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“Are you alive?”
It was a reasonable question, really. He truly looked dead. Bleeding out, in the rain, covered in the high class mud of New York City. His white trench coat was absolutely covered in blood, mud, and rainwater. Stained, ruined. He didn’t bother to care about it anymore.
Despite his dead appearance, Ash was alive. Unfortunately.
The man standing above him became impatient, waiting for an answer, and lightly kicked Ash’s side. A jolt of pain shot up, radiating from his kidney all the way to his aching cranium.
“Your first reaction to finding a dead body is to kick it?!” He groaned in pain, turning his head from where it was planted in the mud. He looked up weakly, squinting at the hooded man above him through messy blond hair that obscured most of his vision.
The man wore a black hoodie, with a backpack hanging from his shoulders, and an open umbrella in his hand.
“Why are you lying in the mud? You look homeless.” The man knelt down, shifting his umbrella to cover Ash from the rain. He didn’t answer Ash’s question, but Ash was too busy being in pain to care.
“Maybe I am homeless. Or maybe I’m dying, who cares.”
The man blinked, “I care. I think I know how to help you.”
Ash squinted further, “Why would you do that.” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. A doubtful one. Sarcastic, maybe.
The man made a face at Ash, but Ash couldn’t see it through the dark night shadows. “Because you’re dying? What other reason should I have?”
“…You’re crazy. Go away.” He tried to swat at the man, but pain shot up his arm once more, all the way to his fingertips, unable to find a path to release. So his arm just fell back down into the mud, pathetically, splashing onto the other man’s white sneakers.
“I don’t need your help.” Ash persisted, despite his weak appearance. The man sighed, and closed his umbrella, attaching it to his backpack. Ash shivered, the cold rain once again pouring onto his weak and bleeding body.
“You’re the crazy one for letting yourself die in the mud.” The man grumbled, leaning down and gently lifting Ash, despite his pained groans and poor attempts at struggling.
“Don’t take me to the hospital,” Ash said as he finally relented, going limp in the man’s strong hold. He wasn’t in any position to fight. If this man was going to hurt him, it wouldn’t matter. His life was already over anyway.
“Why not?” The man looked at Ash’s face, ignoring the blood that was now staining his hoodie. Ash could get a good look at him now, causing him to relax. Just slightly.
He had dark brown eyes, almost black in this light, and short black bangs peeked out from under his hood. His skin, though it was hard to tell, looked to be a warm beige, with a soft jawline and lips naturally upturned.
He’s pretty, Ash couldn’t lie.
He wasn’t going to admit it, though.
“Do you need a reason?” Ash grumbled, looking pointedly away from the man's pretty face.
“I suppose not.” The man hummed, turning around and beginning to walk. His steps jostled Ash slightly, but he stifled his pained groans. He was too light-headed to complain, and besides, it was probably not worth annoying this person, without knowing their full intentions.
“What’s your name?” Ash hissed through pangs of pain radiating from his kidney-area to the rest of his torso. His head was pounding, and he was struggling desperately to keep his eyes open. He’d rather not go unconscious around this unfamiliar person, but it was out of his hands, really. As most things were.
“Eiji. What about you?” The man, Eiji, sped up his walking speed, noticing Ash’s condition. Ash could see that a concerned frown pulled at Eiji’s lips, and Ash couldn’t help but feel a little relieved, though that tight feeling in his chest remained.
It took Ash a while to respond, and when he did it was exceptionally weak, “Ash.”
“You’ll be okay, Ash.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before.”
And quickly after that, Ash was out, but breathing.
——————————————————————————————————————
Ash awoke clean, bandaged up with care.
And even worse, he woke up alive, warm, and smelling something good in the air.
Ash sat up with a quiet grunt; he’d been sleeping on a couch for the past… he didn’t even know how long, actually. It was still night, though the slightest rays of morning had begun to appear. Whether it was the same night or if he’d slept through an entire day was yet to be seen.
He looked down at himself. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped tightly around his wound, and he now wore a pair of too-big sweatpants. They weren’t his, so he could only assume that they were Eiji’s. He decided to place the thought that Eiji probably had to undress him to clean his wound aside. He can’t blame him for doing what he had to, as much as he trembled at the prospect.
He looked around at his surroundings. The apartment was small, but homely. Movie posters lined the walls, the TV in front of him had games stacked underneath it, as well as their respective consoles. He looked towards a large window, where an easel with a canvas on it stood. In another corner, yarn and crafting supplies, and on the wall by the crafting corner, a bookshelf packed to the brim with both English and Japanese books. A camera hung on a coat rack by the front door, clearly having been used recently, judging by the water droplets that peppered the black metal.
Eiji had a lot of hobbies.
Ash almost couldn’t comprehend it.
It was all so… livable.
He looked over the back of the couch, into the kitchen, which was honestly more of an extension of the living room with some tile flooring. The floor tiles looked nice, at least. A mosaic of colors and patterns that Ash knew for a fact wouldn’t have come with the apartment itself. Did Eiji do it himself? How did he get the clearance to do that? He’ll ask about it later, Ash decided. He turned his attention away from the kitchen, and to the coffee table in front of him. On it, sat his gun, with a sticky-note attached to the barrel, “This is dangerous!” With a little frowny-face beside it. Ash picked up the weapon.
