rather not."

"At least consider it."

"Hmmm. Okay. Ask me again in the morning."

Sing rested his hands on Eiji's back, he could feel his shoulder blades beneath his fingertips.

"You scared me today, Eiji."

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Do me a favor?"

"...What?" Eiji asked skeptically.

"Tomorrow," he began slowly, "Just… don't do anything reckless."

Eiji said nothing.

Sing waited a moment before jostling Eiji's shoulder with his hand. "Yeah?"

"I was hoping I could have some time alone tomorrow," he said instead.

"Nope."

Eiji tried to sit, but Sing's hands held him in place.

"No. It's not up for discussion, Eiji."

"I wasn't planning to leave the apartment, I just wanted—"

"I said it's not up for discussion," he said definitively. "I'm not leaving your side tomorrow."

Eiji slept in his usual spot on the couch. Instead of going to the bedroom, Sing curled up in the armchair. He was determined to wake up before Eiji in the morning.

He sat in waiting for Eiji to fall into an unquestionably deep sleep. In his waiting, he realized Eiji had once again gone a full day without consuming anything besides alcohol. Sing wondered how he had let that happen. Perhaps he wasn't as good of a friend as he hoped to be. But then he remembered why Eiji was in the state he was in.

He made eye contact with Green Eyes on the wall. You did this to him, he thought. You should be ashamed of yourself.

He would never tell Eiji, but in a way, he had come to hate their deceased friend.

"I'm going to have to step in."

"Only if his life is in danger. That's what we agreed was best."

"I think it is in danger. He acted recklessly today."

The other man paused, thinking.

"Then you better watch him closer now than ever."

He considered this.

"I'll be ready if he tries anything."

"That would be best."

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Year Eight

Eiji woke in the early hours of the morning. The world was still dark and quiet, or at least as quiet as it got in New York City. Besides birds chirping on the fire escape, and the steady, ever-present, sound of traffic, it was a quiet morning. Rain would have been more fitting, though it never seemed to rain on this day. Eiji wasn't exactly superstitious, but, still, he had always found it odd that the heavens did not cry in His memory.

He was lying on the couch, face turned toward the cushions. He hadn't the energy to get up, nor could he fall back asleep. He lay there thinking. Sing wasn't going to let him have one minute alone, he was sure of it. But he needed space today. He had decided last night: this would be the final year he suffered through this. A few years back, he had hoped to make it to the decade anniversary, but that ship had sailed. He couldn't endure another year of this.

Tears were already sliding down his face.

It was selfish, he knew that. It wasn't right to any of the guys, let alone Max and Sing.

It was especially cruel to Sing. He knew this too. Sing cared for him deeply and seemingly unconditionally. He had tried many times in the past to push Sing away. They bickered and fought and offended each other, but Sing never gave up on him. He never left, no matter what Eiji threw at him.

But more than that, he never stopped caring. In fact, after all these years, his love for Eiji only grew. Eiji could speak daggers to him, and an hour later, Sing would be holding him through tears. And of course, Sing had let it slip more than once that he cared for Eiji in more than a friendly way.

If Eiji took his own life, he expected Sing may feel something akin to the pain Eiji felt, though he was certain it wouldn't come anywhere near his own suffering.

He knew his decision would hurt Sing. But for Eiji, suffering through another year alone, without Him, was agonizing.

Dr. Madison always said he should do what's right for him. This was right for Eiji, he was certain of it.

Eiji wiped his face free of tears. He rolled over on the couch. He was hopeful to at least get a shower in before Sing woke up. But Sing was already awake and watching him.

"Hey," Sing said, voice raspy. "I couldn't sleep," he fibbed.

Without his consent, Eiji's lip was already quivering. He wiped at his eyes.

"Hey," Sing rose stiffly from the chair. Eiji sat to make room for him on the couch. Sing wrapped both arms around him in a sideways hug. "We're gonna get through today," he told him gently, his voice already weak with tears.

Eiji's head fell to Sing's shoulder. He didn't want to make it through today.

Surprisingly, Sing let Eiji shower without supervision, though he did inspect the bathroom before agreeing to it.

"Fifteen minutes. And don't lock it," Sing said as Eiji closed the door.

"Yes, warden," Eiji said under his breath.

"I heard that, Oku—" his voice fell flat as he remembered Eiji's request from the other day.

"It's fine," Eiji said softly, though loud enough for Sing to hear. He started the shower, drowning out any response Sing may have had.

He felt numb as he stood under the hot water. His eyes glazed over, but not in thought. For several long minutes, he had no thoughts at all. His mind was completely exhausted, completely blank. A thought finally passed, and Eiji smiled: this would be his last torturous day on earth. He shook his head and wondered how long he'd been in the shower already. If he stayed in too long, Sing would surely barge in to ensure his heart was still beating. That was the last thing he needed.

His body jolted to life, and he grabbed the shampoo. For a split second, omitting washing his hair and body occurred to him, but just in case "ghost outfits" and all that were real, he didn't want dirty hair for all of eternity. After all, he believed in an afterlife. He had felt His presence too many times not to. He only hoped suicide wouldn't damn him to a realm separate from His.

When Eiji emerged twenty minutes later, Sing called down the hall to him, saying, "Five minutes too long!" He stood in the kitchen, ladling out two portions of miso soup.

When Eiji didn't quip back, Sing left his post and peered down the hall, only to find the bedroom door closed. He inhaled deeply. The rational part of his brain told him Eiji was simply changing into clean clothes. But still, he worried. However, he knew Eiji would, perhaps rightfully, be offended by Sing checking on him.

"I have breakfast ready!" He called down the hall instead.

Eiji made a sound of acknowledgment and Sing's stomach settled.

In the bedroom, Eiji pulled on clean sweatpants and a shirt that once belonged to Him. It was one of his old white T-shirts that was soft from years of washing and now bore a fraying hemline.

He lingered at the dresser.

He heard Sing call him again for breakfast. "In a minute!" He replied.

He opened the lowest drawer that housed a spare set of sheets for his bed. He lifted them and felt around in the drawer. Years ago, He had fashioned a false bottom for it. After several attempts, he managed to pry it free. He peeked behind him at his bedroom door to check that it was locked. Satisfied, his attention shifted back to the dresser. Below the false bottom, it was still there after all these years: the gun He had left Eiji.

He inhaled shakily, realizing the power he held: the power to free himself from his never-ending torment.

He had thought more about it as he finished his shower. He would do it, it was now just a matter of how.

It had to be today, the same day He had passed.

He just had one problem: Sing wasn't going to let him have more than a minute or two alone, and even Eiji respected Sing enough to not end it all locked away in his room.

The doorknob rattled, causing Eiji to jump.

"Come on," Sing said.

Eiji fitted the false bottom back into the drawer. "Just a second, I'm changing."

"Taking your sweet time."

He was already nervous, Eiji could hear it in his voice. Eiji closed the drawer and unlocked the door to find Sing standing there. Sing's eyes subtly scanned the room. "Come on, I made food."

"What'd you make?"

They made their way to the kitchen table where Sing had made them each a bowl of miso soup and plain white rice topped with a sunny-side-up egg and spring onions.

Eiji sat and stared at the food. "I don't know if I can—"

"Please just try."

With shaky hands, Eiji picked up his chopsticks and popped the yolk of his egg. If today was to be the end of everything, he supposed the least he could do was try to appease Sing.

After ten bites and half a bowl of miso soup, he pushed the food away from himself. "I'm sorry, that's the best I can—" He could see the disappointment in Sing's eyes. He pulled the bowl of miso soup back to himself and slurped down the remainder of the broth.

Sing's eyes softened.

In question, Eiji's eyebrows raised.

Reading his thoughts, Sing nodded. "Good enough."

The idea came to him after breakfast. He was sprawled out on the sofa, drapes parted to let in the morning light, looking up at the picture on the wall. Sing was in the kitchen tidying up. Sing wouldn't leave, so he would have to take matters into his own hands.

With a long sigh, he propelled himself from the couch. He walked into the kitchen and put water in the electric kettle.

"I can make it for you," Sing offered.

Eiji shook his head. "I got it. I need a distraction." He grabbed himself a mug. "Do you want any?"

Taken aback, Sing replied, "S-sure."

"Go sit," Eiji said, forcing a smile that he feared was not at all convincing.

But Sing smiled back. "Thanks, Eiji," he said softly.

With the kitchen to himself, Eiji made them each a cup of green tea with honey. In Sing's tea, he added two crushed valium.

He returned to the living room, carrying tea for each of them.

"Thanks," Sing said as he accepted the mug.

They sat in silence, teacups steaming in their hands.

"Have you given more thought to calling Dr. Madison?" Sing asked after a moment. He blew on his tea to cool it before taking a tentative sip.

"No," Eiji answered truthfully. He hadn't given it any more thought at all. He had already made up his mind, he didn't need her trying to fix him one last time.

"Can you?" Sing asked, voice light and cautious. "Give it more thought, I mean."

Eiji shook his head. A tear slid down his face and he quickly wiped it away. "I don't think so, Sing."

Sing opened his mouth to argue but decided not to say anything after all. Eiji already looked so broken, so defeated. The worst day of each year was upon them. Sing decided to let it go. "Okay, Eiji. I'm sorry I asked."

When the tea was nearly gone, Eiji conjured up a storm of tears. The tears were forced, though it wasn't a difficult task; he had been on the brink of tears since waking.

"Oh, Eiji," Sing set his now-finished tea on the ground and wrapped an arm around Eiji's shoulders. "We're going to get through today."

Eiji shook his head. "No, we won't," he gasped, throat raw. A ragged sob escaped him.

"Shhhh," Sing rocked him in his arms. "We will. We will, Eiji. We will." He spoke the words, trying to convince himself as well as Eiji.

Eiji continued to sob, very real tears, into Sing's shoulder.

After a while, Eiji looked at the picture of Him on the wall and then averted his eyes, a shiver running through his body. It was an action that was entirely forced, though he hoped it looked believable.

"What is it?"

"I— I don't know why but, it makes me too sad to be out here with Him right now."

Sing made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.

"Can we… no never mind."

"What is it, Eiji?" Sing rubbed his back.

"Can we go lie down?"

Sing's hand stopped its repetitive motion on Eiji's back. Eiji didn't lie down with anyone. No one. Ever. At least not since what happened last year.

"You want to lie down?"

"I know, I know," Eiji said, reading Sing's thoughts. "But, I just— My head is pounding and I can't—" he looked briefly at the picture again. It broke his heart to feign pain. "I can't be out here right now."

Sing nodded slowly. "You want me to come with you?"

"I know you're not going to let me lie down alone."

Sing nodded; that was true. "Okay."

They made their way to the bedroom; Eiji turned off the lights. For Sing, it felt wrong to climb into bed beside Eiji, but he followed his lead. They lay on separate sides, untouching.

After a few minutes, Sing yawned. "Gosh," he yawned again, "Now that I'm lying down—" he yawned again. "I'm ridiculously tired. This isn't such a bad idea after all." Sing's eyes fluttered shut for a moment before snapping back open in an attempt to remain awake.

Eiji smiled to himself. Just as planned, the valium he put in Sing's tea was kicking in. "I'm going to try to get some sleep," Eiji said tearily. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

Sing continued to fight sleep at first, but it wasn't long until he was sucked under the heavy wave of drug-induced sleep. His eyes soon closed and remained closed.

Eiji tested the depth of his sleep by making loud noises, saying his name, and even shaking him. Shaking him caused him to shift in his sleep, but he did not wake.

Slowly, Eiji moved from the bed.

He left Sing a very simple note which read:

Sing,

I am so, so sorry. I can't handle the pain anymore. I am not strong enough. I am beyond tired. I don't even have the strength to write you a decent note.

I hope maybe someday you can forgive me.

Please try to move on.

I love you,

Eiji

Tears littered the simple note as he re-read it. It wasn't good enough. Sing deserved so much more, but it was all Eiji could manage. He set it on the nightstand beside the bed where Sing could not miss it.

He then crossed the room and opened his dresser drawer. He lifted the false bottom from the bottom drawer and grabbed the handgun that He had left for Eiji.

Before leaving the room, he considered also writing a note to Max, but he couldn't seem to gather the energy.

He gave Buddy some final pats before shutting him outside on the balcony. Eiji then moved to the living room and sat on the floor in front of His picture. The drapes were parted, letting in the morning light.

"I'm sorry," he told the picture, with tears coursing down his cheeks in heavy streams. "I know you wouldn't want this, but—" he gasped, lungs burning as he sucked in sharply, "I just can't do it anymore, Ash," Eiji whispered His name reverently, as if it were a prayer.

His eyes slammed shut. With ragged, frantic breaths, he tried desperately to compose himself. "I— I told myself I'd wait a decade— maybe that— would be enough time to heal, but—" His heart pounded in his chest. "I can see now that's— that's just not possible, and I— I need to be with you again!"

Eiji's eyes opened, and he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He then fumbled with the gun in his hand, clumsily loading a bullet and cocking it.

"I— I'm sorry!" He nearly shouted, placing the cool, metal barrel against his temple.

His hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep it against his skin.

"I— I'm sorry, Ash," he said again.

BANG.

Eiji screamed. The gun he was holding flew across the room, hitting the floor with such force that it dented the wood. Eiji's entire body shook violently. He fell to the floor, fingertips clawing into his side, clutching his ribs. His head was spinning furiously, so much so that he may have passed out if he were not already lying on the floor.

After a few seconds had passed, he slowly eased himself into a sitting position. His hands quickly flew over his body— he was uninjured. He looked around the room, trying to understand what had just happened.

The window before him was shattered. It was then he understood. He looked at his gun on the floor across the room and then at his own hand. He hadn't pulled the trigger, he was sure of it. Someone had shot into his apartment.

He looked up at the building across the street, trying to comprehend where the shot had come from.

Outside, Buddy barked and barked.

There was a loud crash in the other room. Dizzy from valium, Sing had fallen as he attempted to scramble out of bed. There was a guttural, agonized scream.

"Goddamn it, Eiji!" There was more banging as he made his way from the bedroom. He stumbled down the hallway, slipping on the wood in his socks. He was sobbing, absolutely gut-wrenching, heaving sobs. "Fuck, Eiji, Fuck!" He finally reached the living room. His eyes went immediately to the gun on the floor.

"No," he wailed. His eyes screwed shut without a second thought. Sing stood there sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, unable to get himself to look further into the room. He gagged and fell to his knees, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Green tea and bile ran across the floor, seeping into the grooves between the beams.

"I— I'm alive," Eiji said weakly.

Sing's head shot up from the floor. He took in the scene before him: Eiji sat shaking in the middle of the living room floor. Glass peppered the floor around him. A sharp winter breeze poured into the room.

Sing's head was spinning, and not just from the valium. He couldn't comprehend how Eiji was sitting there alive, unharmed as far as he could see. And why had he shot the window?

He stood and moved clumsily into the living room. "Eiji— shit!" He winced, accidentally stepping on a shard of glass. He picked it out of his foot, cutting his finger in the process. He fell to the ground, gathering Eiji into his arms. "What the fuck happened!?"

"I— I— I—" he couldn't get the words out. He convulsed in Sing's arms. "I—"

Sing squeezed him so tightly, Eiji's ribs burned. "What is wrong with you?" He hastily placed a kiss on Eiji's temple. "You can't leave me!" His fingers tangled in Eiji's hair. "Please don't leave me," he pleaded.

"S—Sing?"

Sing didn't respond, he simply held him tighter. "Please, you can't die, Eiji, please," he continued, muttering into Eiji's neck.

"I— didn't shoot the window," Eiji managed, with a quivering voice.

Sing pulled back to see Eiji. "What do you mean?"

"I— I was going to— k—" his eyes closed. Tears leaked from his tear ducts. "But— b-before I could— someone—" he looked at the shattered window. His mouth hung agape. "Someone shot the gun from my hand."

Sing tensed. It was then he noticed the sirens blaring outside. Gathering his wits, he stood, pulling Eiji up with him. "We should get away from the windows."

Eiji pulled away from him.

"Eiji!"

"No," Eiji said firmly. "That was a calculated shot." To Sing, Eiji held out the hand that had been holding the gun. "I wasn't harmed. Whoever it was made sure of that. They hit only the gun." Eiji stepped away from Sing and examined the gun on the floor. He clutched the weapon to his chest as if it were sacred. "I only know two people who can shoot with that accuracy."

"Blanca and…" Sing's voice trailed off. He knew the second name but could not speak it.

Eiji's eyes had real life behind them for the first time in eight years. "And Ash."

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Soon

Sing stood, mouth open wide. "E-Eiji, what are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying."

Sing rubbed his temples. "No. No, Eiji, Ash— sorry— he's not still alive. He didn't just shoot—"

"Who else would do that?!" Eiji was angry now. "It was Ash, Sing."

"What, and he's been alive for all these years?! Eiji, listen to yourself! You know he—" he paused and forced his tone to lower. "We've been through this before. You and I both know he's passed on."

Eiji shook his head. "I don't know that anymore."

"Eiji. That line of thinking only makes everything harder. Knowing him, he probably had some way of hiring Blanca to protect you if he passed."

"Then why didn't Blanca do anything last year!?"

"Maybe Blanca didn't expect you to try to drink yourself to death! A gun is a little more blatant, Eiji!"

Eiji turned away from him, eyes staring out the shattered window. "It wasn't Blanca."

Sing released a long, frustrated groan. "Eiji, pleeaase," he whined. "We can't do all of this again."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Eiji ran towards it, sidestepping shards of glass. He flung the door open, expecting to see Him. Instead, he was faced with a policeman.

"We received reports of shots being fired into this apartment."

Eiji's face sank. "Oh— yeah, it, uh," he pointed at the window across the room. "It came from across the street."

Two burly officers stepped inside the unit. "We'll need to check things out."

"I don't want to file a report," Eiji blurted out.

They eyed him suspiciously. "We're gonna need to check it out."

Eiji blocked them from entering further. "Then get a warrant."

"Sir, someone fired a shot into your apartment. This is for your own safety."

"I don't— I just want to clean up this mess and be done with it. This is New York, you expect a rogue gunshot here and there."

The taller of the two officers scoffed. "This is the twelfth floor, it hardly seems rogue."

"I said I don't want to file a report!" Eiji snapped. "I don't have the mental capacity to deal with the stress of that. Now, please, just leave."

"We'll be back with a warrant."

With that, they turned and left.

"Great, Eiji! Now we just look suspicious!"

Eiji shook his head. "I don't care. Stay here in case they come back."

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Eiji squinted at him. "I'm going to find Ash."

Sing was close behind him. He lingered long enough to move Buddy from the balcony to the bedroom. Eiji was fast, but so was Sing. By the time he reached the street, Eiji was only just crossing.

"Wait up!" Sing called as Eiji crossed against traffic.

Eiji looked behind him but never slowed his steps.

Sing pushed his legs faster to catch him. "Wait up, Eiji!"

Eiji shook his head. "You're lucky I'm not running."

"Where are we even going?"

"This building. Fourteenth floor. The bullet came from above. Probably two floors above. I'm on twelve, so we'll check the fourteenth floor first. Fifteenth if He's not on fourteen."

"Eiji, you can't just—"

Eiji spun and faced him. He looked up at Sing with dangerous eyes. "Watch me." He continued walking and pushed through the revolving door of the apartment complex.

The lobby of the apartment was lined in cold, linoleum tile. A woman with a small dog was collecting her mail. Hurrying past her, Eiji made his way to the elevators with Sing hot on his heels. Eiji selected the fourteenth floor.

"Come on, come on," Eiji jabbed the 'door close' button with reckless abandon.

The elevator was old and slow, seemingly taking years to carry them to their floor.

Finally, the doors opened.

Sing grabbed Eiji's arm before he could exit the elevator. "Eiji, if he's not there…"

Eiji pulled his arm away from him, causing the still-dizzy Sing to stumble. "He will be."

When they reached the fourteenth floor and Eiji positioned himself in line with his own unit across the street, Eiji banged on the door harder than was decent. Sing stood behind him, feeling faint; he was hunched slightly with a hand on his forehead, dreading whatever would come next. No one answered, so Eiji knocked again, this time, even louder. There was still no response. Eiji banged again. "Ash!" He shouted through the door.

Sing reached out a timid hand and touched Eiji's arm. "Eiji," he began sympathetically.

Eiji ripped his arm away as if Sing had burned him. "Don't!"

Sing retreated a step.

Eiji placed a palm against the door. Under his palm, it felt thick with far too many layers of paint. "Ash," he said, a little quieter this time, though still loud enough for anyone on the other side to hear. "I know it has to be you in there. You have to open up, you just have to."

But the door didn't open. Sing tried twice to pull him away, but Eiji was stubbornly planted in front of room 1406.

Not long after, the police, who were different officers from those who had come to Eiji's, arrived to investigate the unit. With few words, they pushed Eiji and Sing aside. They pounded on the door, yelling, "Police!" only twice before breaking down the door. Sing quite literally had to tackle and pin Eiji to the floor to keep him from running inside. Thankfully, the adrenaline coursing through his veins spoke louder than the valium.

The officers disappeared inside.

Eiji shoved an elbow backward into Sing's ribs, causing him to sputter and loosen his hold. Eiji was up and inside the apartment before Sing could do anything about it.

Inside, the unit was dark and vacant. It appeared lived-in, although no one was currently home. There were all the essentials: a fully furnished living room, appliances, kitchen utensils, etc. And yet it was completely lacking any personal touches. There was no artwork on the walls, no pictures of family or friends, no books that indicated any hobbies or studies. Nothing personal. Even the furniture and paint colors lacked personality; it looked like something out of a showroom.

The walkie-talkie of one of the officers buzzed. "Got in touch with the landlord. Looks like that unit isn't rented out at the moment."

"Sure looks lived in," a tall, built, officer with dark skin and a side-shave replied. "It's fully furnished."

"It's one of the two-bedroom units they keep to show."

"Why would they keep a showroom on the fourteenth floor? Why not closer to the leasing office?"

"Beats me. Maybe it's got a nice view?"

All eyes looked through the windows, one of which was shattered just like Eiji's. The view in question was just another building, more specifically, Eiji's building. And just two floors down, Eiji's living room was crystal fucking clear.

"The view's shit, unless your goal is to take out the neighbor in the next building."

"Sounds like this was a targeted attack. I'll be up in a minute. Is the boy up there?"

The officers turned to face Eiji and Sing. "How'd you guess?"

Eiji's eyes narrowed. Even after all these years, everyone still assumed he was much younger than his years.

"Keep him there. Be there in five."

Eiji considered turning to run, but Sing's hands were on his shoulders as if expecting it.

"You live across the street in 12F." It wasn't a question.

With a dry mouth, Eiji nodded.

"Seems like someone's after you. Are you involved with any gangs? Have any enemies? Any ex-lovers that ended badly? Any drug dealers you've wronged? Loan sharks you haven't paid back?"

Eiji scoffed. "No, nothing like any of that." Eiji tried to pull away from Sing's grip, but Sing only held him tighter. "No one's after me."

"Any twins running around the city who've done shady shit?"

"What? No. No, of course not."

"Work with me here, someone's got it out for you, man."

Eiji yanked his shoulders away from Sing and, this time, Sing's grip loosened. "I said no one's after me and I already told the other officers I don't want to press charges or file a report or any of that."

The officer nodded. "You understand that just makes you look reaaal sketchy, kid."

Eiji scoffed again. He muttered something under his breath about not having time for all of this and turned to leave.

The officer stepped forward and caught him by the shoulder. "We're gonna have some questions for you."

Eiji groaned. "Look, I didn't want to have to say this, but the man who shot through my window was saving my life. I was going to end my own life, and he shot the gun from my hands." He said the words casually, as if it were nothing, as if just a half hour ago he wasn't telling a picture on the wall he was sorry for wanting to end it all.

The man's eyebrow lifted. "So you know the perpetrator."

"Were you not listening?!" Eiji shouted, fed up. "He's not a perpetrator, He saved my life!"

"The life you were trying to end."

"He's not in his right mind," Sing cut in.

Eiji's head swivelled and he looked at Sing with an open mouth and wide eyes; he was offended and hurt. "I am too!"

"No, Eiji, you're not." He looked at the three officers staring him down. "It's the anniversary of his dear friend's death. That's why he tried to k— That's why he wanted to die. That's why he thinks the shot fired wasn't just an accident or some form of attack. He thinks it was his friend trying to save him. That's why he's saying he doesn't want to press charges. He's not thinking clearly. He tried to— do something similar last year."

An older officer, a white man in his fifties with glasses and short hair stepped forward. His expression held pity and understanding. "I lost a nephew a few years back to suicide. Loss can make us do and believe crazy things. I saw that firsthand with my sister— the boy's mother. She tried to end her life too. We got her help and she made a full recovery. She's doing much better these days."

Eiji shook his head, he knew what the man was getting at. "I don't want to be admitted!" He turned to run, but the three officers were quick and strong. Before he could comprehend it, Eiji was on the ground with his hands in cuffs. His face squeaked against the laminate flooring.

Sing was crying again.

Eiji was angrier than he'd ever been. "No!" He shouted. He writhed beneath them like a wild animal. "You can't take me! He'll be back here! You can't take me! Ash! I'll find you!"

The lights overhead were glaringly bright, buzzing loudly with energy. A machine in the room next door beeped incessantly. A man down the hall was moaning, in pain from the sound of it. Across the hall, a different man was yelling for help over and over and over. The nursing staff ignored his delusional pleas for help.

Sing thought he was going to lose it and need to be admitted himself. He was grateful that Eiji was sleeping, unaware of the chaotic sounds around them.

Sing watched as Eiji's chest rose and fell with steady breaths. All he could think about was how angry Eiji was going to be when he woke. Well, that and how dangerous Eiji was going to be to his own safety going forward. Currently, Eiji was convinced he was alive, but Sing knew that would pass. Then reality would set in and he would start drinking and walking and wanting to die all over again. They had been down this road before. More than once.

Late afternoon, Dr. Madison paid Eiji a visit, though he was still sleeping when she arrived. She wore a thick, charcoal grey wool coat that fell to her ankles. Under the coat, she wore a white sweater with houndstooth pants. She wore black ankle boots upon her feet.

"You must be Sing," she said swiftly. She extended her hand for him to shake, but Sing did not reciprocate. She cleared her throat. "How are you holding up?" She asked Sing who, judging by the state of his eyes, had been crying on and off all afternoon. She sat down beside him.

"F—" He stopped himself from finishing the word. With a shake of his head, he went on, "Not good."

She studied him sympathetically. "If you need to go and get some air or some rest, I can stay for a while. I canceled my appointments for the rest of the day as soon as I heard."

Sing shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll stay.

"He means a lot to you."

"This isn't a therapy session," Sing snapped before he could think better of it.

"No," she agreed slowly. "I was just trying to make conversation."

They sat in a tense silence.

"Sorry," Sing said after a moment.

"Don't be. This has been an awful day for you."

He nodded in agreement.

They sat there in silence, watching Eiji sleep, for a long time. It seemed Dr. Madison was intent on staying, perhaps until he woke.

Deep in thought, Sing scoffed to himself.

Dr. Madison turned her head toward him. "Hmm?"

"I should never have let him make me tea."

Her eyebrows rose above her round glasses. "What's that?"

"I was doing such a good job of watching him— cuz I just knew he was going to try again this year. And I was doing so well. I had been with him since Friday night. I was getting him to eat more and walk less and…" He trailed off. He wished he could say he was able to slow Eiji's alcohol consumption, but he hadn't been quite successful in that area.

She cocked her head.

He sighed. "And anyway, this morning, he fucking made me tea and drugged me with— I don't know what— so that he could sneak away and ki— do it— while I slept." He cleared his throat. Tears blurred his vision. "Stupid."

Her head bobbed in understanding. "You couldn't have predicted that."

"I should have," he grumbled.

After a moment, she asked. "Have you been evaluated? Medically, I mean?"

"What?"

"Well, if he drugged you…"

"Oh. No, I feel fine."

"Do you know what he gave you?"

"He wouldn't have given me anything that could harm me."

"Desperation can be dangerous."

"Eiji's only dangerous to himself."

Dr. Madison hummed sympathetically.

Silence fell.

The clock on the wall ticked time away. After ten long minutes, Sing broke the silence.

"Ah," he said with realization.

"Hmm?"

"Valium."

"Ah," she echoed. "Effective, but generally harmless." She eyed Sing up and down. "You said you fell right to sleep?"

Sing nodded.

"You're a big guy, he probably gave you more than one."

Sing slumped forward, head supported by his hand, elbow on his knee. "I'll give him hell for it later."

Dr. Madison gave one of her sad smiles, the kind Eiji hated so much. "Why don't we let him heal from the hell he's already living, first?"

At five, a dinner tray arrived for Eiji, though he was still fast asleep. Dr. Madison convinced Sing to eat it.

"The last thing he's going to want to do when he wakes is eat, we both know that," she said.

So Sing ate the hospital food, meatloaf with instant mashed potatoes and fresh green beans that had turned a dull green from sitting for too long.

At six, Dr. Madison rose from her seat. She stretched, stiff from inactivity. "I thought he'd be up by now. It pains me, but I need to get going." She looked down at Sing who was still sitting in his hard wooden chair. "I'm so glad he has you." She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Let him know I stopped in, won't you?"

He nodded. "Of course."

At six-thirty, Max arrived. "Believe it or not, this is the soonest I could get here."

Sing all but glared at him. "Oh yeah? Where the hell have you been?"

"I have a big story in DC, I made it as fast as I could."

Satisfied, Sing gave a single nod. "Fine."

"How long's he been out?" Max asked, looking at Eiji.

"Since we got here. They gave him something to calm him down and it knocked him the fuck out."

"That's for the best."

Sing nodded in agreement.

"He needs to sleep," Max added.

Sing sighed.

"Do you really think it was Him?"

"No, of course not, Eiji's the one that thinks that."

Max shifted in his chair, crossing his arms as he did so. "Who then? Someone saved him."

"Pure luck."

"A shot from an unoccupied showroom on the fourteenth floor of a building that has a perfect view of Eiji's apartment? Doesn't sound like luck."

"Maybe they were trying to kill him."

"Why would someone try to kill a man that already had a gun to his head?"

Sing sharply looked to the floor, eyes filling with tears automatically. "Please."

"Sorry."

Sing wiped at his eyes.

"But really? It sounds like something He would do."

"You can't feed into his delusion, Max."

"But what if he's right? Who else would—"

"Blanca. My guess is he hired him to keep Eiji safe. For all we know, Blanca lives in that showroom. I wouldn't put it past him."

Max was quiet, considering this. "That's certainly possible."

Abruptly, Max stood.

"You're already leaving?"

"I doubt he'll wake anytime soon. Let him know I was here and have him call me."

"And where are you going?"

"I have something new to look into now," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Max," Sing began sternly. "You can't feed into his delusion," he said again.

"I won't." Max buttoned his coat. "Just looking into things."

Angrily, Sing shook his head. "I'm the one who has to put him together every time he falls apart, don't forget that."

Max leaned over Eiji and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Tell him to call me." He turned to leave but stopped in the doorway. "And get yourself home at a decent hour and get some sleep." And with that, he left.

At eight, Eiji woke up. His mind was foggy, but he knew instantly where he was and how he had landed himself in the psych ward yet another time. His eyes found Sing who had started to doze off. He thought about not waking him and falling back to sleep himself, but he decided against it. He supposed he owed Sing this much.

"Sing?" He said, voice weak.

Sing jumped to life. "Eiji. Thank God, you're up." He scooted his chair closer to the bed. "I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but just know all of this is for your own good."

Eiji closed his eyes, tears leaking out. "I'm sorry for today," he managed to say. "You deserve more than the short note I wrote you. You've always been such a good friend to me."

Before thinking better of it, Sing reached out and grabbed Eiji's hand. "What I deserve is for my best friend to never try and pull that shit again."

Eiji squeezed his hand weakly. "I won't have to now."

There was hurt in Sing's eyes that Eiji couldn't see since his eyes were still closed. "I was hoping you'd see sense once you woke up."

Eiji's eyes opened. "I was hoping you would."

"Eiji," he said his name softly, with all the reverence Eiji said His name with.

"It was Him Sing, I know it."

Sing squeezed Eiji's hand. "I hope you're right, truly."

Eiji weaseled his hands out of Sing's and pushed himself up in the bed. "You should go back to my place and get some rest. I can't stay awake much lon—" As if to prove his point, a long yawn interrupted his sentence. "Much longer anyway."

Sing didn't look thrilled by the idea. Contagion stole a yawn from him as well.

"Besides, someone needs to let Buddy out and feed him, too."

Sighing, Sing stood. Inspired by Max's actions, he placed a kiss on Eiji's hairline. "Just don't do anything dumb while I'm away."

Eiji's eyes were already starting to droop closed. "I think I've got—" he yawned, "Five conscious minutes at best."

By the time Sing pulled on his coat, Eiji was out cold.

He came in during the dead of night, dressed in a stolen nurse's uniform, under the guise of being a nurse from another unit, there to visit a friend. Eiji was sleeping deeply. He didn't stay long, just long enough to smooth Eiji's hair from his face and place a reverent kiss on the temple where the barrel of the gun had been pressed. He whispered an apology and inspected the hand of Eiji's that had held the gun. Just as planned, it was unharmed. His shot had been perfect, Eiji didn't have so much as a graze from the life-saving bullet. He placed a scrap of paper in Eiji's palm before leaving. It was brief, containing only one word.

It read, Soon.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: 200 mg

Upon reading the one-word note, Eiji was frantic. Sing had left for the night and wasn't yet back. Eiji called for his nurse, demanding a phone to call his friend. Instead of bringing him the phone, she attempted to calm him down.

He waved the note at her, saying over and over again his dead friend had left it for him. She glanced around the room, looking for any way Eiji may have written the note himself. When he noticed her wandering eyes, he only became angrier.

"I don't have any paper or pens! I'm on suicide precautions! Ash wrote this! He wrote this! Please, I need to call Sing!"

She left and when she returned, to Eiji's disappointment, she was accompanied by a more senior nurse and no phone. Eiji recognized their de-escalation tactics from his last admission. Refusing to calm down, he continued to plead for a phone call.

In the end, all he got was more Haldol in his arm, which had him drifting back to sleep within minutes.

Sing was there when he woke the second time. It pained Sing to see the panic in Eiji's eyes as soon as they opened. He rummaged through his blankets, desperately looking for his one-word note.

"It's here," Sing said simply. In his fingers, he held the small scrap of paper.

Eiji reached out and snatched it from him. He clutched it tightly to his chest.

Sing inhaled deeply and released it slowly. "I don't want to add to your… conspiracy… but I'll give you this, it looks like it could be his handwriting."

"It is!" Eiji snapped.

"Not that I remember his writing much… but still, it looks like it could be."

"Who else would have left that!?"

Sing was quiet for a beat before responding. "The nurses thought you had somehow written it."

"Without remembering?!" Eiji hoisted himself into a sitting position. "I'm not crazy!" He studied Sing's expression. "Sing. I am not crazy."

"Of course not, Eiji." But he didn't sound too sure of himself.

"You need to go back to that apartment and look for Him. He may be back there now that things have calmed down."

Sing scoffed. "Things haven't 'calmed down.' It's being treated as a damn crime scene."

"It's not a—" Eiji groaned with exasperation. "I said I didn't want to press charges."

"Yeah, well, they're looking into it anyway."

A long, irritated grumbling escaped Eiji's lips. "Tell Him to hurry up."

"Eiji, I haven't seen him since he died. Eight. Years. Ago."

"Go home and tell His picture. He might have cameras hidden in my apartment, maybe that's how He—"

"Eiji! Do you even hear yourself? No wonder they think you're crazy!"

Eiji's mouth snapped shut. Abruptly, he rolled onto his side, eyelids clenching shut.

Sing was plagued with instant regret. "Eiji? Come on, Eiji, I didn't mean—"

"Just leave me alone, Sing. I'm done talking to you," Eiji snapped.

Sing stood and kicked the hospital bed out of frustration. "Fine. As you fucking wish. Rot in here for all I care. Maybe then you'll match the garbage you treat me like."

"I don't want more visitors today," Eiji said grumpily.

But Max was already closing the door behind him. "Too bad, you're stuck with me." He pulled a chair up to Eiji's bedside.

Eiji rolled away from him, face turned toward the blank wall. Eiji knew what was coming next. It was time for Max to give him a fatherly scolding about his selfish behavior. He imagined Max was likely offended that only Sing got a letter of farewell, but Eiji didn't mean anything personal by it. Next would come his anger toward Him, followed by Max shutting down Eiji's 'conspiracies,' as Sing so elegantly put it. Eiji rolled his eyes preemptively.

"Ya know, usually it makes me sad to visit a friend in the hospital, but…" Max stared at Eiji's shoulders as they rose and fell with his breath. "Well, Eiji, right now, I'm just really glad to see you alive and breathing."

Eiji stiffened. He didn't know what to say or how to react to that, so instead, he did nothing.

Max drew and released a deep breath. "Sing is very happy you're alive as well, even if he hasn't explicitly said it yet."

Still, Eiji said nothing, though tears were now leaking from his eyes.

"I came by last night, did he tell you?"

"No," Eiji's voice was hoarse with tears.

"Ass," Max muttered under his breath. "Well, I was by. You were asleep."

When Max said nothing further, Eiji finally turned to face him. He realized then why Max had stopped talking. His head was in his hands and his shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

"I'm sorry, I—"

It took a great deal of effort, after all the drugs he'd been given, but Eiji was able to push himself into a seated position. "Please, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

"Just— Just promise me there won't be a third time," he managed.

"I think He's alive, Max," Eiji said instead.

This caught Max's full attention. He scrubbed a hand over his face and met Eiji's eyes. They dazzled with hope, Max never thought he'd see that in Eiji's eyes ever again.

He wanted to agree, to tell Eiji he also shared his suspicions, but he remembered what Sing said about Blanca and not playing into Eiji's 'delusions.'

"So, of course, I won't. He's out there. I won't try again. I need to—"

Suddenly, Max was standing. The chair behind him scraped against the hospital floor, making a truly awful sound. "Damn it, Eiji! Can't you ever just live for you?!"

Eiji's face twisted in anger. "No! No, I can't! I have nothing to live for without Him, Max!"

Max's mouth snapped shut with an audible snap of teeth. Clusters of tears fell from his eyes. Max dried his eyes with his shoulder. "You better never say anything so stupid to Sing," Max ground out through clenched teeth. "I can handle it— even though that fucking hurts, Eiji. Words are powerful— But Sing? I don't think he could take that."

Eiji looked away from Max. "Sing can handle more than you think."

"What did you say to him?"

"I've said a lot to him over the years. He knows it's hard for me to go on living." A surge of anger rushed through him. His head swiveled and he met Max's eyes. "I tried to kill myself yesterday, in case you've forgotten."

Max's eyes turned steely. There was a horrible pause and Eiji knew he crossed a line. "If you were Him, I would have punched you for that."

Eiji spread his arms wide. "Go for it."

His fist clenched tightly, but he didn't swing. "Don't tempt me."

"Swing away, Maxy."

Max fell back into the wooden chair and Eiji looked genuinely disappointed.

"I deserve it." His voice was low and gravelly.

"I know you fuckin' do."

"Then punch me."

"So your guardian angel can hunt me down? Not a chance."

Clarity seeped into Eiji's eyes. "You know He's alive, too."

"I don't know anything."

"But you believe it."

"I hope," Max corrected.

Eiji reached to his bedside table and picked up the slip of paper. He held it out to Max who accepted it with a cocked brow.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

The slip of paper looked nearly microscopic between Max's large fingers. After reading it, he looked up at Eiji. "Where did this come from?"

"It was in my hand when I woke up."

"You think it was Him."

"Who else?"

"Sing thinks Blan—"

"Sing's wrong. Blanca wouldn't write this. I don't think he's capable of such emotion."

Max ran his eyes over the writing once more before handing it back to Eiji. He then scooted closer to the bed and lowered his voice. "Listen, Eiji, you can't tell Sing I said this, but I—" He looked around the room as if Sing might spawn out of thin air. He lowered his voice further until it was merely a whisper. "Well, I think you may be onto something."

"He's alive," Eiji stated with absolute certainty.

"I don't know anyone else who can shoot like that."

Eiji's eyes danced in thought. "Well, Blanca… but the note."

"No, you don't understand. I did some snooping. They analyzed the bullet. It didn't come from a sniper rifle."

Eiji's eyes widened. He leaned forward. "What type of gun, Max?"

"Revolver."

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Eiji gasped. "That's what Ash uses."

Max's eyes widened at the use of His forbidden name. He nodded slowly. "I know."

"I need to get out of here," Eiji told his nurse, Sandy. She was an older woman at the end of her career, likely a few years from retirement. Despite the large age gap, Eiji felt more comfortable around her than the younger nurses.

"He's out there, I know He is. I need to get back to Him."

She crossed her arms over her stomach and studied him. "That type'a talk ain't gettin' you outta here any sooner, sugar. It'll just keep you here longer. Your friend isn't with us anymore. He's with the Dear Lord now."

She gave it to him straight. It was refreshing. Eiji liked that about her.

Except he knew she was wrong.

"I know how it sounds, but—"

"I know, I know. The note."

Eiji nodded.

"Don't ya think your young friend may have written it? To keep you fightin' for something?"

Eiji shook his head fiercely. "Sing would never do that."

Sandy walked toward Eiji without responding. She scanned his wristband and handed him a paper cup filled with his evening meds. She stood there and watched him take every last one.

"This is one of those things you just need to get through."

He handed the empty cup back to her. "I want to leave against medical advice."

She shook her head and laughed. "Everyone in the psych ward wants to leave AMA. We can't do that for you here."

Eiji slammed his hand against the mattress. "I'm in my right mind!"

"I can tell. But you're a threat to yourself at the moment, so no can do, Eiji. You gotta stay until Doc clears you for discharge."

He willed himself not to scream out of pure frustration. "And when will that be?"

"That's gonna depend solely on you, dear." She put her hands on her hips. "Need anything while I'm in here?"

Eiji shook his head.

Sandy turned to leave, but before she made it out of the door, Eiji stopped her.

"Wait."

She looked at him. "What, sugar?"

"If I get any visitors tonight, I want you to wake me."

"Shift change is in one hour, darlin'" She reminded him.

His expression saddened. "Can you tell the night nurse?"

"I will," she said simply. "But visiting hours end at nine, so I don't think anyone's coming up past then."

Eiji gestured with his head toward the note. "He did last night."

She paused. "I'll let the night nurse know."

Eiji was grateful she didn't challenge him yet again.

"Sir? Visiting hours ended at nine," a petite, young nurse told the man who had bypassed the front desk.

He turned to speak to her. He spoke quietly, so much so, the young nurse had to lean in to hear. "I'm a nurse from 8100. I'm on my break. I just want to visit my friend while I have a second."

She stood, joining the man at the door to Eiji's room. "Let me wake him."

He backed away from the door. "No, no. I don't want to wake him."

"He specifically asked for us to wake him if he had any visitors."

"No, he needs his rest. Please, I can come back later."

"Well, at least let me take your name so I can tell him you stopped by."

Before giving it much thought, the words sprung forth, "Bones. Tell him Bones stopped by, he'll know me."

Her brows furrowed.

"Just a nickname."

She regained her composure. "Sure thing. I'll tell him you were here."

"Your friend stopped by last night but didn't want to wake you. He had a strange name. Bones, I think it was."

Eiji was puzzled. Why would Bones stop by and not wake him? It seemed out of character. He scratched his head and yawned.

The young nurse handed him his paper cup of morning meds.

"That's weird." He began to take the pills prescribed to him. "Why would he not wake me?"

"He said you needed your rest."

She watched as Eiji swallowed the pills. He paused on four small pills. "Do I have to take them all? The increased dose is making me feel like garbage."

There was sympathy in her eyes, but, still, she told him what he knew she would. "It gets easier after a few weeks."

"The whole room feels like it's spinning," Eiji whined.

"It won't feel like that forever."

"But right now—"

"You have to take them all, Eiji," she said firmly.

Reluctantly, he set them on his tongue and washed them down with day-old water that tasted of plastic from the hospital carafe. He made a face of dissatisfaction as they made their way into his stomach.

She studied him for a moment. "Do you want to try taking it at night?"

"I took it at night when they first started me on it years ago."

"Why'd you switch to mornings?"

"It gave me horrible insomnia."

She nodded. "Ah, makes sense. Well, the dizziness shouldn't last too much longer."

Eiji nodded slowly.

She said something more before she turned to leave, but it rolled over Eiji's brain like water off a duck's back. Something clicked.

"Is he coming back today?" He blurted before she could close the door.

"Hmm?"

"My friend Bones. Did he say if he'd visit again today?"

"He said he'd come back when you were awake."

"Did you believe him?"

Her face morphed into something odd, something confused. "Well, sure I—"

"Bones. Where do you think that nickname comes from?"

