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The wind blows just a little, almost to the perfect amount as to ruffle his hair gently. Wilardo sits on the ledge of a bridge that connects a forest to the small town he'd temporarily settled in.
One of his legs hangs in the air, dangling over above the river below. The other is bent, kept tightly against his own body as he leans his head on it, pressing a little on this chin and sending just enough pressure upon his jaw as to not be painful.
Part of him considers stepping out and falling pray to the river below. The more reasonable part of his brain reminds him that, even if seemingly appealing, it would do no good. Instead, would simply imprison him into a loop of constant drowning, only to find himself conscious again with burning lungs.
He lets out a deep breath, little steam clouds forming due to the slightly chilly weather. Few good minutes pass, and although he has come hear to clear his mind, he can't help but feel watched intensely by something from afar. Wilardo feels as if a strong gaze pierces right through him, and it's bone chilling at least.
He feels himself shivering, not quite sure if the cause for it being the cold air or whatever has been eyeing him for good fifteen minutes.
He moves an arm and pushes himself up, throwing one leg over the edge inward, towards the bridge, then the other, and stepping down.
Wilardo stuffs his hands into his pockets, glancing around for few seconds. When he decides it's safe to go, he slowly begins heading back into the village, following a path of cubblestone as he goes. It's not anything much, and even if looking rather clearly poor, the village is well enough kept.
There's few people, mostly elders, and it's really quiet. Wilardo doesn't mind that in the least. Having reached the entrance to the small town, he pauses beneath a streetlight. A fire burning softly, illuminating the ground into a soft, warm light. Even if he'd come out to relax, his posture is stiff as he stands, not afraid, but aware.
Wilardo glances upward when he hears soft steps from behind, sounding as if the person would be in a hurry. A boy with green-ish hair runs towards him, slightly skipping as he goes. There's a bag thrown over his shoulder, bouncing along with the rythm of his feet. He has one braid in his hair, tied up messily by a yellow ribbon.
As the other gets close enough, Wilardo notices that he's quite a bit taller than himself and wearing some kind of a more traditional clothing than most people he'd seen before. He doesn't question it, as he believes it's not really his place to.
The taller male in front of him struggles to catch his breath, before raising his gaze from the ground, looking downward at Wilardo. His eyes are of a nice golden color, an intense gaze that seems to be going right through Wilardo and beyond. Wilardo finds himself slightly intrigued as realization seeps in his gut.
So that's who had been staring, huh.
"Why, hello!" The person speaks up, fumbling with the sleeves of heir top. "My apologies for being so sudden." Wilardo doesn't answer, simply nods as to say he'd been listening.
The boy's eyes in front of him are so intense, light up with some type of need, a deep longing. If Wilardo were younger, he might have missed it, but he doesn't. He's sure the other wants something from him.
"Ah, you see-" He begins slowly, exaggerating the crease of his eyebrows in a worrisome expression. Wilardo finds it to look fake. "I'm but a humble traveler and have been walking around for long now. However, I don't quite have a place for the night-"
He lets out a breathy laugh and smiles brighter, wider than a genuine grin would look like. "I noticed you and followed. I figured you might have a place I could stay in for tonight, if that's to be allowed?"
Oh?
Wilardo finds himself eyeing the bag hanging from the guy's shoulder, a small portion of a sleeping bag peeking out through the material. The traveler before him seems to have the needs for sleep, and although, in theory, a village would be more comfortable than sleeping in the woods, it doesn't seem to be a necessity for the other.
Plus, Wilardo doesn't miss the way the boy before him eyes him, glances quickly up and down with a spark of something in his eyes. He finds himself debating the travelers request.
There's something odd about the traveler before him. The way his smiles never meet his eyes, the way his arms always move around way more than they should, as if he's trying to accentuate his points more with body movement in compensation to the lack of emotion in his eyes that, even if shining in the dark night, simply look dull.