He painfully moved to stand. His knees wobbled, and he nearly toppled over, only having the armrest of the couch to stabilize him. He held his gun out of sight.
Ash stared into the kitchen, his apprehensive gaze boring into Eiji’s wide back. The black-haired man seemed to notice, and turned his head to look at his scrawny houseguest.
“You best sit back down, your wound’s awfully close to your kidney, you might rupture something.” Eiji didn’t have any particular facial expression, though his voice illustrated some strange form of concern, one that Ash hadn’t heard in a long time.
“What are you, a doctor?” Ash snarked, limping towards the kitchen and standing just outside of it. He leaned against a piece of wall that jutted out to separate the living room and the kitchen. He couldn’t deny it, that damn stab wound hurt like hell, and even beyond that. But Ash had experienced worse. Best case scenario? He’d die of a ruptured kidney or an infection and be out of this mess. Worst case scenario?
He wasn’t sure. All of his brain paths lead to death, and it had begun to seem less scary to him. He held his gun low, hidden behind his thigh.
Eiji sighed, setting down his wooden stirring spoon on top of a simmering pot of rice and turning to lean on the counter to gaze at Ash. Ash expected Eiji’s eyes to drift somewhere, to take all of his weak body in, but his dark brown eyes stayed strictly on Ash’s own. It almost felt… worse. He didn’t know what to expect.
“I saved your life, you know.” Eiji hummed, tilting his head a bit at Ash.
“What, are you about to ask me for favors?” Ash scoffed, glaring at Eiji with squinted eyes. He knew it, all along. He raised his weapon, pointing it at Eiji.
“No!” Eiji said, almost immediately, looking back at him with horror. He stared down at the barrel of Ash’s gun, his hands shaking, and yet his gaze softened anyway, “I would never!”
What. Ash’s eyebrows raised, just a little, before he resumed his glaring.
“What do you want then?” Ash asked, guarded.
“I want you to say thank you.” Eiji looked at Ash again, this time with a smile, a small, nervous thing.
Ash paused, his mouth agape, but wordless. He lowered his gun, his finger moving away from the trigger. He stared at Eiji, forcing his mouth to close when Eiji continued to speak, with a sense of gentleness in his voice.
“It doesn’t have to be now, and you don’t have to if you truly don’t want to.” Eiji clarified, turning to stir the rice again, and shake up a pan of fried meat and vegetables so it didn't burn, “I won’t ask anything else of you.” Ash stared at Eiji’s broad shoulders, and the back of his head.
“I unloaded that, by the way.” Eiji mumbled, and indeed, when Ash checked, it didn’t have any bullets in it.
He was shocked, confused, a million other words that Ash— despite his bright mind and quick-thinking — could not begin to name.
“You should ask me to do more. Thanking you means nothing.” Ash suggested, quietly, with a hint of defensiveness in his voice that was certainly not lost on Eiji.
“You Americans never settle for just a thank-you, huh?” Eiji chuckled, turning off the heat on one burner and moving the fried meat and vegetables to another burner. He moved to dig through a cupboard, searching for some glasses.
“Do you drink wine? Or… Maybe juice, you look young.” Eiji hummed, tapping his chin as he pulled out a single wine glass from the cupboard, twirling it securely with one hand. The stem of the glass glided gracefully between his fingers, with the cup of the glass moving along with it. The trick mesmerized Ash, just for a moment.
“I’m 18. I can drink wine.” Ash scoffed, watching Eiji twirl the glass with a silent feeling of curiosity in his chest.
“I’ll pour you a glass of grape juice. Wine’s for adults.” Eiji snickered, grinning at Ash.
“Hmph. How old are you, anyway? You can’t be that much older than me.” Ash frowned, forcing himself to keep his glare steady. Eiji’s smile was contagious, and Ash was in no position to fight it off.
“..19.” Eiji frowned in defeat, “I’ll pour you a glass.” The frown didn’t last long, as he returned to smiling, pulling out another wine glass, twirling it just like before.
“It better not be cheap shit.” Ash grunted, pushing off of the wall where he was leaning to sit down on the couch again, groaning slightly at the pain in his side.
“If you keep being so salty, I’m giving you water! ” Eiji called as Ash walked away, pouting at him.
That got a laugh out of Ash, completely by accident. It was a tiny, meaningless sound, but Eiji definitely heard it, and it may have made him blush. Just a tiny bit.
Ash sat there on the couch for a while, mostly silent, listening to the sounds Eiji made as he moved around the kitchen. The sound of wine being poured into a glass, a burner being turned off, and plates lightly clinking as they were taken out of a cupboard. He felt hyper-aware of every sound that surrounded him.
It was strange, all of this. He was in a stranger’s apartment, injured, without a weapon, and yet he didn’t feel like he was about to be murdered.
He didn’t even mind that his gun was unloaded, let alone that Eiji had touched his gun to unload it.