She smiled funnily. "Do you not know? Or are you asking me to guess?"

"Guess."

"Well, he's sort of a lanky guy, so I figured—"

"Define lanky."

She looked taken aback. "Well, tall and skinny is what—"

Eiji smiled. It wasn't a comforting smile by any means. His eyes were sharp and determined. "Tall and skinny," he echoed.

She laughed awkwardly. "What? Am I right?"

Eiji shook his head. "I actually have no idea. I never knew him as anything but Bones. And it never felt important to ask."

He said nothing more and the nurse awkwardly laughed again. "Oh, ok. Well, I," she took a step toward the door, "I need to finish passing the morning meds." Before she closed the door behind her, she said, "Maybe your friend will be back today."

Eiji nodded. Bones wouldn't. Or if he did visit today, it would be pure coincidence. What he had told the nurse was true, he had no clue how Bones earned his nickname. But what he did know, was that no one in their right mind would ever describe him as lanky unless they didn't know the word implied height. Because while Bones was skinny, he was not tall by any stretch of the imagination. He also hadn't seen Bones in quite some time, so all in all, it didn't check out.

Now left alone in his room, he sat in thought. Sertraline caused insomnia for Eiji. Insomnia.

If his mystery visitor was so intent on visiting when Eiji was asleep, he could use that to his advantage.

Insomnia never sounded so sweet.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Madison asked as she peeled off her winter coat and draped it over the back of her chair.

Eiji stared at the ceiling above him, wordlessly.

"Sorry," she sat on the chair and crossed one leg over the other. "I guess that's not really a fair question."

Eiji shook his head. "No, it's fine." Under his blanket, his hand tightened around the one-word note in his hand. Prying his eyes away from the very interesting ceiling tiles, he glanced at her before returning his line of sight to the white expanse above him. "They upped my Sertraline and I feel like shit."

She nodded. "How is it making you feel?"

"Dizzy. Nauseous. My left knee won't stop twitching." He pressed his lips together in thought. "Overall, just shitty."

"Hmm," she spun the ring on her finger. "If those symptoms persist, we can bring you back down to 150, or try something else. But give it a week or two."

Eiji's eyes left the ceiling to look at her. "The nurse mentioned taking it at night?"

She shook her head, causing her blonde waves to bounce. "That gives you insomnia, remember?"

"That was a few years ago. Maybe it won't now?"

Her eyes danced over his face, considering his words. "I suppose if you want to try, that would be fine. I'm not sure it will solve all your symptoms though."

He nodded in understanding. "I want to try." His hand clenched the note more tightly.

"Symptoms aside, how are you mentally, Eiji?" She asked, voice overflowing with compassion that churned Eiji's stomach. "You were sleeping last time I stopped by."

Suddenly, his eyes were filled with tears. They retreated to the ceiling once again. "I don't regret it," he told her truthfully.

She said nothing.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" She asked, voice suddenly more hoarse.

He glanced at her. Her eyes were glossy, but otherwise, her face was completely neutral.

"Stay so calm. Sing or Max would have had my head."

"Is that what you want? For me to lash out?"

"No," he answered truthfully. "But I know you can't be happy with what I said."

A small smile made her lips twitch upward. "Years of practice." She shifted in her chair, legs changing places so that the bottom one now took a turn being crossed over the top. "Tell me about this lack of regret."

Eiji was quiet for a long time. He hadn't yet voiced his theory to Dr. Madison. She didn't prompt him to speak, and she certainly did not fill the space with words of her own. She simply sat there in silence, knowing full well that Eiji would speak in due time.

And at last, he did. "Someone saved me." He spoke with words slowly, giving a slight pause between each word.

"So I've heard. Do you have an idea who that might have been?"

He swallowed audibly against a dry throat. "I know you'll say it's impossible. And I know saying this to you might keep me here longer… but I think it was Him."

For a moment, her neutral expression faltered. Her eyebrows rose above her round glasses and her lips parted ever-so-slightly in surprise. "You think He's alive."

"I know how it sounds, but if you knew Him…"

"And you think— what— He's been watching you… all this time?"

Eiji removed his glasses and scrubbed one hand over his face. "I guess He must have been," he groaned, remembering his lowest moments.

"I think that's unrealistic, Eiji."

He sighed and fished the note out from under his blanket. He handed it to her without saying a word.

Her eyes read it over several times before she spoke. "What is this?"

"Someone left it for me," he explained.

"You think it was Him."

"He's out there somewhere," his voice hitched, "But I'm stuck here in this…" he gestured vaguely to the room around him, "in this… prison cell!"

"Eiji," she began sternly but was soon cut off.

He faced her frantically. "He's out there and I will find Him! I won't try again, you have to believe me. You have to convince them to discharge me! I need to get back to Him!"

She handed the note back to Eiji. "When you said you don't regret it, did you mean because you believe He saved you?" She asked the question in an even tone. Her calm demeanor seemed to still his anxiety, at least marginally.

Eiji simply nodded.

"And you say you won't try again, but what if He never shows His face? What if there's no further proof that He may be alive?"

Eiji rolled his eyes, fully believing that wouldn't be the case. "What about the note? Soon?"

She sighed and he caught a glimpse of her exasperation. "Eiji, we need to be very realistic here—"

Eiji stood, quickly became dizzy, and stumbled back into bed. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. "I'm being realistic. Now, please, you have to help me get out of here."

She studied him for a moment. "I believe you, Eiji. But I'm not the one who decides when you're discharged." He opened his mouth to argue, but she continued talking. "But I will put in a good word for you. That's the best I can do." She stood and pulled on her coat. "But I will say this, when you leave here, Sing is going home with you. And he will be making all of the food and tea."

He shivered at her words, realizing Sing must have told her how Eiji had drugged him.

She buttoned her coat. "I will speak with the hospitalist." She untucked her hair from the coat collar. "About discharge and about trialing your Sertraline at night. If the insomnia is still an issue, let us know."

"Tha–thank you."

With that, she left, and Eiji was, for whatever reason, left in tears as soon as the door closed.

What he'd hoped for had come true. It was well past midnight and sleep was still miles off. But so too was his mystery visitor. There was no sight, or sound, of anyone, save nurses, in the hall. No one, besides his nurse, checked on him throughout the night. He tried not to be disappointed, but in truth, he was devastated. Sometime around three in the morning, he fell asleep without meaning to. When morning came, he cursed himself for drifting to sleep. He frantically searched his bedclothes for another note, another sign that He had been there. But there was nothing. No note. No sign. Nothing.

"I have to get out of here," Eiji grumbled to himself with tears leaking from his eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Release

"I don't need a babysitter," Eiji grumbled as Max changed the sheets on the spare bed.

"You do actually." He secured the bottom corners and moved to the top of the bed. With one knee on the mattress, Eiji watched as Max wrestled the sheet onto the bed pressed into the corner of the small room. "That was the condition of your discharge." The sheet slipped from the corner of the bed and snapped back at Max. He cursed under his breath and resecured it. "You stay with us," he said, referring to his household, "until me and your doc think you're stable enough to be on your own."

"I am stable," Eiji argued.

Max moved onto the pillows, dressing them in fresh pillowcases. "Anyway," he went on, ignoring Eiji, "the police are still treating your apartment as a crime scene. I'm guessing they won't be done with it for at least another week or so."

"They sure are taking their sweet time."

Max met his eyes. "Can't you just be happy you're out of the hospital? For a full week, that's all you wanted. Be happy you're out of there, even if you can't go home just yet."

Eiji scowled at Max. His skin was paler than normal and dark shadows had taken up space under his eyes. His low ponytail, which was clean only because the nurses made him shower prior to discharge, lay tied in tangles upon his back. A duffle bag lay at his feet, his arms too tired to hold it any longer.

"What?" Eiji all but snapped as he felt Max's eyes rake over him.

Max frowned. Any optimism that had been present during his admission seemed to have evaporated.

Eiji had self-induced insomnia for the remainder of his admission in hopes of catching Him visiting, but He never came. The note had said Soon, but all Eiji found soon was his loss of hope.

"When's the last time you slept? Like, actually got some good sleep?" Max asked.

Eiji's face twisted further into dissatisfaction. "What's it to you?"

Max stepped toward Eiji and placed his hands on Eiji's thin shoulders. Eiji turned his face in shame.

"You looked hopeful in the hospital, at first, but that's gone now."

Eiji's face grew warm as he felt Max's eyes on him, but he didn't dare turn to meet his gaze.

"I'll send you back if you're not taking care of yourself," Max said sternly. "Maybe Sing wouldn't. And maybe that's because he thinks he can save you, but I know that's not how this works. So don't you think for a second that I won't send you back there, Eiji, cuz I will. I won't let you wither away."

Eiji restrained his tongue from spitting something nasty and instead gave a single nod of understanding.

"Now, answer the question. When did you last sleep?"

Defeated, Eiji sank to the floor. He pulled his legs into his chest and rested his forehead upon his knees. "I haven't been." He heard Max sink to the floor beside him. "I've only been getting a few hours at best," he admitted.

"Waiting up for Him?" Max asked, though his voice sounded certain he already knew the answer.

Eiji exhaled a ragged breath. "Yeah."

"Try to trust His timing," was all Max said back.

Max's words should have delighted him; they implied reason for continued optimism. And yet, he felt nothing of the sort. Eiji pressed his forehead harder into his knees. "I am trying."

Eiji resumed his normal schedule of Sertraline and his insomnia faded away. Sleep had never been so sweet. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There had been a time or two that He had fallen asleep beside Eiji. Those times were truly the sweetest sleep he'd ever experienced, but this was a close second.

Eiji stretched his arms high above his head. He had been at the Glenreeds for the past week and a half. His brain was no longer startled when he woke to the foreign room around him. The fact his brain was adapting to his surroundings was a sign he had stayed too long. Max, Jessica, and Michael had welcomed him into their home with open arms. They showed no indication that he was any sort of burden; in fact, they told him time and time again he was welcome to stay as long as he needed to. And yet, that's the only way he could see himself: a burden.

He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes. When he groggily pried himself from the comfort and warmth of the bed, he noticed his lack of dizziness. For a moment, it stopped him in his tracks; it was the first time since his medication had been increased that he hadn't been plagued with vertigo. Dr. Madison said it would get better, and it seemed something she said was finally true.

He dressed for the day and made his way to the kitchen where he found Michael shoveling his mouth full of Honey Bunches of Oats with reckless abandon as he scrolled his phone with his other hand. Eiji felt his lips morph into a smile. He'd seen the teenager rush through breakfast to make the bus several times now, but suddenly, it was endearing rather than giving him a sinking feeling he couldn't rationalize.

"Hey, Eiji," Michael said with a full mouth. Milk dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. He pushed his chair back and slurped the milk from his bowl as he moved to put the dish in the sink. He checked his phone. "I'm gonna be late," he said to himself as he hurried to the bathroom to continue getting ready.

Again, Eiji smiled to himself. "Ever think of waking up sooner?"

He could practically hear Michael's eyes roll from the other room. "Yeah, sure." He popped his head out from around the bathroom doorway. "I've thought about it and decided sleeping an extra ten minutes is always worth it."

Eiji's smile slipped and his eyes glazed over in memory.

"Hey," Eiji nudged Ash's shoulder gently. "Hey, Ash, you need to wake up."

Ash released a long, wounded groan and rolled away from Eiji's hand, further cocooning himself in blankets. He mumbled something Eiji couldn't quite make out, but his point still came across loud and clear.

Eiji stood and shoved his shoulder. "Come on, it's eight-fifty. I already let you sleep long enough."

"I told you to wake me at nine," he grumbled, his words clearer this time.

"Nooo, you said you need to leave at nine." In one swift motion, Eiji pulled the blanket from Ash, though it didn't go far since Ash was adequately tangled in it.

Ash sat, goosebumps rising on his naked torso. His hair stood on end, blond strands further bleached by the sun streaming in the window behind him. Despite his apparent cold, his face was flushed from the previous warmth of the blanket. He looked like a grumpy toddler awoken from a nap. "I said I really need to leave by nine."

Eiji's eyebrows furrowed. "I know, that is what I just told you."

"No, Eiji," Ash pulled the blanket off his legs, revealing long, pale legs clad in only red, plaid boxer shorts. "The 'really' is important there. Read between the lines."

Eiji's face only gathered more confusion. "Between the what?"

Ash waved a hand through the air, not yet awake enough to properly explain the English phrase. "The 'really' implies that is what I should do. I should leave at nine, but I'm not gonna. You could've woke me at nine and I could be leaving by nine-ten and still make it out of here on time-ish."

Eiji folded his arms grumpily across his chest. "How was I meant to figure that out?"

A small smile spread across Ash's face. He stood with an exaggerated stretch and a groan, knowing full-well his current state would bring color to Eiji's cheeks. "Ehh, I'm just giving you a hard time," he admitted.

Eiji wanted to smile along with him, but he only deepened his frown, playing at anger. "Hmph! What difference does ten minutes make anyway?"

"Ha! Trust me, it makes a big difference."

"Yyyou okay?" Michael asked, snapping Eiji back to reality.

Eiji shook his head, ridding himself of the memory. "Sorry, just…" He shook his head again. "Nevermind. I'm fine."

Michael stared at him uncomfortably for a split second before shrugging. "If you say so." He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment more before reemerging. He made his way to the front door where he pulled on a red, well-worn backpack. "Well, I gotta go." And with that, he left.

Eiji was left staring at the front door. Unlike his own, the Glenreed apartment was quiet. It was well-insulated, making the neighbors all around them nearly inaudible. Eiji stood in silence with only the hum of the refrigerator filling the space.

Max had been working from home since Eiji was discharged, but today, he had a meeting in Queens. Jessica was at work as well. After a week and a half of being under Max's watch, on top of his hospital admission, it almost felt illegal for Eiji to be alone.

Unsure what to do with himself, he sat down on the sofa and flipped on the TV. He could hear Sing, inside his head, nagging him to get himself something to eat. But Sing hadn't contacted him since he was discharged from the hospital. He had pissed Sing off and he knew it. Eiji frowned and made himself more comfortable on the sofa.

Max raised his hand in welcome from across the dingy diner. His lips pulled upward in a small smile before he lowered his hand. The table beneath him had an ever-so-slight sticky residue, though the waitress wiped it just before he sat down. It was akin to permafrost; it seemed it could never be completely scrubbed clean.

The man Max was waiting on made his way to the table. He was tall with dark hair that was pulled back in a small ponytail. He wore a long trench coat with a high collar upturned to shield himself from New York's winter chill. Each step of his was slow, yet filled with purpose. When he reached the table, he simply nodded in greeting as he pulled out his chair and sat.

"I didn't think you'd actually come," Max told him.

The man folded his gloved hands on the table, noting the sticky residue with dissatisfaction. "It just so happened I was already in the city."

Max's face soured. "Was it you, then?"

The man quirked an eyebrow. "Was what me?"

Max glowered at him. "You know what."

The man removed his hands from the table and removed his gloves. "Remind me."

Max drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. "Is it your doing that Eiji Okumura is still alive?"

"Eiji Okumura? Now that's a name I haven't heard in years."

"Blanca," Max hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't play with me."

Blanca studied Max's face. "What is it you want from me?"

Max leaned forward, forearms pressed firmly against the table. "Someone kept Eiji from taking his own life. Was it you or wasn't it?"

Blanca frowned. "Goodness, I thought he'd have moved on by now."

"Don't play dumb," Max hissed. "Did you save Eiji's life that day or not?"

Blanca crossed his arms against his chest and sighed. "How did you even manage to get my contact information?"

"Don't avoid the question!" Max barked.

The twenty-four-hour diner was fairly quiet at eight in the morning, but all heads present turned toward Max's outburst. One of the waitresses jumped midway through writing an order, causing black ink to jolt aimlessly across her notepad.

Sheepishly, he lowered his head and his voice. "Just answer the question."

"Which one? You've asked several."

Max pounded a fist on the table, already forgetting the other patrons. "Who saved Eiji's life!?"

"How did you find me anyway?" He wondered again. "I bet it was Yut Lung," Blanca said to himself. "Sing probably finagled my number out of him."

Max stood in the small booth, hands planting firmly on the table with enough force to make Blanca's mouth snap shut. "Enough! Enough with your games! You can play dumb, but I know you know exactly what I'm asking about. Now, I only know two people who can shoot like that, so was it you or was it Ash that saved Eiji's life?"

Sadness briefly scuttered across Blanca's face. "We buried Ash eight years ago."

At this, Max's patience snapped. He lunged forward and grabbed the giant-of-a-man by his shirt collar and tugged him forward. "Listen, you filth—"

"Glenreed."

Max's head snapped toward the direction of the voice. At the counter, an aggravated cook wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. "Not in my diner. Take it outside."

Max's hands loosened and Blanca pulled away from him.

"What a shame," Blanca began, straightening his shirt and coat. "I was quite looking forward to breakfast."

Max stepped out of the booth. "Come on, let's go," he growled.

Once outside, they walked the snowy New York street, headed nowhere in particular. Max muttered angrily to himself, pulling his coat closer to shield himself from the cold.

"I can't give you answers to the questions you ask," Blanca told Max after a few minutes of walking.

Max stopped in his tracks. Blanca continued walking, forcing Max to do a quick jog to catch up.

"You're acknowledging the situation?" He asked breathlessly.

"Don't go poking around in this."

Max grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop walking. "Was it you who saved Eiji or not?"

"I told you, I can't give you the answers you seek."

"If he's actually dead, I need to know! I can't be feeding into Eiji's delusion!"

"Why not? If it gives him hope, it keeps him alive, no?"

Max was stunned into silence. His eyes turned stony.

Blanca sighed. "I think it's best if we part ways."

Max chewed his bottom lip. "I don't trust you," he grumbled.

At this, Blanca looked almost amused. "Hmm, no. I would imagine not." He pulled his coat higher up his neck. "Do give my regards to Eiji."

Max's eyebrows drew together in an angry crease. "Respectfully, Blanca, get fucked."

Blanca frowned. For once, it didn't seem performative, but rather, caught off guard. He seemed to contemplate Max's words before nodding in apparent farewell. With that, he turned and walked away without another word.

"I'm glad to see you're still here," Max said as he came through the front door, shedding his messenger bag and coat.

From the couch, Eiji shook his head. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not going to run away."

There was a shine in Max's eyes when he looked at Eiji. "I'm starting to believe you," he said with a crooked smile.

Eiji averted his eyes from Max's good-natured teasing. To change the subject, he asked, "How was the interview?"

Max waved a defeated hand through the air.

"No good?"

"Ehhh, he didn't give me anything to work with."

Eiji frowned. "What's the piece?"

Max shook his head. "Can't say quite yet."

Eiji's frown turned playful. "That just makes me more curious."

Max's expression grew soft. There was something different about Eiji today. Something that seemed happier. Something that seemed more alive.

"You starting to feel better, kiddo?"

But then Eiji's lips tensed into a straight line, and Max worried he'd ruined something good. Although, to his surprise, Eiji didn't snap at him. Instead, he looked at his lap, his eyes now sad. He nodded. "I think… maybe a little bit."

There were tears in Max's eyes when he smiled. "Glad to hear it."

After three solid weeks with the Glenreeds, Eiji seemed well enough to return to his own place. Everyone, including Dr. Madison, thought so. And yet, Eiji seemed content to stay at the Glenreeds a little longer.

Sing had been caring for Buddy since the incident. And once the police were finished at Eiji's apartment, Sing and Buddy stayed there, and, Eiji knew, they would be there when he returned. It went unsaid that Sing would be staying with him, at least at first, when he finally returned home. That fact alone slowed his urgency.

"You can't stop the inevitable," Max had told him one evening.

"I can try," Eiji had responded with a pitiful smile. "He hasn't texted me once since the hospital," Eiji had added when his initial response was met with only silence. "He's angry. There's going to be fighting once I get back."

Max had cursed under his breath. "Stay as long as you need, Eiji. Go back when you're ready."

Though he had not yet returned home, Max no longer kept him holed up in the apartment like a prisoner whose only trips outside were supervised. Better yet, Max and Jessica resumed their normal work schedules. They no longer rearranged their days to ensure one of them would be home with Eiji at all hours of the day. They now worked regular hours and worked from home only when they would have done so in the past.

This newfound freedom meant Eiji could do what he had been dying to do for weeks.

One morning, after Michael left for school and Max and Jessica had gone to work, Eiji bundled himself in his winter garb and made his way outside.

It wasn't as cold today as it had been, though it was far from warm. The weather report said it was in the mid-thirties, though Eiji only knew because he heard Max listening to the news that morning; he did not make a habit of checking the weather. When he stepped outside with his scarf high on his neck, he found there wasn't so much as a breeze. His spirits lifted. It felt almost as if he was meant to do this today.

When he arrived at his destination, he hit the up arrow beside the elevator. His face began to thaw as he waited for the old, slow elevator to arrive. Despite the warmer weather, his long walk had still taken a toll on him. He still was underfeeding himself and it showed in his lack of stamina.

By the time he reached the fourteenth floor, the feeling had started to return to his face. The elevator closed behind him and he stared down the dimly lit hall. His footsteps sounded too heavy hitting the time-flattened carpet.

When he reached the door, he hesitated only a moment before knocking. The sound of his knuckles against the metal door echoed in the hallway. No one answered, so he knocked again, and again, and again, until, finally, he heard footsteps on the other side. They paused when they reached the door, likely spying on him through the peephole.

"Please answer," Eiji pleaded.

"Sorry, I don't answer the door to strange men," said a woman with a gruff voice.

Panic coursed through Eiji's body. "I'm looking for— does a man live there with you?" Eiji asked hastily.

The door opened a crack, stopped short by a thick, sturdy chain. An angry-looking woman with dirty blonde hair stared him down. Mascara was smeared around her eyes and strands of hair had slipped from the messy bun atop her head. She was dressed in only an oversized T-shirt that hit her mid-thigh. And in her hand, was a handgun aimed right at Eiji's abdomen.

"Listen here, scum, I know how to protect myself whether or not I live with a man."

Hands raised, Eiji stumbled backward. "No, no, you don't understand."

The gun cocked. "Oh yeah? Make me."

"I-I-I-" He trembled before her.

The woman's lips rose in satisfaction. "For a thief, you're not very brave."

"I-I'm not a thief!" he blurted. "Please, you don't understand! I-I thought a friend of mine lived in this unit."

She purposefully shifted so that Eiji could see into the unit. Behind her, the place was filled with cardboard boxes and furniture that had not yet been arranged. "Maybe they did, but I live here now," she snapped.

Eiji's face fell flat.

"Now, if you don't mind, I was sleeping." With that, the door slammed in his face.

He exhaled shakily and dissolved into tears in the hallway.

After another week at Max's, Eiji took Dr. Madison's advice to bite the bullet and move back into his own place. When the day finally came, Max was there to help; he acted both as a vehicle for Eiji's luggage and a shield to protect him from whatever mood Sing might be in.

Sing was there, just as Eiji knew he would be.

"He missed you," were the first words from Sing's lips as Buddy tackled Eiji to the ground, licking him all over and barking excitedly.

Sing and Max watched as Eiji squirmed on the floor, smiling and laughing uncontrollably. Neither of them said a word, but both were comforted by Eiji's progress over the past few weeks.

Once Buddy calmed down and Eiji collected himself off the floor, Sing helped Max with Eiji's bags. To everyone's surprise, Sing didn't yell or cry. In fact, Sing acted as if nothing at all had happened.

Shortly after their arrival, Max left, hugging Eiji before doing so. "If he freaks out once I leave, call me," Max whispered in Eiji's ear before parting. Eiji smiled softly at his words.

But Sing didn't lose his temper. In fact, he didn't say much of anything.

But Sing's things were there, speaking for him. All over the apartment were signs that Sing had planned to stay for some time, maybe forever. His jacket was draped over the armchair and his shoes were by the front door. His laptop sat open on the sofa with a charger stretched across the room, feeding it life. A speaker, that Eiji had not previously owned, filled the space with Sing's music. In the kitchen, Eiji's dishes seemed to have doubled. There were knives on the counter and dishes in the sink that Eiji knew were not his own.

Eiji entered the bedroom to unpack the clothes he'd taken to Max's. Eiji's bed was dressed with a comforter and pillows that were foreign to him, meaning they had to be Sing's.

"If you still prefer the couch, it's yours. If not, I can move to the couch," Sing said from the doorway, causing Eiji to startle.

Eiji turned to look at him. Sing stood in the doorway, awkwardly scratching under his short hair, with eyes averted from Eiji's.

Eiji frowned. "Can you just get it over with?"

Sing's face soured. But he didn't ask what Eiji meant, because he already knew. "I'm not gonna yell," he said.

"Why? I know you want to."

"Stop, Eiji," Sing pushed past him and walked to Eiji's duffle bag to begin unpacking it.

"Why, Sing?"

Sing looked down at the bag, unzipping it and removing clothes from it with a lowered face. "Because I promised Dr. Madison I wouldn't."

"What?" Eiji's voice was too loud for the small room. "Why were you talking with Dr. Madison? She's my therapist?"

Sing's head snapped up. "Because, Eiji, I had to talk to someone!" Tears began to gather in his eyes and he looked away. "I—" his voice cracked. When he spoke again, it was merely a whisper. "My best friend tried to k—" Sing wiped tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. "I had to talk to someone."

The anger had melted from Eiji's face until all that remained was remorse. "I wish you would yell at me," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"What?"

"I wish you would yell," Eiji repeated. His voice was still quiet, not loud enough to carry across the room.

"Eiji, speak up, I can't—"

"I said, I wish you would yell at me!" Overcompensating, he raised his voice to a near shout.

They locked eyes.

"I deserve it, Sing," he added, voice returning to a sensible volume.

For a long moment, Sing said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with unshed tears. "Part of me agrees with you. Part of me thinks you do." He paused.

Eiji's eyes raked over him. "And the other part?"

"The other part knows you're just trying to escape a lot of— a lot of pain." He sighed. "That part of me hurts for you. That part of me never wants to yell at you again. That part of me just wants for you to heal."

Eiji gave a single, solemn nod of understanding. "I'm sorry I drugged you."

Sing's voice was calm. "That was a pretty fucked up thing to do."

"I know." Eiji closed his eyes before tears could fall. "And I'm sorry for everything that came after." Eiji couldn't quite bring himself to say the harsh words aloud and he knew Sing also did not want to hear them.

"I'm sorry I called you crazy." Sing's voice was raw. "And I'm sorry I didn't come back to visit after that. I'm sorry this is the first time I've seen you since the hospital."

Sing pushed the duffle bag aside and sat on the edge of Eiji's bed. He rested his head in his hands. Eiji followed his lead, sitting beside him. He wrapped an arm around Sing's broad shoulders.

"I don't hold it against you, Sing."

Sing leaned into Eiji's comfort, head falling against the older man's.

Eiji continued speaking, voice quiet and calm. "I'm awful to you, I don't know why you love me." Sing exhaled a teary laugh. "Seriously," Eiji continued, "I can't wrap my mind around it." He squeezed Sing's shoulders more tightly. "But I've decided just now: from here on out, I'm going to be better. I'm going to be kinder to you. I'll try to be less of a dick."

Sing said nothing, but his shoulders continued to shake with tears. His heart ached with the very love Eiji could not understand.

"Finally, he's home." His face scrunched with dissatisfaction. "But I hate this new angle. I can't see as well."

"You purposefully rented 1406 to a drug addict, I'm sure you'll have reason to evict her in no time. Then, you'll have your precious lookout back."

"It would be much harder to save him from this angle if he pulls the same trick again."

"He doesn't have a reason to do it again."

The man grumbled, not quite agreeing with the other.

"Just promise me you won't act rashly. Do not go to him."

"I'm the guardian angel who can only act from afar, I know."

"It's better for everyone that way."

"Ha," the man laughed bitterly. "You're so full of shit, you know that?"

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Silhouette

Winter shifted lazily into spring, bringing temperatures that broke forty, sometimes fifty, degrees. Green started to return to the trees and grass. Pink and purple buds dotted the branches in Central Park. The birds rejoiced in song. The whole city seemed to be more alive. That is, except for Eiji.

Sing had practically moved in with him. He had more of his things at Eiji's place than his own. He sometimes joked he should break his own lease and that he and Eiji should search for a two-bedroom somewhere nearby.

Eiji wouldn't hear of it. He liked his place. Besides, officially moving in with Sing would be admitting that he needed long-term help and supervision. He wanted to live on his own again at some point. He was also still hopeful that He was watching from somewhere nearby. If he left the apartment, he was scared He wouldn't follow.

They stayed put. Eiji on the couch, Sing in Eiji's bed. They made it work. Though, the neighbors certainly assumed they were romantically involved. Not just because they lived together in a one-bedroom, but also because they bickered like an old married couple.

Eiji rarely left the house without Sing, and when he did, he was obligated to answer the phone if and when Sing called. He mainly left for photography gigs, though those had been sparse as of late. As Dr. Madison advised, he was turning down engagement shoots for the time being. There would be more headshots and family photos popping up now that spring was just around the corner, but winter had been slow at best.

The changes in Eiji's medication made his daily life easier, but if he sat still for too long, sadness still overwhelmed him.

The word soon ran in and out of his brain countless times throughout each and every day. It was often the first thought he had in the morning and his last thought before sleep claimed him at night.

Soon. How soon? He was growing tired of waiting.

Trust His timing, Max kept saying. But Eiji worried something had happened to Him. Or, Eiji worried, maybe he really was losing it. Maybe the psych nurses had been right. Maybe he had somehow written himself that note. Or maybe it had been Sing. Or even Max. Maybe it was all just a ploy to keep him alive.

It was an exhausting train of thought with no conclusion.

It made him want to drink and walk and starve himself. But he didn't do any of those things, not on Sing's watch. However, the eating part was still difficult, especially on a consistent basis. But he was trying, and that's what mattered most.

"I'm one month sober today," Eiji told Dr. Madison at his weekly appointment.

"And we are all so proud of you, Eiji. Really, that's beyond wonderful." She smiled one of her real smiles. It made Eiji inexplicably nervous. He still didn't understand why she seemed to genuinely care for him.

Sing bought a box of cannolis to celebrate Eiji's solid month of sobriety. They were delicious and Eiji truly enjoyed them. It was another win.

Sing had noticed Eiji had begun to regain some of the weight he had lost. He said nothing to Eiji, unsure of how he'd react, but he noticed all the same.

Things were getting better, easier, just as Sing had promised they would.

And yet, at night, he often still cried helplessly while staring at the picture of Green Eyes on the wall. And he wondered if somewhere out there, He was watching. He now always slept with a small light on just in case He was.

And then, one night, it happened.

Eiji typically slept through the night, rarely stirring unless Buddy woke him. But one fateful Sunday night in early April, they had fallen asleep with the windows opened to let in the spring breeze. It had been hot that afternoon, but not hot enough to warrant turning on the AC for the season. They had opened all the windows and, twelve stories up, safely slept with the windows still open.

It was around three in the morning when Sing left the bedroom to use the bathroom. The door behind him slammed shut due to the shift in air pressure.

Eiji startled awake. He heard Sing in the bathroom and settled back into his pillow on the couch.

That's when something outside caught his eye. In the building across the street, there was a light on in the unit from which the life-saving bullet had been fired. There, he could see a silhouette of a person. He scrambled for his glasses on the coffee table. Shoving them on his face, he squinted at the figure across the way. The person was most certainly not the hostile woman he had encountered about a month back. It wasn't a woman at all. It was a tall, slender figure holding a lit cigarette. The figure held something to his face that Eiji couldn't quite make out.

Eiji's heart skipped a beat. "Ash," he whispered breathlessly.

It had to be Him.

The light turned off.

Eiji was up before he could even comprehend what he was doing. He moved quietly, so as to not raise suspicion from Sing. He would not be stopped. He paused at the front door, considering shoes and socks, but ultimately deemed them unnecessary; they would only slow down his departure.

He stepped out of the building without so much as long sleeves. Though the day had been warm, the temperature had dropped significantly that evening. Eiji shivered as he made his way across the street in only sleep shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt.

The elevator carried him to the fourteenth floor at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Come on, come on," Eiji chanted under his breath as he watched the floors illuminate as he passed through each one.

The elevator opened at the speed of a snail. Eiji squeezed out before the doors were fully open.

At the end of the hall, he could see a figure walking quickly toward the stairwell— away from Eiji.

Eiji broke into a run. It was the fastest he'd moved in recent memory. As he got closer, he could see the tall man was the same one he'd seen from his apartment. And now, he could clearly see the man was blond.

The man pulled the stairwell door open.

"ASH!" Eiji shouted, his voice absolutely ragged.

The man stopped in his tracks.

Eiji stopped ten feet in front of the man. "Ash?" His voice was strained with tears.

Slowly, the figure turned.

Eiji nearly fainted.

After all his pain and suffering, after all these years, it was Him.

Ash turned away from Eiji, with tears in his eyes, feet headed for the stairs.

"No," Eiji begged with tears streaming down his face. "Please, you can't run."

But Ash did run.

Ash stepped into the stairwell. Eiji rushed forward after him. Ash flew down the stairs. He made it three floors down before stopping at a landing between floors. He looked up at Eiji who was following after him with tears clouding his vision.

"Please," Eiji begged. "Please, Ash, I can't go on living without you!"

Ash halted. His throat burned with emotion. "Eiji," the name sounded reverent upon Ash's lips as if he had refrained from using it the same way Eiji refrained from using His. "I can't—"

Eiji stopped two stairs above the landing.

They could see each other clearly now. Of course, Ash had been watching Eiji for years. He'd seen him age. He watched his hair grow and his eyes worsen with time. However, up close, there were details that made his heart sink: the bloodshot tinge in his eyes, the dark shadows beneath them, the rogue strands of grey in Eiji's hairline caused, no doubt, by stress.

But Eiji hadn't seen Ash in eight years. He looked older now, though generally the same. His jaw had sharpened slightly with age and he was several inches taller than Eiji remembered. His skin was shockingly pale and smooth, as if he made a point of staying out of the sun. He was a hair less muscular than Eiji remembered, but still just as thin. And ironically, Eiji couldn't help but worry that he wasn't eating well. His hair was just as blond and his eyes were just as green. He was as beautiful as ever.

But most importantly, he stood before Eiji with breathing lungs and a beating heart.

Most importantly, he was alive.

"Why," the word came out as merely a breath. "Why, Ash?"

"I made a deal," Ash began, words shaky. "With the Feds."

"What deal?"

"Ten years of service in exchange for my amnesty."

"Service? Ash, what do you m—"

"I'm not allowed to make contact with you or anyone else from my old life during that time," Ash continued, ignoring Eiji's question.

Eiji felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Ten years?" He whispered to himself.

He descended a stair, one step closer to Ash. Ash moved as well, though he crept one step off the landing, moving further from Eiji.

"Ten years, Ash, no."

Ash inhaled shakily. Tears ran from his eyes. "Believe me, I hate it too." He wiped at his green eyes. "But that's the way it has to be. Just two more years, Eiji. Just—"

Eiji shook his head vigorously in disagreement. "I can't wait two more years. Two more years will kill me, Ash."

Ash moved up one step, inching back onto the landing. He reached out a hand and hovered it just above Eiji's temple. Eiji held his breath. Gingerly, Ash ran two fingers through Eiji's hair. He tucked a strand lovingly behind Eiji's ear. Eiji leaned into the motion with tears clouding his vision.

"It's killing me too. I hate watching you suffer," Ash whispered. "But it's just two more years. In the grand scheme of things, that's not too bad."

"I can't wait that long."

"You can." He gave Eiji a teary smile. "You're so strong," he whispered.

Eiji shook his head. "You know that's not true."

"I'm sorry," Ash said softly as he pulled away. "Go home to Sing."

Eiji shook his head. "I don't love Sing!"

Ash's eyes darted upward as if he expected someone to be listening in. "Shhh, I know, I know." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "But please, just let him take care of you."

"I want you to take care of me."

Ash stepped back as if Eiji had wounded him.

Eiji's teeth worried his bottom lip. "I'm sorry," he whispered, afraid he'd said the wrong thing.

Ash blinked back tears. Hearing footsteps in the hall above them, they both looked up.

"I'm sorry, Eiji, I have to go."

"When can I see you again?" Eiji asked hastily.

"Ha," it was a sad, pitiful laugh laden with tears. "You sound like some girl from an old film."

"Ash. Please answer me."

Ash took a large, gasping breath, trying desperately not to dissolve into tears. "I'll see you in two years, love."

The final word broke Eiji. He stumbled forward, flinging himself into Ash's arms. For a moment, they said nothing. Ash held him tightly. One of his strong arms wrapped around Eiji's waist while the other cradled his head. The physical contact shattered his willpower. Ash inhaled deeply, breathing in Eiji's scent. The essence of Eiji flipped his stomach. "God, I've missed you more than you'll ever know," Ash whispered into Eiji's neck.

Eiji sobbed into Ash's shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric. "Please, please don't leave me," he whispered desperately.

"It's not like I want to."

"Then don't."

The stairwell door opened. Ash pulled Eiji closer. He pressed a feverish kiss to Eiji's neck. Eiji all but melted into a puddle at his feet. And then, Ash pushed him away.

The person at the top of the stairs cleared their throat.

"Soon," Ash whispered so quietly only Eiji could hear.

"Soon as in two years or soon as in sooner?" Eiji whispered back.

Ash glanced above them for a sign of anyone else, but whoever had entered the stairwell was still on the fourteenth floor's landing. He knew he shouldn't, and yet he couldn't seem to help it. He grabbed Eiji's hands. "Sooner," he whispered. "Much sooner."

"Ash." A deep, stern voice called down the stairwell.

Ash's eyes closed and his eyebrows drew close. "I need to go."

He tried to pull away but Eiji squeezed his hands. "Who is that?"

"It's no one." He pried his hands from Eiji's. "I need to go." Ash opened the door to the eleventh floor and gestured for Eiji to walk through it. "Two years. I'll see you in two years," He said loudly. Despite Ash's obvious wink that accompanied his words, still, Eiji had already begun to cry loudly once again.

"Please no— Please, A—"

"Not a word to anyone," Ash hissed. He then pushed Eiji through the doorway. "I'm so sorry. I need to go," He said a third time. And with that, he turned and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Are you insane, Ash?" Blanca asked, furious.

"He came here."

"I heard no knock." Blanca's voice, despite being at a normal volume, was thick with anger.

"I saw him coming across the street— I was trying to leave before he got up here. He saw me taking the stairs."

"You must have been taking your sweet time. You should have been more careful," Blanca spat.

Ash said nothing in reply for he knew Blanca was right.

Blanca's arms slapped the sides of his legs in exasperation. "Nothing to say to that?"

Ash averted his gaze. He moved instead to the window to look at Eiji's apartment. He could see Eiji entering the building on the street below.

"What now? I am required to report you, you know that."

Ash shook his head. "He made contact with me, not the other way around. I told him I can't see him again for two more years. That's that. Nothing to report."

"Do you expect me to believe you won't meet before then?!" He did raise his voice now.

Ash turned to face him wildly. "Do you really think I'd risk it all for a mere visit?!"

Blanca stared into his eyes, searching for insincerity. Ash held his gaze, challenging him. "Yes," Blanca ground out at last. "Yes, Ash, I do."

"Well, you're wrong," Ash hissed.

"I know you snuck to see him at the hospital, not once but twice."

"That's different. He never even knew I was there," Ash lied with ease. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the window behind him.

Eiji was back inside now.

"It was reckless," Blanca said, not letting up.

Too busy watching Eiji, Ash barely heard him.

Across the street, Sing was scolding Eiji, no doubt asking where he'd been. Ash pulled out the pair of binoculars that he kept by the window. Over the years, he had become an expert at lip-reading.

"Where the fuck were you!? It's three A-fucking-M!" Sing was yelling.

"I couldn't sleep. I just went outside to clear my head." Eiji responded.

"You're lying, Eiji, don't think I can't tell!"

"You're paranoid."

"Tell me the truth or I'm calling Dr. Madison," Sing threatened.

"Oh, go ahead and call her!"

"Ash," Blanca broke his focus.

He lowered the binoculars. "Sing's pissed."

"This is serious, Ash."

Ash ignored him. "I need a fucking drink."

Blanca made a sound of immense disapproval. "You're worse than him."

Ash poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Oh, get fucked," he spat.

The week went by torturously slow. Eiji waited for any sign from Ash. At night, he stared up at the blackened window of his apartment, wondering if he was doing the same. He was unsure who was up there with him, and it worried him not to know.

Sing was on his case worse than ever. He hovered over him in everything he did. When Eiji needed to leave the apartment, Sing conveniently had something to do in the same area of the city. When Eiji did a shoot, Sing would tag along, feigning a newfound interest in Eiji's livelihood. He even started sleeping with the bedroom door open, just in case.

On Saturday morning, Eiji opened Buddy's box of dog food only to find it nearly empty. There was enough for not even half of his morning meal. "Ughhh," Eiji groaned tiredly.

"Hmm?" Sing asked from the sofa, sipping his morning coffee.

Eiji was already walking to the door. "Buddy's out of food," he said as he pulled on his tennis shoes.

"I'll come with you," Sing said, already standing.

"No, stay and drink your coffee. I'll only be gone a minute."

"It's fine, I don't mind."

"Maybe I do," Eiji muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" Sing asked snarkily.

"Sing," Eiji turned to face him. "I'm nearly thirty years old. I know I worry you, and I didn't help anything by going outside so late the other night. And look, I'm sorry. But you're smothering me, okay? I'm going down the street to buy Buddy some food. I'll be back well within the hour— probably ten or fifteen minutes. Just— you're smothering me."

Sing glared at him, but he didn't yell. "Fine," he spat. "But call me when you get there."

Eiji shook his head. "No. I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because, Sing, it makes me feel broken."

Sing was quiet then. He looked at the ground in shame. "Okay. Sorry, Eiji."

Eiji nodded. "I'll be right back."

"Any change, man?"

"Sorry, I'm not carrying cash," Eiji said to the beggar on the curb. He didn't so much as slow his steps or look at the man as he passed. He was determined to run his errand without any delay in order to get Sing off his back.

He quickly made his way to the corner store, buying a bag of dog food and throwing it over his shoulder. It was an action that was easier now that he had regained some weight. A few months ago, he would have crumpled under its weight.

"Any change, man?" the man said again as Eiji passed him on his way back.

"I'm not carrying cash," Eiji said again.

"I take Venmo."

Taken aback, Eiji stopped. He looked at the man on the curb at his feet. The man sat, knees pulled to his chest and a hoodie pulled over his head. His clothes were battered but clean.

"You take— yeah, alright, hold on." Eiji fished out his phone. "I'm a little tight on cash myself but—" Eiji thought of his dwindling bank account, thanks to his recent lack of regular shoots. "I can give you ten."

The man held out his phone for Eiji to scan his account information. "Anything helps," he said.

Eiji paused. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. He stooped, trying to see the man's hooded face. "Do I know you?"

"Not unless you're from Boston," the man replied. "Just got here a week back, and I've been down on my luck."

Eiji returned his attention to his phone. "Hmm, I guess not." He graciously sent the man ten bucks. Finished, Eiji pocketed his phone. "I hear the sandwich place a block over is hiring." Eiji shrugged sheepishly. "In case you're interested."

Still without looking up, the man held out a hand covered with fingerless gloves. "Thanks, man," he said.

Eiji accepted the gesture. The man wrapped both of his hands around Eiji's. He then abruptly stood and began to quickly walk away.

Eiji stared puzzledly at his back as he did so.

"Keep it moving," someone said as they shoved past him on the busy sidewalk.

"S-sorry." Eiji shook his head, coming back to reality. It was then he noticed something poking his wrist. He stepped aside and examined his arm. Emerging from his jacket cuff was a slip of stiff paper. He set the bag of dog food down on the pavement and hastily read the slip of paper.

'Tomorrow. 3 AM. Ground-level laundry room. Turn off your light before you come.'

Eiji's head shot up, eyes scanning the sidewalk before him. The man, whom he now realized had been Ash, was gone.

Sing did not comment on the time when Eiji returned. Instead, he kindly met Eiji at the door and took the heavy bag from him.

"Come on, Buddy. Chow time."

Eiji moved to the kitchen, fixing himself something to eat.

"I'm sorry, Eiji," Sing said, joining him. "You're right. I've been a bit much lately."

Eiji, who was trying to contain his excitement for whatever his meeting with Ash would hold, simply nodded. "It's okay. I get it. I didn't mean to snap at you earlier."

"I'm just so scared I'll lose you if I take my eyes off you," Sing said vulnerably.

Eiji turned to face him. "I know it's hard to believe me— but I really am starting to feel better." He couldn't tell Sing the truth as to why, but it was something. Sing looked at him, unbelieving. "Really, Sing." He forced a smile.

Sing nodded. "That's good, Eiji." He smiled softly. "That's good."