Wilardo lets out a breath and decides to go along with it. It could do no harm, and besides, by the looks of it, the traveler would be to leave early in the morning anyway. Not to mention how achingly long it has been since he's had anyone share the night. Wilardo thinks he can allow himself a presence, for what that's worth.
Wilardo starts walking in silence, giving a subtle head movement as to signal to the other that he can follow. The taller smiles widely, seemingly proud of himself and hurriedly moves his feet forward.
"Ahh, you're so very kind, really!" He chirps out, settling in a steady rythm so that he is walking side by side with Wilardo. "I'm Ashe by the way. It's quite a pleasure to meet you!"
"Wilardo." Is the only response he gets in return with a soft grunt, not bothering to look at the other as he begins heading past the streetlight they've been standing under, and further into the village.
It's suffocatingly quiet, and both of their steps seem to echo loudly into the empty pathways as they move along. Ashe, seemingly noticing, decides to break off the silence as he begins to talk about whatever, mouth constantly moving as he goes about telling stories from his trips and about people he had met on the way.
Wilardo doesn't mind, and although he's not quite listening to everything, spacing in and out, he still nods his head along to whatever Ashe is spouting. It takes good ten minutes of walk and one sided chatter to get to Wilardo's, well- temporary house.
He reaches inside one of his hoodie pockets and, upon finding it, he sticks the house key in the door and twists it until a click is audible. He pushes the door open and steps in first, not bothering to wait for Ashe to enter before him.
Ashe has to squint his eyes because it's so dark. The house is rather neat. It's small, only having two rooms connected by a doorway that's covered by a curtain of which can be pulled shut for a minimal amount of privacy. The kitchen has a small oven and a table with a single wooden chair, while the bedroom and living room are both cramped together into a single room, creating for a living space.
There's barely any sign of someone living there apart from a bag, few clothes, and a unlight candle placed on a small nightstand.
Wether it's because Wilardo has little belongings or because he isn't there to settle, Ashe doesn't know.
Wilardo kicks off his shoes and shuffles over closer to the bed, trying not to stumble over his own feet in the darkness. He crouches down and pulls something from underneath the mattress.
When Ashe looks closer, he can see that it's a knitted blanket. It looks really fluffy as Wilardo lays it down on the bed neatly, slightly readjusting the pillow settled there too. Ashe simply watches, having already jumped out of his shoes, as the male in front of him makes the bed and turns his head towards him with a soft raise of one brow.
"Would you like something to eat?"
And Ashe is about to answer, because his stomach has been begging him to eat for hours now, but just as he opens his mouth to talk, he can see Wilardo heading over to the candle placed near the bed, holding a box of matches in one of his hands and a single match into the other. He must've had them on him this whole time, and Ashe finds himself mentally cursing because how had he not realized before.
A quick arm movement sends the match ablaze, and the absolute terror in Ashe's eyes fades, just as quickly as it had appeared in the first place, as he forcefully schools hie expression.
The candle is now light up, creating a soft, warm light into the room. It's not much, but it's enough to not trip on some unseen junk if trying to go through the room for whatever reason. Wilardo softly blows on the match he'd been holding, throwing the now useless wood away and stuffing only the box back into his pocket.
Ashe's fear goes unnoticed to him because- well- he had his back turned while working on getting light in the room, and as appealing as it may be, he quite can't see behind himself.
When he's done, Wilardo straightens and turns back around, brows slightly furrowed upon getting no answer to the question asked good few minutes ago. It seems to be lingering in the room, along with Ashe's unspoken answer, whatever might that be.
He notices the way Ashe is just standing in the doorway, the way his body looks stiff. "Everything alright?"
Ashe is quick to shake his head and giggle. It's so forced that he almost chokes on his own tongue, shutting his eyes for as long a period as he can, in a desperate attempt to ignore the dancing fire atop the wax candle.
"I must thank you, but I'm not all that hungry."
Ashe finds himself saying. And that's untrue, because he'd been starving for hours now. He was low on food while out in the mountains, which had been one of the main reasons he had followed path to a village in the first place.