Maybe Ash’s brain had yet to catch up with his body. Everything in Ash’s head said that he should be dead by now, and yet his lungs still pumped air through him, and there was still blood traveling through his veins.
Just the thought of being alive nearly brought tears to Ash’s eyes.
He’d met Death many times before, exchanged a brief kiss before leaving to do what he needed to. But this was different. He thought that Death had finally caught up to him, and finally gave him the peace he so wanted.
Maybe Eiji was Death in disguise. Maybe the peaceful atmosphere of this apartment was just what Hell was like. He never trusted the Holymen anyway, they were always wrong about so many things.
Ash set his unloaded gun down on the coffee table again, and fiddled with his hands, running his fingertips over the bones in his knuckles. His fingers had always been long, but he’d never quite noticed how thin they were. Tough calluses stood out on his thin palm, evidence of various guns leaving their marks on his skin.
Eiji finally arrived carrying two plates in one hand(an impressive feat that Ash wanted desperately to replicate), and two wine glasses in the other(a feat that Ash could already replicate.) He set the plates down on the coffee table, and held out one glass to Ash.
Ash took the glass, and swirled it. Eiji, meanwhile, sipped from his glass. Ash couldn’t help but stare at him from the corner of his eye, the way his fingers gently wrapped around the stem of the wine glass to bring it to his soft-looking, naturally-upturned lips. Ash felt a particular tightness in his chest as he observed Eiji, who seemed strangely comfortable in this stranger’s presence.
Was he only comfortable because Ash was weak? Or was he truly so naive that he didn’t feel the need to be afraid? Ash couldn’t be sure. Every avenue felt like he was underestimating Eiji, allowing his own ego to make assumptions about this person who so graciously decided to take him in.
Eiji’s dark brown eyes flickered to Ash, who’d been staring at him for a strangely long time. He brought his glass away from his lips, and turned to look at Ash fully. Quickly, Ash looked away, finally taking a sip of his wine. He made a slight spectacle of himself, looking away so obviously.
Eiji laughed lightly, a small sound that reached Ash’s ears like birdsong.
“Are you going to eat?” Eiji asked, his eyes drifting to Ash’s plate, “Or are you going to keep staring at me?” He added, chuckling. Ash felt his face burn, an overwhelming feeling that he didn’t know what to do with.
“..Depends on what’s on the plate.” Ash responded quietly, refusing to look Eiji in the eye.
“It’s just chicken stir-fry. What, do you not like vegetables?” Eiji chided, grinning brightly.
Ash squinted, “I like them.” He huffed simply, setting down his glass and lifting his plate. He picked at it with his fork for a moment or two, collecting himself a worthwhile bite.
“It’s not super spicy or anything.” Eiji added as Ash took a bite.
Ash chewed for a while before responding,“I’m not that white.” He insisted. Eiji flicked his gaze up and down over Ash, side-eying him.
“Of course.” Eiji hummed, an air of playfulness to his tone.
Ash felt his mouth melt the minute the dish touched his tongue. It was warm, and yet refreshing. It felt like his mouth wasn’t worthy. The flavors stirred about on his taste buds, overwhelming his mind, which had long subsisted off of take-out and processed foods.
He couldn’t recall the last time he had a home-cooked meal.
This alone wouldn’t have brought him to tears, in any other circumstance he would’ve just enjoyed the food happily and thought nothing more of it.
And yet, tears pricked at the edges of his jade-colored eyes. His heart ached in his chest, and the sizable bags under his eyes felt heavier than ever.
The bandages, the clothes, the wine, the food. It was too much for the likes of Ash, wasn’t it? Surely, surely this privilege shouldn’t apply to a dead man. Who feeds a corpse? Who lets an armed corpse into their home, and makes him food?
Eiji does. Did.
Ash set the plate back down on the table, leaning over at it as tears hit the ceramic. He covered his mouth with his hands, his gold-blond hair obscuring his face, but his soft sobs couldn’t be stopped.
Eiji looked over, and with a tone that Ash could only describe as ‘empathetic,’ he spoke.
“Do you want a tissue?”
Ash merely nodded his head, wiping at his eyes desperately, only irritating them further.
Eiji set his plate down, and stood up to head for the bathroom. Ash sat there, his eyebrows furrowed so harshly that it was tiring out the muscle.
He allowed himself to cry openly, which felt like a sin. It felt as though a million eyes were peering at him, studying him, ogling him.
And yet, Ash didn’t care.
He leaned back against the couch, letting the tears flow down his patchy, reddened cheeks. Eiji soon returned, a box of tissues in hand. He sat beside Ash, looking into his eyes mildly, with his natural smile and warmth.
Ash took the box, pulling out a tissue and wiping his eyes.
Though the tears continued to fall, Ash was too tired to bother wiping them away. Even with the tissues, every movement felt like a chore. He leaned against Eiji’s shoulder, despite what his mind told him to do. He didn’t care anymore.
Eiji wrapped his arm around Ash’s shoulder, stroking the skin with his thumb comfortingly. Things felt right, here, under Eiji’s arm. Even though he was at his most vulnerable in this moment, Ash decided that…
If this is Hell, Ash never wants to leave.