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: 3 AM

Eiji set an alarm for 2:30 AM, but it turned out to be unnecessary. His body wouldn't let him sleep a wink. He tossed and turned aimlessly, his stomach in knots. His alarm went off at 2:30 AM and he silenced it before his phone could do more than vibrate. Still, he listened closely for movement in the bedroom.

There was nothing. Sing must still be sleeping.

He switched off the small lamp beside the couch.

Eiji's movements were calculated as he pulled on his shoes and jacket. He left a short note behind for Sing, just in case.

Couldn't sleep. Just getting some fresh air.

Please, don't worry. I will be back soon.

Call me if you need me.

– Eiji

He closed the door silently behind him.

Ash's note was not specific enough; Eiji wasn't sure if he was meant to be going to the laundry room in his building or in Ash's. He decided to peek in his own before heading across the street. It was completely empty, so Eiji assumed he was meant to go to the other building.

Nerves had set a tangle of worms loose in his stomach. He worried he might be sick. He entered the building, quickly looking behind him to make sure Sing, or anyone else for that matter, wasn't following him.

He walked inside and looked around. The lobby was silent. He wondered how he'd get into a laundry room that likely had restricted access, though he trusted Ash had surely thought of that. He wasn't sure which way to go but decided to hang a right and search for the meeting place. When he reached the end of the hall, he spotted it; it was a fairly large room with laundry machines that were nicer than the ones in Eiji's building. Only one machine was running. The badge access on the door was already illuminated green. Eiji opened the door and stepped inside.

Ash, who had been sitting on the floor behind one of the dryers, stood. Eiji's chest pounded and the air seemed to be sucked from his lungs in pure relief.

"Ash," he breathed. He rushed toward him, stopping just before he reached him. Still, after all this time, he decided not to fling himself into Ash's arms without asking.

"Look, we don't have much time," Ash said hastily. "He'll get suspicious if I'm gone too long."

Eiji's face grew dangerous. "Who will? Ash, who's controlling you?"

Ash smiled at him, a small, sentimental smile. Eiji always had been protective. Ash shook his head. "No one. No one's controlling me. I signed an agreement. It's like I told you: ten years. Ten years of service without any contact with anyone from my former life. Not you, not Max, not the boys, not Ibe. No one. But at the end of it, I'll be free."

Eiji glanced at the door. He spotted a security camera above the entrance. "And what happens if someone finds us together?"

Ash grimaced. "It wouldn't be good. I don't know what they'd decide, but I could lose it all and…" His voice trailed off.

"And what?"

"I could be charged for my original crimes— probably locked up for life."

"Ash!" Eiji dropped to the floor, out of the camera's view. "Then we can't be seen together—"

Ash sank down beside him. "Relax, I own this building, I made sure that camera's not on."

"You—" Eiji's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"They let me keep ten percent of the money I stole from GOOSE. Turns out a small percentage of a huge number is still a pretty good amount."

Eiji shook his head, barely comprehending. "So you're— what— a land—" he couldn't bring himself to finish the question. He looked around the room "Am I dreaming right now?"

Ash smirked. "That's right, I'm a landlord. Shorter must be rolling in his goddamn grave."

Eiji raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't get it. Why not just rent a single apartment?"

"Because there was nothing available on the fourteenth floor when I needed it."

"So you bought the whole building?"

Ash smiled smugly. "Yeah, so I bought the place. And then I offered the tenant of 1406 an upgrade without a price increase. Funny how money makes life so much easier." Ash winked.

Eiji squeezed his eyes shut. "Seriously, is this real?" When he reopened his eyes, Ash was still sitting on the floor beside him.

"It better be," Ash looked at Eiji like he was the sun itself. "Anyway, listen. We're not supposed to be in contact, not for two more years. I know you said the other day that you can't wait that long, but now that you have more info… what are you thinking?"

Eiji sat in silence, contemplating Ash's question. "You'll go to jail if they find out you've broken your end of the deal?"

Ash nodded. "Most likely."

"Then why is that even a question? I hate it, but I have to wait two more years. Anything else is too dangerous."

"Well, they watch me fairly closely, but…" his lips raised in teasing, "Maybe not as close as Sing watches you."

"But you have some goon living with you?"

"Hmm, I guess you could call him that."

Eiji chewed his bottom lip. "I hope it's not someone awful. What kind of service do they have you doing, Ash?"

Ash's face fell. "Nothing like what I did for Dino."

"What do they have you doing?" Eiji asked again, not satisfied with his vague answer.

"I work for the FBI. They're putting my brain and unique skill set to work, let's just leave it at that for now."

Eiji shook his head. "No, I want to know."

Ash sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm not really at liberty to discuss it." He scoffed. "God, I hate saying that."

A ghost of a smile crept onto Eiji's face. "Do you really?"

Ash glared at him but there was humor in his eyes. "Yes, I do." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's why I called you here. I wanted to explain."

Eiji nodded.

"And I wanted to give you something."

Eiji's eyebrows perked up. "Give me what?"

He dug into his pocket and fished out a small, crappy flip phone. "This." In the phone, there was only one contact. "I shouldn't, but oh well."

Eiji stared at it with wide eyes.

"It's a burner," Ash explained. "I have one too. It's only for a real emergency, got it? Hide it somewhere Sing won't find it."

Eiji cradled the phone before pushing it back towards Ash. "No, that's too dangerous."

Ash shook his head. "No, take it, Eiji. Please."

"A—"

Ash shoved it into Eiji's hands. "Please. I need you to have it." There was desperation burning in his eyes. "I will worry more if you don't have it."

Eiji's eyes dropped to the floor in shame. He realized what Ash was getting at. "You're worried I'll try it again."

Ash was silent.

"But now that I know you're alive—"

"Listen, Eiji, I wish you could live for you. I know I can't exactly talk. He tells me all the time to try and move on—"

"Who is he? Please, Ash, I'm going to be worried sick about you."

There was a lull before Ash answered him. "He is Blanca. Blanca's the goon— as you put it— who's keeping me in line."

As if on cue, Ash's phone rang. He fished it from his pocket. "What?" He held a finger to his lips. "I'm in the laundry room. Yes, I know what time it is. Yeah, well, I spilled whiskey on my fucking sheets, so— Yeah— Well, maybe I don't want to use your spare fucking sheets— Fine, okay, I'll be back up in a few." He hung up the phone.

Eiji was staring at Ash with teary eyes. "Ash, I— I have so many questions I want to ask you. I have so many things I want to say. I—" his voice broke with tears. He inhaled shakily. "This— this can't be goodbye."

"It's not." He forced a rather unconvincing smile. "It's just 'see you later.'"

As instructed, Eiji hid out in the laundry room for an extra half hour before making his way back to his place. He prayed Blanca didn't notice his absence, although he trusted Ash to have a cover story if he did.

Sing was still asleep when Eiji returned home. The burner phone in his pocket weighed greatly on his mind. He needed to hide it somewhere that Sing would never find it. Or better yet, he needed to convince Sing he was well enough to live on his own again.

He imagined Ash sneaking over to his place once Sing was gone, even though he knew that wasn't an option. They hadn't so much as hugged and Eiji's body now burned for Ash's. He was alive. And in two years, they'd be reunited for good. Eiji was still having a hard time comprehending it.

He barely slept that night, mind racing with questions and anxieties.

When Sing woke, he saw the note Eiji had left the night before and forgotten to remove. "Second time in two weeks," he yawned. "Who are you sneaking off to?"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Eiji grumbled. He turned his body so that his face was pressed into the back of the couch. He heard Sing sit in the armchair beside the couch.

"Nightmares?" Sing asked.

Eiji groaned into the couch but said nothing further. He didn't trust himself to lie convincingly to Sing. The less he had to talk, the better.

Sing gave a nod that Eiji could not see. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Tearily, Eiji nodded, face concealed in the couch cushions.

"You're lying to me, Ash." Blanca sipped his cappuccino. "I know you well enough to know, so don't even think about denying it."

Ash glared at him over his laptop. "You're losing it, old man."

Blanca ignored him. "And I'm a man of my word, so don't test me. If I have suspicions of misconduct, I'm obligated to report them."

Ash huffed and rose to his feet. He walked to the window and looked into Eiji's world. "I saw him just once more. I needed to tell him how dangerous it would be for us to continue meeting."

Blanca laughed sarcastically. "You do see the irony in that, don't you?"

"I haven't put in eight years for nothing. That's it. Next time I see him, I'll be a free man," Ash said, ignoring Blanca's snide remark. Unless there's an emergency, ran through Ash's mind.

Blanca nodded. He sipped at his coffee. "How did he take it?"

"Well, you didn't give us much time to talk," Ash grumbled.

"You were gone and so was he." Blanca raised an eyebrow. "That's hardly subtle. If you wanted more time, perhaps you should have been more calculated. Maybe you should have slipped me a valium or two."

Ash turned wildly and stared daggers at Blanca. "Do not mock his suffering! You've lost someone, you should know how fucking awful that feels!"

Blanca's ceramic cappuccino cup clinked against its saucer. He lowered his eyes in a look that came close to shame. "I'm sorry, Ash."

Ash averted his gaze back to Eiji. "You should be apologizing to him, not me."

Outside, it began to rain. Gentle drops against the glass soon became a steady rhythmic beat that filled the awkward silence that had fallen.

Ash inhaled deeply, collecting himself. "But anyway, he took it well in the moment— as well as he could have anyway." Ash turned to glare at Blanca. "Though he's not fond of you…" his eyes narrowed, searching for the right word, "watching over my every move." He looked back at Eiji. "But… he doesn't look so hot today."

In the building across the street, Eiji lay with his face smashed into the couch. He had been that way for hours and Ash was certain he wouldn't move any time soon.

Ash propped an arm against the window. His forehead pressed against the glass, breath fogging up the window pane. "I just hope Sing doesn't get wise."

Blanca sighed. "As do I."

Sing placed a gentle hand on Eiji's shoulder. He knelt beside the couch, eyes filled with concern. "What's happened?" He asked.

Eiji had been improving; he hadn't been this depressed in months. It was now several hours past noon, and Eiji had not yet moved from the couch except to use the bathroom. He refused to eat or drink anything. Buddy had begged for pets that Eiji did not give. Sing knew something was up.

Eiji gave a noncommittal groan.

Sing frowned. He thought about threatening to call Dr. Madison, but they had both been trying to be more respectful to each other.

Sing ran a comforting hand up and down Eiji's back, smoothing his hair out of the way as he did so. "I'd really like it if you could tell me, Eiji," he said softly. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"Everything," Eiji grumbled into the couch.

Sing began to untangle Eiji's long hair. "Yesterday you laughed at a meme I showed you over dinner," Sing began. "And that's not a stand-alone thing. You've been smiling again, laughing again. How could everything possibly change overnight?"

Eiji groaned again but said nothing further.

"Where have you been going in the middle of the night?" He purposefully uttered the words as calmly and kindly as he could.

Eiji rolled over, turning to face him for the first time that day. "I really am just going outside to clear my head," he lied.

Sing studied his expression, looking for any sign of insincerity. "Clear your head from what?"

Ash's words rang in Eiji's head like a church bell 'Just let him take care of you,' he had said, referring to Sing.

With great effort, Eiji shifted so that he was sitting upright. "He's not coming back anytime soon, is he?"

Sing frowned. "He's not coming back at all, Eiji."

Eiji's eyes fluttered shut. He knew that was wrong, but still, moisture gathered beneath his eyes. "He's really dead." It felt sacrilegious to speak such a lie.

Perhaps in the past, Sing would have lost his temper. He might have reminded Eiji that this had happened before and that this was why it was so dangerous for him to follow measly signs of hope. But since Eiji had returned home, he was putting in more effort to treat him more gently. 'Maybe Eiji doesn't respond well to tough love,' Dr. Madison had suggested. Old habits die hard, and he was still struggling to make the shift, but when he was able to keep his head on straight, he did the best he could.

So, Sing didn't yell or even show his annoyance. 'Show him the love you bury,' another suggestion from Dr. Madison.

Sing rose from the floor and joined Eiji on the couch. "He might not be coming back, but I'm so glad you're still here with me."

Eiji nodded, wordlessly.

"After that day in the hospital," Sing began. Eiji knew the day without him needing to elaborate. "I came back here. I had already taken Buddy back to my place the day before, but I came back here to just— honestly, I don't know why, but I did. Maybe to torture myself, Eiji, I dunno. That damned gun was still on the ground. There was glass everywhere and police tape." Sing inhaled sharply, suddenly overcome with emotion, but his voice remained level. "I was really angry with you that day. We had fought before you told me to leave the hospital. And hell, I was still angry with why you were in the fu— why you were admitted. It hurt, Eiji. It still does. But then after coming here, I realized I could have been looking at a much worse scene." Images of blood-stained wood and a lifeless corpse flashed violently through Sing's mind. He took a deep breath. "I was lucky to even be fighting with you at all.

"Whatever happened that day— divine intervention, Blanca, him— it saved your life. I could have been looking at a blood-stained floor and chalk outlines—" Sing looked away from Eiji to conceal tears. "I was less angry after that." He wiped his eyes. "And look, I'm going to worry about you for the rest of my life. So, yeah, he's not coming back, but I'm not going anywhere. Ever. And I can only pray— do you know that? I pray? Me, Eiji. I'm not religious, I don't pray. But I pray for you, because otherwise I'm helpless—" He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "And anyway, I can only pray that you will stay here with me too."

Sing finally looked at Eiji. Eiji's eyes were so red they looked painful. Rivers of water flowed freely down his cheeks. Eiji wiped his running nose on the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Despite his pitiful appearance, Sing desperately wished to pull Eiji close and kiss the tears from his cheeks. But he wanted more than that. He wanted to kiss him, properly kiss him. Hard stop. But because he loved Eiji, he never would, even though every bone in his body ached for it.

"Will you please stay?" Sing asked, voice tender and loving.

Eiji nodded, now sobbing. He pressed himself into Sing's strong chest and mumbled into his shirt. "I'm gonna stay, I'm gonna stay."

Sing stoked his hair. "Promise me, Eiji— but only if you mean it."

Eiji wailed. "I mean it, Sing, I mean it. I promise."

Sing placed a ghost of a kiss on the crown of Eiji's head. "The way you feel for him— that's how I feel for you. I wish you could comprehend how devastated I would be if you died."

Agony escaped Eiji in heaving sounds. "I don't deserve that."

Sing shook his head, "I don't care."

They understood one another better after that. Sing tried to move further and further from his natural instinct of tough love, and Eiji tried to be kinder to Sing overall. Eiji knew what it was like to love someone you could never have and he finally understood that Sing's love for him was deep and unfleeting. And he understood that he had greatly hurt Sing, yet Sing held no grudge. All he cared about was Eiji remaining on this earth.

The deep sadness that was re-ignited in Eiji upon learning of Ash's ten-year deal, slowly started to subside. The initial shock of two more years had worn off, and now, he was left with something to look forward to. Although, his mind did still run circles around itself trying to fathom what the FBI could want from Ash's brain and 'unique skill set' as he put it.

Sing noticed the shift in Eiji's mood but was too scared to say anything. At least, he didn't say anything to Eiji. But to Dr. Madison, who he had started to see as a patient, he did mention the change.

She had been reluctant to take him on as a patient.

"You already know my situation," Sing had argued. "Please, I need someone to talk to and you seem to do a good job with Eiji. Please, I'm desperate."

She had offered to give him another recommendation.

"I don't have the energy to explain this whole fucked up situation to someone new," Sing had rebutted.

In the end, she agreed, but only because Eiji also agreed. At first, he hated the thought of sharing his therapist, but after hearing Sing's case, he consented.

And when Sing told her about Eiji's recent behavior of sneaking out late at night followed by an improvement in mood, she had told him to watch him closer than ever.

And so Sing did. He continued to stay with Eiji even though he'd burned through his savings. He had to sublet his own apartment to one of the guys he knew from Chinatown.

Eiji continued to improve, while Sing's own mental health then started to deteriorate. He became paranoid and jumpy. He kept a watchful eye on Eiji while still trying to not seem too overbearing. It wasn't exactly working, but they also had started to fight less.

Eiji became bearable. He started smiling more, laughing more. He was now eating well on a regular, consistent basis. If Sing had to guess, he'd gained a good fifteen or twenty pounds, all of which he desperately needed. And he started to run again, in reasonable amounts. He started gaining muscle. And then there was his hair. Though he still refrained from cutting it, he put more care into it now. He washed it and dried it daily, keeping it silky, sleek, and tidy. It had been dull before, and now it caught the sun in ways that made Sing do double takes.

Dr. Madison told Sing that he should be proud of himself; Eiji could not have made such progress on his own. Sing tried to feel proud, but deep down, he was more anxious than ever. All he could think about was the threat of a third attempt— maybe Eiji was only improving because he knew the end was near. Dr. Madison had surely implied the threat of such a thing when she told Sing to watch him closer than ever.

And then there was a new kind of guilt. Eiji was now more attractive than he had been ever since his passing. That, combined with his improved mood, left Sing unsure how to handle himself. He was more in love with Eiji now than ever. And yet, he knew he still couldn't have him. He never could, but that could not stop him from wanting him.

This added immeasurably to his stress.

But above all, the stress of Eiji's fragile life was the heaviest thing on his mind.

And Eiji, whose tough exterior had finally started to soften, noticed his despair.

One night, as they ate in front of the TV, Eiji noticed the glaze over Sing's eyes. It was a look he knew all too well from his own reflection.

"Sing," Eiji began cautiously.

"Hmm?" Sing hummed in question but did not turn to look at Eiji. He continued staring blankly at the TV screen.

"You've not been well," Eiji said simply.

This caught Sing's attention. It was like his sense of self control shattered under the weight of Eiji's simple, yet powerful, words. He turned to look at Eiji. "Ha! Really, Eiji, you don't say? Do you really think so? Have I not been well?"

Eiji's lips pinched together in clear discomfort. "Did you— Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do I wanna talk about it," Sing repeated sarcastically under his breath. "Christ, Eiji." He stood, fingertips digging into his scalp in frustration.

Eiji held his breath. "It's okay if you don't," he said meekly.

Sing began to pace the room. He settled himself by the window, staring up at the building across the street.

"I'm sorry, Sing. I—" Eiji watched Sing from across the room. He could see the tension in Sing's shoulders even from where he was seated. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Sing scoffed. "Oh, I've been upset for weeks."

"I'm sorry," Eiji repeated, voice now barely audible across the room.

"But hey, ya wanna talk about it? Let's talk."

Eiji closed his eyes, bracing for whatever was to come. They hadn't talked this gruffly to each other in weeks.

"Why the fuck have you been so happy these days?"

Taken aback, Eiji flinched. "What?"

Sing spun around. "Tell me, Eiji. I need to know what's going on in that head of yours. I mean, you go from trying to blow your brains out right in the middle of our— your— goddamn living room, to getting your hopes up over one little word. And then you saw reality and lost hope again and now—" he gestured at Eiji. "And now this. You seem happy, you look healthy you—" he slapped a hand over his chest. "You're doing better than me these days."

Eiji's face twisted in anger. He straightened his spine defensively. "And?" His voice was sharp. "What are you trying to say? Don't you want me to get better? Why are you so upset?"

Sing walked toward Eiji, leaning one hand on the arm of the sofa and peering into Eiji's eyes. "Because, Eiji, that's what people do."

"Wha—"

Sing held up a finger and continued talking. "That's what people do once they've made up their mind. They 'get better'" his fingers formed air quotes, "They seem happy. And maybe they are. But it's because they've decided to die." Tears filled Sing's eyes. "That's what they do when they have a plan." He released his grip on the sofa and stood up straight once again. "So, yeah, I'm not fucking doing well."

Eiji shook his head, eyes wide.

"And you promised me you wouldn't. That's what hurts so much."

Eiji shook his head again. "I'm not breaking that promise. I don't have anything planned, Sing. Really, I'm just—"

"Just getting better?!" Sing asked, wildly. "I mean, really, you could at least have the decency to not lie to my fucking face!"

Eiji began to tremble. "I'm not lying, Sing."

Sing slammed his fist against the coffee table. "Bullshit!"

Eiji was sniveling now, tears drenching his face. "Honestly, Sing—"

"Don't you know what it would do to me if you ki— if you were actually successful? It would kill me, Eiji. Kill me."

Eiji looked away from Sing, unable to meet his eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking uncontrollably.

Sing moved so that he was standing in Eiji's sightline. "Are you listening to what I'm saying?"

Eiji nodded but averted his eyes once more.

With palpable anger and frustration, Sing grabbed at his own shirt collar and tugged at it rhythmically, causing the thin fabric to balloon and sag several times. "Fuck's sake, Eiji! I'm IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

Eiji flinched, folding in on himself. His hands ran into his hair as if shielding himself from Sing's outrage.

Sing stood there, staring at him, trying to calm his breath. His chest rose and fell shakily. "And you're killing me," he said, his voice a more acceptable volume but still with the same frantic energy.

Eiji said nothing. He did nothing. He stayed there, folded in half with his forehead pressed into his knees. His body shook uncontrollably.

Buddy, who had been lounging by the TV, was now cowered under the kitchen table.

More guilt passed over Sing as he took in the scene surrounding him. The man— the very thing— he loved most in all the world now sat shaking with fear before him.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself. "Fuck," he said again, voice cracking with tears.

Every fiber of his being wanted to apologize, to say something redeeming, and yet he couldn't conjure up anything besides: "I need some air. Don't fucking kill yourself while I'm gone."

Eiji whimpered like an injured animal. It was a painful, vulnerable sound that made Sing's eyes burn. Buddy growled at him as he passed the kitchen table. Sing frowned tearily at the dog; he slipped on his sneakers and was out the door.

Outside, summer was quickly approaching. The air was humid from an afternoon rain that had since passed. The sun had already started to set when Sing stepped out onto the rooftop. He didn't come up here often, and when he did, he always wondered why he didn't do so more frequently. He looked up at the sky, eyes searching for signs of more rain. The clouds were brighter than they had been earlier and they raced along in the breeze.

He exhaled shakily. He continued staring at the sky. "Fuck you, Ash," he said the forbidden name with hatred on his tongue. "You better pray we don't end up in the same afterlife." He looked down at his feet and kicked at a bit of loose concrete. It went sailing across the rooftop, stopping only when it smacked one of the large air conditioners.

Sing walked to the edge of the roof and peered over. The ledge that lined the building was the height of Sing's chest. He leaned his arms on the ledge and stared out into the city, facing away from the cursed building across the street. Sing hated that building, he hated the mere sight of it. He stayed like this for a while before fishing his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Max's number.

"I fucked up. Big time," Sing said as soon as Max answered.

He could hear the sadness in Max's voice. "Tell me."

And so Sing did. He told Max about Eiji's behavior over the past few weeks. He told Max of his worries. He recalled the fight— or rather the scolding he had just given Eiji. He kept it vague, but Max had a way of pulling the details out of him. And he told him of the guilt he now felt.

"Don't overthink it, Sing. People fight. Honestly, I'm surprised you just now lost your temper. You've been bottling that up since he—"

"Please don't say it," Sing interrupted.

"Sorry. But you know what I'm getting at."

Sing nodded wordlessly. There was a pause. The wind blew into the speaker. Sing drew in a sharp breath. "He's scared of me now. He was curled into a ball, shaking, when I left."

Max made a sympathetic noise. "I don't mean to sound cruel, but he had it coming. Maybe this will be a good reality check."

"No, I don't want him to be scared of me," Sing whined, Max could hear that he was near tears.

On the other end of the phone, Max was shaking his head. "Sing. You scared him, but he's not scared of you. There is a big difference there."

Sing groaned. "I dunno."

"I do," Max said firmly. "People fight. It's human. Just, cool off a bit more and then go down and check on him."

Sing nodded. "Thanks, Max," he said quietly, voice hoarse.

Two hours passed before Sing gathered the strength to make his way back inside. When he returned, the apartment was quiet. The TV had been turned off, and so had all the lights, save the table lamp beside the couch. The kitchen, which had dishes piled high in the sink when he left, was now spotless. The gentle hum of the dishwasher filled the air. The countertops smelled of disinfectant.

Buddy uncurled himself from beneath the kitchen table and stood to greet Sing. He walked toward him tentatively. Sing outstretched a hand for the kind dog to smell.

"Sorry, Bud," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you." He gave the dog a pat before scanning the apartment for Eiji. "Now, where's our Eiji?" He asked the dog quietly.

Not seeing him, he made his way down the hall. He knocked softly on the bathroom door before easing it open. "Eiji?" No one was there, but Eiji's toothbrush was on the sink. He continued further down the hall, trying to keep his wits about him. Anxiety bubbled under his skin.

He nudged open the bedroom door. Inside, Eiji was curled up in the middle of the bed with the comforter nearly burying him; only his face peeked out of the plush fabric. His eyes, which were red and puffy, were closed in a relaxed sort of way that indicated sleep.

Looking at him, Sing's heart ached. For a moment, he simply stood in the doorway, unable to move. Then, his feet carried him forward. He reached out and grabbed his pillow off the bed, with the plan of retreating to the couch.

It was then that Eiji's eyes fluttered open. He had been on the brink of sleep, but not quite yet under its spell.

"Stay," Eiji's voice was small.

Sing stopped in his tracks, looking down at Eiji. His eyebrows raised in question. "You want me to stay?"

Eiji nodded without speaking a word.

Sing's forehead crinkled. He remembered the last time he laid in Eiji's bed while the other man was beside him. And he remembered waking without him… to the sound of a gunshot. He frowned at Eiji.

"I didn't like how it ended the last time we slept in the same bed."

In answer, Eiji raised the comforter in invitation. "It won't end that way this time," he said with conviction.

Sing raised an eyebrow. "You better not be full of shit."

"You already tell me I am like twice a day," Eiji replied, a whisper of humor on his tongue. "But not this time. Promise," Eiji added softly.

Sing couldn't help but smile sadly. He placed the pillow he'd been holding back on the bed and pulled off his jeans, leaving them in a puddle at his feet. "Scoot over, then," he said affectionately.

Eiji moved over an inch or two but was still far closer to the middle of the bed than seemed appropriate. Sing weaseled in beside him. Eiji adjusted the comforter so that it was draped over both of them.

Sing shifted onto his side, finding Eiji's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Eiji shook his head, causing his hair to tangle with the bedclothes. He spoke softly. "I had it coming. I was wondering when you would lose it." His eyes shifted to the sheets. "I think I wanted you to," he added in a near whisper.

Sing reached out a hand and smoothed Eiji's hair. "I'm sorry I scared you," he said, ignoring Eiji's words.

Eiji shook his head again and propped himself up on his elbow. "You only startled me," he corrected.

"You were shaking," Sing reminded him.

Eiji's eyes dropped to the bedsheets. "I was ashamed, not scared."

Sing sighed.

Eiji's eyes lifted and met Sing's again. "You deserve to be with someone better than me." Sing opened his mouth to argue, but Eiji continued, "But I'm not going to leave you. I have nothing planned. I promise you that, Sing. I really am starting to feel better… I'm thinking more clearly these days. And I can see just how horrible I've been to you. I'm ashamed of myself—" he shivered despite being buried beneath the comforter. "Deeply ashamed."

"Eiji, I—"

"Even though I don't know how to love you the way you love me, I shouldn't push you away like I do. … I have said so many awful things to you over the years. And I should never have drugged you or tried to kill myself, especially with you in the other room or—" Tears broke off Eiji's words. He exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Sing," he said, voice weak and cracking. "I wish I could go back and fix what I did." His teeth chattered. "I'm so ashamed and so, so sorry, Sing."

"Shhh, it's alright, Eiji. I forgive you." He pulled the comforter up to Eiji's chin in a measly attempt to warm his shivering body. "I will always forgive you, Eiji."

"I don't think you should," Eiji said through gritted teeth.

"Too bad." Sing inched closer and pulled Eiji into his chest. A silent forgiveness. He held him, though loosely enough for Eiji to pull away if he wanted to. "I will always forgive you," he repeated.

Eiji was the best thing Sing had. He was his reason to continue living. He couldn't afford to not forgive him.

Sing felt his shirt grow wet with Eiji's tears. Eventually, Eiji's body sagged with sleep. And despite Eiji's words, he couldn't help but wonder if Eiji was being truthful now. He was frightened of falling asleep and waking to Eiji's absence. So he fought sleep, simply holding the other man for a long while. At some point, his consciousness faded without his consent.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: The Fourth Man

When morning came, it would have been easy to pretend. Although no longer in Sing's arms, Eiji still lay beside him, not even an arm's length away. He could have closed his eyes and pretended they weren't in bed together as some sort of penance Eiji had decided to serve. He could have pretended they were in bed together for other reasons— romantic reasons. That was as far as his brain let him get. That train of thought went nowhere good. Sing knew this to be true because he had followed such thoughts before; they led only to ripe pain and an increased sense of loneliness and reckless decisions.

He allowed himself to admire Eiji as he slept, watching the rise and fall of his chest, thanking a god he wasn't sure he believed in for Eiji's life.

And then he pulled himself out of the love-induced trance that threatened to consume him. He stretched and stood, slipping out of bed gracefully without waking the other man.

When Eiji woke, Sing was gone. Eiji stretched, appreciating the warmth and comfort of a real bed— one that didn't belong to a hospital or to Max's guest room. To wake up in his own bed— which he supposed was now more Sing's bed than his— was a luxury he had forgotten to miss. Every muscle in his body felt better than it had in some time. He was still young, yet his body was perhaps too old for a permanent residency on the couch.

He glanced at the clock; it was still early. He shifted his position, nestling deeper into the soft mattress and let his eyelids sag. He sighed with a rare feeling of contentedness and let his mind wander before slowly drifting back to sleep.

Ash barged through the bedroom door, causing Eiji to startle.

"It's freezing out there," he hissed, as he stood in the doorway.

"Maybe put on winter clothes," Eiji said with a smile on his face.

"I'm wearing pants," Ash replied.

"Yeah, and a short-sleeved shirt."

Ash began to walk across the room, shutting the door behind himself. "I'm not going to bed in a sweater."

Eiji laughed. "I hope you're not going to bed in jeans either."

Ash looked down at his legs. "Yeah, you're right." He stood in the center of the room and stripped off his pants and socks. "Much better."

Eiji laughed again. "You need pajamas! You'll just be even colder now!" Eiji was dressed in a long-sleeve pajama top paired with boxer shorts.

Ash met his eyes. There was mischief in his green gaze that Eiji couldn't decipher.

"What?" Eiji asked. He pushed himself up in bed, as if that would make him more in tune with Ash's shift in mood. "What?" He asked again with an awkward smile.

Ash walked quickly— nearly ran— across the room and pulled back Eiji's blanket.

"Ash! No!" Eiji rolled over using his back as a shield between himself and Ash.

But Ash was already in bed beside him. With a huge shit-eating grin, Ash snuggled up beside Eiji, burying his nose in Eiji's neck. "You're so warm," he mumbled against his skin.

Eiji tried to pull away but Ash had him tightly in his arms. "No, you're just cold!"

Ash chuckled, showering Eiji with warm puffs of air.

Eiji elbowed Ash off him. "Knock it off!" He laughed.

Ash pressed his feet to the back of Eiji's thighs. They were as cold as dead, unthawed fish.

"Ahhh!" Eiji yelped violently, his back arching away from Ash.

Ash cackled with laughter. "Quiet down," he said breathlessly. "The guys will think we're in here fuckin'."

Eiji maneuvered so that he was now facing Ash. His brown eyes were now more black than they were brown. "Mmm, no." His eyes studied Ash's face. In the winter, he had no trace of freckles and his skin was nearly as pale as the snow falling from the sky. His blond hair was less bleached at this time of year, looking more like a halo of gold, rather than the sun itself dancing upon the ocean waves.

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"You wouldn't make me yelp," Eiji said simply. Ash's eyebrows creased. "At least not in pain. You'd be so gentle."

"Hmmph," Ash rolled on top of Eiji, pinning his hands beside his head. "Oh, you think I'm gentle in bed, huh?"

Despite Ash's sudden dominance, Eiji was utterly calm, more so than he had been all day. "Mmm maybe not always," he began, "But you'd be gentle with me."

Ash's stomach flipped. He opened his mouth to argue, but Eiji spoke first.

"I don't know why you put on this mask of— whatever this is— Ash, but I see through it." He moved his wrist upward and Ash immediately released his grip. "See?" Eiji ran a hand through Ash's hair, pushing his blond locks over his forehead only for them to tumble back down in silky strands the second Eiji moved his hand. "You wouldn't hurt me even if I asked you to."

Ash rolled off Eiji, face pointed to the ceiling. He released a heavy sigh. "Why are you always right?"

Eiji smiled sweetly. He threaded his fingers with Ash's; they weren't so cold anymore. "One of us has to be."

Ash elbowed him good-naturedly in the side. "You're a dick."

"Hmmm," Eiji hummed in amusement. "Whatever you say, Ash."

"We've been sleeping together."

For a moment, Sing said nothing else, letting the words hang in the air like a raincloud. He watched Dr. Madison's stoic expression falter. Her eyes grew wide with worry. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sing cut her off. "Not like that."

Relief flooded her face, and she became neutral once again. She cleared her throat. "Just sleeping?"

Sing nodded. "For a few weeks now. Nothing sexual. Just sleeping."

She jotted something on her notepad. "You're good for him, Sing, but—"

"I know," Sing interrupted. "I can't be good for him in that way."

She nodded. "At least not yet. Maybe at some point, but not now. He's so fragile, right now."

Sing's head shook in disagreement. "We'll never feel the same way about each other. I've accepted it."

Dr. Madison shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Her manicured fingers tapped against her clipboard. "You know, Sing," she began. Sing braced himself for whatever would come next. "I've told Eiji countless times— and I know you've also told him countless times— that it would be best for him to try and move on."

She paused and Sing felt his eyes begin to sting. Without her continuing, he already knew what she was getting at.

"And I know this is not what you want to hear," she gave a sympathetic chuckle, "I can see it in your face, you know what I'm going to say and you hate it."

Sing's head fell to his hands, fingers pressing into his temples. "Just say it," he said through gritted teeth.

"If you know you'll never feel the same way for each other," she paused, not wanting to say the words she knew she must, "Well, then maybe you too should try and move on."

He knew the words were coming but they still hurt. Teardrops darkened his jeans. For several minutes, he could say nothing at all. Then finally, he forced his head upward. He looked at Dr. Madison with red eyes. When he spoke, he rolled his eyes at his own words, for he knew he sounded just like Eiji. "I can't."

"Have you tried?"

Sing threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, and let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah."

"Care to elaborate?" She asked carefully.

Images flashed through Sing's mind. Mostly women. A few men.

The women typically had long hair and dark, kind eyes. They were typically on the shorter side with feisty personalities. He had properly dated only a few of the women, the vast majority had been one-night stands or short flings that never had the intention to go further.

As for the men, they had no consistency in appearance. He didn't care what they looked like. There had been exactly four of them. Unlike the women, they were all bad decisions in Sing's eyes, even in the moment. All but one had been very brief hookups with men that he'd met in a local gay bar, going there with only the intention of filling the gaping hole in his heart. But it never worked. No matter how dark the room was, or how hard his imagination was working, he could never truly trick himself into thinking it was Eiji. And afterward, he had only hated himself beyond consolation.

He told no one about the men he slept with, as if saying it aloud made it real.

Only one man hadn't been a hookup in search of pleasure and pain relief: the fourth man.

"Sing?" Dr. Madison prompted.

Sing's eyes refocused and then shifted to the floor. "No," he said firmly. "No, I don't care to elaborate."

"I get it, this can be a very vulnerable topic to navigate, but I cannot help you if you don't let me."

His face twisted in spite. He recognized her words as ones he himself had spoken to Eiji many times throughout the years. "Who said I need help in this area?"

"Is it not why you're here?"

He crossed his arms angrily. "I'm here to cope with my best friend trying to k— off himself. Twice."

Dr. Madison nodded calmly, not at all rattled by his anger. "You have also talked quite a lot about loving said best friend. I am only trying to help you work through these feelings."

Upset, Sing suddenly stood. He paced the office like a caged tiger. "Fine," he spat. He could hear himself; he sounded like Eiji, exploding at the people trying to help him. "Fine, I've fucked other people. Happy? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No, I want to hear how you felt about that. How do you feel when you try to move on?"

He laughed sardonically.

The men made him feel like the dirtiest human to roam the planet, but he did not consider the men trying to move on. The women? They usually left him feeling indifferent and lonely at worst.

He continued pacing, running a hand through his short hair. "It feels like shit, okay? It has never led to anything good. That's why I stopped."

"When did you stop?"

He wasn't sure if he should count the fourth man. After all, the fourth man had not been Sing trying to move on. It had also not been a distraction or for pleasure. He did it because it was necessary.

He stopped pacing and stood awkwardly by the door. "When Eiji tried to die the first time."

Dr. Madison frowned. "Because you saw what attempting to move on did to Eiji?"

He gave a single nod. "I didn't want to end up like him."

"So you've not been with anyone in over a year?"

Sing's lips pressed into a tense line. "Not quite."

She lifted her eyebrows above her round frames. "Oh?"

"Do you know who Blanca is?" Sing asked, voice frayed.

Her forehead creased. She did, in fact, know quite a bit about Blanca. Eiji had talked about him at length, especially in recent months. After all, he was the most likely reason Eiji was still alive, in everyone's eyes beside Eiji's.

"...Yes."

Sing caught her expression, reading her mind. "God, no, I did not sleep with that snake."

She gave an awkward smile. "Sing? You've lost me."

An exasperated breath left him. He sat back down on the chair beside the doctor. "After Eiji was discharged, Max went looking for Blanca. Someone saved Eiji's life and it was either Blanca or— you know, him. But that's illogical. Anyway, Max wanted to find Blanca— to find out if he knew anything— to see if he would tell us anything. But we didn't have any way of contacting him."

"Okay? I'm sorry, I'm still not following."

"Let me finish."

She nodded.

"When he was still alive, Blanca had been hired to kill him. Yut Lung. That was his employer. He's still alive— still here in New York. If anyone knew where to find fucking Blanca, it was him."

Understanding washed over her. "You slept with him to get information on Blanca?"

Embarrassed and ashamed, Sing averted his eyes. "I hated every second of it."

For once, Dr. Madison seemed to not know what to say. She simply stared at him, eyes wide.

Sing glanced at her briefly. "Eiji doesn't know. He can't know. It was easy enough. Yut Lung can be very transactional. It also didn't hurt that he's always had a not-so-secret thing for me." He looked at her again and this time held her gaze. "But Eiji can't know."

"Everything you say in this room stays confidential, Sing."

He nodded. "We didn't learn shit from Blanca," he said, eager to move along. "I know you must be wondering."

He stood then. "I don't have energy for any more today." He reached for the doorknob.

"So it was all for nothing? You sleeping with that man?"

Sing could hear the genuine distress in her voice.

He gave her a sad smile but no proper response. He pulled the door open. "Until next week, Doc."

"But Sing— That's huge, there's so much to unpack—" She called after him, but he was already gone.

When Sing arrived home, Eiji was making dinner. It was an odd shift, but since Sing had lost his temper, Eiji seemed set on being the well-behaved version of himself that Sing longed for.

Guilt eased him back into his bed with Sing beside him. He was determined to be there when Sing drifted to sleep and when he woke. No matter how many times he said it, Sing did not believe Eiji was feeling better. He did not believe that Eiji was not secretly plotting his suicide. He slept beside Sing to provide comfort and reassurance. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sing walked in the door, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He did not pet Buddy or give Eiji more than a head nod in greeting. Typically, he would be ecstatic to see Eiji cooking, even though it was becoming more and more commonplace these days. However, he didn't give it much thought today. He flopped onto the couch, face first.

Eiji called him to the table when dinner was ready and it took everything in Sing's being to raise his body from the plush cushions.

In a strange way, he understood how much effort it must take Eiji to eat day in and day out.

"What did she say to you?" Eiji asked when Sing finally joined him at the table.

"Dr. Madison?"

Eiji nodded. "That's where you were, right?"

Sing looked at his food, starting with his miso soup. "Yeah, that's where I was."

"You're not okay," Eiji observed, worry creasing his brow.

"Ha," Sing laughed sarcastically to himself.

Eiji watched him but said nothing further.

Without another word, Sing finished eating, put his dishes in the sink, and walked down the hall. Eiji could hear him as he readied himself for bed. It was only 7:30 and yet the bed squeaked under Sing's weight. Eiji followed him.

"You're already going to sleep?"

Sing, who was lying in bed with his back to the door, simply shrugged in answer.

Minutes later, Eiji joined him. He lay there, facing Sing whose eyes were already closed. "Sing."

"What?" He asked, without opening his eyes.

"What happened today?"

"I don't want to say."

"Did I do something? I mean—" Eiji paused, awkwardly. He had done so much to upset Sing. Something new, he supposed is what he meant. "Something— I don't know— new? Did I piss you off?"

Sing's eyes opened. "No," he said truthfully. "I'm angry with myself." That was all he said. He turned and switched off the bedside lamp, letting darkness consume them.

"Does it upset you that I've started sleeping in here?" Eiji asked Sing when they woke the next morning.

Sing stared at Eiji. His hair was a mess and his glasses were not yet on his face. He wore a pajama shirt that, surprisingly, only ever belonged to Eiji.

"No, of course not."

"Would you tell me if it did?"

"If it bothered me, I'd move to the couch," he lied. He would have never moved from Eiji's side unless Eiji himself had asked him to. Sleeping beside him was proof he was alive.

Eiji nodded. "I just don't want to cause you more pain."

Lightning ran through Sing's heart. He shook his head and hoped Eiji couldn't decipher his expression with his lack of spectacles. "I'm glad you're here."

It wasn't a lie.

Another week passed. Ash had stopped watching Eiji.

Blanca noticed.

"Do you no longer care what happens to him?" His eyes raked over Ash; he was sprawled out on the sofa dressed in yesterday's clothes.

Ash glared into Blanca's soul. "Surely, you've noticed."

"He doesn't spend his nights on the couch, these days," Blanca observed.

Ash stood abruptly and walked to the window. Outside, it stormed, so much so that the view to Eiji's living room was greatly masked. Ash wiped the condensation from the window; it made no difference.

"He's started sleeping with Sing," Ash said gravely.

For a moment, Blanca said nothing. Then, he broke into roaring laughter.

Ash's head whipped toward him. "Don't mock me!"

Blanca stifled his laughter behind the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry, Ash."

Ash huffed and swung his head back toward the rainy street.

"I laugh at the absurdity."

"Explain," he growled.

"He didn't spend eight years mourning you to start sleeping with Sing after learning you're alive. That's ridiculous. Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"

"I'm a realist."

Blanca shook his head. "You're an idiot." He picked up a book from the coffee table. "Besides, I see no other signs they've been intimate. They comfort each other here and there, but otherwise, there is no hugging, certainly no kissing."

Ash considered this. "Maybe there is no kissing. Maybe it's just fucking."

"If it is just fucking, it means nothing."

Ash was quiet for a long, tense beat of time. He of all people could not pass judgment on that. "It would mean something to Sing."

Blanca paused, cautious. "I don't think Eiji would be that cruel."

"Unless he sees it as a kindness and not as cruelty."

"Perhaps, but I see no evidence of intimacy in Eiji's gait."

Again, Ash's head turned violently toward Blanca. "Jesus, Blanca!"

Blanca marked his page and set his book down. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You do think it would be that way around, don't you?"

Ash's eyes screwed shut. "Fuck! I'm trying not to think about the logistics of it!"

"Of course, if it's Eiji on top then it's no surprise we see no hesitation in Sing's steps."

At Blanca's vulgar, insensitive comment, Ash left the window. He stormed across the room and grabbed Blanca by his shirt collar. "That's too damn far," he spat. "Not to mention fucking racist," he added with a snarl.

The sly smile Blanca had been wearing wavered. "Are they not both Asian?"

Ash pulled tighter at Blanca's shirt, fingers digging into the shirt so tightly the buttons squeaked at the tension. "Ya know, sometimes, I wish I could slit your throat and leave you to bleed out all over this expensive fucking carpet."

"Relax, Ash, I'm only trying to lighten the situation," Blanca said, maintaining his ever-present calm.

"You're doing a piss poor job of that," Ash hissed, before releasing his shirt with a shove.

With that, Ash stomped away from the living room, making his way toward the door. Blanca turned, adjusting his shirt collar as he did so, and watched Ash's back as he walked. Ash reached for the door.

"You know you're not allowed out during the day without my strict supervision."

Frustrated, Ash threw his head back and groaned. His long fingers dug into his scalp, tangling with his fine, blond hair. "I can't keep this up!"

"Then go to DC. They'd rather you be there anyway."

Groaning again, though less agonized this time, Ash sank to the floor, kneeling on the wood planks. The anger that had been boiling in him suddenly cooled. All that was left was defeat. "No, not just staying inside… any of it. I need to go to him. I need to—"

"What you need to do is resign yourself to two more years. After that, you're free."