Now though? All he can feel is nausea swirling in his gut. The overwhelming urge to throw up engulfing his entire form. The simple thought of putting something in his mouth makes him sick- reminds him of those days years ago, when he'd cook for his family. When he'd cook for and with her.
It gave way to memories of their distorted faces and screams filled with agony. The vanilla scent of the melting wax was slowly morphing into gasoline and Ashe could feel his lungs burning. He wanted to scream. No, he needed-
"Whatever you say. There's some cool soup in the fridge. You can warm it up for yourself later, if you change your mind, that is." Wilardo states calmly. He had noticed something off on Ashe's part, but he truly believes it's not his place to question what the matter may be. Not with a stranger at least. Besides, if Ashe is bothered by something, he can say, right?
Ashe wants to laugh at the offer, a sick, twisted laugh that he has to block in his throat so it doesn't spill. He doubts this poor looking house has an electrical oven, thus he'd have to light it up himself, using matches nonetheless, having to hold the fire so very close to his fingers. It makes him so very angry, which is stupid because Wilardo doesn't know what the problem is. How could he?
Even more so, he doesn't seem to have any interest in knowing, which is reasonable because Ashe is merely but a stranger.
And it's annoying, because he appreciates Wilardo not butting into his business, and he doesn't want to admit to some random person about his lasting traumas.
But having that candle next to the bed, he can't even imagine getting close enough to sit on the mattress, nevermind get some sleep.
"I really appreciate the concern, but I don't quite think I need a nightlight." Ashe breathes out softly, adding a quiet laugh to the sentence as he raises one hand to his neck awkwardly.
"You can put it out if you'd like." Wilardo says flatly. "Or I could move it to the kitchen counter, so you can have light if you decide to get some food later."
Ashe finds himself fumbling with the sleeves of his top because- God, no. That's so much worse. He'll still be able to scent the smoke from the bedroom, the curtain not making for a good blocker, and the possibility that something might catch on fire without his knowledge--That he might wake up engulfed by flames that dance around him, threatening to burn the flesh off of his bones with no mercy-
it's overbearing.
"No!" He responds too quickly, too loudly. He has no time to think it through as the answer tears itself from his own throat. It bewilders both himself and Wilardo.
Wilardo eyes Ashe with a look that can't quite be placed by the other on a scale of feelings. It's dull, a soft frown on his face that's not all that aparent. It's not an angry look, or a disgusted one. It's soft, though not pitying-
There's some kind of softness to Wilardo's eyes, and it's there for only a second, but it is.
The shorter male says nothing. He simply crouches back down and carefully puts the candle out with two wetted fingers, pinching the little rope atop of it until he is sure it's completely out.
"I'll be on the rooftop, if you need me."
Few hours later, Ashe is laying down on the not so soft mattress, staring up at some unidentified stain that's made home on the ceiling.
The heavy blanket he'd used to warm himself is now half draping over the edge of the bed, only covering his feet, and the sheets under him are an utter mess.
He'd tried falling asleep so desperately, laying down in every sleep position known to men, and yet- his body simply refuses to give in to that seemingly so welcoming slumber.
He finds his hair sticking uncomfortably to his face, having to brush it away with a hand as a sigh escapes his lips, causing them to part, if only slightly.
Ashe finds himself staying in bed for few more minutes, body aching to do something- anything else other than staring at some boring point of the room, but Ashe doesn't really want to move--
Which is a problem, considering the way his stomach rumbles, constricting painfully as a reminder that he hasn't eaten.
And although he doesn't want to put anything in his mouth, because he's well aware he would not be able to stomach it long enough for it to count in his current state, he could grab something to ease the pain.
Ashe is on a path of becoming a doctor after all. He always leaves prepared on his trips. A long breath is huffed out as he pushes himself up, walking carefully with a raised hand through the darkness as not to bump into anything.
The floorboards creak slightly underneath his feet, despite him trying to be discreet and he finds himself fishing his bag from a far corner of the room, quickly rummaging through it.
