Mariners Apartment Complex is an Asheiji anthem, you can't change my mind.
The way Eiji stands against the rail of the pier, with the sun warming his back, makes Ash wish he were the one with the eye for photography. Or maybe he wishes he were a painter, so he could detail the soft crinkles at the sides of those big brown eyes. And of course there's that kind smile as he presses his phone to his ear, making the occasional comment in swift Japanese.
Birds chortle pleasantly overhead. Damn, Ash thinks with a wry grin. There might as well be a parting of clouds right this moment. A rainbow shining through.
He's still staring when Eiji pockets his phone, turns to Ash and beams.
"You look like a lovesick puppy," he mentions, waggling dark eyebrows.
"Well shit, Eiji, maybe I am a lovesick puppy," Ash snorts, roping an arm over Eiji's shoulders and pulling him close. "Everything good back in Gizmo?"
"Oh, yeah, absolutely. My sister says hi."
"Ah? You're telling her all sorts of nice things about me, right?"
Eiji flushes pink. "Nothing that does you justice, anyway." He taps at his chin. "You know, I actually just got some really good news. My dad - I don't think I ever mentioned this, but he's been in the hospital for awhile? He's been doing a lot better, apparently. He's hoping I'll visit - and you know, I'd like to take you with me, introduce you both, at some point. Maybe not for several months yet, but -"
Ash freezes, his arm a dead weight. "Hey now - what? Your dad's sick?"
"He's been in and out of the hospital," Eiji says, his manner suddenly stilted. "I could've sworn I told you -"
"Hell no. I would've remembered if you'd said something."
"Well, I don't know, it's nothing."
"But Eiji, it's not nothing."
Eiji shakes his head bemusedly, slipping out from under Ash's arm. "I guess I don't really think about it? I don't mean it like that - it's just something that's been the case for awhile now, I mean, back before I got into pole jumping, even."
A harsh wind whips at Ash's face; he shivers, despite the warmth of his flannel. The sun shines a sickly yellow overhead.
"By the way, I'm starving," Eiji says, wrenching Ash out of his thoughts. "Let's get ice cream, maybe take a walk down by the shore, yeah?"
"Mm-hm." Ash trails behind, his jaw taut.
Ash pictures a man - older, of course, but with Eiji's features. In fact, he's the spitting image of his son, but graying at the temples, perhaps a little heavier. No, not heavier - lighter than you'd expect, one of his spindly arms hooked up to an IV drip. He's breathing raggedly through a face mask, his ailment unnamed but unquestionably fatal. Eiji's mother and sister kneel by the bed, hunched over so that Ash can't see their faces. Muffled sobs stain the bedsheets. The old man inhales with a loud, gasping noise.
Ash doubles over in tears of his own. Someone approaches from behind and wraps him in a hug.
"Shh, Ash, it's okay."
Ash turns and buries his head into Eiji's shoulder, leaning on him with nearly his full weight.
"That's your dad, not mine," Ash says dazedly.
"But you're the one who's hurting, Ash. I'm so sorry you had to see this."
You're the one that's hurting, Eiji keeps saying. But not me. Never me.
Long walks at dusk through Central Park are Ash's favorite, especially those with Eiji by his side. On this occasion, however, he moves stiffly, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Eiji glances over at him often, noting the several feet of space between them. He smiles faintly whenever Ash meets his gaze.
Ash pauses under a streetlamp, crunching the gravel underfoot with one sneakered foot, then the other.
"Hey, uh, Eiji?" he says, peering at where his love stands, half-ensconced in shadows.
"Yeah, Ash, I'm here."
"But, uh … you know I'm here too, right?"
"Ash, what are you talking about?"
Ash shoves his hands even deeper into his jeans. "You know, if you ever wanna talk about, uh, your dad. Or anything, really. Anything that's troubling you."
"My dad is doing really well, Ash, I told you that -"
"No, I mean … ah, forget it." Ash shakes his head dully. "I mean. You're always looking out for me, you know? Comforting me, after all the shit I've been through."
"Of course, Ash. You deserve comfort."
"I'm not saying I don't. I just … Eiji. You deserve it too, you know?"
"Sure." Eiji's voice wavers.
"I hope you don't think your troubles are less important than mine."
"I … I never …" Eiji's heart beats like a skittish hare's. "What you're going through - what you've been going through lately, Ash - it's more pressing. And, to be honest … it's easier for me to be there for you."
"Easier than …"
"Easier than asking for … what I need."
"Eiji."
"It's not your fault, Ash. It's no one's fault. It's just me. Just who I am."
The sun has set more quickly than expected. The streetlight shines unnaturally on Eiji's face, casting dark spots on the sunken places under his eyes. He looks so tired, Ash thinks. So terribly tired.
"My dad really is doing okay right now, I promise," Eiji ducks his head; when he looks up again, faint tears prick at his eyes. "But sometimes he's a lot worse."
"Eiji, what do you need?"
Eiji hesitates for several excruciating seconds, then steps close to Ash and buries his face in the younger boy's chest. Ash's arms wind around his small frame as Eiji sniffles quietly.
"Asking me helps a lot. Forces me to talk about it," he says, with a faint little laugh. "At least for now, when it doesn't come so naturally."
There must be so much more, so much Eiji hasn't filled Ash in on yet. His failed pole-jumping career, for one. Why hasn't Ash ever asked him about that? After all the nights Ash has woken up sobbing, sure that Dino or Foxx or one of his old prison inmates was standing before him, filling the doorway with their breadth …
After all the nights Eiji was, unfailingly, there, soft and stable, listening for hours on end.
"Fuck, Eiji," Ash says, holding him flush up against his chest. "You know I still feel guilty, right?"
"Oh, Ash." Eiji shakes his head dully, sniffling some more as he wipes his face with his sleeve. "That makes two of us."
Ash touches his lips to Eiji's cheek, planting a chaste kiss on his jaw, his nose, his mouth. He hugs him again. Kisses his forehead.
"When we get back home," Ash says into the quiet, "Will you talk to me about your dad?"
"Yes. It won't be for me, though," Eiji admits. "I'm sorry."
"Well. I hope it'll be eventually."
And really, at this point that's all he can ask. But it's certainly something.