Ash sank down further, the seat of his jeans connecting with the floor. He collapsed, head thudding against the wood. "I'm getting old," he whined. "I need to go to him! This isn't how it's meant to be!"

Blanca watched him, crumpled on the floor in anguish. "Nothing in your life has gone the way it was 'meant to be,' and yet here we are," he told him matter of factly.

"Do you think that helps?!" Ash shouted, face twisting away from the ceiling to see Blanca still on the sofa across the room. "Why do you talk like that all the fucking time?! Can't you show a little human emotion once in a goddamn while?!"

Blanca frowned. "My apologies, Ash."

"My apologies," Ash mocked. "You sound like a robot— or maybe you'd prefer an alien!"

Blanca's eyes left Ash. His head circled back to the coffee table, picking up the book he had set down earlier. "Oh, go back your moping."

Ash shifted his gaze, glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you fuck off."

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: His Day 

It was early August. Eiji had long grown accustomed to Sing’s presence in his everyday life. They were getting along better than either of them could remember since he had left them. They were both in therapy, healing from their own tribulations. 

During the spring, they had shared the bedroom and continued to do so throughout early June. However, once the weather consistently reached over eighty to ninety degrees Fahrenheit, they both decided it was best to part ways. There were two window units in Eiji’s apartment, one for the main room and one for the bedroom. They got the job done, though in the hottest weeks of summer, they more so took the edge off, rather than cooling the space effectively. 

“It’s too hot to sleep beside another body,” Sing had argued one night in late June when temperatures were still above eighty even after the sun had set. He had looked at Eiji who entered the bedroom in nothing but sleep shorts. 

Eiji agreed and moved himself to the couch.

It wasn’t the heat, but rather Eiji’s state of minimal dress during the summer months that Sing could not handle.

Sing tried not to make it obvious, but he sensed Eiji understood anyway. 

Now, it was August. Sing hated August, almost as much as he hated January. They were the worst months of the year. In January, he died. In August, he should have been another year older. In August, Eiji fell apart all over again.

This year, however, was different. Eiji did not exhibit the same sadness, though there was, without a doubt, something off about him. 

During the day, Eiji was busy. It was summer which meant the busy season for his photography business. He spent the days at shoots, often rising before the sun and returning after it set. It seemed that all of his clients wanted pictures that featured the sun at either the start of its day or its end. He often came home for lunch and a break from the heat. Of course, Sing was typically not home during these hours. 

Dr. Madison had deemed him safe enough to resume engagement shoots. Wedding shoots had always been off-limits in Eiji’s mind; just the thought of spending a day capturing someone’s happiest moments— moments he may never have— was torturous. And yet, now that he knew Ash was out there— alive— he considered the opportunity. 

He knew it would worry both Sing and his therapist if he started picking up wedding gigs, yet it was suddenly tempting when a client of his asked for Eiji to do her wedding after she’d been so happy with the engagement photos. 

“I don’t normally do weddings,” Eiji had told her back when she asked him in July. But the client had been convincing, telling Eiji she never liked herself in photos. It was the exact reason she and her fiance had waited so long to get engagement photos in the first place. But in Eiji’s photos, she looked comfortable and relaxed. She liked herself when captured in his film. 

“I’ve never experienced that before, I am normally so on edge when being photographed,” she had told him. “I usually can’t stand it.”

The way she said it was beyond the typical insecurity he encountered with clients on a regular basis. The way she said it— with her gaze on the floor and nervous, fidgeting hands— reminded him of Ash.

And so, he agreed. In August, he would photograph her wedding. He agreed before knowing the exact day.

“It will be August twelfth,” she told him after he had agreed. 

Eiji instantly regretted his decision. That was Ash’s day. He knew Sing would, rightfully so, have a fit if Eiji was gone all day at a wedding on his day. 

So, Eiji waited to tell him. He figured there was no point in worrying him longer than necessary. 

Now, just three days out from the day, Sing said to him over dinner: “The twelfth is almost here. I was thinking we could go visit him if you want.”

Eiji stopped chewing the bite of Chinese take-out in his mouth. He stared at Sing, realizing he must tell him of his plans for the twelfth.

“What?” Sing asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Eiji swallowed his food. “That’s not it.” He used his chopsticks to grab a bite of lo mein. “I um—” he chewed the noodles and swallowed. “Already have plans.”

Sing raised his eyebrows in question. He breathed, trying to retain his composure. “And?”

Eiji averted his eyes back to his food. “And it’s an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to—”

“What is it?” Sing asked, voice sharp. “This all-day thing. ”

Eiji looked up, meeting his eyes. “It’s a wedding. I’m the photographer for a wedding.”

Sing stared at him, shock in his eyes.

Eiji said nothing further, letting silence fall. He knew Sing would likely blow up now. It was only a matter of time before his brain processed what Eiji had said.

“You don’t do weddings,” Sing said, surprisingly calm.

Eiji nodded. “I know.” He took another bite of food, trying to maintain normalcy. “But this client… I did engagement photos for her and she asked me to do her wedding as well.”

“On August twelfth.” It wasn’t a question.

Eiji nodded. “I said yes before I knew the date.”

Sing’s brows furrowed. “You’ve been busy all summer, but you said yes without checking your calendar?”

“I figured I could rearrange things if needed and—” He forced himself to take a breath. Eiji set his chopsticks on the table. He kneaded his fingers into his forehead. “I know it sounds like an excuse to run away that day, but that’s the truth, Sing. I—”

“No,” Sing began, interrupting him. “It sounds like an excuse to kill yourself on a day that you’re already supposed to be away.”

Eiji flinched as Sing used the words he always made a point of avoiding. 

Sing’s breath turned shaky. “You can’t even handle the words, but you’ll force me to handle—” he looked away, unable to finish the thought. He cleared his throat and blinked back tears. “That’s selfish, Eiji.”

“It’s a real wedding,” Eiji said softly. “I’m not lying to you.”

Sing simply scoffed in answer. 

Slowly, Eiji rose from his chair. He left the kitchen and walked down the hall. When he returned, he was holding a piece of glossy cardstock. “Here,” Eiji said. He slid it across the table. It was an invitation on which a short Korean woman smiled softly while gazing into the eyes of a taller, equally Korean, man.

“It’s a real wedding,” he said calmly. A few months ago, he would have been outraged with Sing for thinking so poorly of his intention, but now, he understood that Sing’s fears were more than justified. 

Sing’s eyes scanned the image before reading the text at the top of the invitation, pulling out the important details. 

August 12th. 

Ceremony. 1 PM.

Cocktail Hour. 5 PM.

Reception. 6 PM.

Sing looked back up at Eiji who was watching him expectantly. “Do you get a plus one?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Eiji’s face. He shook his head. “I’m not attending as a guest.”

Sing nodded. “Of course not.” His thumb played at the edge of the glossy paper. “Think I can crash it?”

Now Eiji did smile fully. “Ash would approve of that.”

Sing’s eyes narrowed. Eiji had been doing that off and on for the past few months— using his name. Each time it confused Sing, but he never asked what it was about. Maybe Dr. Madison was encouraging him to do so. Or maybe, less ideally, he still secretly thought he was alive. 

Sing folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t give a shit if he would approve or not.”

The smile fell from Eiji’s face. “It’s probably not a good idea though. She said it’s small scale. Family and close friends.”

Sing nodded. He met Eiji’s eyes. “I’ll trust you.”

Eiji teared up for the first time in weeks. “Thank you, Sing.”

Eiji stared at himself in the mirror.

He was dressed in a black button-down and black slacks, to blend into the background of the day. If it hadn’t been for his hair, he would have thought he looked handsome. It was pulled back into a sleek, low ponytail. Sing said it looked ‘fine.’ He could have used a stronger word, not that Eiji would have wanted him to. 

Regardless of what Sing thought, Eiji hated it.

He had hated his hair for the past eight years. He refused to cut it once Ash was no longer around— it was the only remaining part of him that Ash had ever touched— which only made it a more painful reminder of reality every time he looked in the mirror. Now that he knew Ash was still living, he hated it even more. Now, there was no reason to keep its length. And yet if he cut it now, Sing would certainly be alarmed. 

He thought about cutting it, saying Dr. Madison had urged him to do so in an attempt to move on, but he had never gathered the strength to do so. 

“Seriously, Eiji, it looks fine. Professional,” Sing said from over his shoulder.

Eiji’s eyes focused on Sing through the mirror. “I hate it.”

Sing’s eyes held the desire to challenge Eiji. He wanted to tell him he was allowed to cut it, as he had many times before, Eiji could see it. Instead, Sing said nothing. He stared at him a moment longer and then turned to walk from the room. 

“It looks sloppy,” Eiji continued. “It makes me look creepy.”

He heard Sing scoff. “You do not look creepy.” He popped back into the doorway. “You look very put together.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sharp,” he added. 

Eiji’s eyes glazed over.

“The guys said you looked sharp,” Ash said, a smirk on his face despite their current situation.

Eiji looked up from his mug of cream of potato soup. “Sharp? What do you mean?”

Ash sipped his soup, eyes closing in a strange sort of contentment. “It means you looked good,” he said simply. His eyes opened. “Back at Dino’s. In that get-up of yours.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “I couldn’t see you— still can’t.” His hand, shaky from lack of sustenance, slithered back under the blanket around his shoulders. “Fucking Dino and his goddamned eyedrops.”

Eiji blushed in understanding. “Oh,” he said softly. He took another sip of soup. It wasn’t very good, but he was drinking it to encourage Ash to do the same. After all, he hadn’t been able to hold food down at Dino’s. “What does it look like? With the eyedrops, I mean.”

“Hmm,” Ash began. “Blurry. Like I’m looking at everything through a fog.” He reached out and touched the sleeve of Eiji’s sweatshirt. “I can see that you’re there. And this is a sort of teal color,” he said, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “But I can’t see any details. You’re just a cloud of shapes and colors.” Ash couldn’t see the sadness in Eiji’s expression, yet he sensed it. “It doesn’t last too long though. It will wear off in a bit.”

“How long?”

Ash shrugged. “I’d give it another half hour or so before it is mostly gone.”

Eiji relaxed. “That’s good.”

Ash inhaled sharply and changed the subject. “So did you?”

Eiji’s eyes danced over his face in confusion. He smiled an awkward smile. “Did I do what?”

Ash couldn’t help but break a smile along with him. “Is it true? Did you look sharp?”

Eiji blushed a deep red that even Ash could see. He scratched his head in a way that reminded Ash of Ibe-san. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You must have had a mirror.”

“I don’t know, Ash,” he said, ducking his head.

Ash smiled wider, teasing him further. “Bones said your hair was all slicked back.”

Eiji stared at his shoes. “Yeah, so?”

“I’ve never seen you wear your hair like that.”

Eiji’s blush deepened, impossibly so. “They said I would be less recognizable that way.”

“Were they right?”

“I barely recognized myself,” Eiji said, laughing slightly. “I’m not so sure I liked it.

Ash, hearing the discomfort in Eiji’s voice, made a noise of disapproval. “Hmmm, that’s no good.”

“No?”

“Nope,” Ash confirmed. “We can’t have you not liking the way you look. There’s only room enough for one person on that bandwagon.”

Eiji’s eyebrows furrowed; Ash’s statement was foreign to him, but he could guess what he meant. “Why would you not like the way you look?”

For a moment, Ash said nothing. Underneath the blanket around his shoulders and the clothes on his back, he knew what his body looked like— scarred as ever and skinnier than ever before. “I know I’m attractive,” Ash said before Eiji could remind him of the fact. He didn’t feel attractive at the moment, but he could recognize that under normal circumstances, he was. 

Eiji opened his mouth, releasing a sound of confusion, but said no actual words. 

“It’s just never done me any good,” Ash clarified. “If I had been born ugly— or hell, even average— maybe my life would’a turned out differently.” He looked at Eiji. His vision was starting to return. He could see traces of Eiji’s features. “Then again, if I were ugly, you might not be here with me.”

Eiji scoffed. “I do not stick around for your looks.”

Ash clutched his chest in feigned offense. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m pretty?”

Eiji blushed and tried, but failed, to bite back a smile. “You are very pretty, Ash. You know that is not what I mean.”

Ash’s stomach churned in a way he’d never felt before Eiji. He held the other boy’s gaze. “Then say what you mean.”

“I only mean that I stay because I like you as a person.” He paused. Ash said nothing, so Eiji continued. “You just happen to also be the most attractive person I have ever seen.”

Now it was Ash whose skin turned pink. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you ever do anything about it?”

Eiji’s head shook slightly. His features shifted more into focus, though still somewhat obscured to Ash. He could see a glint in Eiji’s eyes. “You don’t want me to do anything about it.”

Ash shifted his position anxiously. “I never said that.”

Eiji’s head cocked in wonder. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“I said it looks sharp, Eiji. That’s a compliment.”

Eiji shook his head and returned to the present. He could hear Ash’s words from all those years ago as if he had just spoken them ‘We can’t have you not liking the way you look.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I want to cut it,” he told Sing.

Sing squinted at him through the bathroom mirror. “I know. I think you’ve wanted to for a long time now.”

“I’m going to cut it,” Eiji clarified. 

“You—” Sing stared in disbelief. “Eiji, I don’t understand.”

“I hate it, Sing. He wouldn’t want me to hate the way I look. I don’t know why I’m only just getting that now.”

Sing continued to stare, mouth agape.

Eiji yanked open the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of scissors. 

“Y-you don’t mean right now. You’ve got to leave for that wedding in like twenty minutes.”

Coming to his senses, Eiji set the scissors on the counter. “Tomorrow,” he decided. He turned to face Sing. “Are you good with hair?"

Sing stumbled back a step, half-gasping, half-scoffing. “I’ve only ever buzzed my own. And that was years ago. And Eiji, you don’t want a buzzcut.” His eyes raked over Eiji’s face in doubt. “Do you?”

“Well, where do you get yours cut?” Eiji asked, ignoring the topic of a buzzcut.

“You know I go to Tony in Queens.”

“Is he very busy? You think he can fit me in?”

“E-Eiji, I dunno, we can call tomorrow.” He checked his phone for the time. “I think I should go with you to this wedding. You seem impulsive.”

Eiji shook his head. “I’m fine.” He pushed past Sing, leaving the bathroom and the scissors behind. “I need to get going.”

“You know my photographer?” Su-Jin asked, following her guest’s sightline to Eiji who was across the reception hall busy at work.

“No, I’ve never met him before.” The man sipped the martini in his hand. “I’m just surprised you have a photographer at all, considering everything.”

“Hmm,” Su-Jin hummed. “I am too. But Eiji— my photographer— he’s such a gentle spirit. I felt so at ease with him taking our photos. He’s nothing like that monster back in Brooklyn.”

“It’s your wedding day, he doesn’t deserve to even be mentioned.”

She nodded. “You’re right. But it’s just to say— not everyone with a camera is evil.”

He smiled. “Certainly not him,” he nodded toward the Japanese man across the venue. 

Su-Jin smiled. “No, certainly not him.” She sipped her flute of champagne. “Anyway, it means the world to me that you’re here tonight. Could nobody else from the team make it? I would have liked to see them all again.”

He shrugged. “They’re in DC. I’m the only one in New York at the moment.” He sipped again at his drink. “But I’m sure they would have loved to make it.”

“Are they busy with a case?”

His face grew sour. “The cases never stop.” He downed the last of his drink, throwing his head back as he did so. “They just never stop.”

Her face sobered as well. “It’s important work you do. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and your team. I still can’t believe that just three years ago I was locked away in that pervert’s spare bedroom.”

He sighed deeply. “Anyway… that photographer of yours… does he do headshots? The bureau’s been on my ass for eight years to get headshots done.” His green eyes glanced at her. “But just like you, I hate pictures.”

She nodded. “I know.” She sipped her champagne. “But I’m not sure. We could find out. Should I introduce you?”

Ash smiled. “I wished you would.”

“Eiji?” Su-Jin tapped Eiji on the shoulder. 

Eiji turned around, lowering the camera that hung around his neck. “What’s—” His words dried up. Standing before him was Su-Jin accompanied by no other than Ash. 

He was dressed in an expensive charcoal grey tweed suit. His hair was slicked back and a hint shorter than it had been that night in the laundry room all those months ago. Poised delicately in one hand was a fresh glass of chardonnay. 

Su-Jin smiled, mistaking his shock for attraction. “I wanted you to meet someone.” She gestured to Ash. “This is Agent Callahan.” 

Ash extended his hand. “Marty,” he said. 

He waited for Eiji to shake his hand and introduce himself, but Eiji stood frozen, mouth hanging open like a cartoon character. 

“Are you going to shake my hand or what?” Ash asked with amusement on his face.

Eiji’s mouth snapped shut. He extended his hand but didn’t quite grab Ash’s. Ash made up the distance and took Eiji’s hand in his own. 

Eiji stood there, stunned into silence as Ash shook his hand.

“This is Eiji,” Su-Jin said, chuckling. “Since he seems to have gone mute.”

He winked at her, “I tend to have that effect on people.” His eyes settled then on Eiji’s. Ash squeezed his hand. “Pleasure.”

“He was wondering if you did headshots, Eiji— oop!” 

There was a hand on Su-Jin’s shoulder. “Darling, you look lovely!”

She gave Eiji one last smile. “Sorry! Looks like I’m being whisked away!” She spun and faced her guest, an older, rotund woman with a motherly smile. She was soon pulled away into the crowd.

Eiji was still holding Ash’s hand. Green eyes lowered to their hands and Ash slowly slipped his hand away from Eiji’s. 

“Y-y-you— We’re—” Eiji stuttered.

“I know.” Ash plunged his hand into his pocket. “I was equally surprised to see you here.”

Eiji swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’ll get in trouble. You need to leave,” he hissed under his breath. His eyes darted around the room “Is Blanca here?”

“No. He’s at the hotel’s rooftop bar,” his eyes raised toward the ceiling in reference. 

This did not calm Eiji’s nerves in the slightest. “How— how long will he be up there?” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Until I go get him.” He glanced at Eiji with a smirk. “I’ve been on my best behavior, so he’s letting me have a night out. Unsupervised…ish.”

“Really?” Eiji asked, doubtful.

Ash shrugged. “Ehhh, I’ve probably got an hour max before he decides to come get me.” Ash grimaced. “He says I can stay as long as I’d like, but he’s not that patient once he starts drinking.”

Eiji’s eyes found Ash’s wine and suddenly the glass felt like a ton of lead in Ash’s hand. He should’ve known better than to drink around him. He maneuvered his glass away from Eiji’s sightline. “Sorry about the drink,” he found himself saying.

Eiji shook his head, eyes averting Ash’s in embarrassment. “It’s a cocktail hour. Besides, weddings aren’t exactly the best place for a recovering alcoholic,” Eiji said dimly. 

“At least you’re recovering.” Ash downed the rest of his wine and set the empty glass on a table beside them. “I’m not even trying to stop.”

Eiji’s eyes met Ash’s. He searched his face for even a trace of teasing, but there was none. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

A waitress walked by carrying a tray of champagne. Ash snagged one as she passed. He downed it in one swallow. He met Eiji’s eyes and told him what he asked to hear. “I’m only joking, Eiji.”

Eiji squinted at him. Ash’s phone buzzed before he could say anything. 

Ash checked it. 

How much longer do you intend to stay?

Ash frowned at the phone before typing back. Saying my goodbyes now. 

“That’s him?”

“He’s getting impatient.” He pocketed his phone. “I need to head out.”

Eiji nodded solemnly. 

Ash gave him a parting glance. “Your hair looks nice, by the way.”

Eiji frowned. “I hate it. I’m getting it cut.”

“Hmmm,” Ash nodded. “Good for you.”

His phone buzzed again. I’ll start heading toward the lobby. Ash liked the text. 

“Well, I’ll see you around, Eiji.” He turned and began to walk away but Eiji grabbed his sleeve. He stopped in his tracks and faced the other man.

“Happy birthday, Ash,” Eiji said in a quiet voice just above a whisper.

Ash smiled sadly and blinked away tears, suddenly overcome with emotion. “I’m twenty-seven today.” He stuck out his tongue, pretending to gag. “I’m officially old.”

Eiji shook his head. “I’m almost thirty. I’m old.”

Eiji expected Ash to tease him; perhaps to say something about how he still had a baby face, or to call him an old man. But Ash didn’t tease. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he said. 

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

Ash’s phone buzzed a third time. Standing outside by valet.

Ash typed back. Heading your way.

He looked at Eiji, desperately wishing he could lean forward and embrace him. “He’s waiting. Take care of yourself, Eiji. ”

Eiji wiped at his eyes. He nodded but was suddenly incapable of speaking without releasing a storm of tears, so he said nothing at all. He gave Ash a meek wave as he turned to leave.

“You’re rude, you know.”

Blanca lifted an eyebrow. “How’s that?” He stood at the edge of the lobby by the valet entrance, waiting on Ash.

“You didn’t even let me stay for dinner. They were serving sea bass.”

Blanca squinted at him. “Since when do you like sea bass?”

Ash stepped beside him, looking Blanca in the eye. “What are you talking about, I love sea bass.”

Blanca raised a challenging eyebrow. “You hate it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He moved a step closer, too close for comfort. “I hate what it reminds me of.” It reminded him of Dino, that much went unsaid but remained understood. “But I’ve always loved the taste.”

Blanca gave a small nod and retreated a step. He put two fingers to his nose. “You reek of alcohol, Ash. How many drinks did you manage in an hour?”

“Under an hour,” Ash corrected. “Thanks to you.”

“I asked when you were leaving, I did not force you to leave.” Blanca turned and stepped outside. “Come on, they’ll be back with the car in a minute.”

Ash followed him outside. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want you hunting after me like some chaperone.”

Blanca laughed under his breath. “Is that not what I am?”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t like broadcasting that fact.” Ash checked his watch, annoyed. “I’m starving. You better take me somewhere for dinner.”

Blanca’s black Lexus pulled up under the overhang. Ash slipped inside as Blanca tipped the driver. Blanca joined Ash in the car and began to drive away. 

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Which one? You’ve been very talkative,” Ash said sarcastically.

Blanca gave him a sideways glare. “You know which one.”

“Remind me.”

“The one you purposefully avoided.”

“Remind me. ”

Blanca gave a heavy sigh, clearly annoyed. “How many drinks, Ash?”

Ash looked out the window, watching the hotel pass by them. His eyes moved to the side mirror, watching it fade into the distance as they drove. He thought of Eiji still inside and wished he had been able to give him a proper goodbye. He really hadn’t intended to see him there. Eiji had been doing much better recently, Ash had seen his progress as clear as day. He only hoped their accidental meeting wouldn’t be a setback. Eiji was doing well enough now that he could handle a setback, but Ash wasn’t sure if he could handle watching another. Hell, he knew Sing couldn’t handle another.

"Ash? ” Blanca prompted, annoyed. 

“Chhh, I wasn’t counting,” Ash responded, equally perturbed. 

Blanca stopped at a red light, stopping short and causing Ash to steady himself with a hand on the dashboard. He shot Blanca a hate-filled glare. “Dick,” he hissed. 

“You know exactly what you drank, don’t play games with me.”

They sat in silence. Ash chewed his cheek, debating whether or not he would give Blanca a straight answer. 

The light turned green.

Blanca did not start driving.

“It’s green. Go,” Ash said.

“Not until you answer my question.”

The person behind them gave a friendly honk.

Still, Ash said nothing.

Then there was a second honk, longer this time as the driver grew impatient.

Ash crossed his arms over his chest, lips still sealed.

The driver behind them laid on the horn for a third time. It was a long, blaring sound that made Ash’s skin crawl in annoyance. 

“Fucking drive!” Ash shouted. 

“Tell me!”

The car behind them wove around them in traffic, barely missing Blanca’s bumper as he cut him off.

“Two martinis, a glass of wine, and three flutes of champagne,” Ash spoke quickly, rattling them off like he was quickly confessing sins to a priest out of obligation. “Happy?”

Blanca accelerated. “In under an hour. Even for you, that’s ridiculous.”

“You know I hate weddings,” was the only response Ash gave. It hadn’t helped that he had seen Eiji almost as soon as he arrived; his eyes had locked onto him as if they were magnetized to the other man.

“You can’t keep drinking like this.” Blanca flashed Ash a stern, fatherly glare. “Do you think your precious Eiji wants to see you again in two years only for you to die prematurely of cirrhosis?” 

Ash scoffed. “Please, you’re so dramatic.” But guilt washed over him. Eiji had stopped drinking, maybe it was time for Ash to do the same. 

“Have you given it more thought? AA?”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“You are, Ash.” Blanca flipped on his blinker and turned right. “And Eiji was. You can’t come back into his life in two years and start drinking around him all the time. If not for yourself, get sober for him.”

Ash looked out the window. He remembered the concoction of shame and embarrassment on Eiji’s face when Ash had mentioned the elephant in the room at the cocktail hour. “Yeah, alright,” he said quietly.

“You’ll go?” Blanca sounded hopeful.

“For Eiji.”

Satisfied, Blanca nodded. “Good. Now, where do you want to eat?”

Sing was waiting up for Eiji when he returned home. He looked visibly relieved when Eiji walked through the door at one in the morning.

“How was it?” He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes. 

Eiji pulled his hair from the tight style he’d endured all day. He plopped his camera bag down on the kitchen table and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. His face pressed sleepily against the table. “Mmmm good,” he mumbled against the wood.

Sing moved and stood beside him at the table, pushing back Eiji’s hair as it fell over his face. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Eiji yawned. “Just tired.”

Sing sank into the chair opposite Eiji’s. “Good. Thanks for coming back,” he said quietly. 

Eiji’s brown eyes opened. “I’m not going to break my promise to you, Sing.”

“I’m starting to believe you, Eiji.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Year Nine 

“Ya know, as a kid, no one ever told me that it hurts to be in love.”

“Ha,” Max snorted in response.

“They say it hurts to have your heart broken or fall out of love, but no one ever talks about how bad it hurts to actively be in love.”

Max knocked his shoulder against Sing’s. “Not all love hurts.”

Sing shook his head. “I think you’re wrong.”

Max nodded once. “Oh yeah? Go on,” he prompted.

“Look,” Sing stretched his hands out in front of him. On his pointer finger, he wore a steel ring that he’d found on the roof earlier in the week. Eiji had called it cool and Sing hadn’t taken it off since. He spun the ring on his finger in thought. “Here’s the thing… if you’re in love, you’re gonna worry. Where are they? Did they make it to their destination? Will they make it home?” He glanced at Max. “Is he gonna end his life while I’m at work?” He cleared his throat. 

“Not everyone has to worry about the person they love doing something like that,” Max interrupted.

“Maybe, but everyone has things they worry about.”

“Worry is different than hurt.”

Sing sighed. “Sure, but still…”

Max picked up a fall leaf beside him on the park bench. “I think love hurts when it’s one-sided,” he told Sing bluntly.

Sing didn’t so much as flinch. “That’s not why it hurts.”

Max raised a brow. “Isn’t it?”

“Even if he loved me back, it’d hurt.” His hands folded back into his lap. He glanced now at the leaf in Max’s hands. “I love him so much it hurts.”

Max twirled the leaf in his fingers. It was mostly red with orange and yellow flecks dusting its center. He didn’t respond to Sing’s statement, for his response would have had the same point: that’s because it’s one-sided. “Winter will be here soon,” he said instead.

Sing’s face grew stone cold. “I know.”

Max tossed the leaf into the wind. “We need to keep him safe from himself.”

Sing nodded in agreement. “I want you there to help me, this year.”

Max nodded. “Already planning on it. I took the day off and everything.”

“He’s already offered to do whatever I ask of him that day.”

“So let’s handcuff him to a kitchen chair so he can’t try anything.”

“Hmmph,” Sing hummed humorously. “Not your worst idea.”

Max raised a challenging eyebrow. “One of my best.”

Sing laughed softly. “I’m so worried about him,” he said, his head shaking slightly. 

“He’s a thousand percent better than last year.”

Sing chewed his lip. “That just makes it worse.

Max understood. “We had a talk a few months back— Eiji and I.”

Sing shifted, meeting Max’s eyes. “Yeah?”

Max nodded. “Well, less of a conversation and more of Eiji confiding— confessing to me.”

Sing sat up straighter. A fall breeze rattled the trees as well as his bones. “Confessing what?”

“He feels really guilty about everything he’s put you through. He wishes he could go back in time and treat you as you treat him.”

“He said that?”

Max smiled sadly. “Through tears, yes.”

Sing looked up at the trees. Their canopy swayed in the breeze, raining a storm of red, yellow, and orange. “I wish he wasn’t in love with a corpse,” Sing said quietly into the sky. 

“Hmmm,” Max sighed. “Sometimes I think he wishes the same thing.”

Sing had learned to trust Eiji, for the most part. That’s not to say it came easy. It was something he had to work at day in and day out. And sometimes, it was easy to fall back into the habit of questioning his every move. Eiji hated when that happened, but he was getting better and better at concealing it. 

It was three days until the ninth anniversary. Sing, Max, and Eiji had already come to an agreement: the three of them would spend the day together in Eiji’s apartment. They’d distract Eiji with conversation and movies and food (cooked by anyone but Eiji) and otherwise waste the day away. This year, they were determined to drown out the significance with mundane activities. 

Eiji had willingly agreed. It was almost too easy, Sing noted. “I’m going to search the place,” he had told Max one afternoon. “I don’t put it past him to still try and pull something. I'll need you to distract him for a while.”

And so, there Sing was, squatted on the floor, rummaging through Eiji’s kitchen cabinets, searching for— well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. 

All he found in the kitchen were dishes and groceries. He poked around inside each cabinet but found no hidden compartments. He opened random bags of rice and cereal, digging around looking for God-knows-what. 

After the kitchen, he moved on to the living room, rummaging under the couch and through bookshelves and the contents of the coffee table. He crawled around on the floor, knocking on the wood beams for loose boards that might house a secret compartment. Again, he came up empty-handed. He should have felt relief, but instead, the anxious ball in his stomach only continued to grow.

He then moved to the bathroom, digging around in the linen closet and then the medicine cabinet. He looked in every pill container, eyes scanning for something Eiji may use to poison himself— or Sing. Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary. There was Eiji's bottles of valium and sertraline, but it had already been decided Max would lock those away on the anniversary.

Finally, Sing made his way to the bedroom. There was nothing besides boxes of summer clothes beneath Eiji’s bed. Sing then checked the bedside table first before moving on to the dresser. He rooted around in each drawer, looking for anything that might be hidden amongst his clothes. In the last drawer, his knuckles brushed the bottom of the drawer. His ears immediately perked up: there was a telltale sound of a hollow bottom. Frantically, Sing flung the clothes out of the way, sending them raining down on the bedroom floor behind him. He scratched at the drawer’s bottom, desperately trying to pry it free. His nails caught the lip and he lifted off the false bottom. Inside, there was nothing. Sing fell back on his heels, his breath escaping him in a disappointed sigh. 

He stared at the drawer, tears slowly blurring his vision as it dawned on him: this is where Eiji must have hidden the gun he tried to use last year. 

Sing wiped at his eyes and stood abruptly. His breath was ragged. He lifted the rug for good measure, which of course hid nothing. He moved on to the closet. He looked through every storage bin that crowded the floor of the already small closet. When he finished, he stepped back and stared at the space for a good few minutes, mind racing. He had checked everywhere he could think of and still, there was nothing. No sign of Eiji plotting his own demise. And yet, it didn’t matter. Sing was left unsatisfied. Then, a thought popped into his mind. He stepped forward and hastily started checking the pockets of each article of clothing. No jacket or coat or pair of pants would go unsearched. He was halfway through the closet when he plunged his hands into one of Eiji’s spring jackets. He froze when his hand made contact with something small and plastic. He closed his eyes and pulled the object out. When he opened his eyes, there it was— a cheap, flip phone. 

Sing squinted at it. He knew instantly it was a burner phone, he’d recognize one anywhere. 

“Eiji, what the fuck?” He asked under his breath. 

He opened the phone, but of course, it had no charge. He ran to his own stuff and grabbed a micro-USB and began to charge the outdated phone. 

He sat on the floor, phone attached to the outlet in the wall, surrounded by Eiji’s clothes. He stared at the phone in silence as it filled with life. 

After what felt like forever, the screen was illuminated with white letters. Sing held his breath. It booted up as slowly as an old computer, but finally, he was met with the home screen. He breathed again. He hit the contact button. Inside the folder, was a single, unassigned number.  Without hesitation, he dialed it.

The phone rang.

Five long rings

After the fifth ring, it went to voice mail. A robotic voice read out the number he had reached and instructed him to leave a message. 

Sing sat, breathless, unable to say anything before hanging up. 

Completely numb, he sat, mouth agape, on Eiji’s floor. 

Then, the phone rang. He answered it immediately. “Hello?” He said tentatively. 

There was no answer on the other line. “Hello!?” Sing shouted this time. “Who the fuck is this?!”

Still, there was no answer.

“Damnit!! Answer me!!”

The silence on the other line was broken by a dial tone. 

Sing cursed and threw the phone across the room with so much force that it dented the wall.

“Who was that?” Susan, a middle-aged woman with a short, brown bob, asked.

Ash stared at the closed flip phone in his palm. “A very angry wrong number.”

Susan removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You could have at least told them they had the wrong number. I mean, really, you don’t have to be so cold to everyone.”

“What kind of ancient ass technology is that anyway, Calahan?” Angie, a younger woman about thirty, asked.

Ash rolled his eyes. “Can we just get on with the case? I have a flight back to New York tomorrow evening, this all needs to be wrapped up before then.”

Susan replaced her glasses. She shifted her attention back to the conference table on which was a spread of documents and photographs. “Very well.” She cleared her throat. “My source says Mr. Quinn will be arriving here at the Crystal City Marriott this afternoon. Just this morning, he was sighted inside the city with two young boys accompanying him. We believe these boys—”

“The Westly twins,” Ash said through gritted teeth.

Susan nodded. “We believe he intends to sell these boys tonight, presumably to a club here in the city, we just don’t know where yet.”

Ash opened a manilla folder and selected a photo of a quaint-looking cafe. He slid it across the table for the team to see. “I have my money on this place.”

The team leaned in, bending their heads over the photograph. 

“A cafe?” Angie asked skeptically.

Ash nodded. “It’s two blocks from the hotel. It’s a cafe that’s open until 2 AM.”

Angie huffed amusedly. “Sounds like somewhere I would have crammed for midterms.”

Ash nodded at her. “Exactly. Seems like a great place for students or an author addicted to caffeine.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “But?”

Ash smirked. “ But , that’s not the case. I’ve been there three different times now. The first time I went, I was looking for somewhere to do casework while I was in the city. Libraries don’t stay open late at night, but this place does. So, I decided to check it out. Well, I was there for a few hours, and during that time, I saw a surprising number of businessmen stop in. Very few students. Strange, right? I thought so, so I returned two other times.” He produced another photo. Three men in suits sat together at a table with single shots of espresso. “And both times, there were more businessmen than other patrons. Every one of these men ordered the same drink. They drank their coffee quickly and then left through the back of the store.”

Angie frowned. “Did you leave through the back, then?”

Ash’s face soured. “I tried to.”

Susan folded her arms, ever the skeptic. “And how is that enough to make you think an innocent cafe is a front for sex trafficking?”

Ash leaned forward. “Because yesterday morning, I spotted our Mr. Quinn patronizing that same shop.”

“Alone?” Susan asked.

Ash nodded. 

“Then how do we know—”

“Exchanges,” Ash spat the word as if it were poison, “Are not made in the front of house.”

Both Angie and Susan grew quiet.

“So,” Ash began again. “We wait for him to check in here. You’ll both watch for them in the lobby. Ben, Jimmy, and I will be waiting in the club. You’ll let us know when they leave and we’ll catch them there.”

“And how do you plan to be let into this club?”

Ash straightened an imaginary tie he was not wearing. “I clean up nice. They’ll let me in,” he said, harnessing all the confidence in the world.

Sing was sprawled out on the couch when Eiji returned home with Max. Max briefly spoke with Eiji in a low voice by the door before they parted ways. 

Eiji came into the living room and smiled at Sing. “Max took me to this cool new burger place and then we went to see the new…”

Eiji kept talking, but Sing couldn’t comprehend his words. He watched Eiji’s mouth flap open and closed excitedly as he blabbered on about the movie he and Max had seen. When Eiji stopped talking, Sing said nothing in reply. 

“Sing?” Eiji asked, his happiness now replaced with concern. 

It was late, and Sing was laden with exhaustion, but this was a conversation that couldn’t wait until morning. He fished the burner phone from his hoodie pocket and tossed it to Eiji.

Eiji caught it, glancing at it before his eyes grew wide with terror. 

“Who does it call?” Sing asked, his voice as even as he had practiced it to be. 

“I— it— uh—” Eiji floundered. He remembered what Ash had told him: no one must know he still lived. Not even Sing. There would be grave consequences. Ash’s very life could depend on Eiji. He swallowed nervously. “It—”

Sing propped himself up on his elbows. “Just tell me the truth.”

Eiji started to sweat, he had never been the best liar. “Sing, I—” Anxiety made his head buzz and his eyes burn with tears. He figured he could work with that. He hated lying to Sing, but if it was to keep Ash safe, then he could force it.

Sing sat up fully now. “Look, if you can’t give me a straight answer, I’m calling the Doc.” He studied Eiji’s anxious, tearful face. “It’s three days away. You promised me, Eiji.” Sing was too tired for tears, he had already shed plenty that afternoon in Eiji’s absence. “You’ve promised me so many times. ”

Eiji closed his eyes and swallowed. Sing watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and tears roll down his cheeks. “It calls Ash,” Eiji whispered.

“What?” Sing asked calmly, though there was an edge to his voice.

Eiji inhaled and exhaled shakily. “It— it calls— called Ash.”

“It called Ash,” Sing repeated. His voice was flat but still, there was a hint of disgust when he said his name. 

Eiji flinched. Sing hadn’t yelled, yet somehow that was worse. 

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Y-you don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth,” Eiji said, his words low and as calm as he could manage.

Sing raised two fingers and palpated his jugular. Though outwardly he appeared calm, his heart was pounding in his ears. His veins felt as if they might rupture at any second. He could feel the heat rising in his face, tears threatening his eyes. Doctor Madison had mentioned many times that it wasn’t good for him to be in a state of near-constant stress. 

“Do you give a shit about me— like at all— Eiji?” Sing’s voice remained steady. Before Eiji could answer, Sing continued. “This is bad for me— for my health— being this stressed all the damn time.” His voice started to rise. “I’m not like you. I don’t just get to cut my hair and pretend to be better and—”

“I’m not pretending, Sing,” Eiji said with all the emotion of a goldfish.

Sing stood, suddenly unable to stay calm. “Oh, just yell! I know you want to!”

Eiji retreated a step. “I don’t want to yell at you, Sing.”

“And stop saying my name like it will calm me down!” He walked up to Eiji until their bodies were practically pressed together. Sing looked down at Eiji and grabbed his shirt collar. “Who does that phone fucking call?”

“It calls an old burner phone Ash used to carry,” Eiji said, voice unwavering.

“Bullshit,” Sing hissed.

Eiji forced himself to shrug. “That’s the truth. I don’t know what else to say to you.”

“I called it, ya know.”

Eiji felt his world sink. He closed his eyes to escape Sing’s piercing eyes. “And?”

“And someone picked up.”

Eiji’s eyes burst open. “What?”

“That’s right. So don’t lie to me.”

Eiji tried to take a step back but Sing still had him by the shirt collar. “That’s—” he shook his head. “That’s not possible—” He felt panic begin to bubble in his throat. Lie. He needed to sell this. He swallowed. “That’s not possible. I saw Ash ditch that phone when he was still—”

“Ditch it where?”

“In the fucking Hudson!”

Sing released Eiji with a shove. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Eiji stumbled backward, hand going to his shirt collar. He breathed shakily. “You’re losing it, Sing.”

Sing stared at him. “Oh yeah?! And whose fucking fault would that be?”

Eiji’s face screwed up in anger. “It’s not my fault you hate that I’m healing!”

Sing looked away from him. If he could understand Eiji’s healing, he was certain that he wouldn’t hate it so much, but he did not say this to Eiji. 

“Look, Eiji,” his arms raised and fell to his side in exasperation. “I don’t think I can do this much longer.”

Eiji’s eyes grew wide again. “S—”

Sing held up a hand, “Just let me fucking talk!”

Eiji’s mouth snapped shut. “I don’t know who that phone calls, but it sure as fuck ain’t some old burner phone.”

Eiji bit his lip to keep himself from speaking. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand.

“So, if it’s some guy who’s gonna sell you enough drugs to take yourself out or some hit man that’s going to make sure you don’t miss—”

“Sing—”

Sing raised his voice louder. “THEN maybe he should just take me out too!” His voice cracked somewhere between sarcasm and tears. “Cuz I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore, Eiji.” He shook his head, tears collecting in his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

Eiji felt as if the wind hand had been kicked from his lungs. “No,” he gasped. “Please don’t say that.”

Sing rolled his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Eiji squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this was all a bad dream. “I know,” he muttered. “I know, this is all my fault, and I have no room to talk, but…” he trailed off.

“But what? What Eiji?”

Eiji’s eyes studied the floor beneath him. “I’m sorry, Sing. I know there’s nothing I can say to convince you that these improvements have been real.” He wiped away tears before they could fall. “And I’m sorry that you feel—” Eiji had to close his eyes and stop speaking, in order to not lose himself in a storm of tears. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more even. “I know what it’s like to feel the way you do… And I don’t want anyone, not even my worst enemy to feel like that.” He looked up at Sing. “So I certainly don’t want you— someone I love— to feel that way.”

Sing barked a loud sarcastic laugh that made Eiji flinch and retreat a step. “Don’t say you love me.”

Eiji’s eyes narrowed. “Not all love is romantic.”

“Yeah, no shit. But if you loved me, you wouldn’t treat me like this!”

“I’ll call the phone!” Eiji nearly screamed. “If that helps, I’ll call the phone.”

Sing quieted down. He thought about the offer. He nodded. “That would help,” he said, calmer now. 

Eiji’s thumb traced the width of the phone in thought. He thought of, but didn't look at, the building across the street. He hoped to death Ash was watching. He prayed he wouldn't speak when— and if— he answered the phone.

“Okay,” Eiji said quietly. But he paused. He moved toward the couch, knowing full well Ash would have a better view of him if Sing wasn’t standing directly in front of him. He sat on the cushion closest to the window. Sing followed his lead, sitting beside him on the middle cushion.

Eiji flipped open the phone. “I’ve…” he looked at the foreign, ancient phone. “I’ve never even used this, how is it charged?”

“It takes a micro-USB charger,” Sing said matter-of-factly. 

Eiji nodded. “I guess you had one lying around?”

“My headphones,” Sing said in answer. “Now, call.”

Eiji fumbled with the phone, trying to pull up the contacts. “How do I—”

Sing reached across Eiji. “It’s that one,” he said, pressing the button for him.

“Mmm,” was all Eiji could manage. 

The screen displayed a single contact: Ash’s burner phone.

“Go on,” Sing said quietly.

Eiji stalled, unable to make his shaking thumb press the call button.

Sing huffed. “If there’s nothing to hide, then why—”

Eiji conjured up his anxiety and hoped he could make it sound more like anger or sadness or generalized distress. He met Sing’s eyes, hoping his own didn’t betray him. “I’m calling the phone of a dead man. A very special d—” he looked back at the phone and cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly an easy thing for me to do.”

Something in Sing softened. “I’m—” sorry . But he didn’t finish the thought, for he still wanted to know the truth. 

Eiji handed him the phone. “You do it.”

Sing gently pushed it back into Eiji’s palm. “It has to be you.”

Whoever Sing had reached that morning hadn’t said a word. He figured they might if they heard Eiji’s voice instead.

Eiji nodded. “Okay.” He paused just a second longer. Certainly, he had given Ash enough time to understand the situation. He dialed the number.

Sirens blared, melting with the other noises of the busy city. An ambulance pulled up beside the curb, while police stormed the inside of the underground club. 

Perched on the edge of a filthy, city curb, was Ash with the Westly twins beside him. Both young boys were wrapped in blankets, still shaking from what had just transpired. They had both flinched, folding in on themselves, at the blaring noise of the ambulance.

“It’s okay,” Ash told them in his calmest voice. Oftentimes, he was involved behind the scenes. It wasn’t as frequent that he was in the midst of the action. And rarer yet was he asked to sit with the victims. But when he did, he found it odd that he never knew exactly what to say. As a victim of such heinous crimes himself, he figured he should be better at comforting other victims, and yet, it never got easier.

He tried to imagine what he might say to himself had he been in their shoes all those years ago. But he was confident he wouldn’t want an adult speaking to him at all; it wouldn’t have mattered if the adult was supposed to be a trusted adult. 

“They’re here to help you,” he said, his head nodding toward the ambulance. 

“W-we’re not hurt,” the bolder of the two twins, Alan, said through chattering teeth. “W-we don’t– ne-eed an ambulance.”