He goes on searching through the multiple herbs and medicine that he'd stuffed there long before he had left, and for a second, he thinks he might've missed adding something to the pile, because he just can't seem to find the-
"Ah, there it is!" Ashe chirps triumphantly as he pulls out a little bag of dried lavender from his bag. He eventually ends up staring at it because he didn't really- think this through entirely.
His first idea had been making some tea, because, well- it could help with an empty stomach, despite it's general attributes.
But that involved boiling water.
And while the first option could be completely scrapped off the list, Ashe also didn't want to drink cold tea.
He could eat it, but that may have side effects and he did not want to deal with that possible outcome.
That left for only one option in his imaginary bucket list of which most ideas have been crossed off. Or at least the only thing he could think of now, hence his hazy mind.
He could smoke it.
And while that did involve fire, the risk of it burning something was minimal compared to everything else. Plus, to the other options, he would not be able to see the flame, because cigs don't make much light to be seen. Adding to it that it wouldn't smoke of something burnt, but of lavender, which has quite a nice, strong scent-
Ashe thinks he can work this out.
Though, he would need Wilardo's help for more than one reason.
Ashe sighs, realizing that even if he were to try rolling up some cigarettes, he had no clue where, even more so- if Wilardo had any rolling paper laying around.
Hell, he didn't even know if Wilardo smoked.
He guesses there is only one way to find out.
"I'll be on the rooftop, if you need me."
Wilardo's words ring into his head, seemingly echoing inside his brain, and Ashe finds himself walking over to the small, open window of the bedroom, carefully grabbing onto the window frame and pushing himself up with long legs.
His height makes it easy to reach the corner of the roof, pulling himself up with a shaky hand. It is a bit of a struggle though, because although having some muscle, Ashe isn't exactly the strongest person in the world, and pulling up his own body weight is not an easy task.
Ashe can feel his weight lifting, which helps him manage to climb the roof entirety, huffing out a breath of relief that he'd finally made it. Only when he opens his eyes to see a firm grip on his wrist, does he realize that Wilardo had been the one to help him up, and he blinks at the realization, mouth slightly agape.
So he really had been on the roof all this times huh. Wilardo simply nods at him and uncurls his fingers, eyeing Ashe.
"Can I help you with anything?"
Ashe has to take a minute to reply, because for a moment, he practically forgot the reason that he'd climbed the roof in the first place.
"Ah, I was wondering.." Ashe begins, voice fading towards the end of his sentence as he starts to doubt his own idea. "..Do you smoke?"
Wilardo's eyebrows arch slightly at the question and he chuckles quietly. "Not generally, no." He says softly, then pauses as if remembering something seemingly distant. "But I did have a friend who used to, so I have my knowledge."
Ashe nods at the statement, hesitating slightly before pulling the bag of lavender from underneath his top. "I was wondering if you had any rolling paper?"
To Ashe's relief, or rather despair, Wilardo nods his head yes, glancing towards the bag of dried up leaves held out before him. "Lavender, huh?"
"You know your plants, I see" Ashe grins at the other, throwing the bag so that it lands on Wilardo's lap. He quickly hides his hands into the fabric of his own clothes because now they're shaking, and looking back on his decision, he deeply regrets it, as it involves more use of fire than his brain originally calculated.
Wilardo clutches the bag with one hand, tilting his head towards Ashe with a rather neutral facial expression. "Yeah, it's part of my job so I kinda picked up on it." Wilardo says factually, prying the bag open which causes the smell of lavender to become apparent into the night.
"Are you sure you can smoke?" He asks, blinking at Ashe knowingly. The shorter never once mentions what he's talking about exactly, but he doesn't need to.
Ashe immediately catches on to what Wilardo means.
Even if not knowing why, Wilardo had noticed Ashe's distaste for fire, and while not pushing the topic, not forcing Ashe to talk or think about it more than necessary, he still asks for a confirmation.
It makes Ashe feel safe, which is weird, considering he doesn't know Wilardo. They're both strangers as far as he's concerned, and yet-
Ashe's shoulders sag slightly as he lowers his head to rest on his knees, of which are now pulled close to his chest. He gazes at the ground beneath his feet for a second, because- he doesn't know if he can, and it's more likely he isn't mentally ready enough after what happened earlier, but-
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Whatever you say." Wilardo says, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a small piece of paper. "But I'm only rolling one."
He carefully lays it down and getting to work with placing dried lavender onto it, dragging his finger and rolling the cig up, sealing it with a finger covered in spit. Ashe simply nods dumbly, watching as Wilardo finishes wrapping the cigarette up with the same insistent eyes that have been gazing upon him on the bridge.
The silence is quite comfortable, neither Ashe nor Wilardo seeming to mind the only sound being a soft breeze of the night and their own soft, steady breaths.
Yet, it doesn't last, because upon having rolled the cig, smoking involves lighting it-- which Ashe is reminded of quickly as Wilardo digs a hand back into his other pocket, fishing for the box of matches.
Wilardo is keeping the box slightly out of sight, opening it with one hand only as he keeps a bended leg up as a form of wall to block the view from Ashe.
It doesn't help, because he can hear the way each match rattles inside the carton box, as if each little wood inside wants to set everything ablaze.
Ashe finds his breath hitching involuntarily.
"You can say if you change your mind." Wilardo speaks up, pausing his movement and waiting for the permission to continue, or for the demanding to stop.
When Ashe remains silent, he moves his hand to light the match up, lifting it to the cig until it's enough for it to be smokable.
He puts out the match, this time rasing it in the air slightly, as to assure Ashe that it had been put out thoroughly. Ashe gazes upon it for a moment, then nods at Wilardo that he can put it away, which he does courtly after.
Wilardo shifts slightly, leaning his body closer to Ashe and handing out the cigarette, arm slightly raised in the air as he waits for Ashe to grab it.
He doesn't-- and Wilardo simply gives him a questioning look. Not a judging, nor a demanding one. It's simply an unspoken question of wether he should just put out the cig or not.
"I do want to smoke it, y'know?" Ashe mumbles "I just.. would rather not touching it." he finishes off reluctantly, glancing away.
It's embarrassing, because he just made some guy roll a cig for him, and he didn't even have the guts to grab it. He expects Wilardo to put it out, or laugh, or get angry. He isn't scared of either reactions, but he does not expect what Wilardo does instead of all the possibilities that he'd thought through in the slightest.
"Are you okay with this, then?"
Ashe slightly raises his head, confusion visible on his face as he glances to understand what Wilardo exactly means.
He is slightly taken aback upon noticing the cigarette looming right above his lips, a hand holding it carefully. Wilardo is a little closer now, he notices. He is leaning forward, towards Ashe so that he can hold up the cigarette comfortably, in a way as to not have his hand go numb.
Ashe's face slightly heats up in embarrassment, but he decides that if he wants to smoke, there quite isn't any other alternative to, for now at least.
He nods his head and leans forward, parting his lips to take a huff, letting it settle in his lungs for a bit, before exhaling it with thick smoke.
Ashe finds it's not so bad if he doesn't come in direct contact with the fire.
Wilardo hums softly, taking the cig away so he can take a drag himself, huffing it out in multiple breaths and closing his eyes, as to enjoy the moment.
After Ashe takes the second huff himself, a little more relaxed now, he lets his mouth fall into a sheepish grin, tilting his head as to face Wilardo.
"So, what's with the little baggage?" He asks curiously, only half teasing. "I did notice the village to be poor, is that why?"
"It's not a bad thing to be poor" Wilardo answers, lowering the cigarette from his own lips. "But no, I'm just not here to settle, is all."
Ashe nods his head, leaning in to take a longer drag himself. "Are you a traveler too then, Wilardo?"
"Not exactly, but I guess you could word it like that, if you'd like."
"I see." Ashe breathes out, the scent surrounding him helping let loose. "Are you leaving any time soon?"