Ash hung his head, searching for the right words. He still didn’t know how to explain these things. He couldn’t exactly explain a rape kit to a pair of ten-year-olds. 

Ash sighed and raised his head. He did not look at the boys, knowing that would only make this harder. “I know no one hurt you back there,” he used his head to gesture to the building behind them. “But back at the hotel…” he trailed off. He cursed himself for not being able to effectively communicate what he needed to say. He bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to speak again. “Look, the man you were with is a very bad man. He’s hurt other children and the doctors just need to make sure he didn’t hurt you two in the same way.”

Neither twin spoke a word for a long minute. An EMT exited the ambulance and began to walk toward them. 

“I don’t want to go to hospital,” Alan said. “I’m not injured.”

The EMT reached them, stopping a few steps away and squatting down to the children’s level. 

“No!!” the other twin, Charles, shouted. He curled in on himself, shaking beneath the blanket around his shoulders. 

“It’s alright, I’m here to help,” the EMT began, though the twins’ fearful protests drowned out his words.  

“Give us a few,” Ash managed over their shouting. 

The EMT nodded in understanding and backed away. Ash was left with the twins, both of whom were shaken up all over again. He tried again to think of what would have been comforting to his younger self.

“We want to punish the man who violated you,” he said at last. “If you go with them to the hospital, that will help us do that.”

Charles continued to shake and rock back and forth as if not even hearing what Ash said. Alan on the other hand sat up straight and looked briefly at Ash. His eyes dropped back to the curb. 

“How?” He asked, voice wavering.

Ash took a deep breath. “They’ll need to examine you,” Ash said slowly, hating the words that came out of his mouth, knowing full-well how torturous they would sound to the child. “And they’ll take some samples and run some lab work. It will help us prove what he did to you and make sure you're both okay. It will help us put him behind bars for a long, long time.”

Alan stared at the ambulance, his head spinning. “Will it hurt?”

Ash couldn’t say he had ever been properly examined after being raped, so he wasn’t sure if there would be physical pain. However, he could imagine the mental anguish that would likely ensue. He tried to give the boy a comforting smile, even though both twins’ eyes were focused elsewhere. “The doctors will be very gentle… but that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

Alan nodded, seemingly understanding. 

“But if you agree, it will help us keep you healthy and—”

“And punish him,” Alan nearly spat. 

Ash nodded. “He’ll get what he deserves.”

“Okay,” Alan said, his voice filled with resolve. “We’ll go.” He turned toward his brother. “Charlie,” he said, nudging the other boy’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Charles hesitated at first, but ultimately let Ash usher him and his brother into the ambulance. 

“We’ll finish up here and meet you at the hospital shortly,” Ash told the medic.

As the vehicle drove away, his phone rang. For the second time that day, it was neither his personal phone nor his work phone. He pulled the burner phone out of his pocket and opened it. For the second time that day, it was Eiji’s burner phone that was calling. 

He answered, saying nothing. Sirens continued to blare, giving his end of the conversation an ominous sound.

“Hello?” 

Ash felt a surge of adrenaline. It was Eiji. Instantly, Ash was shaking. He knew the risk of responding. Just that morning Sing had called him from that same phone. The chances that he was sitting in on the conversation were higher than high. He ended the call before he could give it another thought.

His eyes scanned the crime scene and found Angie. He rushed toward her, feeling he could trust her with this.  

“What is it, Callahan?” She asked, immediately sensing his fear. “Was this case too intense?”

He shook his head. “Someone’s going to call this phone any second. I just need you to answer, but don’t mention me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is this illegal?”

His brain burned. He wasn’t sure. “Of course not,” he said, not sure if he believed himself. 

The phone rang. “Just answer,” he shoved it toward her. 

“Callahan—”

The phone continued to ring.

“Please!”

“Oh alright, but I want an explanation—”

“Just answer!” 

She flipped open the phone and answered. 

“Hello?” Eiji’s voice sounded tinny through the cheap speakers.

“Who is this?” Angie asked.

There was a long pause on Eiji’s end. “It’s Eiji.”

Angie eyed Ash suspiciously. “Sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name. You must have the wrong number.” She didn’t wait for a response, snapping the phone closed.

She glared at Ash. “An ex?”

His brows crinkled. Ash shook his head. “No,” he answered truthfully. “Just someone I don’t want to talk to.”

Angie stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Someone you’re not supposed to talk to?”

Ash averted his gaze, scanning the street. “We need to get moving. The Westly twins will be waiting for us.”

For a moment, she said nothing. She stepped forward and patted his shoulder, causing Ash to flinch ever so slightly. “Sure thing, Calahan.”

“Who was that?” Sing asked, voice timid. 

Eiji shook his head, honestly confused. “I have no clue.” He snapped the phone closed and set it on the coffee table. “I told you, I watched A— Him toss that old phone. Maybe they— Is it possible that number was reassigned?”

Sing scratched his head. For the first time all day, he appeared genuinely calm. “I dunno. Maybe.” Sing exhaled his excess energy. “Eiji, I…” Sing began but did not say anything further. 

Eiji felt the shift in energy in the air. He looked at Sing with sympathetic eyes. “It’s okay,” he said before Sing could bring himself to apologize. “It’s my own fault that you don’t trust me.”

Sing’s muscles went limp, allowing him to collapse into the couch cushions. Tears gathered under his closed eyelids. “I’m so fucking sick.” The words were squeaky and uncertain, threatening to break any composure he had.

Eiji shifted so that his head rested beside Sing’s on the back of the couch. He thought about reaching out and wiping the tear from Sing’s cheek, but he decided against it. “I wish I could take back what I did last year.” His eyes closed in remorse; he couldn’t bear the sight of Sing’s broken spirit any longer. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you, Sing.”

“Hello?” Blanca answered, voice gravelly with fatigue.

“Are you at home?” Ash asked urgently.

“What is it?” Blanca asked, pulling the phone away from his ear slightly to escape the volume of Ash’s voice.

“Are you!?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“Is he there? Is he alright?!” Ash hissed into the phone.

He heard Blanca’s footsteps cross the apartment’s wooden floors. 

“He’s fine. He’s with Sing.”

Ash's breath steadied. “Thank you.”

“When are you leaving D.C.?” 

“I’ll be back in time,” Ash said, not offering a true answer.

“It’s not Eiji I’m worried about this year.”

Ash paused. 

“Ash?”

“I know. I know. But he’ll be fine.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because Eiji’s still alive.”

Ash made it home, albeit red-eyed and sleep-deprived, just as the sun was dawning on the anniversary of year nine. He abandoned his suitcase, shoes, and coat at the door, causing Blanca to turn up his nose in distaste.

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?”

Ash simply glared at him. He trudged into the living room, melting into the couch in exhaustion. His head, tipped upward to the ceiling, rested on the sofa. His blond hair lay in tangles. With closed eyes, he said, “The case was more involved than anyone thought.”

“Anyone but you?”

Ash sighed. “Anyone but me.”

“So the cafe was a front?”

Images flashed through Ash’s mind. 

They stormed inside, brandishing weapons as they rushed down the stairs.

“FBI!” Multiple officers shouted. 

Ash’s eyes instantly locked onto several young boys and girls, all severely underage. No matter how many times he saw it, it never failed to churn his stomach with memories and pure hatred. 

“Ash?”

Ash swallowed bile rising in his throat. “There must have been twenty-plus kids total.” His eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. “It was disgusting.”

“And the twins?

“Safe.”

Blanca nodded. 

“And relatively unharmed— physically at least.” Ash shifted, head raising from the cushions. He fell forward so that his elbows pressed into his knees and his chin rested in his hands. “I can’t say the same for all the kids.”

He remembered a girl of eight or nine, her eyes glossed over in a drug-induced haze. The doctors said she’d been drugged night after night and likely wouldn’t ever be the same

Ash stood and cleared his throat. Blanca asked a question he couldn’t comprehend. Ash held up a hand and stumbled away, not stopping until he reached the bathroom. He emptied his guts into the toilet.

He returned several minutes later with beads of cold water on his face and as pale as a ghost. “I’m gonna need a drink today.”

Blanca folded his arms across his chest. “That’s the last thing you need.”

“Blanca, please, I won’t survive today sober.”

“You’re almost three months clean,” Blanca told him, as if Ash wasn’t already aware. “Come on now, you remember how hard the last relapse was.” 

Ash collapsed onto the couch. 

“Eiji will be fine this year.”

Ash closed his eyes, again picturing the horrors he had seen. He saw a child of only six or seven caught in the crossfire, a bullet piercing his abdomen and exiting through his spine. The boy bled out before they even got him out of the building. He remembered thinking his death, though tragic and deplorable, was merciful, for at least the boy wouldn’t live the rest of his life paralyzed and tormented by his own memories.

For once, Ash was less worried about Eiji and more worried about his own mental state. 

“I know he will be,” Ash managed to say.

“And Eiji isn’t going to let anything happen to Sing.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ash managed. He inhaled, held it for the count of ten, and then released it slowly. Sideways, he looked at Blanca. “It's me who's not o-fucking-kay.”

Max came over first thing. Sing was already dripping with anxiety. Eiji was overwhelmed with guilt, so much so that he did not have to fake his distress. 

They had all loved Ash when he was with them, but for the past several years at least, it was predominantly Eiji who felt the brunt of the pain on this day. Of course, Max and Sing were tormented by watching Eiji’s pain as well. However, now this day had become equally, if not more, painful to Sing.

Though he believed the event of alcohol poisoning had been intentional, Eiji had never admitted it outright. That fact alone made it easier for Sing to fool himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, Eiji hadn’t been intending to die that night. But the past year? That was unmistakable. Sing was now tormented with growing thoughts of guilt and endless fear, all of which seemed to come to a head on this ninth anniversary. 

Now, it was Eiji and Max who doted on Sing.

“What’s the best thing we can do to help?” Eiji had asked Sing.

But Sing was a mess, and he never was able to give Eiji a straight answer. 

In the end, they didn’t do much of anything. Sing spent the day on and off of the brink of panic. He wouldn’t eat or drink anything, and it was all they could do to keep him from falling over the edge into a full-blown panic attack

From across the street, Ash watched helplessly, cursing himself over and over again as the day drug on in horrible, seemingly endless minutes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: A Decade of Chaos And Mourning

It was March. Sing’s eyes opened in the morning light, Eiji was sprawled on the mattress beside him, his face pressed into the sheets beneath him. His hair, which he had cut last summer, shot out in every direction. Sleepily, Sing propped himself up on his elbows and then slowly into a sitting position. 

On the day of the ninth anniversary, nothing bad had happened. And nothing had happened since. And Eiji had slept beside Sing in his— their?— bed ever since. Sing assumed that Eiji would stay until the weather became too hot, just like last year. 

Sing had tried twice more to call the burner phone Eiji still kept. Both times, no one had answered, so Sing threw in the towel. 

He now went to therapy twice per week, and sometimes he even had a check-in call as well. And on one occasion, right after the ninth anniversary, he and Eiji went to see Dr. Madison together. It had been helpful, to be able to speak his feelings in the setting of a moderator, and at the end of the conversation, he had felt more reassured. The fear he harbored dampened, but never truly dissipated, but overall, he was improving. Eiji reminded him of that fact all the time.

And so, every morning when he woke, he would allow himself just a few minutes to marvel at Eiji’s sleeping, breathing, living form beside him, before forcing himself out of bed. He was always quiet as a mouse, careful not to wake Eiji.

Today, however, Sing reached out and nudged Eiji’s shoulder. 

Startled, Eiji’s eyes shot open. He sat upright. “Hmmm? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Sing smiled with loving amusement. “Everything’s fine. We’re meeting Max for breakfast. You asked me to wake you. Remember?”

Eiji flopped back into bed, face buried in his pillow. He mumbled something against the pillowcase. 

“Ten more minutes, Sleeping Beauty,” Sing teased.

Eiji opened one eye and looked at Sing. Sing instantly knew he’d overstepped, but neither of them said a word. Eiji pushed himself away from the mattress and used both hands to ruffle his already messy hair, objectively making it worse. “Okay, I’m up,” he groaned.

“Here’s to you, Eiji,” Max said, toasting Eiji with his coffee cup.

Eiji chuckled and blushed, eyes settling on his mug of coffee. 

Sing rolled his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, old man, it’s like you don’t even know what we’re celebrating.” He sipped his chai latte.

“Show me the rule that says you can only toast with alcohol?”

Sing set down his latte and leaned across the small, outdoor cafe table. “That’s not the point. The point is—”

“It’s fine, Sing,” Eiji interjected. “I’m not bothered.”

“You should be,” Sing scoffed. “Today you’re one year so—”

“ I said it’s fine, ” Eiji hissed, fully aware they were drawing attention from other tables. “I appreciate…” he gestured to their table of coffee and crepes, “ this … I just would rather not make a big deal out of it.”

Max and Sing grew quiet. Sing’s eyes fell to the table. “Sorry, Eiji.”

“It’s alright. It’s just— let’s eat? This looks amazing.”

“I’m better— much better— sure I’ll never be better better, but I’m— well, I’m doing a lot,” his mouth raised in humor, “Well, better.”

Dr. Madison smiled. “Sorry, did you say better ?”

Eiji laughed. “I’ve said it too many times and now it’s lost all meaning.”

She chuckled. “Hmm, yes, I think it has.” She smiled at him, one of her wide, genuine smiles that held no sympathy. “You know, it’s good to see you smile, Eiji. Really.”

Eiji’s smile faded. “Sing still doesn’t believe me.”

She shrugged. “It’s only been a year and a handful of months. He needs more time.”

Eiji nodded. He looked down at his hands, still dry from the cold weather. His body had not yet received the memo that spring was quickly approaching. “I know it’s selfish, but I—” he waved the thought away, “Oh, never mind.”

“No, that’s alright, Eiji. Finish the thought.”

He merely shook his head.

“ Eiji. ”

“Fine, I— Well, sometimes I wish that I could live on my own again. I feel like a child sometimes— like I can’t take care of myself on my own. And, look, I know that last year that was the case. I was not well and I— but now I’m doing much” he smiled again, “ better , and I think I could handle myself on my own.”

For a long moment, Dr. Madison was quiet. She traced a scrolling design into her notepad, over and over again so that the ink bled through to the next page. “I think you’re right, Eiji, you are well enough to be alone. I think that’s been the case for some time now.” She looked up from her pen and paper. “But, now the tables have turned.” She clicked her pen several times before setting it on her notepad with a thunk. “Sing needs you, maybe more than you realize. He’s not ready to move on yet.”

Eiji shifted in his seat. “He was a wreck right before the anniversary, but he’s been improving since then. I think he finally realized I’m not going to pull anything.”

She sighed. “You’re right, since the anniversary passed, he’s been improving. And yet, he’s still struggling.” She tapped her temple with a manicured nail. “He shares his thoughts with me twice each week. He has a long way to go.”

Suddenly, Eiji’s eyes were burning. He looked away from the doctor. “I broke him,” he lamented. 

“You were broken then. You cannot blame yourself for how you acted then.”

Eiji wiped at his eyes. “I wish I could go back in time and change what I did.”

“But you can’t.” Her words were like a stake in Eiji’s heart. “You can’t time travel, but you can make amends by staying with him now. He needs you, Eiji. In time, he’ll heal, but for now, he needs you.”

“He wants to live on his own again,” Sing said as he traced nonsensical patterns into his palm. 

“So he’s told me,” Doctor Madison replied calmly. “Did he mention it to you as well?”

Sing shook his head. “I heard him on the phone with Max. He didn’t hear me come home.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly?” Sing looked up from his hands. “If things were different— If he’d never tried to—” his tongue dried up and he forced himself to breathe and swallow. “Kill himself,” he rasped. Doctor Madison had encouraged him to face the two words that haunted him, so he did, but he hated it each and every time. She smiled slightly, proud of him. “Well, then, I think I would be okay with leaving. He’s much better— honestly better. There’s no way anyone could put on an act this long.” Sing rubbed his forehead. “I don’t understand it, but it’s true. Something’s changed. Somehow he’s doing so well.”

She nodded. “I’ve noticed it too.” She folded her arms across her abdomen. “I’ve seen the difference with my own eyes. I’ve seen him pretend and I’ve seen him try to trick himself into a better mindset. This is different. This is real. I think it has been for at least a few months now.”

Sing’s eyebrows creased and he flinched as if she had reached out and smacked him. “You could have said that to me sooner.”

“That’s not my place, Sing.”

He crossed his arms and looked past her at the framed diplomas and certificates of licensure behind her desk. “Whatever.”

“So what is your conclusion?” She asked, encouraging him not to dwell on what she had said. 

His eyes shifted back to her. “I dunno yet.” His hands reached for the bottle of water at his feet. He popped open the top and took a long drink before answering her. “He hasn’t tried to convince me in a long time. Like months. At least. I think that’s a good sign.”

“And are you still worried?”

He paused, thinking it over. “I’m only worried because I’m no longer worried.”

“Even with his birthday so close?” She asked, raising one brow above her glasses.

“Yeah,” he huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He scratched at his sunburned shoulder. “Maybe it is time for me to go after all.” The words sounded alien as they left his lips, as if they’d been spoken by an alternate version of himself.

“And you?” She asked. “Will you be alright if you leave?”

Her words broke through any positive feelings, shattering his alternate reality and bringing him back to earth. He tried to smile but couldn’t manage it longer than a split second. “Do you want the truth, Doctor?”

She fiddled nervously with her pen. “You know I always do.”

“I don’t imagine I’ll ever be okay again.” Suddenly, his eyes burned. He stood, content to end the session.

“It’s only been half an hour, please don’t go just yet.”

But he had already turned to leave. He twisted the doorknob. 

“You and Eiji do the same thing,” she added hastily.

Sing stopped in his tracks. “Oh yeah?” he asked without turning around.

She made a small noise of confirmation. 

He looked over his shoulder. “And what’s that?”

“You’re both always quick to leave when emotions run too high.”

He huffed sarcastically. “You can blame the society that raised us.” His face returned to the doorway. “Emotions are weakness— unless it’s anger.” His hand squeezed the brass doorknob until his knuckles turned white. “And men don’t cry. That’s how we were raised. So yeah, Doc, I’ve had enough for today.”

Sing loaded onto a crowded subway, pressed against other standing bodies in the afternoon work rush. Suddenly, he wished he had released his tears in the privacy of Dr. Madison’s office. Now, his sadness morphed into anger and frustration as the sweaty stranger behind him bumped into him as the train started to move, just as he’d done at the previous three stops

Sing bit his lip and cursed under his breath, resisting the urge to turn around and shout at the man.

When he returned home, Eiji could sense the foul mood radiating off him. “Bad session?” He asked, turning off the television. 

Sing’s mouth was a tight, thin line. The session had ended badly, but ultimately there was some good news: even Dr. Madison could see how genuinely well Eiji was doing. He kicked off his shoes at the door. “Tough one,” he told Eiji. “Not all bad though.” 

“Aaanything you want to tell me?” Eiji asked meekly.

There was so much he wanted to tell Eiji. Not just about his therapy session, but his feelings in general. He wanted to tell Eiji he’d likely never recover from what Eiji did, but if Eiji was able to move on and find happiness, that would be enough for Sing. At least, he wanted it to be enough. His heart may betray him, but that was his wish. He wanted to tell Eiji that he loved him, something that Eiji, of course, already knew. He wanted to tell him that if Eiji ever healed enough to change his mind about Sing, he’d be there waiting. He wanted to tell him that, if he didn’t, he surely would never move on. He wanted to tell Eiji that he was proud of him for how far he’d come, even if it did take him nearly a decade. 

“Nothing you don’t already know,” he said instead

Eiji’s face fell to ruin. It was a face that Sing instantly recognized as understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Eiji found himself saying before he could stop himself. 

Sing felt the familiar burn in his eyes. He waved away Eiji’s apology, trying to appear casual. “It’s not your fault,” his voice betrayed him, cracking on the final word. Unlike with Dr. Madison, he was hardly embarrassed to cry in front of the other man. Still, he turned to walk away, retreating to the bedroom.

Knocking softly on the bedroom door, Eiji checked on Sing an hour later. “Sing?” Eiji called through the door.

There was no answer. 

Eiji pressed his ear to the door, listening carefully for any signs of movement. “I’m going to heat up some of those Thai leftovers. Do you want any?”

Still, there was no answer. Eiji felt his heart skip an anxious beat.

The bedroom door creaked as Eiji eased it open. “Sing?” 

Sing had his back to Eiji. Eiji walked over to the bed, standing on his tiptoes to try and see the other man’s face without moving to the other side of the bed. His face was red and splotchy. His eyes were closed, yet Eiji could tell by his breathing that he was awake. Sing flinched when Eiji placed a cautious hand on his shoulder. 

“Can I lay with you?” Eiji asked.

Sing didn’t turn to face Eiji or even open his eyes. “Go eat your food,” he said, ignoring Eiji’s question.

“Not unless you eat something too.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Then neither do I. Scoot.”

Sing gave a low grumble of dissatisfaction at Eiji’s request. 

“Scoot,” Eiji said again, giving Sing’s shoulder the slightest nudge.

This time, Sing did move, though the movement was so minuscule it might as well not have moved at all. 

Eiji smiled. “Oh, come on,” he said, shoving Sing’s shoulders. 

To this, Sing grunted in disapproval and moved no further. Eiji sat on the slim sliver of unoccupied mattress. He looked down at Sing until the force of his gaze caused Sing to open his eyes and peek up at Eiji. 

“What?” Sing grumbled softly.

“How did this happen, Sing?” Eiji’s eyes traced Sing’s face. “How did we switch places? How is it now you who won’t eat and you who won’t talk to me? How is it me who is helping you?”

Sing stared up at Eiji, unspeaking. Then, without warning, he shoved his elbows into the mattress, propelling his body sideways to make room for Eiji. He patted the space he’d opened. “Lay down.”

So Eiji did, settling beside him.

Sing stared up at the ceiling. “You’re better,” he said plainly. “Plain and simple. Well, as better as you can be. I can’t understand how or why, and so I’m a mess.”

Eiji nodded, this wasn’t news to either of them. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. And telling you and the Doc.” Sing inhaled deeply, held it, and then let the breath out slowly; so slowly, Eiji glanced at him with concern, causing Sing to cut the breath short. “And up until recently, that was it. That was the whole truth.”

“But?” Eiji whispered in question.

“But…” Sing closed his eyes. “You’re better, and still I see not even a whisper of a hint that you’ll ever move on.” He paused for Eiji to respond, but Eiji said nothing. “And it’s torturous to sleep in this bed with you night after night, fully knowing you’ll never love me— never want me— the way I do you.” Abruptly, Sing sat. His eyes opened. Eiji did not follow his lead, dark locks still splayed over the white pillowcase. “Or maybe you will move on— just not in the way I wish you would.” He exhaled shakily. “I’m selfish, Eiji. It’s not enough that you’re healing. I want you to love me.” He ran shaky hands through his short hair. “I’m holding you back.” He glanced back at Eiji who was watching him with watery eyes. “So that means I need to go. I have to let you live your life again— without me breathing down your neck.”

“You’re not holding me back,” Eiji told him quietly.

Sing waved Eiji’s words away. “I am. And I think I’ve known all that for a while, but I kinda put it all together today. I’ve decided I’ll move back into my own place now. You don’t need me here— in fact, you need me to not be here.”

Eiji reached forward, gently grabbing Sing’s shoulder, and tugged him back down to the mattress. “ You need me. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Sing flopped onto his side, elbows digging into the soft surface below him. He stared Eiji in the eyes, challenging him. Eiji did the same. “That’s crazy,” Sing began. “You can’t let me hold you back like this. You need to get out there and meet someone you actually like. You need to be able to bring guys home. Lord knows it’s been years since you’ve been laid.

Eiji’s eyes closed involuntarily. His face tensed, as if Sing’s words had physically wounded him. “You’re taking it too personally,” Eiji told him sharply.

“Oh, am I?” Sing bit back.

“You are.” Eiji’s eyes opened. “I don’t plan on moving on. Ever. It will only ever be Ash, for me.”

Agitated, Sing sat again. He stared down at Eiji. “But if you meet someone you really like, you should have the option to bring them home without worrying about me getting in your way!”

Eiji sat too. “It’s like you don’t have ears! I said I’m not moving on!”

“Yeah, I fucking heard you. But you’re not being logical.”

“I can heal without loving again.”

“Sure, you say that, but that’s because you’ve not met the right person yet—”

“ Ash is my right person !”

Sing ran irritated fingers through his hair. “But if you meet someone new—”

“We’re going in circles!” Eiji shouted, cutting Sing off. “Look, there have been people over the years who I did like, and we both saw what good that did me.”

“But you weren’t in the same headspace you’re in now ,” Sing challenged.

“Gahh!” Eiji groaned. “It doesn’t matter! My headspace would be completely ruined if I slept with some random guy tomorrow.”

Sing’s eyes bulged from his head. “You’re not listening to me! Not some random guy! Someone you learn to love!”

“No, you’re not listening! I’m not going to—” Eiji forced himself to stop speaking. He took a breath. “Look, if it makes it any better…” he trailed off. “Oh, forget it,” he said, waving the words away with a frustrated hand. “We’re not going to see eye to eye on this.”

“No, spit it out.”

“I said forget it.”

“Just fuckin’ tell me!

Eiji paused, before speaking. “If it helps at all, I like you . And if things were different… If I never knew Ash, you are someone I could have loved. So it doesn’t matter. Anyone I could have loved … I won’t. Because I still love him.”

Sing’s skin turned a sickly grey. He rose to his knees. “No, that doesn’t fucking help.” He stepped away from the bed. “That makes it all so much fuckin’ worse.” His blood boiled with a newfound hatred toward Ash. He was visibly shaking with rage. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“That’s why I said forget it!”

Sing’s eyes sharpened. “You should have never started the fucking sentence,” he hissed. “Now I absolutely have to move out.” 

He turned to leave. In his wake, Eiji sat trembling with tears streaking his cheeks. “Please don’t go,” he whined.

Sing reached for the doorknob and yanked the door open; it was then he was reminded of Dr. Madison’s words from earlier: “You’re both always quick to leave when emotions run too high.” 

Something in him snapped. He slammed the door shut again, causing Eiji to nearly jump from his skin. Instead of shouting, or saying anything further, his knees gave out. He crumpled to a ball, leaning his forehead against the door, and shook with silent tears. 

Eiji was beside him in a split second. He pulled Sing into him. The silence broke and the room filled with Sing’s ragged sobs. 

“I hate the man you love,” Sing managed to confess between sobs.

Eiji held him tighter. “I know,” he whispered, voice breaking with tears of his own. 

“He stole your life,” he wailed. 

Eiji rubbed his back up and down before eventually settling at the nape of his neck. “Shhh, I’m very much alive.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Sing grumbled into Eiji’s shirt. 

More tears streamed down Eiji’s face. “Ash taught me what love is. He gave my life meaning.”

Sing pulled away from Eiji, visibly enraged. “Before he went and died on you and damned you to a life of loneliness!” 

Anguish engulfed Eiji’s face. For a beat of time, he said nothing. He felt as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Sitting before Sing, he was suddenly a deflated, shell of the man he was just seconds ago. “I have people who love me,” he managed to say, breathless. For a moment, he sounded like the Eiji from a few years ago, the one who tried to convince himself that he wasn’t alone in the world. The one who tried to convince himself he was loved. The one who tried to convince himself that life was worth living. He curled in on himself. For a moment, he seemed to forget Ash was just a building away, and only months away from being his forever.

Sing detected the shift in an instant. “Fuck.” With shaking hands, he reached out towards Eiji and pulled him to his chest. “I shouldn’t have fuckin’ said that.” Sing held him so tightly that Eiji couldn’t take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Sing repeated. 

“I miss him so much,” Eiji moaned into Sing’s shoulder, letting tears consume him again. 

Sing’s fingers threaded through Eiji’s hair. His brain burned. He would never forgive himself if his hasty, unguarded words caused Eiji to unravel into a relapse. “I’m so sorry, Eiji.” He kissed the top of Eiji’s head, knowing he shouldn’t, yet unable to stop himself. “I’m an idiot. Of course you have people who love you. You have so many people who love you. I’m so sorry. I was just angry— please don’t listen to me. I’m such a goddamn idiot.” 

Sing continued to ramble, saying nothing new, while Eiji cried into his shirt.

After what felt like forever, Sing ran out of ways to voice his idiocracy and regret, and Eiji ran out of tears. When Eiji’s tears dried up, he pulled away from Sing, wiping his eyes. Embarrassment caused him to lower his face from Sing’s view. 

“I’m so sorry, Eiji,” Sing said for what felt like the millionth time.

Eiji simply nodded. “I am too.”

Sing wanted to reach out and fix Eiji’s disheveled hair, but he forced himself to keep his hands to himself. “Hey, can I heat up those leftovers for you?” Sing asked, voice soft and loving.

Eiji met his eyes. For months, Sing had been anxious and depressed, acting so far from who he had been for years. And yet, in an instant, he conjured up the version of himself that was caring and loving and unconditionally devoted to Eiji. He had transformed into the person Eiji needed him to be for so long. Eiji didn’t answer his question about food. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He fell into Sing, hugging him tightly and wishing, not for the first time, that he was capable of loving Sing in return. 

“Please don’t move out,” Eiji whispered. “I would be so lonely without you here.”

Sing’s chest ached. He held Eiji tight against his chest. “Of course I’ll stay. Of course I will."

It was after midnight when Eiji quietly snuck from the bedroom. Sleep had tortured him for hours. He was so desperately tired, yet sleep was miles away. Sing was not plagued with the same plight. Within minutes, he had fallen asleep, neatly tucked into his own side of the bed.

Eiji couldn’t seem to shake Sing’s words from earlier. “Before he went and died on you and damned you to a life of loneliness!” For so long, those words were Eiji’s reality. And now, even knowing Ash was alive, he questioned his own sanity. Had he only imagined Ash’s existence over the past year and some months? Fire raged in his brain until he couldn’t take it anymore. He crept into the living room, hands gripping the burner phone so tightly it left marks in his skin. He crept past the living room and onto the balcony.

Once outside, he waited for many long minutes. Sing didn’t follow, and eventually, Eiji deemed the coast to be clear. He flipped open the crappy phone. He dialed Ash’s number. It rang five long times before going to voicemail. Eiji hung up and immediately redialed. This time, it was answered on the third ring. 

“Hey,” Eiji said as softly as he could while still being audible. “It’s only me.”

Eiji had half expected Ash to not respond. After all, he had called the phone before and Ash hadn’t answered. 

“This is supposed to be for emergencies only,” Ash said just as softly from his end of the phone. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I just… needed to hear your voice.”

“Are you safe?”

“I— what?” Eiji stuttered, taken aback by the question.

“Are you?”

“Yeah— yes, of course I am.”

“Good.” 

“Why would you— Why would you ask that?”

“I saw you eating dinner. You looked like you’d been crying pretty hard.”

“I— I had, but I cry all the time. I’m fine.” 

There was a pause. 

“Sing would never hurt you, would he?” 

Eiji’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. He’d rather die.” He looked up at Ash’s building. “Are you up there? Can you see me?”

“I stepped out into the stairwell. Ya know, Blanca and all,” Ash said in answer. 

“Oh, shoot. Is he watching me?” 

“He’s sleeping, I checked.”

Eiji nodded. “Good.” He rubbed his eyes. “Why would you think Sing would hurt me?”

For a moment, Ash was silent. Then, he took a breath and spoke. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been hurt by someone I’ve trusted. And it’s no secret Sing desires you.”

Eiji’s eyebrows pulled close together, creating deep wrinkles between them. “If you mean what I think you mean— he wouldn’t. He would never do that, Ash.”

“I certainly hope he wouldn’t. You never really can be sure.”

“I can. I know he wouldn’t,” Eiji’s tone was sharp. “I trust him completely.”

Ash paused again. “Why were you crying?”

Eiji released a breath into the night air. “Ohhh, I don’t have the energy to get into it.”

Ash nodded. “You guys fight?”

Eiji shrugged. “Something like that.”

“But you’re alright?”

Eiji nodded. “Yes, I’ll be fine. I just needed to hear your voice,” Eiji said for a second time.

“I’m still alive.” Eiji could hear the hint of mirth in Ash’s voice.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

“Only a few more months now.”

“That seems like forever.”

“It’ll be here before you know it.” They were the same words Blanca had been telling Ash on repeat.

Eiji closed his eyes. “Sing might actually try and kill you when you come back.”

“I’m well aware.”

Eiji’s eyes reopened. He studied the building where Ash lived, trying to grasp how, somehow, Ash was over there, living and breathing, yet Eiji wasn’t allowed to see him. He sighed. “Maybe we should just disappear— run away once this is all over.”

“And let Sing worry himself to death?”

“I’d tell him everything once you were safely away from him,” Eiji joked. 

“Should I wear a bulletproof vest when I see him again?” Ash joked right back.

Eiji smiled. “Honestly…”

Ash smiled as well. “I’ll add to my list of things to steal from The Bureau.”

Eiji’s smile fell. “I hope your job isn’t too dangerous.”

Ash closed his eyes momentarily. Images of dodging bullets and breaching doors flooded his mind. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You still can’t tell me what it is, I guess?”

Ash shook his head. “Not yet.” He thought of his most recent case. His team had rescued a teenage girl who had fled her home in Queens to escape her mother’s abusive boyfriend, only to be lured into the home of a deceptively well-intentioned man who later forced her into selling pictures and videos of herself online. He remembered how the man had resisted arrest and how he had been the one to pin the man to the ground, shattering his nose and several orbital bones against the concrete floor in the process. He remembered the blood-curdling cry of pain that escaped the man. And he remembered thinking it still wasn’t nearly enough to atone for his heinous acts. 

“It’s good work,” Ash said, offering just the smallest amount of comfort for Eiji’s worried mind. “Hard work, sure, but it’s good.”

“And you enjoy it?”

“...I enjoy the outcome, let’s put it that way.”

The tension fell from Eiji’s shoulders. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I’ve been so worried thinking of all the things they might be forcing you to do.”

“I’m not being forced to do anything,” Ash told him truthfully. “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Eiji repeated, but this time, Ash could hear tears in his voice.

Satisfied to end on a good note, Ash said, “We’ve pushed our luck enough already. I should go. Delete this call from your call log. Do you know how to do that?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Seriously, Sing can’t see a ten-minute phone call to this number, he’ll lose his mind. You would have a hell of a time trying to explain that.”

Eiji nodded. “I know. I’ll wipe it.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for answering.”

Ash nodded. “I’ll see you in January, Eiji .”

“Okay. See you,” Eiji said simply, suddenly too close to tears to say anything further. 

The call ended, and Eiji played with the phone until he figured out how to wipe the call log. Unfortunately, it wiped every call the phone had ever made, surely making it look more suspicious if Sing ever did question it. However, he figured he could feign ignorance and claim he wasn’t used to such an old phone and that it had been an honest mistake.

He snuck back to bed a few minutes later, accidentally waking Sing as he climbed back into bed

“Where were you?” Sing grumbled sleepily.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Eiji told him truthfully. “Just sat on the balcony for a few minutes.”

“You alright?” Sing asked, eyes barely open.

“I’m fine,” Eiji pulled the duvet over his chest.

“You want something to help you sleep?” Sing asked, his eyes closed as he spoke.

“What do you have?”

“Hydroxyzine.”

“Isn’t that prescription?” 

“Mhmm. Doc gave it to me. Helps with panic attacks and makes you sleepy as fuck. They give ‘em out like candy, I’m sure you could take it.”

Eiji said nothing. A good thirty seconds passed. Concerned, Sing opened his eyes. “Do you want one or what?”

Eiji shook his head. “No. Thanks, though.”

Sing’s eyes closed again. “M’kay. Wake me if you change your mind,” he said simply.

“I hate that I’m the reason you have panic attacks,” Eiji said after a moment of silence. 

Sing shrugged. “Ehhh, don’t you dare say ‘sorry.’ Too many ‘sorries’ for one day. Try to get some sleep.”

“What will it be this year?” Blanca asked, a glass of expensive, dry, red wine swirling in his palm.

Ash shrugged, forehead pressed against the window pane. “I don’t know how he’ll pull it off— believably. He needs to look sad but he’s so…

Below, Eiji danced around in the kitchen as he made tea for himself in the otherwise empty apartment. 

“Look at him,” Ash remarked. “He’s not even trying to hide his excitement.

“Sing’s not home,” Blanca observed.

“It’s not an easy thing to turn on and off— fake grief. He needs to be more careful.”

“Well, I think you should be flattered. He’s counting down the days until your return.”

“Yeah, well, if he’s not careful, Sing’ll have him committed to a mental hospital before I can return.”

“Speaking of Sing, he’s looking surprisingly well these days.”

As if on cue, Sing walked through the apartment door and Eiji, who had been mid-twirl with the tea kettle abruptly stopped dancing. He walked over to the speaker on the table and paused it, clearly embarrassed. Sweat beaded on Ash’s hairline, but Sing didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Instead, his head fell back in laughter, clearly mocking Eiji’s childlike joy. He ruffled Eiji’s hair before giving him a good-natured shove. 

“I’ve noticed it too,” Ash said, responding to Blanca. “He looks good. Really good.”

Ash continued watching through the window. Eiji poured Sing a cup of tea and Sing drank it without question. 

“He trusts him again, too,” Ash said softly.

“You sound so upset.”

“In a few weeks, that trust will be shattered. He’s going to hate me… maybe Eiji too.”

Blanca sipped his wine. “He already hates you.”

Ash huffed. “Yeah, alright.”

“But I don’t think he’s capable of hating Eiji.”

Ash’s eyes closed involuntarily. He shook his head. “I hope you’re right.” When Ash opened his eyes, Sing was clipping Buddy into a harness and Eiji was pulling on his coat. They disappeared together into the hall. “They could have been happy together if it weren’t for me.”

There was a thud as Blanca set his wine glass on the coffee table. “Don’t forget that Eiji is only the way he is now because he knows you are up here living and breathing. If it weren’t for you, he would have died two years ago from a bullet to the brain.”

Ash flinched at the harsh reality of Blanca’s words. “ Fuck, ” he cursed under his breath. 

“It’s a hard truth, but one you should remember.”

Ash sighed deeply. He looked at Blanca’s wine glass on the coffee table. “I could use a drink.” He met Blanca’s eyes, pleading.

Blanca simply shook his head. “You can’t have one.”

Ash’s eyes closed briefly. “I know.”

On the street below, Eiji and Sing emerged with Buddy. They carried on laughing and talking as they walked against the harsh winter wind.

For a moment, they were both quiet, Ash watching the street below, while Blanca was content to sit in silent thought. 

“How will you do it?” Blanca asked after some time had passed. “Will you make a grand entrance? Or just steal Eiji away in the dead of night?”

Ash shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

“Do you expect me to believe you of all people haven’t given this any thought?”

Ash glared at him before returning his gaze to the street below. He watched as Eiji and Sing disappeared around a building.

“I didn’t say that— I just haven’t nailed it down yet. Sing and Max will definitely be with him on the anniversary. Year ten. One decade. The big one. If there was ever a year to worry, it would be this one. They won’t let him out of their sight for a single second.”

“So you’ll make him wait an extra day or two?”

Ash nodded. “I have to. I don’t want Max and Sing around. But still…” Ash scratched at the neckline of his wool sweater. His delicate, fair skin instantly turning an irritated red. 

“But what?”

“Part of me wants to— and maybe I will—” he stopped speaking. Outside, it had started to rain. His eyebrows creased. “He didn’t bring an umbrella.” He compulsively chewed the skin on his lip. “He’ll freeze out there.”

“He’ll be just fine. Finish your thought,” Blanca instructed. “Part of you wants to what?”

Ash shook his head. “Never mind.” 

The rain, which started as a drizzle, quickly became a raging downpour. Sing, Eiji, and Buddy reappeared, racing back toward their apartment building. They both had their coats tented above their heads like makeshift umbrellas.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“I could try and help,” Blanca offered. 

Suddenly, Ash spun away from the window. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Don’t pretend like you care.”

Blanca’s neutral expression fell. What was left behind was genuine sorrow and fatigue. “You know I care.”

Ash shrugged, “That’s what you tell me.”

“And yet you never believe me.”

“If you cared,” Ash’s voice began to raise, “You’d let me go over there— see him from time to time. Or at the very least call him.”

At this, Blanca stood. “If I let you do that, I’d be letting you risk everything .”

“I’m wasting away!”

“Better that you waste away in here than in a prison cell!”

Ash’s mouth snapped shut. “I would have been careful.”

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take!” Blanca snatched up his wine glass and downed the remainder of its contents. “Now sit down and stop your fretting. It’s just a few more weeks, you will make it.” He walked away toward the kitchen with heavy, clicking steps. “And solidify your plan. You don’t have much more time to decide.” 

“We need to address the elephant in the room,” Sing told Eiji as they began their walk with Buddy down the street. “We’ve avoided it long enough.”

It was noon on a Saturday. For January, it was warm. There was no breeze to speak of and the sun shone brightly in the sky above. Instead of a typical, drab, wintery grey, the sky was a warm, glorious baby blue. 

Eiji nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“It’s one week away,” Sing stated. “What’s the plan?”

For a moment, Eiji said nothing. They walked down the street quietly. Buddy’s tags and the sound of their shoes against the pavement joined the orchestra of urban sound that filled the city. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever make it this long,” Eiji said at last.

Sing’s stomach churned. “You almost didn’t.”

Eiji stopped walking, and so did Sing. Eiji met his eyes. “I’m finally glad I did.” And he meant it.

Sing gave a single nod, suddenly teary-eyed. “Me too,” he said quietly, almost quiet enough to be whisked away into the city’s noise. 

“Please don’t freak out, but…” Eiji began. His eyes fell to the pavement and he started walking again. “But I was thinking… maybe this year…” He paused and Sing waited patiently for him to continue. “Maybe this year we could… celebrate?”

A low, cautious noise tumbled from Sing’s throat. “Your idea or the Doc’s?”

“Mine.”

“Celebrate your life or his?”

“Both,” Eiji responded without hesitation. 

“That makes me really fucking nervous, Eiji.”

Eiji nodded. “I know. It’s just an idea. We don’t have to.”

Ahead of them Buddy turned and pranced happily around the street corner; by now, he was well accustomed to their route to a nearby park.

“It’s just an idea,” Eiji repeated. “I just… I’m sick of feeling like shit every year. It’s not what he would have wanted.”

Sing did something he had never done before: he reached out and grabbed Eiji’s hands, interlacing their fingers. Eiji’s eyes immediately went to their connected hands and then to Sing’s face. They stopped walking.

“On one condition,” Sing told him.

Eiji nodded. “Name it.”

“You swear on his name, his legacy, his whatever— that you won’t do anything to hurt me.”

Eiji was flooded with images of Sing learning Ash still lived. He could clearly picture the anguish on his face. Certainly, that would hurt him. “Hurt you in what way?”

“Any way."

Eiji’s teeth worried his chapped lips. “That’s not fair. We still fight and shit from time to time. We both hurt each other here and there.”

“Why can’t you do it? Why can’t you swear it?”

“That’s a big deal to me. Maybe I’m superstitious but I can’t swear on his life on such a vague condition.”

Sing’s eyes narrowed. “His memory. He’s already dead, Eiji.”

Hurt, Eiji tried to pull his hands away from Sing, but Sing held him tightly. “Whatever. It’s still a big deal.”

“Fine. Swear you won’t kill, maim, or otherwise harm yourself in any way— that day or ever .”

“Done.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I swear it, Sing.”

Sing studied him suspiciously. “And you won’t drug me or Max or whoever else is there?”

“I won’t,” Eiji told him with steely resolve.

“Or knock me out or—”

“ Sing ,” Eiji cut in sharply. “I wouldn’t. I won’t .”

Sing squeezed Eiji’s hands. “Swear.”

“I swear it.”

“On his name.”

“I swear it on Ash’s name.”

“Good. Then we can celebrate if that’s what you want.” Sing gave Eiji’s hands a final squeeze before releasing them. “Ten years of chaos and mourning and now we finally get to move on?”

Eiji gave a slow, hesitant nod. “I think I’d like that.”

Eiji was suddenly aware that Sing’s eyes danced over his lips, back up to his eyes, then to his lips again. Heat rose to Eiji’s face. He forced himself to turn forward once more and continue walking. 

“I want to put the years of sadness behind me.” Eiji could feel Sing staring at him as he walked. “I won’t be forgetting him— that’s what Dr. Madison keeps telling me. He wouldn’t want me to be so sad. He would want me to get on with my life. He would want me to move on.”

This time, it was Sing who stopped walking. “Eiji?”

Eiji turned to face him, his stomach in knots. “Mmm?”

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for— for years.” Sing’s eyes were glassy with tears. “You can— you can shut me down, but—”

“I know,” Eiji whispered. 

“But I just have to— I’d be mad at myself if I didn’t try. I—” Sing’s eyes dropped yet again to Eiji’s lips. Eiji braced himself for the inevitable. “I so desperately want to kiss you right now.”

Eiji inhaled shakily. He gave his head the slightest shake. “I can’t,” he whispered, as if the words would be less harsh at a lower volume. “I’m so sorry, Sing.”

Hastily, Sing turned his head. He nodded dramatically, his shoulders bouncing in the process. Tears burned his eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t be sorry. I know this is—” he pointed back and forth between them. “One-sided.” He laughed sarcastically in spite of himself. “Wishful thinking, that’s all. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he told him softly. With sad eyes, Eiji grabbed Sing’s hand and started walking.  “Come on, Buddy’s getting impatient.”

Finally, it arrived. Year ten. One full decade.

Eiji could hardly sleep the night before. His stomach was in knots and his heart pulsed much too quickly in his chest. He asked Sing for one of his medications that brought on sleep, but Sing refused. “Any other night, but not tonight,” Sing had said. Eiji supposed that was fair. So instead of sleeping, he lay awake, eyes studying the darkened ceiling above him for hours on end. Eventually, he dozed off, though he was certain he got only a few hours of sleep before the sun woke him. 

Eiji planned a party at his apartment. Sing and Max were there, of course, but he also invited a handful of the guys and Nadia. That afternoon started with the apartment swimming with melancholic energy. Eiji was surrounded by friends who all loved the man they knew as Ash Lynx. Alex, Kong, Bones, and even Cain Blood were among the boys who made it. Even Ibe-san made a short appearance over a video call. 

Some of them hadn’t seen Eiji in years, after all, his depression had a way of isolating him from anyone who didn’t dare to seek him out. At first, they entered with their condolences, but Eiji reassured them all that the day was meant to celebrate Ash’s life, as well as new beginnings.

There was food from Chang Dai, as well as sweets from a local bakery and plenty of alcohol to go around. Eiji, of course, did not partake in the drinking, but he had now been sober, not to mention happy , long enough now that it no longer tempted him much.

They ate and talked about old times and caught each other up on their current lives. The entire time, Eiji kept glancing up at the building across the street, a swarm of bees in his insides. He hoped Ash was watching, and he wished, desperately, that he would see him soon.

“He wants me to make an entrance,” Ash remarked, observing the party that hosted so many of his friends from a past life. “It’s like a reverse surprise party. That’s what he wants. That’s—” he looked behind him at Blanca who was fixing himself a drink. “Are you fucking listening to me?”

Blanca nodded. “Of course.” Ice clinked against his glass as he turned around to face Ash. “Go over there, then, if that’s what you want. Your deal is done. Nothing is stopping you now.”

Ash shook his head. “No, I don’t want all the show.”

“Sing’s less likely to kill you in front of everyone.” Blanca groaned as he sat back on the couch. The past few weeks had been taxing, to say the least. Ash had been wrapped up in a nasty case, which only added to his mental stress in the days leading up to the decade anniversary. Blanca, though not known for being comforting, had been the only one to console him, and it showed.

“That’s what he wants,” Ash said again. “It’s so obvious. He keeps looking up here and everything. He—”

“So go.” Blanca sipped his bourbon. “I encourage it. End his suffering.” He gestured with his glass, ice clinking again. “Go over there, surprise them all. Kiss your boy and make everyone— except maybe Sing’s— day.”

Ash’s face wrinkled in distaste. “I said I don’t want a show. I’m not just gonna prance in there and assume Eiji wants to kiss me in front of all those people and—”

Blanca laughed. “Of course he does! He’s been waiting for you for ten years .”

“That doesn’t mean—” but he stopped speaking because he realized Blanca was probably right on this one. Not everyone had trauma like his. “Well, I don’t want that,” he said instead. “I don’t want a show,” he said for the third time.

“He’ll be disappointed.”

Ash bit his lip. He watched Eiji who was laughing at something Bones said. “He’ll understand.”

After most of the guests left, it was just Eiji, Sing, Max, and Alex who remained. As the sun began to set, Max ordered pizzas. They ate and drank beers, save Eiji, and carried on. 

As the night drew on, Eiji grew quieter and more sedate. He looked longingly, and often, out the window, trying to wrap his head around where Ash might be.

Max and Alex started rambling on about a recent film they had both seen. They argued over the meaning of the ending, getting quite loud thanks to the alcohol in their bloodstreams. 

“Hey,” Sing settled beside Eiji on the couch. He nudged his shoulder. “You alright?”

Eiji glanced at the beer in Sing’s hands. He wanted to reach out and take a swig, doubt and sadness setting in. 

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” Sing said, giving Eiji another nudge.

Eiji smiled sadly. “I wanted today to be happy, but… it’s setting in now.”

“Reality?”

Eiji nodded. “Yeah.” Eiji rubbed his head, messing up his hair. “I want a drink,” he confessed. “And I haven’t wanted one in such a long time.

Sing swirled the beer bottle in his hand and drained the remainder of it in one tornadic gulp. He placed the empty bottle on the ground. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Eiji shook his head in disagreement. “The itch is still there.” He motioned with his eyes toward Max and Alex who both were nursing beers of their own.

“Right. You want me to kick these old geezers to the curb?”

“Ha,” Eiji laughed gently. “No, that’s alright.”

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Alex shouted at Max. “That symbolized her relationship with Matty, not her mother! ”

“Did we even watch the same fuckin’ film?!”

“HEY!” Sing shouted, grabbing their attention. “We have neighbors, assholes!”

They both shrugged and continued their conversation at a marginally quieter volume. 

Sing looked at Eiji. “I think they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

“No, don’t kick them out.” 

“One more shout like that and they’ll have brought in on themselves.” More seriously, he added, “Besides, you look pretty beat.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to leave.” Eiji stood and stretched sleepily. “I’m a big boy, I can put myself to bed.”

Sing smiled at him. “I’ll give them a few more minutes.”

Eiji walked to Max and Alex and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Thanks for coming, guys. I’m pooped, I need to get to bed, but I’m so happy I got to see everyone again.”

“Thanks for having us, Eiji. We need to get together more often.”

Max agreed and Eiji slipped away down the hall.

It wasn’t long after he was settled in bed that the voices in the living room carried to the door and faded away. Eiji heard Sing take Buddy out a final time before joining him in the bedroom. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Sing asked as he climbed into bed beside Eiji.

“Mmm, a little overstimulated, but I’m alright.”

Sing reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. “Get some sleep.”

“I have a shoot tomorrow,” Eiji said into the darkness. 

“Not early, I hope.”

“No. It’s not until four.”

“That’s good.”

“I’ll probably be gone a few hours. Do you think you could have dinner ready when I get home? I’m thinking it will be seven-ish by the time I make it back.”

Sing smiled into the darkness, fully knowing that Eiji was making it clear Sing had no reason to worry. A year ago, he would have feared for Eiji’s life, especially after gathering all of their good friends just the night before. But this year was different. Sing had faith that Eiji’s party today was simply a celebration of life, rather than a farewell party. “Yeah, alright,” Sing answered.

Eiji rolled over. “Cool, thanks.”

“So that’s that, huh? We made it through today.”

“We made it through ten years .”

The weather outside was terrible. It had started raining at half-past four. Sing stomped through the lobby with soggy shoes and a dripping umbrella. As he made his way to the elevator, he wondered if Eiji’s shoot would be canceled. Of course, Eiji hadn’t said where they were shooting, so there was the possibility it was an indoor venue. 

The elevator slowly carried him to his floor.

As he stepped inside, he toed off his waterlogged shoes and peeled off his coat. It had been the type of rain to come at one from all directions, so his umbrella hadn’t done much good. His pants were dappled in rain from his thighs down. He trudged down the hall to change his clothes when something struck him as odd. 

From the bedroom door, he glanced down the hall. “Buds?” Sing called into the small apartment. There was no answer. “Buddy?” Sing called again, louder this time. His pulse began to race and as if on cue, he heard the jingle of Buddy’s tags. The dog pranced down the hall toward him.

Sing’s heart calmed. “There you are.” He patted the retriever’s head. “Not like you not to greet me. Sleeping?” He asked the dog. The dog wagged his tail excitedly and barked. Sing’s face grew puzzled. “Don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

At that, Buddy turned excitedly and raced down the hall. Again, Sing’s heart began to race. It wasn’t like Buddy to run from pets unless there was another source of attention present. Tentatively, he made his way down the hall, clothes still wet. “Buddy?” He cleared his throat. “Eiji?”

Sing didn’t know what he expected to see as he poked around the hall, but never in a million years did he expect what he saw then.

There, sitting on his couch, was no other than Ash Lynx, back from the fucking dead.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Resurrection 

Sing rubbed his eyes, certain he must be dreaming, but when his eyes reopened, Ash was still there, clear as day.

Ash stared into the room, his face turned away from Sing. He made no effort to look Sing’s way.

Sing stared, mouth hanging open for what felt like minutes, but was likely only seconds. Finally, he found the strength to speak.

“Either I’m seeing ghosts, or you’re a fucking coward,” Sing said, breaking the heavy silence. 

Ash neither said anything nor moved a muscle. He continued to stare out the window before him.

Sing swallowed the bile that had begun to burn his throat. “Fucking face me, ghoul,” he said through gritted teeth.

Still, Ash didn’t move. 

“I SAID FACE ME!” Sing shouted ferally into the room. 

Buddy, who had been sitting beside Ash, jumped, skittered off into the kitchen, and settled under the kitchen table.

“FUCKING FACE ME!” Sing shouted, face bright red.

Finally, Ash turned. Sing had been half expecting to see Eiji wearing a blonde wig and dressed in Ash’s clothes. He half expected, or perhaps simply wanted, this to be one very unfunny prank.

But, of course, it was not. 

Ash met his eyes, face colorless and guilty. 

Ash could hear Sing’s angry breath from across the room. “Back from the motherfucking dead, huh? You think this is funny? You think you can just show up after TEN FUCKING YEARS!?” Sing stomped into the living room. He grabbed Ash’s shirt collar, before releasing him in a shove of disgust, as if simply touching him was enough to make Ash real. “Ten fucking years I can’t even say your name and you think you’re allowed to just show up?” Just looking at Ash made his stomach churn. “You can’t be here,” Sing spat. He pointed to the door behind him. “Get the fuck out. Now .”

Ash made no effort to move.

“I said OUT!” He pointed again to the door. “Now! NOW YOU FUCKING DICK!”

Tears began to gather in Ash’s eyes and his face turned pink.

Sing shook his head. “Nope. You don’t get to cry. No fuckin’ way you get to act like the victim here.”

Against both their wishes, a tear slid down Ash’s face. 

“You selfish fuck,” Sing hissed. He lunged forward, tackling Ash to the ground, and straddling his ribcage. He grabbed Ash by the shirt collar, shaking him. “You can't be here! You need to leave! We’re fucking FINE without you! Eiji’s finally healing! He can’t come home and find you here!” Tears fell from Sing’s eyes onto Ash’s face, burning his skin with an overflow of rage. “Are you gonna fucking speak?!” 

Ash remained silent. 

Sing’s hands wrapped around Ash’s throat, though he applied no pressure. “I ought to fucking kill you,” he hissed. “Strangle you right here.” He lowered his face close to Ash’s. “Seems you don’t have the balls to fuckin’ stop me.”

Ash closed his eyes, more tears leaking down his face in silent remorse. He put up no fight against Sing’s anger.

“Eiji is fine without you. He’s happy with me!” Sing squeezed his throat.

Ash’s eyes flew open, and yet he still didn’t struggle, he didn’t fight back.

“Did you hear me!? Eiji’s happ—” The word died in Sing’s throat. He sat up straight and looked at the helpless, arguably gutless, man pinned beneath him. Ash stared up at Sing. He had said not a word, yet his face said everything: Eiji already knew. Ash was the reason he was better. His miraculous recovery had never made a lick of sense, until now.

Again, Sing lowered his face to be just inches from Ash’s. His grip on Ash’s neck tightened. “He fucking knows.”

Ash’s mouth opened, gasping. His hands gripped Sing’s wrists, self-preservation kicking in. Ash pushed against him, legs now flailing beneath him.

Sing tightened his grip on Ash’s throat once more; he held his grip long enough for true panic to wash over Ash’s face, and then, he released him. 

Ash gasped for breath, coughing and sputtering.

Sing stared down at him with absolute rage and hate in his eyes. “Him knowing you’re alive just saved your fuckin’ life, punk,” Sing spat. 

Ash couldn’t respond. He continued to cough and gasp for air. 

Sing stood, releasing Ash. “You deserve to die for the hell you’ve put us through.” He kicked Ash’s side, though not hard enough to do any real damage. Still, Ash coughed harder. “I’m only sparing you for him ,” Sing added with a murderous tongue. 

Ash nodded in understanding. 

In a sudden, jolting motion, Sing was squatting beside Ash’s pathetic form. “Why won’t you fucking speak?!” Sing shouted at him.

Ash pushed himself upright, one hand at his throat. When he finally spoke, his words were weak and rough. “I deserve this,” he managed. 

“Damn right.”

Ash coughed. “I didn’t come here to defend myself.” He met Sing’s eyes. “I figured my odds were sixty-forty.”

Sing glared at him. “What’s that fuckin’ mean?” 

Ash opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a fit of coughing. His body shook and his eyes watered. Sing sat, watching him without a trace of remorse. Offering sympathy, let alone water, was the last thing on his mind.

“Sixty—” Ash cleared his throat. “Percent chance you’d let me live and forty percent you’d kill me— or try to at least.”

Sing’s face burned red. He stood and faced the windows that lined the room, no longer able to face Ash. “If he didn’t know you lived, I would have .”

“Must run in the family,” Ash said, his tone just short of taunting.

“It fuckin’ must.” But Sing didn’t move to inflict more harm on the man he hated above all else.

“Your brother was successful, you should know.” Though Sing was not facing him, Ash lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a large jagged scar on the right side of his abdomen. After ten years’ time, it was no longer red and angry. It was now flesh-colored, though it did not match the surrounding skin in either color or texture. 

Sing turned around, eyes immediately fixating on the old battle scar. “What are you on about?”

“I died that day,” Ash answered. “For two and a half long minutes.” He gestured up and down his living form. “Obviously, they brought me back, but…” he trailed off. He shrugged, with pain in his eyes. “Thought maybe you should know your brother lost his life doing what he intended to do. My life for Shorter’s.” Ash looked away then, still unable to speak of his deceased friend without burning eyes and tear-blurred vision. 

“I never wanted to kill Shorter, but it doesn’t change what I did,” Ash confessed. “My therapist says that’s why I didn’t seek help— why I didn’t try to save myself. The guilt.” He shrugged again, as if the thought did little to interest him after all these years. “I think he’s probably right.” 

Ash looked at Sing, holding his eyes with his piercing green stare. “But it was Shorter or Eiji, and ultimately I chose Eiji. You deserve to know that.” He released the hem of his shirt, letting it cover his skin again. “I think it’s fair to say you would have made the same choice.”

For the first time since Sing laid eyes on Ash, his anger began to dissipate. He deflated, folding in on himself and crumpled to the ground. 

“He never told you about that night at Golzine’s, huh?”

Sing’s face was numb as he shook his head. “Never.”

“I hated myself as much as you hated me, that day— probably more.” Ash ran a hand through his hair. “So I didn’t care what you thought. I didn’t care that you hated me. I hated me. Maybe I wanted you to hate me too. God knows I thought I deserved it. I killed Shorter, that’s true. And my teenage, traumatized brain couldn’t see past that.” He sighed. “You should ask Eiji about it sometime.”

Sing shook his head. “No. You owe me this. Tell me what happened. Don’t you dare make Eiji relive it.”

Ash crossed a leg over his knee. “Fair enough. I’ll give you the short version.”

Sing nodded, encouraging Ash to continue.

“They had me, captured and helpless. And they had Eiji and Shorter too. They drugged Shorter— with Banana Fish— and used it to make him hate Eiji— to see him as the enemy. Shorter ran at Eiji with the knife they gave him and every intention of killing him. His brain was destroyed by the drug, and killing Eiji was all he wanted.” Ash looked away. A tear slipped down his face. His voice broke when he spoke next. “I didn’t want to kill him. He was my best friend. My first real friend. My only friend for a long time, and I—” He wiped his cheek dry. “I still hate myself for having to do what I did.”

“You killed Shorter before he could kill Eiji.” It wasn’t a question.

“Even back then I loved him,” Ash whispered, almost shamefully. 

For several long minutes, Sing said nothing. He stared at the hardwood floor, thinking about what Ash had said. For years, he hated Ash, not only for abandoning Eiji, but for killing Shorter, who was supposed to have been his greatest friend. 

“And you saved him again two years ago?” Sing asked, looking up from the floor as the thought struck him. “You’re the one who shot that damned gun from his hand.”

Ash nodded. He held up a finger gun and pointed it at Sing’s head from across the room. His hand twitched in pretend recoil. “Still a pretty good shot, huh?

Sing shook his head, somewhere between anger and disbelief. “And you wrote him that fucking note in the hospital.” His voice rose. “Do you know how much chaos that single word caused?

“In hindsight, it was careless.”

Sing huffed a sarcastic breath. “So when did you tell him you were alive?”

Ash searched the ceiling for answers. “Mmm, a few months after that, I think. I hadn’t been planning on it but… he caught me watching. Again, I was careless.”

Sing closed his eyes, so tight his eyelids wrinkled. He pinched the bridge of his nose with aggravated fingers. “All those years you were watching him from that fucking building?”

Ash nodded. “‘Fraid so.”

“And why now? Why come back after ten fucking years? "

Light crept into Ash’s face for the first time that day. “My deal is up. Ten years of service for my amnesty. That was my deal with the Feds.”

Sing stood, unbelieving. “Since when does Ash Lynx do as the government says?”

“Ever since they held my life in their hands.”

Sing crossed his arms over his chest, still not buying Ash’s story. 

“If I ever wanted to see Eiji again— not behind prison bars— I had to do what they said.”

The disbelief on Sing’s face was replaced with understanding. “And you’d do anything for Eiji.”

Ash held out his arms as if offering himself for sacrifice. “Anything at all.”

“And does he know you’re here now?

Ash lowered his arms. “No,” he answered truthfully. “I thought I owed it to you— to tell you first.”

“Did you think it’d make me hate you less?” Sing spat.

Ash laughed, it was a bitter sound. “No, I’m not an idiot.” He held Sing’s gaze. “You’ll always hate me. That’s just the way it’s gonna be.”

Sing broke his eyes away from Ash, but he didn’t respond further for a long moment.

Cautiously, Buddy crept back into the quiet room, greeting both men with a wet nose and a friendly lick. 

Finally, Sing spoke again. “If Eiji’s happy…” he gritted his teeth, “then I guess I might be able to tolerate you.”

“I don’t even expect tolerance.”

“He will.”

Ash said nothing in response to this. Though he had been observing from afar, Sing now knew Eiji leagues better than Ash did.

“You better swear on your fucking life that you won’t fucking hurt him,” Sing added, eyes locking with Ash’s.

“You mean don’t break his heart?”

Fiercely, Sing nodded.

Ash chewed his bottom lip. “Of course I swear.”

Sing’s eyes narrowed, not fully believing him.

Ash raised his right hand as if swearing in a court of law. “Sing, if I ever leave Eiji, you have my permission to kill me in whatever painful way you see fit.”

“Chh,” Sing scoffed. “Or what if you cheat? Or mistreat him? Or—”

Ash adjusted testily in his seat. His eyebrows drew together. “I’d never fuckin’ cheat on him.”

Sing crossed his arms, though Ash’s answer satisfied him. “Good.”

Ash stood, walking toward the kitchen. “Can’t believe you’d even fucking think I’d be capable of such a disgusting thing.” He opened the fridge, looking for a beer he knew he wouldn’t find. Cool air spilled against his legs as his eyes scanned over the contents of the fridge. Suddenly, the image of Eiji, starved and depressed, entered his brain. For such a long time, his fridge was filled with measly, rotting leftovers and beer. Now, thanks to Sing, it was stocked full of fresh produce and proteins, along with fresh leftovers— evidence of his health. “Thanks for loving him in my absence— when I couldn’t,” Ash decided to say, eyes fixated on leftover soup that he’d seen Eiji prepare countless times.

“When you couldn't? Are you even capable of loving him now?” Sing asked from the couch, voice low and condescending. 

Ash released the fridge handle, letting it fall shut with an audible slap. “What's that?”

“You heard me.

“Say what you fucking mean,” he said, turning to face Sing with a glower.

“You know damn well what I—”

“Sure I do. But it looks like you don’t have the balls to say it to my face.” He crossed into the living room, suddenly towering over where Sing now sat on the couch. Suddenly, Sing was a child again, with New York’s deadliest gangster staring him down. “Say it,” Ash commanded.

Sing swallowed a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Ash crossed his arms. “I’ve got all day.”

Sing’s eyes scrunched closed. Again he tried to speak, but this time, Ash interrupted him.

“What? Can’t even look me in the eye? And I’m the coward?”

Sing’s eyes opened. “Fine,” he ground out. “You know what I mean but— After all your trauma… are you even capable of a relationship? Of sex? Of love ?”

Ash’s eyebrows cocked in disdain as Sing spoke. “Let me ask you this,” he began, drawing closer to Sing, casting shadows on the other man’s face. “Are you capable of giving those things to Eiji?”

“I— y—”

“He has to also want those things from you,” Ash interjected, “before you can be capable of giving them.”

Sing broke his eyes away from Ash, turning his head sharply. “You’re cruel,” he hissed. 

“Hmph,” a sarcastic breath left Ash’s lungs. “You’re the one implying I’m still broken.”

Sing looked back at Ash, eyes cold. “Aren’t you?!” He nearly shouted at the other man.

Ash grabbed Sing forcefully by his shirt collar. He forced him into a standing position, yanking him roughly off the couch. He craned his neck, hissing in Sing’s face, canine teeth catching the light. “Well, you’ve got some fucking nerve, don’t you?”

Sing’s wide eyes cringed shut, bracing himself for the worst.

Suddenly there was the sound of keys and the apartment door opened. Both of their heads swiveled toward it. Ash held Sing’s shirt even tighter. Sing's feet nearly left the ground.

“Fuck,” Eiji cursed as he took in the sight before him. “Fuck.” He hurried into the apartment, tripping over a pair of Sing’s shoes. “Please don’t kill each other!”

Ash released Sing with a shove that sent him stumbling backward onto the couch. “Lord knows he wanted to, Eiji.”

As Sing watched Eiji, his face grew more and more red. Angry tears gathered in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. It was clear from his lack of surprise that Eiji had known for some time. Sing stood. He walked up to Eiji, challenging him. “Two years you knew?”

Eiji couldn’t meet his eyes. “Sing, I—” 

Sing shook his head, seething. “You make me sick. ” He wanted to say so much more, but was too enraged to muster anything else. He shoved past Eiji and stormed toward the door. 

Eiji followed him. “Sing—”

Sing turned and faced him. “Don’t fucking follow me, Eiji! Just—” He shoved his feet into his shoes, crushing the heels in the process. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

The door slammed shut with so much force that the salt and pepper shakers rattled on the table.

The door slammed behind Sing. The neighbor across the hall jumped, dropping her keys. She stooped down to retrieve them, cursing under her breath as she did so. Sing said nothing as he stomped past her down the hall. 

“Thanks for scaring me half to death!” The woman called after him. “Asshole,” she added under her breath. 

Sing didn’t so much as turn his head. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the elevators at the end of the hall. He used his knuckle to punch the button labeled ‘Roof.’

The doors opened to a dimly lit closet of a room. Sing pushed the heavy metal door open, and was instantly met with a bone-chilling downpour. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. Instantly, he was soaked from head to toe. Instead of retreating back into the elevator space, he pushed forward, not stopping until he reached the edge of the roof. He braced his arms on the waist-high ledge and looked at the city below.

“Fuck,” he cursed again, louder this time. He released a ragged breath. He glared at the building across the street, wondering how many times Ash had spied on private moments of his and Eiji’s life. “Fuck!” He said again, shouting this time. His eyes closed and he slapped the edge of the roof, sending icy water into the air and spraying against his forearms. “FUCK!” 

He stepped back from the ledge and his head tipped back toward the sky. Tears flowed freely down his face. All at once, he fell to his knees, crumpling under gravity’s gentle pull. 

He knelt there, crying in the rain, pants already too saturated to absorb the pooling, gray water on the roof. He screamed out into the stormy sky, emptying all the air from his lungs, only to inhale and scream again and again and again. After the fourth guttural scream, he collapsed from exhaustion. He laid there, stretched out on the rooftop hoping he could somehow melt into the cold roof and fade away from life.

Sing’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He ripped the phone out and, instead of answering, lobbed it through the air with all of his strength. It crashed against the concrete ledge that lined the roof, shattering the contact picture of Eiji’s smiling face. After four rings, the screen went black and Sing was hit with another round of tears.

He sat up, fingers digging angrily into his scalp. Bile inched its way up his throat and he had the fleeting thought he might be sick before he swallowed, forcing the foul substance back into his stomach where it belonged. 

Again, the phone across the roof buzzed, and again Sing didn’t answer. He watched as the phone lit up, Eiji smiled at him from across the way, and then returned to black once more. 

Worried. Eiji was worried.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, mopping the water from his skin. The rush of adrenaline was starting to fade and it was then Sing realized how cold the winter rain was. He began to shake uncontrollably with both cold and remorse. 

How many times had he told Eiji he would be happy if he could only move on? Had it all been a lie? For how could he possibly be happy now? He had never in his wildest thoughts could have predicted that Eiji would move on from Ash with the resurrected Ash .

Nausea hit him again and this time he gave in, gagging as his lunch left him. Bracing himself with pale hands against the roof, he stared down at the pile of half-digested noodles and vegetables. Disgust churned his stomach once more, adding to the vile mess before him.

For a third time, his phone buzzed. This time, it was only a text. 

Sing wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With all the strength he had left, he forced himself up, stumbling toward the phone. He scooped it up. The screen was completely shattered, but it seemed to still be functioning just fine. He read Eiji’s text.

Please call me back. Please, I know I don’t deserve it. But please.

Memories of all the times Eiji didn’t answer flooded his mind with the same chilling pain as the falling rain. 

He remembered how horrible it felt when Eiji wouldn’t answer him. He recalled the way his brain would burn with anxiety, thinking the worst but trying to remain positive. A part of him wanted Eiji to feel that pain as well. But a greater part of him never wanted to hurt Eiji. He attempted to respond, but the combination of the wet screen and his cold skin made it an impossible task. He moved to dry the phone on his shirt only to remember his entire body was soaking wet.

He began to shake again, aware of how cold he’d become. His teeth chattered in his mouth. He pocketed the phone and faced the edge of the building. The city below him continued to buzz with traffic and life. Life went on without him. Streetlights and neon signs had already begun to illuminate the city under the stormy sky. 

For a brief moment, Sing’s tears stopped. He admired the distance between him and the street below. And for a second, he thought about how easy it would be to hoist himself onto the ledge and over into— he shut his eyes and shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. 

“No!” He scolded himself for even thinking such a thing.

But when his eyes reopened, they danced over the street again and the thought returned. 

He slapped the sides of his face. “No!” He shouted at himself. “You wouldn’t do that. You can’t do that to Eiji. He finally has a chance to be happy now, don’t take that from him!”

But even as he tried to push the thought away, suddenly he understood the sweet call of death that tempted Eiji all of those years. 

Ash and Eiji stood speechless in Sing’s angry wake. 

Eiji slowly turned, eyes raking over Ash, and settling on his neck, where his skin was an angry red from the memory of Sing’s hands. Eiji reached out a shaky hand, fingers stopping just before touching Ash’s skin. 

“Did Sing do this?” Eiji spoke softly, sounding bewildered but not angry. 

Ash nodded. His fingers encircled Eiji’s wrist and closed the distance between Eiji’s tan fingers and his angry, pale skin. “You can touch me,” Ash told him softly.

Amazingly, Eiji blushed at Ash’s words and the forbidden contact. Suddenly, he didn’t care that Sing had apparently tried to strangle the man before him. The room grew too hot for comfort and air seemed to become scarce. His face was on fire.

“I missed you too,” Ash said, reading Eiji’s mind. 

A smile spilled over Eiji’s face, but as soon as it appeared, it drained. “Sometimes I worry you’re just in my head,” Eiji whispered. “And that maybe I’m crazy.”

Ash ran two gentle knuckles across Eiji’s cheekbone. “I’m very much real.” His hand came to rest on Eiji’s jaw, two fingers landing behind his reddened ears. “And this time, I’m here to stay.”

Eiji lost the capacity to breathe altogether as Ash tilted his head and closed the distance between them. Eiji remembered the pretend kiss from all those years ago, back when he was young and innocent and unweathered from the world’s trials. That kiss had been breathtaking, but in a different way than this; he remembered how it left him dizzy and utterly flustered. But that kiss had been all show— a great theatrical performance that had fooled even Eiji until he felt the pill pressed against his tongue. This kiss wasn’t that. This was timid, almost clumsy. If Eiji hadn’t known better, he would have thought Ash was out of practice. Although, on second thought, maybe he was. After all, he was free of Dino and all that entailed. Maybe he had fallen out of practice. Maybe Eiji hoped he had. At the very least, he seemed nervous. It was endearing. Eiji smiled against his mouth.

Ash pulled away, breaking it off before it properly began. His eyes fell to the floor and a blush rose on his cheeks. “In all these years, there was no one for me,” he said softly. He looked up, meeting Eiji’s eyes. And instantly, Eiji felt enveloped in a lovely daze. “No one I chose,” Ash began, “And no one I didn’t,” he added in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Ash,” was all Eiji could manage. Those words meant more to Eiji than he could even begin to vocalize. 

“If you still want me, I’m yours, Eiji. Forever, if that’s what you want.”

Ash stood behind a cloud that was Eiji’s teary vision. Eiji nodded and choked out, “Forever. Forever, if that’s what you’ll give me.” Tears dripped down his face, cold and salty as they passed over his lips. 

Ash pulled him close until their bodies were pressed into one. “I’d give you anything you asked for, anything at all. My very life if that’s what you wanted.” 

Ash kissed him again, but this time it was more than a quick press of lips. This time it sent electricity through Eiji’s very bones. And as Eiji kissed him back, he wasn’t preoccupied with the anxiety of ‘doing things right,’ because truth be told, he was out of practice himself, but in that moment, that didn’t matter. Perhaps with someone else it would have, but the connection he had to Ash overrode all fear and nervousness. 

Eiji sighed with contentment when Ash pulled away. 

“I could stay like this forever, but,” Ash began.

“But what?”

“But you should probably go find Sing.”

Guilt and dread knocked Eiji back a step. He chewed his bottom lip. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

Ash shook his head. “He’ll never hate you. But he’s hurting, you should go to him.”

“He said not to follow him,” Eiji worried. 

“Sure, but he needs you. You gave him a few minutes at least.”

Eiji nodded slowly. He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Let me call him,” Eiji said as he dialed Sing’s number.

The phone rang until it went to voicemail. Eiji ended the call and looked anxiously at Ash. “He didn’t—”

“Give him a second and try him again.”

Eiji nodded. His hands shook and his stomach sloshed. He waited several long minutes and finally, Ash prompted him to try again.

Again, the phone rang, and again, no one answered. 

“Text him,” Ash suggested. 

Eiji wondered how he was able to remain so calm.

Eiji’s hands shook so badly he could barely type. After a few tries, he managed to send a simple text. Please call me back. Please, I know I don’t deserve it. But please.

Several long minutes passed and Sing sent no response. Eiji searched Ash’s face. “Oh my God, what if he’s—”

“He wouldn’t,” Ash said sternly.

Eiji pocketed his phone, shaking so badly it took him three attempts to find his back pocket. “You don’t know that. He’s said— many times— I’m all he has— and now—” Eiji turned, walking toward the door. “I have to find him.”

Ash started to follow after him, but Eiji held out a hand. “He won’t want to see you.”

Ash stopped in his tracks. “You’re right. I’ll go.”

“No, you don’t—”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Eiji shivered where he stood. “O-okay.”

Ash’s eyes raked over Eiji’s shaking form. “Here,” he held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” 

Eiji fished it from his pocket. He held it out for Ash, accidentally dropping it, but Ash caught it before it hit the ground. 

With great efficiency, Ash entered his contact information into Eiji’s phone. “Sing will be fine,” he said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. “But if he isn’t, or if it gets hairy, call me.”

When Ash returned the phone to Eiji, Eiji pressed it close to his heart like it was the most precious thing in all the world. 

Ash couldn’t help but smile. “Go find him.”

When Eiji opened the door to the roof, he was met with the sight of Sing standing, utterly soaked, at the roof’s edge, peering over the ledge. The sight alone knocked the air from Eiji’s lungs. His mouth fell open and for a moment he was completely paralyzed, unable to speak or move a muscle.

Sing’s hands were on the ledge, rain bouncing off his skin.

“No,” Eiji whispered when the numbness began to wear off. Sing didn’t hear him over the sound of the rain, or perhaps he simply didn’t care that Eiji was there.

Eiji shook his head, life returning to his limbs. He ran across the roof toward Sing. “No!” He screamed as his feet carried him forward. His feet crashed through the puddles on the roof’s uneven surface, spraying cold water up his pant legs. Not that it mattered, he was drenched by the downpour from the moment he stepped outside. 

Hearing him, Sing turned his head. What he saw was Eiji running straight toward him, panic and tears cascading down his face. 

“Sing, NO!” Eiji shouted.

When he reached Sing, he collided with him, pushing him up against the waist-high ledge. Eiji’s arms wrapped around Sing’s body tighter than seemed humanly possible. Sing squeaked from the pressure around his ribcage. 

“Please, Sing, please! You can’t leave me! Please don’t do it! Please!” Eiji pleaded into Sing’s soaked shoulder. The water from Eiji’s eyes mixed with that on Sing’s shirt and skin.

“Eiji—” Sing began, but Eiji continued his pleading shouts, drowning out Sing’s words.

“Please, don’t leave me! I’m sorry! You can hate me— you have every right— just— please, don’t—”

“Eiji!” Sing shouted above Eiji’s chaos.

Eiji’s words stumbled to a halt. His mouth snapped shut and he pulled away from Sing just enough to look into his eyes.

“I wasn’t— I’m not going to jump,” Sing managed to say at last. He concealed the fact that, yes, he had been tempted. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anger flashed in Eiji’s eyes. “No. Not for me. Don’t do that to you.”

Sing tried to push Eiji away, but he only held him tighter. “You’re using my own words against me.”

Eiji squeezed him. “I don’t care. They’re good words.” Eiji had lost track of how many times Sing had said those words to him. He had always hated them, but now, he could see their value. 

“You can’t do this.”

“I’m not,” Sing tried to reassure him. He was a mess of tears, and it only worsened as Eiji unraveled before him.

“Stay.”

“I am.”

“Stay, Sing,” Eiji wailed. “Please stay. For fuck’s sake stay!”

“I am,” Sing squeaked.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been awful, I know I’ve hurt you— hate me, but don’t end it,” Eiji continued to plead.

“Eiji, please!” Sing shouted.

Again, Eiji was stunned into silence.

Not even an hour ago, Sing could hardly look at Eiji. Still, he felt betrayed and sickened, but as Eiji clung to him like life itself, the anger seemed to be washed away with the rain. He stared down at Eiji who looked up at him with red, swollen eyes, pale lips, and chattering teeth. Sing himself was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, though he was marginally warmed now that Eiji clung to him.

“You’re freezing,” Sing said. “Let’s get inside.”

Eager to get Sing off the roof, Eiji obliged. He linked his arm around Sing and pulled him toward the door as fast as his legs could carry him. 

The solid metal door slammed behind them and they were left in the small room as they waited for the elevator. They both shivered involuntarily. Sing, who had been in the rain longer than Eiji, had blue lips and fingertips, and his skin was numb from the cold. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, encouraging blood to warm the area, yet ultimately he knew he would be frozen until he dried off.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the pair stepped inside. Sing selected Eiji’s floor and the machine jolted to life. The floor below them was quickly drenched, leaving puddles beneath their feet. When the doors opened on Eiji’s floor, he didn’t step out. Instead, he hit ‘Lobby.’

Eiji paused outside the elevator, waiting. He stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from closing. “Where are you going?”

Sing shook his head, and droplets of water flew through the air. “I can’t, Eiji, I’m sorry.”

Eiji shook his head in return. “No. Come on. Where would you even go? You’re soaking wet, no cab will take you.”

“I can survive a walk.” It was true. What he might not survive was going back to the apartment and facing Ash again.

“No.” Eiji reached out, grabbing Sing’s arm. “Come on. Don’t be stupid. Jimmy’s still staying at your place,” Eiji said, reminding Sing of the meager acquaintance he had roped into subletting his apartment once he had fully committed to living with Eiji almost two years ago now. “Come on.”

Sing jerked away from Eiji’s grip. “I can’t, Eiji— He’s—” Sing forced himself to take a breath. “I can’t be in the same room with him right now.”

Eiji reached for Sing’s arm again. “He left. It’ll just be us. He’s gone.”

Sing stared at him, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty.

“Really, Sing. He’s not there.”

Slowly, Sing nodded and stepped off the elevator. “Okay.”

The hot water shocked Sing’s skin. What was supposed to be a calming reset soon left him itching from head to toe. After a few short minutes, he retreated from the shower, dried, and dressed in fresh, warm clothes. 

“It’s not worth it,” he said to Eiji as he emerged from the bathroom, steam pouring out of the room behind him.

Eiji, who was now dressed in dry clothes, looked as if he might laugh. “No?”

Sing held out an arm; it bore deep red lines from where Sing had scratched and scratched. “I’m itching all over.”

A laugh erupted from Eiji and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry—” but he continued to laugh. 

Sing opened his mouth to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but his face fell before he could utter anything of the sort. 

“What?”

Sing waved a hand through the air. “I don’t know, I— I don’t have the energy to…” he didn’t finish the sentence. He moved across the living room and pulled the drapes closed, concealing them from prying eyes. 

“I don’t think he’s still watching,” Eiji said in a small voice.

Sing moved to the other side of the room, closing the drapes there as well. “I don’t really care what you think.” The words came out harsher than he had intended them to. Sing turned to look at Eiji. “I didn’t mean— that didn’t come out right.”

Eiji nodded. “It’s fine.”

Sing scrubbed a hand over his face and walked toward the couch. He flopped down, leaving plenty of room between himself and Eiji. “Ya know for years now all I’ve wanted is for you to want to live and even to enjoy life.” He released a heavy sigh. “You’ll be able to now, so I should be happy, but Eiji—” he shifted in his seat, one leg curled under his body as he faced Eiji. He rested an elbow on the back of the couch. “But how could you let me suffer like that? For two years. I just—” Sing scratched at his shoulder, his skin still irritated by the shock of the hot water. “I just don’t get it, Eiji.” He ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Make it make sense.”

“If I had said anything, it would have put Ash in danger. He wasn’t supposed to contact anyone from his past life.” Eiji’s eyes ran back and forth across Sing’s face. “If I could have said something, I would have.”

Sing shook his head, dissatisfied. He thought of the intense stress that made his limbs feel weak and his brain feel like it was burning in his skull. He remembered the sleepless nights and the panic attacks that came out of nowhere. He remembered once having a spell of vertigo so bad he couldn’t leave the couch; anxiety had been the diagnosis. “But you could see the stress I was under,” he argued, trying hard not to raise his voice. “How could you just— You could have at least hinted or—”

Eiji shifted, legs curling under him. Heat rose to his face. “I think me becoming happy was a pretty big hint,” his voice raised, but he tried to keep it under control. “But you assumed it meant the worst.”

Sing’s hands went to his face and he groaned against his palms. In a way, he knew Eiji was right. Sing had questioned every sign of healing. And even when he had started to trust Eiji’s healing was real, the underlying anxiety had never dissipated completely. 

Sing’s breathing quickened. “Yeah, but— you should have—”

“I couldn’t, Sing!” Eiji shouted. “Don’t you think I wanted to?!”

Eiji waited for him to reply, but Sing said nothing further. Instead, they were left in a chilling silence. After a moment, Sing stood.

“I don’t have the energy to fight with you tonight.” 

Eiji’s eyes tracked his movement as he crossed the room and made his way to the door. “Where are you going?” He stood from the couch and followed Sing to the door.

“I shouldn’t be here. He’s back. I have no place being here, interrupting your life. Call him back over here. Enjoy him.” He plunged his arms into his coat and toed on his shoes. “Just try to forget about me, Eiji. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.” Tears burned his eyes. He bent down to adjust the tongue of his shoes in an attempt to hide his eyes. 

“Where will you go?”

“Back to my old place.” When Sing stood, his eyes were clear and dry. “Jimmy will let me crash on the couch for a while.”

Eiji chewed nervously at his bottom lip. “You don’t have to go.”

Sing turned and reached for the doorknob. “I do.” 

“Wait,” Eiji gasped. He reached out and gripped Sing’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Why?” Sing asked without bothering to turn around.

“Stay here.”

Sing’s shoulders sagged and he turned. “Eiji, I just said I need to go.”

“No.” Eiji met his eyes with determination. “You stay. I’ll leave.”

Sing’s face twisted. “What? ”

“You stay here. There’s no need for you to run all the way across town in this weather.”

“But it makes sense for you to?”

Guilt crept into Eiji’s eyes. He looked down at his feet. “I was…” he pointed behind himself. “To Ash.”

Sing nodded slowly in understanding, despite Eiji’s lack of clarity. “Fine.” He stepped back inside. “Go on. I’ll leave in the morning when it’s not,” he waved a hand through the air, “fucking pouring rain.”

“When you say leave…”

Sing’s fingers dug at his scalp. “I don’t even know what I mean.”

Eiji chewed at his lip, pulling a loose tab of skin until a metallic taste pierced his tongue. “But you don’t mean… leave leave.” His tone did not raise in question, for he refused to believe Sing would exit his life so easily. 

Sing said nothing in response. Instead, he bent down and began to untie his shoes.

“Right, Sing?” He chewed at his lip again, causing more blood to leak out of the chapped skin. “Sing!” Eiji nearly shouted, when Sing remained silent.

Sing’s head snapped up. “I don’t know, Eiji! I just don’t know!” He stood, forgetting the half-tied shoes. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t— just keep living here!”

“Ash owns the building across the street, I’m sure he would—”

Sing’s eyes bulged from his head. “No.” He pointed behind himself. “I’d rather die than live in that fucking building! ”

Eiji retreated a step, now standing in the threshold of the open door. “Right. Sorry,” he offered meekly. 

Sing pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to yell—” he paused. “Tomorrow. My head’s pounding.” He sighed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Silently, Eiji nodded. “I’ll be back first thing.”

Sing couldn’t help but scoff.

“What?” The word came out harsher than Eiji had intended.

“You may be a little preoccupied.”

“I won’t be.”

“Eiji, let’s be realistic—”

“I’m not going to forget you just because he’s back!” Eiji shouted the words hastily, his face flushed and eyes glittering with unspilled tears. 

Sing averted his eyes. His body wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and crush his mouth against Eiji’s, but he knew that would only wreak havoc on their already fragile relationship.

“Tomorrow. Please,” he pleaded.

Eiji nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

Eiji was still shivering as he knocked on the door he knew to be Ash’s. When the door opened, Eiji stumbled backward a step. Standing there, towering over him, was Blanca, a glass of whiskey perched in his hand. 

“Welcome,” he said, smiling down at Eiji in what appeared to be a genuine emotion. 

Eiji couldn’t conjure words. He stared up at Blanca with his mouth hanging wide open. 

“I do live here too,” Blanca said, in response to Eiji’s shock.

“I— I know, I just wasn’t—”

“Expecting me. I know. But I was expecting you.” Blanca tossed back the rest of his drink and handed the glass to Eiji. 

The glass felt like a ton of lead in Eiji’s hands. His eyes traced over the remnants of alcohol. It no longer tempted him the way it once had, but still, it felt almost illegal to hold, even if there weren’t more than a few drops of drink remaining. 

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Blanca said. He stepped forward and Eiji moved aside. Eiji looked into the seemingly empty apartment. “He’s in the shower,” Blanca said, answering Eiji’s unspoken question. “But he usually doesn’t take long.” Blanca stepped into the hall. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and jingled them. “I’ll be in 18F tonight. He will ask.”

Eiji nodded numbly and watched as Blanca made his way toward the elevator. 

Blanca turned his head, amused. “Do make yourself at home.” He continued down the hall, stretched out an arm, and called the elevator. Just seconds later, it dinged, and Blanca stepped out of sight. 

Eiji closed the apartment door quietly behind himself. His eyes danced across the room, taking in everything before him. He remembered the place from years ago. It looked the same as it did back then. It was still decorated as one would decorate a showroom. There was a complete lack of personality. The furniture was modern and luxurious, all sharp lines and expensive fabrics. It was clean and precise, almost sterile. The aroma had notes of wood and leather, but overwhelmingly, it had the indescribable scent unique to Ash. 