"Few days." Wilardo replies shortly, breathing out smoke through his nose. Ashe hums in acknowledgement.
That explains why the other has so little belongings then.
Ashe is about to take another huff of the cig raised to his lips, but pauses upon noticing something sticking out from Wilardo's pocket. To his relief, it's not the match box, as whatever this is, is hanging out of his hoodie pocket, slightly visible between the dark red fabric.
Wilardo raises a brow at Ashe's pause, following his gaze with slight confusion.
"What's that?" Ashe asks, quite enthusiastically as he points to the thing that caught his eye.
"This?" Wilardo asks as he pulls out the object from his pocket. It's a notebook, a small pen hanging along with it.
Ashe nods, reaching out to grab it, to which Wilardo lets him. "What's in it? Is it notes about flowers? You mentioned that for your job, no?"
Wilardo shakes his head no, raising the cig to his own lips once more, sighing softly.
"Hm? So it's not flowers?" Ashe asks, raising a finger in the air in question. "Then wh-"
"People."
Ashe blinks at that, only getting more intrigued to find out what exactly the pages house. "Can I look inside?"
"If it doesn't weird you out, then go ahead." Wilardo says in a soft voice, eyeing Ashe through hair strands that have slightly fallen into his face by now.
Ashe doesn't need to be told twice as he opens up the notebook, taking a few quick glances at few pages, before starting to thoroughly read each one.
Each page has general information on people, along with a sketch of what they look like. It's mostly simple stuff, such as name, age, birthday, likes, dislikes and so on.
Some pages have more information written down than others, and Ashe figures out that it's because Wilardo must've been closer to those people than the ones with less detail. It's quite a bit of people, Ashe notices. If only he knew.
Wilardo had met way more people than a notebook would ever be able to sustain. And these were few people he'd met in the last one hundred years or so. Wilardo had simply started noting them down because having seen so many faces, he had started to forget people and mix them together. It simply helped keep track.
Ashe keeps flipping through the pages, until reaching the last one, which causes him to pause, hand freezing on the paper.
The last page of the notebook to have something written down is a page about himself, the name 'Ash' written at the top right of the page, along with a drawing of him. The rest of the page appears to be empty.
Ashe doesn't comment on it, he simply grabs the pen and crosses out his own name, rewriting it as 'Ashe' right underneath Wilardo's handwriting.
He hands the notebook back to Wilardo and grins. "Ask for the spelling of names too next time, Wilardo." He says, amusement laced in his tone.
Wilardo chuckles softly, thankful for Ashe not finding it to be something creepy to do. "Right, will do."
Comfortable silence falls between them again as they keep taking turns on the cigarette, until it's completely consumed, and Wilardo puts it out carefully, once again showing Ashe that it was safe to throw away.
"Hey, Wilardo." Ashe says suddenly, earning a 'what' from Wilardo's part.
"Can I ask you something?" "Yeah, go ahead." "What were you doing up on that bridge?"
Wilardo pauses for a moment, because in truth, he had been complementing death up on the edge of the railing. Then again, he couldn't die, so it had been only a thought more than anything. Well, a thought that he couldn't act upon, and it was frustrating to say the least.
"Nothing much, just thinking." Wilardo settles on saying. "Being somewhere high on a ledge helps me clear my head."
Ashe hums affirmatively, not pressing the issue any further. Wilardo hadn't with the fire, so why would he with some ledge.
"Ashe?" Wilardo mumbles, turning to face the green haired male who was now looking at him expectantly. "Want to help me finish the page?"
Ashe finds himself smiling widely and giggling. And this time it looks real. "Mhm! Keep the beauty of me near, will you?"
Wilardo laughs, a little louder than normally and smiles. "Only if I don't have to feed you cigarettes while you stay over." He says jokingly and they both break out into comfortable, honest laughter.
Ashe will definitely be someone who's forgetting will be one to hurt.
Wilardo is definitely someone who the presence of will be embedded into Ashe's brain.