Eiji closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent penetrate deep into his very lungs. He took a second breath, and by the third breath, his nose had already grown accustomed to the smell and he was no longer able to identify it. He contemplated stepping out into the hall, only to step back inside and smell it anew. But then, the gentle sound of water from the shower caught his ear.  His stomach swarmed with butterflies, and suddenly all he could think of was how lucky he was that he was finally allowed to be here in Ash’s home. 

Eiji made his way into the living room. He sat on the sleek leather couch whose back was too low to truly be comfortable. From this perch, he could see his building across the street. The curtains, which Sing had drawn earlier, concealed his apartment from view. Worry stirred his insides, picturing the worst of what could be transpiring just beyond his view. 

His train of thought broke when the shower water ceased. A different form of anxiety bubbled inside him now. He was in Ash’s home, without the other man’s knowledge. Eiji knew he of course wouldn’t mind, and yet he still felt as if he were doing something wrong. 

Ash emerged a moment later, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants and a towel draped around his neck. He walked to the kitchen counter, not noticing Eiji on the couch. His back was facing Eiji as he reached for the tea kettle.

Eiji couldn’t seem to get his vocal cords to function to announce his presence. He stared at Ash’s pale, lean, scarred back. Water dripped from his hair. The towel around his neck caught most of the fallout, but a few rogue drops occasionally trickled down his skin. 

“Ben finally got back to me,” Ash began. “Took him long enough,” he added under his breath.

Eiji’s throat tightened, confusion further restricting his speech.

“He said three weeks is the best they can do,” Ash went on. He filled the kettle with water. “Three weeks,” he repeated, disapproval thick on his tongue. “Said two weeks is the standard— which I already fuckin’ knew, but I’m asking for a favor not the standard. And they can make exceptions, I’ve seen them do it before.” Ash paused, perhaps awaiting a response. He set the electric kettle on its setting and set it to boil. He reached into the cabinet above his head for a mug. “He said three weeks is pushing it, a month is out of the question. Out of the question.” He next reached for tea, a metal container of loose leaf green tea marked with Japanese writing. “If I want any more time, I’ll need to apply for FMLA. Can you believe that?” He reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of lemon juice and added some to his mug. “Ten years. Ten years I gave them, never once asking for more than a few days off at a time. Ten years busting my ass to give them results they haven’t seen in decades. Ten years of this torturous work helping them put countless sick fucks behind bars and this is how they repay me?” He added a small amount of honey to his mug. “And it’s not like they don’t know. They know I’ve been waiting to see him for ten years and still, the best they can do is—” he stopped short. “Are you even fucking listening to me?” Ash barked. He turned around expecting to see Blanca but instead was met with Eiji staring at him with wide eyes. 

Against his will, Eiji’s eyes traveled away from Ash’s face and landed on his bare chest. Drops of water streaked his fair skin in lines that disappeared into the waistband of the sweatpants that sat low on his hips. And then his eyes found the old stab wound. His stomach churned.

“Oh. Not Blanca,” Ash said, breaking the silence.

Eiji’s eyes went back to Ash’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t know how to interrupt…”

Ash nodded slowly. 

“He let me in,” Eiji felt the need to say.

“And he’s…?”

“Upstairs. 18F. He said you’d ask.”

Ash nodded again. A small smile grew on his face as he noticed Eiji’s eyes fall again to his naked skin. He stepped away from the counter. “Hold on just a sec,” he said before disappearing into the room beside the bathroom. When he returned, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt, towel no longer slung around his neck. He joined Eiji in the living room.

Eiji’s face grew red. “Sorry,” Eiji said, eyes focused on the leather couch cushion beneath him. 

The smile on Ash’s face reappeared. “You were distracted.” He shrugged. “Not that I’m surprised, I distract people all the time.” 

Ten years ago, Eiji would have given him a simple shove and called him some sort of derogatory name that was absolutely the opposite of how Eiji really felt, but things were different now. Now, he looked at Ash with soft eyes and wondered how it seemed so easy for Ash to jump back into teasing him. He almost asked him. Almost.

“If your job is torturous, you should quit,” he said instead. The words Ash had spoken just minutes earlier weighed heavy on his mind.

The smile fell from Ash’s face. “No. It’s good work. I hate it— a lot of the time— but it’s good. I’m free to go now, but… I’ll stay. I want to stay.”

Eiji remembered the wedding where he had run into Ash. He recalled the bride’s hesitancy about being photographed. She had known Ash, and at the time it was unclear how the two knew one another. Now, Eiji was starting to understand. “You’re helping people like you,” he inferred. 

“Yeah,” Ash replied. 

“And you’re really good at it.”

Ash’s face illuminated with pride. “I’m the best.”

Eiji frowned. “But that has to be really hard, dealing with that every day.”

“It helps that the outcome is good.” Typically. He didn’t add the last word. Now wasn’t the time to recount his failures to Eiji.

“Still—”

In the kitchen, the kettle whistled, interrupting Eiji’s thought. Ash gladly took the excuse to stand and change the subject. “I forgot I was even making tea.” He walked into the kitchen. “Did you want any?”

Eiji followed him into the kitchen. “How is that the same brand my sister always sends me from Japan for my birthday?"

Nervous splotches of red crept out of his shirt collar, spreading up his neck and onto his face. “You can find it online. Sorry if that’s creepy. I wanted to try it— it seemed to bring you a lot of comfort.”

“But how could you possibly see the brand name?”

Ash focused on making their tea; he of course didn’t need to ask how Eiji took his. 

“I watched you more often than I should have. Closer than I should have,” Ash groaned. “Blanca reminded me of that all the time but I…” He handed Eiji his mug, his hands shaking slightly while doing so. 

“I would have done the same thing,” Eiji responded as he accepted the mug of hot tea. “Don’t be embarrassed or ashamed or whatever you are feeling.” He reached out and added a second hand to support Ash’s mug of tea. “You’re shaking.”

Ash’s face grew redder. He laughed. It was an embarrassed little sound that contradicted the image Eiji held of Ash. 

“What's wrong?”

“What if I’m not the man you remember? It’s been ten years.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” Eiji told him earnestly. “I’m not the same person I was.”

Ash remembered Sing’s harsh words. He pressed his lips together before he spoke again. “What if I’m not capable of loving you?”

Eiji’s eyebrows pinched with sorrow. He knew what Ash meant without him explicitly stating it. “Our definition of love doesn’t have to match anyone else’s.”

Ash couldn’t meet Eiji’s eyes. “I want to be normal for you.”

Eiji shook his head. “I don’t want that. I want you to be exactly who you are. I waited ten years for you , not your body or some promise of sex.”

Ash stared at his feet, toes wiggling nervously against the wood floor. 

“Ash?”

Ash nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay,” he said hoarsely. 

For a moment, they stood frozen in awkward silence. Neither man was sure how to proceed. 

It was Eiji who broke the tension. He forced his feet to carry him into the living room. He reached the couch and looked over his shoulder at Ash. “Come on,” he said, motioning for Ash to join him.

The door closed gently behind Eiji. Sing stared at it for a few seconds before completely breaking down. He sank to the floor as violent sobs escaped him, shaking his entire frame. He cried until he could no longer see beyond the sea of tears and until his lungs burned. He sank further, head thudding softly against the wood floor. He curled into the fetal position, head pounding. 

Concerned, Buddy trotted cautiously to his side. His cold nose prodded at Sing’s neck, causing Sing to jump and flinch away. Buddy wasn’t deterred. He nosed at Sing’s hair until, with a groan, Sing sat and pulled the dog to him. He buried his face in the dog’s neck and sobbed into his golden fur. 

It was well past one in the morning when Sing stepped out of his uber. He walked into the bar, checking behind him as he pulled open the door. It had been years since he had indulged in alcohol. He had seen the havoc it had wreaked on Eiji’s life and had wanted no part in it. 

But every man had their limits, and Sing had reached his tonight.

Inside, it was quiet. There were only a few other patrons in the bar at that late hour. Sing pulled out a bar stool and sat. 

“Just whiskey,” he told the bartender. 

A few moments later, she set the drink in front of him. 

He mumbled some sound of gratitude and tossed back the drink. His eyes squinted as the strong liquid burned his throat. “I’ll take another,” he said before she had even turned away. 

She collected his glass and poured him another. “Rough night?” She asked. As she set the drink in front of him, Sing studied the sleeve of tattoos that ran up her hand and arm and then disappeared under her shirt sleeve. 

He nodded in response to her question. “Worst I’ve had in a long time.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but it will only get worse if you stay here.”

Sing looked up from his drink and met her eyes; they were dusted with a dark, smokey shadow and lined in black. Her jet-black hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head. He knew she was right but couldn’t manage to say so. He simply nodded and downed his whiskey. He pushed the glass toward her.

She refilled it for him; despite her words, there was no reluctance in her motions as she did so. 

Sing downed a third glass and pushed it towards her again. She filled it again, but this time held onto it before passing it to him. “I’ve been in your shoes more times than I can count. It never ends well. If I actually had a doctor, I’m sure she’d tell me it will catch up to me one day.” Her eyebrows raised as she considered her own statement. “If it hasn’t already started.”

Sing’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t really.” She placed the drink in front of him. “But I’ve worked here for over six years now and I can tell you I’ve seen guys like you more times than I can count— probably more than you can fathom. And I can tell you this: whoever she is, she’s not worth it. And this,” she tapped his drink with her nail. “Isn’t going to help anything in the long run.”

Sing’s head dropped, his forehead pressed against the cold countertop. “ He ,” he corrected.

“He’s not worth it either,” she replied, unfazed by the correction. 

“He is,” Sing groaned.

“You feel that way now, but I can promise you he’s not.” 

“No, he really is,” Sing whined against the counter.

She leaned forward, elbows planted firmly beside Sing’s head. “You two break up tonight?”

Sing shook his head, dusting the counter with his short hair. “We were never actually dating,” he mumbled. “He’s in love with someone else.”

She made a sound of understanding and pushed herself away from the counter. She placed a firm hand on Sing’s shoulder and squeezed. “In that case, drink up.” 

She stepped away from him then and addressed a new patron seated at the bar. “What are ya having?”

“An Old Fashioned, please.”

Sing’s head shot up; he would recognize that silky voice anywhere. His eyes connected with Blanca’s.

Blanca raised a hand in greeting. “Sing.” 

“Leave,” Sing hissed in return.

Blanca ignored him. He stood and moved to the stool beside Sing. “Before you ask, no one sent me here.”

“Then why are you here?” Sing growled. 

“I was keeping an eye on your building of my own accord. You are at your most vulnerable tonight.”

Sing scoffed and echoed Blanca’s words in a mocking whisper. 

“Laugh if you’d like, but it is the truth.”

Sing glared at him. “You’ve been with him all this time, haven’t you?” He didn’t give Blanca a chance to answer. “I ought to kill you right here,” he growled in a low voice. 

“Ha,” Blanca laughed condescendingly. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not such an easy target.”

Sing opened his mouth but paused when the bartender returned with Blanca’s drink. “I think you underestimate my anger,” he hissed after she had walked away. 

Blanca paused, studying him. Sing’s tear-stained cheeks burned red with rising hatred. His beady dark eyes actually sent a shiver down Blanca’s spine. “Perhaps.”

Sing glanced at the bartender. She seemed to be minding her own business, but, still, he kept his voice low. “I could have killed Ash today.”

Blanca laughed again. “No, you couldn’t have.”

Sing hit the counter with his fist, causing the ice in his glass to rattle. “I had his life in my hands!” 

The bartender’s eyes shot towards them, curiosity in her raised, pierced brow.

Sing blushed and lowered his voice so that only Blanca could hear. “I could have ended it if I wanted to,” he hissed. “And believe me, I was close.”

Blanca sipped his drink. He folded his hands on the counter. “Except me and my trigger finger wouldn’t have let you.”

Sing stood, nearly toppling the barstool. “Coward!” He pounded the counter again. “He had you watching me!”

“Mmm, no,” Blanca began, maintaining his composure. “In fact, he asked me not to.” He motioned for Sing to sit back down. “Maybe I’m becoming too sentimental, but I couldn’t let him leave his life up to chance.” He glanced around the establishment. Out of the few patrons there, they all had eyes on the pair. “Sit, Sing, you’re causing a scene.”

Reluctantly, Sing did as Blanca asked. He looked away from Blanca and downed his fourth glass of whiskey. “You both make me sick. I can’t stand to look at you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have aimed to kill.”

Sing scoffed. “Fuck, I feel all better now.”

“Good,” Blanca replied sarcastically. 

“I can’t believe you were right across the street this whole time. You have no idea what I went through to get your contact information for Max after Eiji was in the hospital.” Images of Yut Lung flashed through his head. He shut his eyes and yearned for another drink.

“I know exactly what you did,” Blanca began. 

Sing’s eyes opened. His hateful eyes traveled to Blanca and bore into his soul. “What?” Sing spat.

“Had I known you were going to the serpent’s lair, I would have stopped you myself.”

“Oh, and I’m just supposed to believe you conveniently found out after I slept with that snake?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” Blanca took another drink. “But that’s the truth, Sing. He’s a miserable man and he only gets worse every time I have the misfortune of hearing of him. I would have stopped you, had I known. Truly.”

Sing exhaled shakily. “And it was all for nothing. You didn’t tell Max a fuckin’ thing.”

“You now know why I couldn’t.”

“Whatever.” Sing stood; he was clumsy now that the alcohol had started to set in. “I’m outta here. Good riddance,” he spat. He slapped enough money on the counter to cover his drinks and a tip and made his way toward the door.

Blanca stood to follow him. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m going to make sure you get home safe.”

“Get home safe?!” Sing gasped. “What do you care if I get home safe?! Wha’du you care if I get home at all?!” 

He stormed outside with Blanca on his heels. Sing walked quickly down the sidewalk, trying hard not to stumble. Blanca caught up to him and gripped his shoulder, forcing him to a halt. 

“I care because for the first time in ten years Ash and Eiji have a chance to be happy. You will not ruin this for them by drunkenly stumbling into traffic or offing yourself. Do you think Eiji will ever forgive himself if something happens to you?!”

Sing stood speechless. Blanca was right, he knew this to be true. “Fine,” he muttered after some time. 

Blanca turned Sing around and steered him toward his car. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Sing shook his shoulder free from Blanca’s hand and stumbled forward. “Fine,” he muttered a second time.

Eiji finished the last of his tea and set the empty mug on the glass coffee table that sat before the couch. An empty silence fell. The noise of the city below was barely audible.

“This place is well insulated,” Eiji observed.

Ash chuckled. It was a sound of tension leaving his body. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Guess so.”

From Eiji’s peripheral vision, he could see Ash fidgeting nervously with his hands. With his shoulders curled inward and his head slightly bowed, he appeared guarded yet vulnerable at the same time. Eiji felt a wave of nausea roll through his insides. He had longed for Ash for ten long years, but it only just dawned on him that perhaps Ash didn’t feel quite the same.

“Do you not want this?” Eiji forced himself to ask. The words sounded harsh as they crashed through the room.

Ash’s head whipped up. He shifted on the couch, eyes meeting Eiji's. “What?”

“I guess it was pretty bold of me to just assume you wanted to be with me as badly as I wanted to be with you.”

“What? Eiji, no—”

“And pretty bold of me to show up unannounced tonight.” Eiji closed his eyes in an attempt to prevent tears.

“Eiji, no. No, no, what are you saying?”

“It’s okay, Ash.” He reopened his eyes. “You’re so anxious.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to be the reason you feel that way. I can leave.” But Eiji made no move to leave. “I don’t want you to feel trapped with me.” Tears blurred his vision. “It’s enough to have you in my life again…alive .” A tear spilled from his eye, cold against his heated face. “Asking for more than your friendship is selfish and I— well, I can be happy remaining your friend if that’s what you—”

Ash leaned forward suddenly. “Shut up,” he said softly against Eiji’s lips before closing the distance between them. He cupped Eiji’s face, using his thumb to wipe away the trail of tears as he did so. He kissed him slowly, yet passionately, letting his tongue brush across Eiji’s lips. When he pulled away, his lips were still just inches away from Eiji’s. 

“There’s not a cell in my body that doesn’t want to be with you for the rest of my life and after— if there is an after.” His piercing green eyes held Eiji’s. “An entire decade passed, and not a day went by that I wasn’t longing for you.”

“Ash. ”

“We were made for each other, I’m certain of it. I want to love you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.”

Eiji closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Ash. “Then why are you so anxious?” He whispered.

“Because I don’t want to fuck this up.” He pulled his face back. His hand fell from Eiji’s face and into his own lap. “And I don’t know where we’re going from here. I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you sitting here on this couch. But I know where that leads. And I haven’t fucked anyone in a fucking decade and—” his head fell in shame. “—And what if I don’t remember how? And even if I do… who’s to say I’ll even like it—” His eyes darted up and the pace of his speech grew frantic. “Not that I think I won’t enjoy you, but I’ve never liked it. Not once and— Eiji , what if I hate it? I’m terrified I’ll hate it and ruin everything.”

“You want to kiss me?” Eiji asked, not addressing anything else Ash had said.

“God, yes,” Ash answered instantly.

Eiji nodded, dark eyes glued to Ash. “Then just kiss me,” he said breathily.

Ash didn’t need to be told twice. His eyes focused on his target and he dove in. His lips crashed against Eiji’s, causing Eiji to inhale sharply at Ash’s eagerness. Eiji’s eyes fluttered shut, and he melted into Ash as he consumed him. The hands in Eiji’s hair seemed to be the only thing anchoring him upright.

Earlier when they kissed, Eiji had a sense Ash was ‘out of practice,’ but now he recognized that had been simply anxiety. The muscle memory was far too strong to slip from Ash’s grasp. He kissed Eiji with a skillfulness that had been engraved in him, against his will no doubt, from a young age. Eiji tried not to think of such things as Ash’s tongue parted Eiji’s lips. Eiji’s mouth opened, allowing Ash to deepen this kiss. A small whisper of pleasure escaped Eiji as Ash’s tongue slid against his own.

A low rumble from deep within Ash’s chest answered Eiji’s sounds. One of his hands slid from Eiji’s hair and settled on the back of his neck. He kissed Eiji now with a newfound confidence that made Eiji’s head begin to spin. He held Eiji tighter, pulled him closer, as if he couldn’t possibly get close enough to him, despite his tongue being practically down the other man’s throat. The hand still in Eiji’s hair slithered down his body and weasled itself between their bodies. Eiji’s abdomen was warm against Ash’s hand as it splayed across his skin. 

Ash continued kissing Eiji, and it became more and more difficult for Eiji to keep up as Ash’s hands distracted him.

Eiji broke away from Ash’s mouth with a gasp as Ash’s pinky finger slid just under the waistband of Eiji’s jeans. Eyes still closed, fighting for control, his face pointed up at the ceiling. His skin was a dark blush from his neck to his cheeks. He panted, catching his breath. “What do you want?” Eiji managed to ask. He opened his eyes and looked at Ash, dark pupils half-concealed by heavy lids.

Ash’s green eyes sharpened with the intensity of primal desire. “I want to make you come.”

A full-body shiver ran through Eiji’s being; he couldn’t stop the sigh of pleasure that accompanied it. 

The corner of Ash’s lips tugged upward in a smile. “Yeah?”

“And you?” Eiji asked.

Ash pressed forward, capturing Eiji’s lips in a brief, but slow, kiss. He pulled away, lips hovering above Eiji’s. He cupped Eiji’s jaw. “Just you,” he told him softly.

Eiji nodded. He didn’t need any further explanation to understand that Ash wasn’t ready quite yet. 

Ash kissed him again, soft and deliberately slow. “I may get anxious,” he murmured, inches from Eiji’s lips. “After.” He kissed Eiji again before he could speak. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this now.”

“After?” Eiji whispered the question.

Ash pulled back to meet Eiji’s eyes. “I don’t get anxious during,” he began, something akin to pride on his face. “I’m good at what I do.”

Eiji reached out and smoothed Ash’s fringe away from his face. “I don’t want you to act for me.”

“I don’t want to either.” Ash closed the distance between them, capturing Eiji’s upper lip. He kissed him just long enough for Eiji to melt back into his chest with a content sigh, and then he pulled back. “I want this. I watched you suffer for ten years.” He kissed him. “I watched you want to die. I watched you try to die. Now I want to watch you enjoy yourself. I want to watch you come.”

This time it was Eiji who pressed forward; he kissed him frantically, as if a switch had been flipped and suddenly he couldn’t get enough of Ash. One hand tangled in Ash’s hair while his other hand clutched the fabric of his t-shirt as if it was his tether to life itself. 

Ash moaned as Eiji devoured him. And then he pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Eiji asked, gasping.

Pupils wide, and lips red and slick, Ash admired Eiji in awe. “This is different,” he panted. “That sound was real.” He licked his bottom lip. “It’s never been real before.”

“Ash.”

“Kiss me again,” Ash said. “Like you just did.”

Eiji did as he asked. His fingers tangled again in Ash’s hair and he kissed him like it was the first, last, and only time he’d get the chance. His tongue danced with Ash’s. How many times had he longed to be with Ash? How many times did he imagine a moment such as this? When Ash was ‘still living,’ it had been too numerous to count, despite the guilt that had brought him. And when he had been lost to Eiji, he still occasionally dreamed of such things, though it brought him nothing but pain. And now, here he was, living what he had dreamed of for so long. 

Eiji’s mouth pulled away from Ash’s but didn’t stay parted from his skin for more than a second. He kissed Ash’s sharp jawline and then his neck. He lapped at the skin above his jugular, gentle enough not to bruise, but firm enough to communicate his desire. 

Ash gasped. It was a pleasured, breathy sound that shot heat and desire through Eiji’s core like lightning. “Eiji,” Ash panted. “Holy fuck, I’m hard.” As if to prove it, he moved one of Eiji’s hands to feel the hardness beneath his soft sweatpants. 

With a groan, Eiji broke away from Ash’s neck. He was met with Ash’s eyes on him, boring into his soul with an intensity Eiji hadn’t known was possible. 

“You did that,” Ash said, his voice low and gravely. “Without pills. Without forcing it. Without even touching me. You did that.” He shifted control, kissing Eiji with fervor. “God, you’re perfect.” 

Ash continued kissing Eiji, easily taking him apart with techniques he had never enjoyed using before. He slowly pressed further and further against Eiji, until Eiji’s back met the seat of the couch and his head fell softly against the decorative throw pillow. 

Ash’s lips never ceased— kissing a route from Eiji’s lips, neck, jaw, clavicles, and back up— as one hand played with Eiji’s hair and the other crept below his shirt, fingertips dancing along his abdomen with swirling, almost playful motions. 

As they lay together, with Ash’s knee between Eiji’s legs, Ash could feel Eiji’s desire hot against him. The hand on Eiji’s skin drifted south. His thumb drew repetitive circles around the warm, metal button of Eiji’s jeans. He had never been with someone with such genuine, obvious desire, and yet, he pulled his lips from where they were on his neck. He traced the waistline of Eiji’s jeans, letting his presence there be known. “Okay?” And before Eiji could even answer, Ash released a humored sound. For Eiji stared up at him with pupils blown wide, skin flushed, hair mussed, and lips red and puffy. If Eiji said to stop, he would be the most surprised man in the world.

For a moment, Eiji couldn’t find any words. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. “Please,” he said at last.

Ash smirked. He adjusted their position so he was now straddling Eiji’s thighs. He unbuttoned and unzipped Eiji’s jeans, not once breaking eye contact. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. I’ve never told you, but I’ve thought it since the very moment I met you. You’re a damn work of art.”

Startled, Eiji laughed. “Please, have you seen yourself?”

“Stay on topic, Eiji. You. I’m talking about you right now.” Still holding his gaze, Ash reached inside Eiji’s pants and pulled his erection free from the fly of his boxers.

“Uhhh!” Eiji cried in pleasure at the sudden contact.

Ash ran an admiring hand up Eiji’s length. “Gorgeous here too.” He pulled back his foreskin and watched as Eiji’s eyes closed and brows drew close. “Not that I was expecting anything less,” Ash said, smirking to himself. He slid his thumb across his tip, eliciting a gasp from Eiji. “Stunning.” 

Ash began to stroke him slowly, reverently moving his hand up and down his length. Without breaking contact, he leaned forward and kissed Eiji. Eiji moaned into his mouth. Ash kissed down Eiji’s jaw and littered his neck with open-mouth kisses, as his hand continued to stroke him. 

As his hand began to move faster, Eiji’s breaths hastened. He whimpered beneath him, and when Ash could tell he was getting close, he drew back enough to see Eiji’s face. His hand was working quickly now and Eiji’s breaths were rapid. Eiji’s skin was flushed from his clavicles up; Ash knew if he had removed Eiji’s shirt, his chest, too, would be the same enticing shade of pink. He cursed himself for not removing it earlier.

“Almost there,” Ash said encouragingly. “You’re so close.”

“Ash,” Eiji whimpered. He arched into Ash’s hand.

“That’s it, you’ve got it. You’re almost there. You’ve—”

With a soft, breathy cry, Eiji came over Ash’s knuckles. Love swelled in Ash’s chest. With tears in his eyes, he smiled as he stroked Eiji through his orgasm, his hand gradually slowing to a stop. 

When Eiji’s heavy eyes opened, he was met with Ash smiling down at him, a singular tear rolling down his flushed cheek. Eiji’s arm felt weak and limp as he reached out to wipe the tear from his face. “I’m so ridiculously in love with you, Ash.”

Tearily, Ash laughed. He leaned into Eiji’s touch and pressed his hand overtop Eiji’s. “I’m well aware.” He turned his face and kissed Eiji’s wrist. “I’m in love with you, too, Eiji. Have been since I rescued you from Dino’s.”

Eiji’s eyes widened. “You loved me back then?”

Ash nodded. “And I wish to God I would have told you then.”

He sighed contentedly. “I’m glad you told me now,” Eiji said truthfully.

Ash moved off Eiji. “Stay there,” he told him as he stood. “I’ll get a rag.”

Eiji nodded. He couldn’t help but notice the outline of Ash’s still-hard dick through his grey sweatpants. Ash disappeared down the hall and Eiji decided not to mention it. Ash had said he wanted to give Eiji pleasure, and Eiji was certain giving was a far easier task than receiving for Ash. 

Ash took far longer than necessary to retrieve a washcloth. And when he returned, he was no longer visibly erect. And the love that had been in his eyes was absent now. He’d relieved himself and now the shame and anxiety were setting in, it was clear as day. 

Eiji sat and reached to take the cloth from Ash. “Here, let me.”

Ash nodded and gave Eiji the washcloth. Sitting back on the couch beside him, Ash turned his face away from Eiji as he cleaned up and refastened his pants.

“You said you might be anxious after.”

Ash’s eyes fell to his lap. “It’s just part of the territory.” His shoulders curled inward.

Eiji nodded. “But you did still enjoy it?”

Ash’s eyes went back to Eiji. “Yes,” he told him adamantly. “I wasn’t sure it was possible, but… I should have known it would be different with you.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Ash was quiet for a moment as he considered the question.

“Stay? And maybe,” he looked at the carpet. “hold me— just for a while? Like you used to all those years ago.”

“I would love nothing more.” 

Ash stood and motioned for Eiji to do the same. “Let’s lie down?” 

Eiji nodded and stood. He followed Ash down the hall and into the larger of the two bedrooms. It was sparsely furnished in the same style as the main room. A large, neatly made king-size bed sat in the room’s center. A modern dresser with a television sat before the bed. There was a desk against the far wall with a home office setup. Multiple monitors and a mess of papers and files were scattered about it. A pile of books and a briefcase were on the floor beside the desk. The other side of the room was lined with a built-in closet space. Save the desk, it was clean and devoid of character.

“Sorry, I,” Ash began gesturing at the desk space.

“It’s fine, Ash,” Eiji said before he could finish his sentence. 

They both stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. This had been Ash’s idea, and still, Eiji felt as if he were intruding on a very private part of Ash’s life

“I guess we should…” Ash scratched nervously at the back of his neck. He walked forward and pulled back the blankets on the bed.

Eiji nodded but didn’t move forward. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Is there a shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

The question seemed to ease Ash’s nerves a bit. “Top drawer,” he said, pointing at the dresser. “Bathroom’s just down the hall.”

When Eiji returned, he was dressed in a shirt of Ash’s that looked more like a dress on him. Ash was sitting on the side of the bed, still dressed in the same sweatpants and t-shirt he’d been wearing before.

Eiji climbed in on the other side of the bed, burying himself under the plush comforter. Ash didn’t look at him as he did so. “I’m sorry he ruined such a good thing for you,” Eiji said, breaking the silence.

“Hmmm, yeah he did.” Ash’s head fell to his hands. “I feel so filthy right now— not for touching you but…” He looked up suddenly and reached to turn off the bedside lamp. Everything was somehow easier to say in the dark. He sat back on the bed, facing the wall, eyes unfocused in the dark. “Well, I had to— ya know—”

“I know, Ash.”

Ash’s head bobbed up and down in small nods. “It never gets easier.” He rolled his eyes. “I always hate it.”

Eiji reached out and put a gentle hand on Ash’s back. “Lie down?”

Ash obliged, joining Eiji under the comforter. Eiji pulled Ash against his chest. “I don’t want you to feel ashamed. Tonight, you felt things you haven’t before. You should feel proud. I’m proud of you.” Eiji inhaled deeply, letting his lungs fill with the scent of Ash that seemed to pour intoxicatingly out of the blankets. “Next time, let me help you? Maybe that will be different too.”

Ash shuddered at the thought. “Oh, no. I don’t want you to see me like that, I’m disgus—”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Eiji said, interrupting him. “The way you felt watching me, that is how I would feel too.” Eiji squeezed Ash. “I adore you, Ash. I could never ever find you disgusting.”

Ash reached for Eiji’s hand as it cradled him. “Thanks for staying. It helps. You’re you, not them— they never stuck around— it makes it easier.”

Eiji kissed Ash’s hair. “Leaving never even crossed my mind.”

“It’s due time for me to leave New York,” Blanca told Sing.

Sing was sprawled across the living room couch, his head pounding and spinning from too much alcohol. He had managed to drink half a cup of coffee, which Blanca had insisted he needed, and felt marginally better after doing so. 

He squinted at Blanca who sat in the chair across the room. “And go where?”

“Ten years ago, before I was pulled into this mess, I wanted to retire to the Caribbean.”

Sing rolled on his side and propped his arm under his head. He closed his eyes as the sudden movement turned his stomach.  

“I’ll tie up my loose ends with The Bureau and then make my way there.”

“What?” Sing snapped. He sat hastily and again closed his eyes to settle his dizziness. “What do you mean ‘The Bureau?’”

“It might do you good to get out of this city for a while,” Blanca said, ignoring Sing’s question. “Come with me, if you’d like.”

Sing closed his eyes again, though this time he did so in an attempt to make sense of Blanca’s words. “For how long?”

“That’s up to you.”

Sing nodded silently. 

“Think about it.” He studied Sing for a moment. “And think about it some more once you’re sober. I won’t be leaving for at least another week.”

Again, Sing nodded. “Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “Maybe I should leave.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Only Him

The scent of Ash flooded Eiji’s system before his eyes even opened. His stomach flipped. He kept his eyes tightly closed as if opening them would shatter the dream he was living in. The room beyond his eyelids was dark, so it must still be early morning. The sheets beneath him felt more luxurious than they had when he was falling asleep the night before. He shifted, burying his face deep into the plush pillow. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the expensive bedding, yet he was. He could easily imagine Ash foregoing nice things as a way of punishing himself.

After a moment more, he opened his eyes. The room was pitch black save a soft glow in his peripheral vision. He rubbed his eyes and adjusted himself in bed. Beside him, Ash was concealed under the comforter, the glow of his phone shining gently through the blanket.

Eiji smiled and gave Ash a nudge. “Morning,” he said, voice hoarse from sleep. 

The light from the phone turned off, and Ash’s head popped out of the covers. 

Seeing Ash’s wild hair caused Eiji to smile wider. “Hey,” he said in greeting. 

With a clunk, Ash set his phone on the bedside table. “Hey,” he echoed. And then he smiled softly. “I was starting to worry you’d sleep forever.”

Eiji’s eyebrows drew close in confusion. He scanned the pitch-black room around them. “What are you—” a yawn interrupted his thought. “Talking about?”

Ash yawned as well. “It’s eleven-fifteen,” he answered.

Eiji sat straight up. “No, it’s not.” His heart raced. “It’s not, don’t tease me.”

Ash shook his head. “I’m not.” He reached again for his phone and showed Eiji the time. 

“Shit,” Eiji cursed. He jumped out of bed and began running his fingers through his messy hair in an attempt to tame it. “I told Sing I’d be back first thing this morning— he’s probably— Oh, he’s gonna kill me! I’m such an a—”

“Calm down,” Ash said, gently interrupting him. He sat and stretched across the bed and reached out for Eiji. He couldn’t quite reach him but he left his hand extended.

The gesture confused Eiji enough to interrupt his panic. “What?”

Ash wiggled his fingers. “Lay back down."

“I can’t, Ash, I need to get back over there.”

He wiggled his fingers again, silently asking Eiji to take his hand. “Come on, I can explain.”

Eiji pressed his lips together anxiously. He reached for Ash’s hand and let the other man pull him back into bed. He lay beside Ash. “Okay.”

“Blanca’s with Sing.” 

Eiji’s face grew more confused. 

“He said he’s currently sleeping one off.”

Eiji shook his head. “Sing doesn’t drink. And why is Blanca with him? And—”

Ash squeezed Eiji’s hand. “Shhh, it’s alright. Blanca’s watching out for him.” 

Eiji squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he began, “but I’m so confused.”

Ash exhaled a long sigh. “I am too. Blanca’s never been one for details. All he said was…” Ash pulled up the text from Blanca. “‘ I’m with Sing. Best to keep Eiji away this morning, he’s a bit out of sorts.’” Ash huffed, “ Out of sorts , I don’t know why the hell he talks like that. So, I said, ‘ Out of sorts how?’ and he said, ‘ Hungover, Ash. Give him a few more hours.’ That was at 9:30. And that’s all I got.”

Eiji whined and flipped onto his back. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw purple and blue geometric shapes. “He doesn’t drink,” he worried aloud. “Ohhh, Ash, I don’t want him to end up like I did.” Tears came, wetting his hands and leaking out down his face.

“No,” Ash said soothingly. “This is different, you haven't died. He’ll recover. It will take time, maybe a lot of time, but he’ll be alright.”

Eiji sniffled. “I don’t want him to feel like I did,” he went on, ignoring Ash’s words. “I don’t want him to want to die.” Tears broke his voice and his shoulders began to shake.

“I know, Eiji, I know.” Ash reached out cautiously and put a hand on Eiji’s shoulder. He almost expected him to jump, but, of course, Eiji did not. He awkwardly gave Eiji’s shoulder a couple of pats. “We’ll help him get through this.”

Eiji shook his head. “I don’t know how to help him. He’s not going to want to see me. He’s…” he trailed off, words silenced with tears. Eiji rolled over, curling into Ash’s chest.

Ash held him with tense arms. His hands stiffly sat atop his shirt, barely making contact. “It’s all going to work out, Eiji.”

“No, it’s not,” Eiji cried.

“It will.” Ash patted his back. “It’s all gonna work out.”

“I’m a horrible person,” Eiji sobbed. “Why does Sing even love me? I—” he inhaled a ragged breath, “I don’t deserve for you both to love me.”

The awkwardness in which Ash held him melted away. He pulled Eiji tightly against his chest. “That’s not true,” he argued. The fingers of his right hand splayed wide before plunging into the fabric of Eiji’s shirt. His other hand disappeared into Eiji’s hair. “You better know that’s not true,” Ash told him, his voice low and serious, yet nonthreatening. 

Eiji shook in his arms. “It is true,” he sobbed into Ash’s shirt.

Ash held him tighter. “It’s not, Eiji. God, that’s not true.” He ran a comforting hand up and down Eiji’s back, soothing him through his tears.

Sing winced as his eyes opened against the harsh morning sun. “Fuck,” he hissed, one hand moving to shield his eyes. 

He could hear someone moving around in the other room. He forced himself to sit. Slowly, he uncovered his eyes and was met with the sight of Blanca. His back was turned to Sing as he poured a mug of coffee. He blinked a few times, Blanca slowly coming into focus. “I was hoping I had dreamed you,” Sing grumbled.

“Ah,” Blanca said amusedly. “Dreamed me, huh?”

Sing made a distant sound of confirmation. 

Blanca walked into the living room and handed the coffee to Sing. “If you had only dreamed me, who knows what state you would be in today.” He sat in the armchair beside the couch.

Sing grimaced as he sipped the coffee; evidently, Blanca liked his coffee stronger than strong. “Did you even put water in this?” Sing hissed.

Blanca actually laughed, a real, surprised laugh. “You sound just like Ash.”

Sing glared at him. “Don’t you dare compare me to him ,” he spat.

Blanca’s laugh ceased. He crossed his legs. “My apologies, Sing.”

Sing rolled his eyes. “Stop pretending you give a flying fuck if I live or die. Why are you here anyway?” 

“Do you remember my proposal from last night?” Blanca asked, ignoring Sing’s question. He was hardly fazed by Sing’s hostility, after all, he was used to dealing with Ash. 

Taken aback, Sing closed his eyes and tried to remember. His head was pounding. This would all be a lot easier with some Tylenol in his system. His eyes reopened. “Something about The Caribbean?”

Blanca nodded. “I’ll be leaving for The Caribbean,” he drew the word out as he thought, “Ohhh, probably next week sometime.” He sipped at his own mug of coffee. “I am offering to take you with me.

Sing sipped his coffee and again grimaced at its strength. “Oh yeah, I do remember.” 

Blanca looked amused. “Do you want milk in that?” 

Sing shook his head. “I’ll survive.” His grip tightened around the mug. The last thing he wanted was Blanca waiting on him.

Blanca nodded. “So, what do you think? About The Caribbean?”

Sing studied Blanca for a moment before speaking again. “God, you don’t have a thing for me, do you?”

“Ha!” Again, Blanca’s laugh was genuine. “No, I do not. I don’t exactly ‘swing that way,’ as you say.”

Sing looked disgusted. “I have never said that in my life.”

Blanca waved off his words. “As they say.”

Sing rolled his eyes. “Just say you’re straight.” He gulped down more of the coffee. It did not become more tolerable with larger swallows, if anything it was less tolerable, but he was determined to drink it quickly and get it over with. 

Blanca nodded at him. “Alright, I’m straight. Happy?”

Sing squinted. “Hardly.” He took another gulp of coffee. “What’s for me, in The Caribbean?”

“An escape. A chance to heal. An opportunity to find love in someone else. Take your pick.”

Sing downed the rest of the foul coffee in one final swallow. “An escape,” he said. “That doesn’t sound half bad.” He placed the empty coffee mug on the floor. Buddy trotted across the room and smelled it; he backed away with his tail between his legs. “Not even Buddy approves,” Sing said. 

“He’s a dog,” Blanca observed. “Of course he doesn’t want coffee.”

Sing shook his head. “He fucking cowered ,” Sing retorted, a hint of humor on his tongue. “That’s bad.”

Blanca rolled his eyes. “Fine. I will make it less strong next time.”

“What do you mean next time ?”

Blanca sighed. “Think about my offer,” was all he said.

“Do I have to stay with you? In this offer of yours?”

“No,” Blanca began, “not if you want to pay for your own lodgings. But if that’s the case, you could run anywhere, couldn’t you?”

Sing nodded in understanding. “So I have to stay with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Sing.”

It was twelve-thirty when Eiji awoke from his short, tear-fueled nap. He was still cradled in Ash’s chest with Ash’s arms draped over him limply. Eiji stirred as he woke; the movement woke Ash. 

Eiji scooted a few inches apart from Ash. He sat and admired the darkness of the room. “How is it still so dark in here?” Eiji asked sleepily. 

Ash looked amused. “Have you never heard of blackout shades?”

“No, I have but… these are on another level.”

Ash smiled. “I didn’t realize you’d be so easily impressed,” he teased. Ash sat and stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to rise just above his naval. 

Even in the darkness, Eiji’s eyes focused on the pale expanse of skin. Up this close, he could see a faint trail of blond hair that disappeared into his pants; due to its fair hue, it hadn’t been visible across the room the night before. Eiji felt a burning interest in his core. 

Ash raised an eyebrow. 

He had caught him looking. 

His arms lowered, and the forbidden view was concealed by cotton once again.

“Sorry,” Eiji muttered, visibly blushing even in the dark. 

“Don’t be,” Ash said simply. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, which lit the room with soft, warm light.

Ash stood and walked toward the closet. He slid it open and tugged off the T-shirt he was wearing. He tossed it into what was the classiest hamper Eiji had ever seen. It was a simple, yet sleek, wooden piece of furniture that opened with a foot pedal. Inside, it was fitted with a linen bag that housed Ash’s dirty laundry. 

Eiji watched as Ash picked out another shirt.

Ash held the shirt in his hands and turned toward Eiji. Eiji turned his head before he could begin to admire the way the soft light played across Ash’s bare skin. 

“You’re allowed to look at me,” Ash said. Eiji could practically hear the smirk on Ash’s face as he spoke. “In fact, it’s reassuring.”

Eiji’s head swiveled toward Ash, his brow furrowed in curiosity. “Huh?”

Ash turned to face the closet again. He pulled the fresh t-shirt over his head. “I’m twenty-eight, Eiji, I’m getting old.” He then reached for a sweater. It was a cream color that looked so luxurious that Eiji was certain it must be cashmere. “To be honest, I was scared you might not be attracted to me anymore.” He pulled the sweater over his head.

Eiji sat up straighter. “What?!” He asked frantically. 

Ash turned and shrugged. Eiji looked horror-stricken and Ash couldn’t exactly understand why. “What do you mean what ?” He walked to the dresser and opened the second drawer. He pulled off his sweatpants and replaced them with a pair of dark denim jeans. 

“How could you possibly—” aggravated at the thought, he dug his fingers into his hair. “Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what happens when people get older,” Ash said matter-of-factly. 

Eiji ripped the comforter off of himself. He knelt on the bed. “Are you crazy!? You look like you’ve barely aged at all! And besides,” he tugged at the collar of his shirt, “I’m older than you! By two years! ”

“Yeah, but you don’t look it.”

“Neither do you!”

Ash stepped closer. “Look,” he held out his hands to Eiji.

Eiji’s eyes scanned his hands, puzzled. His breath slowed as he tried to make sense of what Ash was showing him. “What am I looking at?”

Ash pointed at his wrists where the faintest of lines could be seen, evidence that he bent his wrists. “I’m getting old,” he repeated.

Eiji’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking. You must be joking.”

But Ash lowered his face close to Eiji’s. With his pointer finger, he traced the corners of his eyes where the first, faintest signs of crow’s feet could be seen… if one was really looking. 

“You’re screwing with me,” Eiji said in disbelief.

“I couldn’t believe it either,” he said. “I never thought I’d get wrinkles before thirty.”

Eiji closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, please tell me you don’t actually think those tiny, little lines mean you’re old.”

Ash looked truly perplexed. “What else would they mean?” He sat on the bed beside Eiji and then fell back, face pointing toward the ceiling. 

Ash closed his eyes, but before he did, Eiji noticed how glossy they were. Sadness washed over him. Ash was serious. He flopped down beside Ash, lying on his side so he could watch the other man. “It really bothers you.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Ash said weakly. “We should have been together sooner. Much sooner. Ten years sooner.” Ash sighed. “But I’m already old and there’s nothing I can do to change that now.”

“I have those same lines on my skin,” Eiji told him. His voice was soft and sympathetic. “And I pluck them out, but I have the occasional grey hair too.” His eyes studied Ash’s blond locks. “Your hair is still as blond as ever.”

Ash grumbled something unintelligible. 

“Besides,” Eiji went on. “I like the signs of age.”

Ash opened his eyes just to roll them. 

“I’m serious,” Eiji told him. “I like that you’re aging. It’s proof you’re alive .” He reached out and gently touched Ash’s shoulder. “And not just some figment of my imagination.” His fingers admired the fabric of Ash’s sweater. “Gosh, this is so soft.”

Ash smiled. “It’s cashmere,” he told Eiji. “I thought you might like it.”

Suddenly, the sound of keys in the front door cut through the air. 

Ash’s eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, he’s home.”

On cue, the door opened and the sound of footsteps carried through the apartment. Ash sat and stepped toward the bedroom door. He opened it and walked into the hall, leaving Eiji still lying on the bed. 

“How is he?” Ash asked.

“He’ll survive.”

Eiji sat, worried. 

“He was a wreck last night but he’s faring better this afternoon.”

Ash nodded. 

“Can I go see him?” Eiji asked, joining Ash in the hall. 

“ You can,” he told Eiji. Blanca then looked at Ash. “I think it’s best if you keep your distance.”

“Ha,” Ash laughed gently. “I do value my life.”

“Do you?” Blanca asked, raising a challenging brow. “You could have fooled me.”

Eiji’s head swiveled toward Ash. “What does he mean?”

Ash’s eyes narrowed at Blanca. “Oh, he’s just being a dick. As always.”

Blanca rolled his eyes and made a sound of disapproval. “Don’t lie to him, Ash.” Blanca made eye contact with Eiji. “He knew there was a chance Sing would kill him yesterday out of anger. He bet his life anyway. That is what I mean.”

“Sing wouldn’t have killed you,” Eiji told Ash, though he didn’t sound certain. 

“He sure thought about it,” Ash told him truthfully.

Eiji’s eyebrows crinkled. He thought back to the hand prints on Ash’s neck the day prior. “But you wouldn’t have let him.”

Ash could feel Blanca’s eyes on him. “Of course not,” Ash told him. Not even he was certain that his words were truthful. 

“Anyway,” Blanca said, clapping his hands together and drawing their attention toward himself. “I told him you’d be over shortly, Eiji.”

Eiji nodded. “I’ll get dressed.”

Ten minutes later, Ash locked the door behind Eiji. 

“Are you doing alright?” Blanca asked Ash from the living room. 

Ash nodded. “I’m fine.”

“I know you would have liked more time to mentally prepare,” Blanca began. “But when he showed up here, I couldn’t even begin to think of turning him away.”

Ash nodded in agreement. “No. I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“So it went okay?”

Ash sighed. He joined Blanca in the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ash turned his head, looking out the window. He thought back to the night before. “Oh, I made things a little awkward, but…” he trailed off, thinking. Blanca did not probe him to finish his sentence, but after a brief pause, he added, “But he has the patience of a saint.”

“Mmm,” Blanca smiled. “And the things you were worried about?”

“You were right about it all.”

“He didn’t push you.”

Ash drew a deep breath. He turned his face toward Blanca, propping one arm on the back of the couch. “He misread my anxiety and actually offered to leave and— get this— just be friends again.”

Blanca’s jaw fell open. For a moment, Ash expected him to laugh at the absurdity of the confession. But Blanca did no such thing. “Oh, he truly loves you , Ash.”

Ash bristled at the statement. “Is that news?”

“If there was a stronger word, I’d use it.” He paused briefly. “To offer to be friends when it is so clear he wants to be your lover? Just to make you more comfortable? Ash, I hope you realize what you have here.”

Ash was quiet, contemplating Blanca’s words. “He was the same way ten years ago. He’s always desired me—”

Blanca cut in, “He loves you. It’s different.”

Ash nodded in understanding. “I’m just saying, even before he loved me— or at least before I knew he did— he never made a move. Never hinted. Never asked for anything. He always assumed that was out of bounds. Maybe that was love back then too. Maybe I just didn’t realize.

“Of course it was,” Blanca scoffed. 

Ash scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ughhh,” he groaned. “I hope I don’t fuck this up.”

“You can’t. Don’t you realize that? His love for you is unconditional. There’s no way for you to mess this up.”

Ash buried his face in one of the throw pillows. “You saying that will only make it worse if I do,” he muttered into the pillow. 

Blanca scoffed, “Oh please.”

Ash groaned but said nothing further

“I’m offering for Sing to join me in The Caribbean,” Blanca said, changing the subject.

Ash perked up, his face leaving the pillow. “Huh? What did he say?”

“He’s thinking about it. I think it would be good for him to get away for a while.”

Ash nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“He’ll do it,” Blanca said confidently. “I’m 97.5% sure.”

Ash rolled his eyes, amused. “Why do you talk like that?”

A small smile crept over Blanca’s lips. He gave Ash’s cashmere-clad shoulder a loving shove. “Oh, leave me alone for once.” His eyebrow raised. “Wearing your new sweater for him, I see?”

Ash smirked. “Gotta dress to impress, you taught me that.”

Blanca smiled, genuine and true. “Did I?”

Ash raised his arms and folded them behind his head. “Sure did.” He looked out the window at Eiji’s building. The curtains were still drawn, though he wished they weren’t. He was curious about Sing’s well-being. “I’m sure you’re dying to know,” Ash said, changing the subject.

“To know what exactly?”

Ash looked at Blanca and raised an eyebrow. “If we fucked.”

Blanca waved the thought away with a sound of annoyance. “Please.” 

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know?” Ash asked with a shit-eating grin. 

“I really would not.” 

“Well, what if I said we did? Right here on this couch.”

Blanca’s face crinkled with disgust. “Don’t toy with me, Ash.” Blanca stood. “If you and the Okumura boy had sex, I do not think you would be so casual about it.” 

Blanca stepped away from the couch, heading toward the kitchen, and Ash deflated where he sat. His arms flopped to his sides and the smirk on his face sank into neutrality. Blanca made it halfway to the kitchen before pausing. He stood, quiet in thought, in the middle of the apartment. 

“But you’re not one to make light of such things,” Blanca said, cutting through the silence. He turned around. Ash was watching him with heat in his cheeks. Even at twenty-eight, Blanca could see childishness in him. He had been forced to grow up so fast and at times like this, it showed. “You want to tell me something.”

Ash’s face changed and Blanca could almost physically see his walls raise. “Oh, forget it, I was just screwing with you.”

Blanca shook his head. He began walking back to the couch. “No, I’m sorry. Tell me, Ash.” He reached the couch and sat back down. 

Ash averted his face, physically shifting his body away from the other man. “I said forget it.”

Blanca shook Ash gently by the shoulder. “Come on, Ash. Clearly, there’s something you want to say.”

Ash roughly pulled his arm away, dislodging Blanca’s hand. “Get off,” Ash said. The words showed annoyance but held none of the fear and panic that had been there once long ago. 

Still, Blanca withdrew his hand. For a moment, neither man said a word. Blanca stared at the back of Ash’s head. He had been so open just moments ago and now he was closed off to the world. Blanca’s brows drew close. “I can’t believe you fucked Eiji on this couch,” he said, unsure if the words held any ounce of truth, but knowing Ash may open up with vulgar language. 

“I didn’t fuck him,” Ash said bitterly.

“At all or here?”

“At all.”

Blanca hummed in thought. “But something happened. Something good for you.”

Ash said nothing in reply. 

“I know it’s hard for you to be vulnerable. I know that’s why you say crude things like you just did. But if you want to tell me about it, you should. I’m not going to laugh, Ash. Even if all you did was hold his hand.” He sighed. “I want you to be happy, Ash.” Blanca contemplated leaving to give Ash some space, but he decided to linger. If there was something Ash wanted to say, he would give him a chance to do so.

“We kissed,” Ash said after a few moments of silence.

Blanca’s face softened. The wrinkles on his skin that held worry relaxed. He was quiet, waiting for Ash to say more. Though he wasn’t sure there was more.

“And he let me touch him. I got him off— just him. And I… well, I liked it. I’ve never liked it before.” The tips of Ash’s ears glowed red.

Blanca smiled. Tears glossed his eyes. “That’s good, Ash. I’m happy for you. You should be proud.”

Ash’s stomach soured. He turned to face Blanca, his expression twisted with anxiety. “That’s what he said too, but it feels… wrong? I woke up this morning thinking of him.” Thoughts of Eiji’s face as he came, the sounds of pleasure he made, the way he felt in Ash’s hand, and the way he tasted on Ash's hand as he sought his own release behind the privacy of the bathroom door, tore through his brain like an armed intruder in the night. “Wanting him.”

“That's not wrong, Ash. I think it's quite the opposite. For the first time ever, you actually desired the person you were intimate with. That's not wrong at all; in fact, it's the first time it's ever been right.”

Ash squeezed his eyes closed, suddenly overwhelmed by Blanca’s words.

“Are you alright?” Blanca asked.

“Andy warned me this would happen— that I'd eventually feel what they felt and not know how to handle it.” Ash gripped his stomach, fingers turning white as they dug into the fabric of his sweater. 

“Maybe you should call him?”

Ash shook his head. “He's out this week. Florida. Family vacation.”

Blanca nodded in understanding. “Is there someone else at the practice you could speak with?”

Ash shook his head. “I don't want to talk with any of the others. They don't know me.” Ash's eyes opened. He flashed Blanca a performative smile tainted by anxiety. “You'll have to do for now.”

When Blanca looked at Ash, he could only see the young, frightened boy he knew long ago. He frowned at him. “Come here,” he said, pulling Ash towards himself. 

Ash didn't resist. In fact, he welcomed the gesture, falling into Blanca’s chest. Ash cried, silent tears at first, slowly growing in volume as Blanca rubbed his back.

“You're not a bad person for feeling what humans are designed to feel. You feel the way you do because you love Eiji. How could that ever be wrong?”

The walk from one building to the other was torturous. Eiji was composed when Ash saw him leave, but once he entered the elevator, he dissolved into a pile of nerves. He was shivering, though not from the cold, as he made his descent to the first floor. His legs shook as he crossed the lobby and made his way across the street. Once in his own building, he stood, shaking, in front of the elevators for several long minutes before an elderly woman touched his elbow, asking if he was alright. Eiji had jumped and looked at her but said nothing. Instead, he walked forward and began his ascent.  

He trembled with his keys, dropping them twice before managing to get the house key into the door. He forced himself to take several deep breaths before turning it and walking inside.

It was dark in the apartment when Eiji entered. The drapes were pulled shut and not a single light was on. Buddy ran to meet Eiji at the door, barking excitedly. Eiji hushed the dog as he greeted him, certain that somewhere in the small space, Sing was resting. 

The couch creaked and Eiji’s eyes settled on it as he watched Sing’s head pop up from the back of the couch. 

“Sorry,” Eiji said. Buddy continued to bark, so Eiji gave him another pet. “Buddy, shhh.”

Sing rubbed his eyes and groaned. “What’s the time?

“Just after one.”

“After o—” he groaned, leaving the sentence unfinished. He collapsed backward on the couch cushions, hand pressing against his eyes. 

Eiji stood awkwardly by the door. He wasn’t sure what he intended to say to Sing, he only knew he needed to convey to Sing how sorry he was. His eyes burned with tears before he could even think of what to say. He stood there, staring into the dark, lonely apartment where he spent so many years tormented by his ‘fallen’ friend. And now, there was Sing, taking his place, like some cruel changing of the guard. 

“S-Sing?” Eiji asked weakly.

“What?” Sing responded, voice rising from the darkness. 

“I-I-I came to say I’m sorry,” Eiji began, his voice already trembling. He bit his lip and forced himself to continue. “For everything. For every stupid thing I’ve said over the years.” He took a deep breath and continued talking. The words spilled out of him quickly as if once he started he couldn’t stop. “For yelling, for arguing, for stupid sarcastic remarks. For putting you through mental torment. For making you worry endlessly. For the walking and the drinking and the starving myself and—” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for drugging you and for that God-awful note I wrote you and—” He gasped anxiously for air. His body began to shake, violently as if an earthquake was moving through the very fibers of his muscles. “For trying to kill myself—” heart pounding, he swallowed. Breathlessly he added, “Twice.”

Sing sat, his head reappearing over the couch. He stared across the dark room at Eiji who, by now, had tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked small and frightened with his shoulders curled in and his hands trembling at his chest. His entire body continued to shake uncontrollably. Before then, Eiji had never outright admitted to the incident of alcohol poisoning being a suicide attempt. He had always discussed it in a roundabout way, making it seem as if the idea came to him after he was already drunk.

“You were always right!” Eiji breathed, a shaky breath escaping him. “I was ashamed to admit it— I still am! But you deserve the truth. From the second I picked up the first bottle I intended to die.” He choked on a sob. He coughed, hands rising to his throat. He cleared his throat and continued. “All these years I’ve lied to you and I wanted that lie to be the truth, but it wasn’t. Twice, Sing I—” Eiji’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor. “I’m so ashamed,” he said softly. His shoulders shook as he cried.

Sing continued watching him from across the room. He made no move to go to him, to console him.

For a moment, Eiji couldn’t speak. Tears stole his voice for what felt like an age. He sat there blubbering and choking on his own tears. Eventually, he regained some semblance of composure. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “And I never wanted to keep As—”

“Don’t say his name,” Sing cut in. His eyes bore into Eiji’s from across the room.

Eiji nodded, teeth chattering in his skull. “S-Sorry,” he managed to say. “I never wanted to keep that secret from you.”

“But you did.” Sing’s words were short, clipped.

“I know I did and I’m so sorry.” His fingers dug into his scalp, tangling with his hair; the sting of the hair pulling distracted him from the way his brain seemed to burn with guilt and pure anxiety. “I’m so sorry, Sing.” 

Eiji sat, curled inward, with his arms wrapped around his waist, nearly hyperventilating. The floor creaked and Sing was beside him. 

“No,” Eiji winced, flinching away from Sing’s body as he joined Eiji on the floor. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Sing sat beside Eiji, his back straight and tall. “That’s not why I moved down here.”

Eiji said nothing in response. He moved, pulling his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. His fingertips disappeared under his shaggy hair. His breath had grown erratic as if he were an alien on Earth, not designed to breathe the planet’s air. 

“Hey,” Sing wrapped an arm around Eiji’s shoulders. 

Again, Eiji tried to pull away, but this time Sing did not let him. His fingers dug into Eiji’s shoulder, holding him steady. “You need to breathe or you’re gonna pass out.” Sing inhaled deeply. “Breathe in, Eiji.” He held it. “And out,” he said, releasing his breath. He shook Eiji’s shoulders. “Come on, at least try. In.” He took another breath. “And Out.”

Abruptly, Eiji broke away from Sing and stood. “Stop!” He stared down at him with wild, scared eyes. “How can you be nice to me!? You should hate me!”

Sing shook his head. “You’ve hurt me.” He paused. Tears gathered in his eyes. He made no effort to wipe them away, but rather let them spill over onto his cheeks. “But I could never hate you.” 

“You should hate me,” Eiji whined, quieter this time. “You wanted to kill A— him , but really you should want to kill me . How can you stand to look at me?” He asked in a weak, trembling voice.

Sing stood and stepped closer to Eiji. “Kill you?” He towered above Eiji, looking him in the eyes. “All of these years I’ve just wanted you alive . Maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t deserve it… but I can’t help it, I still love you, Eiji. And I want to be happy for you. I can’t be yet, but maybe someday.”

Eiji shook his head in protest. “No. You can’t be so nice! You should hate me! Hit me! Punch me! Do something terrible to me—”

Something in Sing snapped. He couldn’t go on listening to Eiji’s babbling any longer. He grabbed Eiji by the fabric of his shirt and pulled him close. He kissed Eiji’s cheek, closer to his mouth than could ever be considered friendly, let alone decent, his lips brushing the outer corner of Eiji’s mouth.

Eiji stopped breathing altogether. He stood, looking up at Sing completely speechless.

“There. There's something terrible for ya.”

Eiji blinked at him, unable to form a reply.

For a moment there was silence. Then, Sing stepped back and cleared his throat. He averted his eyes, seemingly unable to look at Eiji now. “I still hate him, but I want to be happy for you,” Sing began, voice low and solemn. “But I have to get over you first. And I won’t be able to do that staying here.”

Eiji chewed worriedly at his lower lip. “You’ll go back to your place?” His stomach churned. Even as he spoke the words he knew that was not what Sing meant. 

Sing shook his head. “I’m going to go away for a while. At least a couple months. Probably more.”

Panic grew on Eiji’s face. “Go away? Go away where? Sing—” He moved, sidestepping into Sing’s line of vision.

“I’m going to the Caribbean.”

“The Caribbean!?” Eiji squeaked.

“With Blanca,” he said quickly. “So you won’t have to worry.”

“Not worry?! Of course I’m going to worry!”

“I’ll have Blanca send you updates.”

“Why Blanca? Why can’t you do it?” Tears spilled down Eiji’s cheeks. He already knew the answer.

“I think it would be best to… have some distance for a while.” Sing’s lip trembled. Again, he turned his face away from Eiji as tears stained his cheeks. “I’ll be back, I just don’t know when yet.”

Eiji tugged at Sing’s shirt, making him look at him. His voice cracked. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Sing choked out.

“Then stay,” Eiji pleaded. “Stay.”

“I can’t, Eiji,” Sing whispered in reply. “I love you too much to stay.”

Eiji stumbled forward, falling into Sing. He wrapped his arms around his ribcage. “I don’t want you to go,” he repeated. “This is all my fault.”

Sing wrapped his strong arms around Eiji. “It’s necessary, Eiji. Blanca thinks it will be good for me to get away.”

Eiji squeezed him tighter. “Since when do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t. But I do think he’s right. I’ll be tortured if I stay here.”

Eiji muttered another apology into Sing’s shirt.

“I’ll have my stuff outta here by the end of the week.”

“If I come back with a black eye or a broken nose, don’t be alarmed.” Ash stood at the door, pulling on a tan-colored trench coat that fell to his mid-calf. 

Blanca nodded. “Noted.” He smiled. “Would you like me to drive you? You may need the backup.”

Ash laughed. “I survived Sing, I’m sure I can hold my own against Max.”

Blanca laughed. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, I say so,” he teased in return. Ash reached for his keys. “‘K. See ya.” He opened the door.

“Ash?” Blanca said before Ash could step into the hall.

Ash turned and looked at him. Blanca sat across the room, one arm resting on the back of the couch as he watched Ash from the living room. His smile was small and gentle, and his eyes looked glossy, but surely it was a trick of the light. At that moment, he looked, to Ash, like a parent sending their kid off to school for the first time. 

“Ha-what?” Ash asked. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“Good luck, Ash,” Blanca said simply.

Ash re-checked the address for, what must have been, the fifteenth time. He looked at the complex, heart pounding.

“Are ya gettin’ out or what, kid?” The cab driver asked, tapping frustrated fingers on the steering wheel.

Ash pulled up the collar of his coat to shield himself from the winter wind. “Yeah, alright.” He paid the driver and stepped out of the car. 

Once inside, he scanned the lobby. He quickly spotted the elevator but did not walk towards it. Instead, he found the stairs and pushed open the heavy door. Max lived on the third floor and Ash needed more time than a short elevator ride to mentally prepare. 

He hadn’t prepared what he would say or do. He couldn’t bear to think about any of it for too long. He knew it would be unpleasant. At least with Sing, he knew what he was walking into. With Max, he had no clue. Max loved Ash when he was alive, in his own way. And Max loved and cared for Eiji in his absence. Max had watched Eiji suffer for years. He had watched him nearly die. All because of Ash. And he knew Max might hate him now just as Sing did. 

He paused on the landing between the second and third floor. He exhaled shakily due to nerves rather than the physical exertion. He shook his hands as if the action might expel some of the tension his body held. “Come on,” he said to himself. “You can do this.”

He began climbing the stairs again.

Max might hate him. The thought made him nauseous. At the very least, he’d be angry. Very angry. 

Ash reached the third floor. He took a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob. 

“If he hates you, it’s justified,” he muttered to himself. 

His thoughts reeled back to when he first met Max in prison. He remembered hating him back then, so much so that he had wanted to kill him. He closed his eyes and opened the door. Maybe it was his turn to be hated. 

He checked his phone again. 301. His eyes followed the line of addresses which flowed to his left in descending order. He took another deep breath and made his way down the hall.  He looked down the hallway, which seemed to stretch infinitely. He began walking, unsure if he could make it to the end. Although his legs felt weak by the end, he of course made it to Max’s place. 

Ash raised a shaking hand. God, how he hoped Jessica and Michael wouldn’t be home. 

He knocked once. He knocked twice. 

When no one answered, his heart skipped a beat.

He knocked again. 

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself, realizing it was a very real possibility that Max wouldn’t be home and he would have to leave empty-handed and face all of these feelings again at another time. 

He knocked a fourth time, louder this time, just in case Max hadn’t heard him previously. 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Give me a sec!” Max shouted from inside. 

Ash’s stomach dropped. He had the fleeting thought that it was a miracle he wasn’t sick right there on the doormat. 

And then every thought vanished. 

He heard Max’s heavy footsteps approaching the door. “I’m coming, Mikey, hold your horses!”

Ash could feel his hands grow clammy. Max thought he was Michael. He really was going to be sick.

The door rattled as Max fiddled with the lock. 

If Ash’s legs weren’t frozen with fear, he might have run. 

The door began to open. “Whad’ya forge—”

Max stood in the doorway, somehow taller than Ash remembered, with one hand on the open door. He stared at Ash, jaw falling open and all of the color draining from his face. 

“H-Hi, Max.”

“You piece of shit, where the fuck have you been?” Max lunged toward him. 

Ash’s eyes flinched shut, bracing for impact. 

Max collided with him, nearly knocking him off his feet, in an earth-shattering embrace. “Where have you been?” He squeezed his arms around Ash, so tightly Ash felt as if his eyeballs might pop out of his head. 

It was then, Ash was aware he was crying. They both were. He hadn’t expected this. He expected anger, a fist to the face, not this— not Max’s fingers digging affectionately into his ribs and back. Not Max holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Ash’s hands settled on Max’s back, which only caused Max to hold him tighter still. Ash let out a teary laugh. “You’re gonna suffocate me.”

Max did not loosen his grip. “Deal with it,” he muttered into Ash’s neck. 

“Eiji won’t be very happy with you if you kill me now,” Ash told him between tears.

Ash was trying to ease the tension, but it seemed his words had the opposite effect. Max’s tears intensified to the point of sobs. Ash could feel Max’s tears begin to run down his skin, disappearing into the fabric of his sweater.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming back at all,” Max whispered into his skin. 

“What?!” Ash squeaked. He tried to push Max away so that he could see his face, but Max held him too tightly. Ash patted Max’s back. “Max, come on.”

Max obliged, loosening his grip. He let Ash pull away just enough to see him. They stared at each other, faces red and streaked with tears. 

“What do you mean, Max?” Ash asked again.

Max shook his head in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’ That shot? The note you left Eiji? Ash, Soon? Blanca’s cryptic warning? It was either you or him pretending to be you to give Eiji some hope.” He pulled Ash close again, his head falling onto Ash’s shoulder. For a moment, he couldn’t speak any further. Silent tears shook his frame and stole his breath. 

Ash wrapped his arms around Max, holding him tightly. “It was me,” he whispered. He rubbed Max’s back the way he knew he was supposed to. “It was me.”

They stood like that, crying on the threshold of Max’s place, until something brushed against Ash’s legs. He flinched in surprise. Ash pulled away from Max and looked down. Rubbing against him was a tuxedo-patterned cat with a white marking on his chest that vaguely resembled a bowtie.

For the first time since seeing him, Max let go of Ash. “Hey, Mr. Sir,” he said, reaching for the cat. “Get back in here.” 

Ash wiped his eyes and smiled at the small animal. “What kind of a name is that?”

Max sniffed, wiping his eyes on the shoulder of his shirt. He held the cat to his chest. “Mikey named him after that character in Holes . You know, the—” Ash’s face was blank. “Oh, you don’t know kid movies.”

Ash shook his head, “‘Fraid not.” 

Max stroked the cat's head, causing his green eyes to close. “It was between that and Mr. President. Michael thought he needed a ‘Mr.’ in his name. Cuz, ya know, he’s got the little bowtie.”

Ash extended a hand for the cat to sniff before stroking his head gently. “Yeah, I see that.” He looked up at Max. “He goes by Mikey now?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. Has for a few years now.” 

Ash hummed in understanding as he gave the cat another pet. 

“Still answers to Michael, too. I call him by both names most days.” Max sighed and wiped at his eyes again. He then stepped into the apartment. “Come in, Ash.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Ash replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Max rolled his eyes. “What are you a vampire? Can’t come in without an invitation? Is that how you’re still alive?’

Ash stepped inside. “Well, if I were a vampire, I wouldn’t be alive, now would I?”

Max laughed softly. The sound soothed Ash. “I’ve missed your laugh, Max,” Ash decided to say. He expected Max to smile or laugh again or say he’d missed Ash too, but instead, his face twisted as he frowned. Tears spilled from his eyes and he began to cry again. 

“Shit,” Ash cursed. “I’m sorry—”

Max waved Ash’s words away, but otherwise couldn’t give a proper response. His face trembled as he tried to suppress his tears. His arms grew weak; Mr. Sir jumped from his arms, landing softly on the floor with a gentle thump .

“Hey, let’s sit down,” Ash suggested, steering Max to the sectional in the front room.

For a long moment, they sat there. The cat jumped on the couch beside Ash. Ash reached out to pet the cat, but the small animal contorted its body to avoid his touch. With a grumpy meow, it darted across the room, disappearing around a bend into another room.

“Have you already told Eiji?” Max asked, trying to compose himself

Ash nodded. “He’s known for some time.”

Max flinched at Ash’s words. He stared at Ash, jaw clenched. “Since when?” 

“A bit after the hospital,” Ash managed to say.

Max nodded slowly. “Wow,” he said to himself. “Wow,” he repeated. He ran a hand through his hair. 

Ash could see grays interspersed throughout. Tears stung his eyes. Max was getting old too. He blinked back tears and cleared his throat. “His little party the other day makes more sense now, huh?”

The frustrated groan that left Max’s throat sounded eerily similar to a laugh. “Sing’s going to kill you. Or him. Probably both of you.”

“Actually,” Ash began slowly.

Max’s eyes widened. “You already told him?”

Ash nodded. “And I’m still alive to tell the tale.”

“Welcome back,” Blanca said in greeting as he opened the door. Before Eiji could respond, Blanca handed Eiji an envelope. “I figured you should have this.”

Eiji accepted it. He looked at the envelope then up at Blanca. He knew his eyes were red and puffy, though he was sure Blanca would hardly judge him. “What is it?” He asked skeptically. 

“Open it.”

With trembling hands, Eiji did. Inside the envelope was a folded piece of paper and house key. “A key?”

“So you can come and go,” Blanca explained. “Ash requested that you have it.”

Eiji began to sweat. “Where is he? Why didn’t he…

“He wasn’t sure what time he’d be back. He wanted you to be able to go back and forth.”

“What do you mean? Where did he go?”

“He’ll be back no later than tonight. He went to Max’s.”

Eiji could breathe again. “Oh,” he sighed, relieved. His attention refocused on the envelope. He unfolded the piece of paper. On the page, there was an address as well as a phone number. “This is your number?”

Blanca nodded. “And the address is where I’ll be staying in The Caribbean. I thought it might put your mind at ease.” He eyed Eiji’s shaken form. “At least a little.”

“It’s a done deal then? He’s going with you?” Eiji felt his face warm and tears begin to brew.

Blanca sighed. “Nothing is set in stone. But I think it would be best.” He placed a hand on Eiji’s shoulder. “If he’s with me, I can make sure he’s safe. Here, he’d be living alone and there’s no telling what he might do.”

Eiji nodded. Deep down, he knew Blanca was right.

By the time Ash returned, it was dark. Blanca had left hours ago, and Eiji was left alone in their apartment. Around six, he grew hungry and rummaged around the kitchen in search of something to make. He found the fridge and pantry sparse and suddenly understood why Blanca had given him a key. He decided to patronize a local sandwich shop for dinner, hoping to find Ash when he returned. But he hadn’t. 

Eiji roamed around the apartment, looking around for nothing in particular, before finding himself in Ash’s bedroom. From the doorway, he stared at the tidy bed enveloped in the darkness of the room. He stepped forward and climbed onto the bed, first sitting at the foot of it before moving up to lie in the middle of it. He closed his eyes and remembered how it used to feel, a decade ago, waiting up for Ash when he knew for certain that Ash was in danger. He sighed. Things would be different now. Ash was away, but Eiji knew he was safe. And yet, he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling that something would happen to him while he was out. 

The room was suddenly bright. Eiji’s hands flew to his eyes. He cringed under the bright light. 

The light was replaced with darkness again.

“Sorry,” Ash said quickly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Eiji sat up, his hair sticking every which way. “I can leave,” he offered, rubbing his eyes.

“No.” Ash kicked off his shoes. “Stay.” 

Eiji flipped on the bedside lamp. It illuminated Ash who was peeling off his sweater and pulling an old t-shirt on over his head. Eiji yawned, trying to seem casual even though the sight before him made him feel anything but. 

“Bored of me already?” Ash teased.

Eiji smiled sleepily. “Never.”

Ash shed his jeans. The mattress sagged as he climbed into bed; Eiji scooted to accommodate him. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Eiji said with another yawn. “Really, I can head out, if you want.”

Ash thought back to his conversation with Blanca earlier that day. ‘Oh, he truly loves you, Ash,’ Blanca had told him. Ash’s head sank into his pillow. “No. I’m glad you’re here,” he said truthfully. He gestured to the lamp. “Can you— thanks,” he said as Eiji flipped it off. “I have dreams about you all the time,” Ash said into the darkness.

Eiji waited, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “Dreams?” He asked when Ash said nothing further.

“Well, nightmares,” Ash clarified. “So maybe you being here will help.” With that, he rolled over, facing away from Eiji, seemingly content to drift to sleep. 

“Hey, wait, wait, wait.” Eiji jostled his shoulder in the dark. “You can’t just leave it at that.” He flopped onto his side, head supported by his hand as he stared at Ash’s back. “What are the nightmares?”

“That I wasn’t fast enough,” Ash replied without missing a beat. 

Eiji let out a low whine of understanding without any further elaboration.

“I’ve dreamt it at least a few times a week for the past two years. My therapist says it should improve once we’re reunited, but… I don’t know, I’m skeptical.”

“I’m sorry,” Eiji said softly, unsure of what else to say.

“Every time, I’m too slow. Every time, you pull your trigger first, and I see your brains splattered all over the living room floor.”

Softly, Eiji placed his hand between Ash’s shoulder blades. “Sorry,” he repeated. The word hardly seemed adequate, yet he could think of nothing else to say; his brain was temporarily offline, capable only of that one word. 

“The only silver lining is I don’t really dream about Dino anymore. But you know what?” In one smooth motion, Ash flipped his body. Eiji pulled his hand away just in time not to be crushed under Ash. “This dream is worse. I wish I could dream of him again if it meant I could stop dreaming of you. Losing you is the worst thing I can dream up.”

Eiji watched as a single tear ran across the bridge of Ash’s nose, under his other eye, and onto his pillow. He shifted, wiping the tear from his face and folded one arm beneath his head.

“I’m sorry,” Eiji rasped for a third time.

“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t want you to apologize.” He reached out slowly with one arm. It seemed to take an eternity before Ash’s hand made contact with Eiji’s face. Pale knuckles brushed a tear from Eiji’s flushed cheeks. “ I’m sorry you ever felt so awful that ending your life was your only solution. My therapist has told me time and time again that what happened with Lao and everything after wasn’t my fault. It still feels like my fault, even though I try not to let it. Fault or no fault, I’m the reason you felt that way and I am sorry.”

Ash brushed another tear from Eiji’s face, and then another, and another. Ash made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, I hate to see you cry, Eiji .” 

Eiji’s lip quivered. “Can I hug you?” He croaked. 

“Yeah, yeah, of cour—” Eiji’s face was pressed against Ash’s chest before he could finish the sentence. He held Eiji tightly with one arm. “I trust you, Eiji. You don’t ever have to ask,” he added softly as an afterthought.

“I regret it every day,” Eiji sobbed into Ash’s shirt. “I wish I could take it back. I ruined everything. If I could’ve just waited two more years I—” He gasped for air. “I hate myself for what I did.”

“No.” Ash's fingers tangled with Eiji’s hair. “Please, don’t say that.”

Eiji pushed away from Ash to see him. “I have something to confess,” he blurted. 

Ash’s eyes searched Eiji’s face in the dark. “What is it?”

“That wasn’t the first time. I tried twice to kill—” he paused anxiously. “Myself.” 

“I already know about that,” Ash said, unsure if it was the right or wrong thing to say. “The alcohol.”

Eiji’s mouth fell open. “Wha— how did you—”

“Eiji, it was obvious.”

“I never admitted to it unti—”

“You didn’t have to. I already knew. Besides, you've tried more than twice.”

Eiji’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Every time you walked for miles in the cold without eating or drank yourself stupid, you were trying. Maybe not trying to die immediately, but slowly over time. You welcomed death for years. I was worried sick for years.”

Suddenly, Eiji sat. It seemed wildly unfair for Ash to state something that seemed so obvious when Eiji himself had not reached such a conclusion. 

“That’s not true,” he found himself saying. Ash said nothing. Eiji turned on the lamp and stared at him. “Ash, that’s not true.”

“I don’t know what else you’d call it.”

“Depression,” Eiji snapped. “That’s what I’d call it.”

“Eiji, I saw you on multiple occasions tell Sing you were tired of living. Hell, I saw you tell me — or that picture of me, at least— that you wanted to die.”

“That’s not…” but he left the words incomplete because he knew it was true. “I wish you wouldn’t have said that,” Eiji said instead. He began to shake anxiously, for the second time that day. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. “I’m going to have a panic attack.” He heard Ash stand instantly. 

“Hold tight,” Ash said before stepping away. When he returned, Eiji’s eyes were still closed, trying to keep the panic at bay. “Here.” Ash tapped his shoulder. 

Eiji’s eyes opened to see Ash holding a glass of water and a small white pill

“What is it?” Eiji asked, his words clipped.

“Ativan.”

Eiji downed the pill and groaned. “It’s not going to work fast enough,” he said shakily. He closed his eyes again and focused on breathing. His body shivered uncontrollably as panic simmered in his veins.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Ash said. He watched helplessly as Eiji trembled before him. It reminded him of every crime scene he’d ever been to. The victims were always given blankets to help with the shock. Ash wrapped a thick blanket around Eiji’s shoulders and pulled it tightly closed. “I’m sorry, Eiji, I thought you knew.” 

Eiji’s eyes opened. “I never—” he exhaled shakily. “Thought about it that way.”

Eiji continued to shake, so Ash fetched another blanket from the other room.

“I’m not cold,” Eiji managed to say through chattering teeth. 

“I know.” Ash wrapped him in the second blanket. “But it helps.”

They sat there, unspeaking, for several long minutes, desperately trying to calm Eiji’s nervous system. They sat there, silent, while Eiji took slow, calming breaths, wrapped in the comfort of the blankets. Eventually, his shaking body stilled, and the panic in his eyes began to dissipate. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Ash said at last, once a visible calm had washed over Eiji. 

Eiji shook his head. “Maybe I needed to hear it.”

“There have been times,” Ash began slowly. “That I wanted to die too, if it helps.” He thought back to his childhood, to Dino. There were countless nights he prayed for death to take him before some stranger did. “You were suffering. And the thought of death was a way out. Not the only way, but a way. And at the time, you couldn’t see any other way. It doesn’t make you a bad person— it’s taken years of therapy for me to realize that.”

“When?” Eiji asked worriedly.

“Not recently,” Ash answered casually.

“ When? ” 

“As a kid. At Dino’s. But not since knowing you.”

“Do you still hurt from him?” Eiji asked, his voice calmer now. 

Ash hummed in thought. “Everyday,” he admitted. He watched sorrow tug Eiji’s mouth downward. “But it’s not nearly as bad now. And after nearly a decade of therapy, I’m able to cope with reminders of him much better.”

Eiji’s eyes closed, and, like an old, dead tree, he slowly collapsed backward onto the bed. “Why does life have to be so hard?” 

Ash laid down beside Eiji. “It will start getting easier soon.”

“I slept with another man,” Eiji said suddenly, his voice surprisingly calm.

For a moment, Ash said nothing. 

“I figured you should know. And tonight already sucks, so…might as well get it over with.” Eiji’s eyes opened. He turned his head and looked at Ash. “Did you already know?”

“I suspected as much,” he said slowly. “Did you like it?”

Eiji’s eyes closed again. His forehead creased, as if he were in physical pain. “Yes,” he croaked. “But— I thought you were dead.”

Ash shifted his weight, propping his head up on his hand. “Shh, that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to dislike it.”

Eiji’s head tossed back and forth on the pillow, fluffing his dark hair. “I regretted it immediately. I wish I never knew him.” His voice cracked. “E-especially now.”

“Did you love him?” Ash asked, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop himself. The question had eaten away at him for years.

Eiji’s eyes opened. He looked at Ash, mortified. “Of course not.”

Ash exhaled, relieved. Good , he thought to himself.

“He was just a distraction. And a huge mistake.”

“Tell me about him.”

Eiji looked at Ash before shifting his gaze to the ceiling. He had hardly spoken about the encounter, except in brief, vague terms with Dr. Madison. “His name was Eric. We met at the gym. He was Korean. Strong. Looked nothing like you. Was nothing like you. He worked as an ER nurse at some big hospital. He saved lives. He was proud of what he did.”

“He sounds nice.”

“He was gentle in bed,” Eiji continued. “He knew it was my first time.”

Beside him, Ash whined like a wounded animal. It was a terrible, tortured noise that almost made Eiji quit speaking altogether. 

“It was our third date, and I— I wanted to feel something. He sucked me off, fucked me in the ass, and then I made him leave,” Eiji said crassly. “He asked to stay, but I said I wasn’t feeling well. That only made him want to stay more.” Eiji rolled his eyes. “Nurse.” He sighed heavily. “And then I tried to drink myself to death. It felt like that’s what I deserved for feeling so good after doing something so filthy .”

“ No ,” Ash said sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“But it was. I still loved you; how could I not? It felt like cheating.”

Ash sat, breath hitching. “But it wasn’t. I was dead.”

“But you weren’t.”

“But you thought I was.”

Eiji shook his head. “I pictured you watching me from the afterlife. And I thought to myself that you would have hated me then. I felt good doing the thing that destroyed your life; of course you would have hated me.”

“I wouldn’t. Don’t say that.”

“How could you not?”

Irritated, Ash moved. He planted his forearms on either side of Eiji’s head. His blond hair tickled Eiji’s forehead as he stared into Eiji’s eyes. “You just told me just now and I don’t hate you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Bullshit.”

Eiji’s eyes closed, enabling himself to escape Ash’s piercing gaze. “I’m very tired, Ash, that Ativan is kicking in.”

Ash huffed. He blew on Eiji’s face, causing Eiji’s face to pucker with agitation. “Hey.” Eiji’s eyes fluttered open. “We’re still talking,” Ash said. “What happened to him? Eric.”

Eiji shrugged. “Dunno. I never saw him again. I almost died. They took my phone while I was in the hospital, and as far as I know, Sing blocked his number. And that was that. I never tried to contact him again.”

Ash hovered over him a moment longer before flopping back beside him. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. I’m just glad your first time was with a decent guy.”

Eiji rolled onto his side. With glossy eyes, he said, “It should have been you.”

“Chhh.” Ash bristled. “I don’t even know if I’m capable.”

“Then it should have been no one,” Eiji said with all the integrity in the world. 

Ash studied his face for any hint of insincerity but found nothing. Still, he asked, “Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

“Do you really?”

“I really do.”

Ash rolled onto his back, eyes fixated on the ceiling fan. “I love you, Eiji.”

Beside him, Eiji sniffed. “I love you too, Ash.”

“I know you do, Eiji. I know.”

When Eiji woke, Ash was breathing softly beside him. Eiji propped himself up on his elbow and admired the man beside him. With his fair skin and golden hair splayed around him, Eiji couldn’t help but think Ash resembled a cherub from a renaissance painting. Despite Ash’s worries of aging, he looked as youthful as ever. The faint lines that sprang forth from the corners of his eyes made Eiji smile: Ash had smiled and laughed even while they were apart. Perhaps his life with Blanca hadn’t been so miserable after all. Ash’s eyes darted back and forth behind his porcelain eyelids. He was dreaming. There was no crease to his brow, no crinkle in his nose, so Eiji surmised that whatever Ash dreamt of wasn’t unpleasant. 

Eiji could have watched him sleep for an eternity, and it still wouldn’t be long enough. He felt his chest burn with love. Just a few years ago, he would have never allowed himself to even dream of this reality. Back then, it would have been a fantasy too precious. A fantasy too painful. 

After a while, Ash sighed, and then stirred as his body emerged from the deep. His eyes fluttered open, his green eyes immediately settling on Eiji’s. Eiji stared lovingly down at Ash as if he were heaven itself. 

“Hey,” Eiji said, lips curling upward with simmering joy. 

A lazy smile spread across Ash’s face. “Hmmmm,” he hummed aloud. His eyes closed as his smile grew wider. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

Eiji made a sound of disagreement. “Not me,” he decided.

Ash’s brow furrowed and his eyes reopened. “How’s that?”

Eiji layed down, nestling beside Ash. “I don’t want to get used to this. I don’t ever want to take this for granted.”

“Ahhh,” Ash said, drawing out the sound. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a mischievous smirk. In a flash, he moved, settling his forearms on either side of Eiji. “Hey, Eiji?” He asked casually.

“Hey, what?” He replied, eyes curiously dancing across Ash's face as he wondered what he might say. 

“Have I ever told you what I thought of you when we first met?”

Even without knowing what Ash would say, color began to blotch Eiji’s cheeks. 

“Well, have I?”

Eiji shook his head. “No, you haven’t.”

“Well,” Ash began, gaze connecting with Eiji’s in a way that only made his face more and more red. “I thought to myself— and I remember telling Shorter— That boy’s electric. Something about him just draws me in. Something pure and innocent. Something good. Something I want to protect. ” He leaned down further, his blond hair brushing Eiji’s face, and placed a dainty kiss upon Eiji’s temple. It was the same temple Eiji had held a gun against two years ago. Goosebumps rose on Eiji's skin. “I still feel that way.” He kissed his forehead, long and reverent. “And I’m never gonna let anything bad happen to you ever again,” he whispered against his skin. 

Eiji’s lip quivered. He wrapped his arms around Ash and pulled him close until Ash’s body pressed into his. Ash’s face settled into the crook of Eiji’s neck. 

“I love you, Ash,” Eiji said shakily. 

Ash smiled against Eiji’s neck. He kissed his skin. 

Eiji held him tighter. 

“Love you, too,” Ash said softly. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of Eiji fill his lungs. “So damn much.”

“You’re really leaving,” Max said solemnly as he helped Sing load the last of his luggage into the taxi and shut the trunk. 

Eight days had passed, and Sing had made up his mind. He packed two suitcases and a backpack full of clothes and personal items and moved everything he couldn’t fit into a reasonably priced storage unit that Blanca offered to pay for. Sing wanted to refuse his generosity, but, in the end, he accepted the offer. After all, he wasn’t sure how long he would need it. He could always pay Blanca back once he found something to do for work in The Caribbean; at least, that’s what Blanca said to convince Sing to put down Blanca’s card as the payment method for the unit.

Sing sighed. He looked at Max with red, dry eyes. The skin was so irritated from days of crying that it was painful just to look at. “I’ll be back eventually.” Wind whipped through the city, and Sing plunged his hands into his pocket. 

“Ya know, I’m a little jealous,” Max began. He wrapped an arm around Sing’s shoulders. “It’ll be much warmer where you’re going.” He squeezed Sing’s shoulders. “Just promise me you’ll keep in touch?”

Sing nodded. “I won’t be able to text him for a while. It’s too painful right now. But I’ll text you, Max.”

“And call,” Max added, squeezing him again for effect.

Sing smiled sadly. “And call,” he agreed. 

Blanca joined them at the taxi, wheeling his luggage behind him. Max stepped away from Sing and opened the backseat door for Blanca who then began loading his bags into the vehicle. 

Facing Max, Sing dug into his coat pocket and fished out an envelope. “Will you give this to Eiji for me?”

Max’s face soured. “What is it?”

“I couldn’t… bring myself to say goodbye to him in person.”

Max pointed at the letter in Sing’s hand. “So this is goodbye?”

Sing shrugged. “Of sorts. Mostly, it’s a promise that I’ll come back.” Sing waved the envelope at Max. “Will you make sure he gets it?”

Max extended a hand and accepted the letter. “Yeah, of course.”

The car door closed. “Sing? We need to head out,” Blanca said, cutting into their conversation. 

He nodded. “Well, looks like this is goodbye, old man.”

Tears began to gather in Max’s eyes. “Not goodbye. Just see you later.”

Sing smiled tearily. “Right. I’ll see ya, Max.” He hugged Max, squeezing him tightly. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, kid.” He pulled away from Sing, inhaling deeply. “Try to enjoy the tropical weather. Maybe it will help you heal faster— like the opposite of seasonal depression or whatever— who knows.” He gave Sing’s arm an affectionate swat. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone. Maybe you’ll find love in some tanned, Caribbean hottie.”

Sing looked at Max, staring deep into his dark brown eyes. “Find love?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, give it some time, but…” his voice trailed off. “Look, Sing, it’s possible. Don’t you want to find love again?”

Sing watched as Blanca fastened his seatbelt in the front seat of the cab. He waved at Sing through the window, urging him to hasten his goodbye. Max’s question was something he had dwelled on privately for some time. The winter wind burned Sing’s face. He sighed heavily, exhaling a week of stress and anxiety. 

“Hmmm, no,” he said slowly as if he was only now considering the question for the first time. “No, Max, I don’t.” He looked Max in the eye. “I love only him.”

The End.