Please, please, please be careful with the first section, as it could be disturbing. It's not graphic, but if it could be triggering, please feel free to skim or skip.
I've got nothing left to live for
Got no reason yet to die
But when I'm standing in the gallows
I'll be staring at the sky
Because no matter where they take me
Death I will survive
And I will never be forgotten
With you by my side
~"Somebody to Die For," Hurts
You don't even care that I hate you.
Because he was just a thing to them. A thing that didn't matter. A beautiful doll good for only one thing, like they'd said long ago. That was all he had ever been to them, and he was so sick of it.
His mind retreated, blurring the boundaries between here and then, this night and a night one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten years ago.
The last discernable word she'd said was his name. It was before they'd started hurting her. "Yut-Lung."
The moon, he was named for. She used to track moon cycles with him. It was a new moon the night they killed her. No light. No stars. He couldn't even open his mouth to say "Mother" before they'd driven the knife in. Not even though Hua-Lung had removed his hand from holding his mouth shut.
Was it a betrayal, to you? That I didn't fight for you? That I let them hurt you without a word? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted you to help me, and I couldn't even help you.
A part of him knew, though. She wouldn't have wanted him to disobey. She didn't want him to die. I really do think, at the very least, you loved me.
I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I've become—this. Their tool, and them.
I'm all wrong, except that you loved me. She'd wrap her arms around him, singing him a lullaby, telling him a fairytale before he fell asleep more nights than not. He knew it'd been a difficult labor for her, because one time Yut-Lung overheard his father saying so. She'd needed a cesarean section. When they killed her, he saw her scar.
"Watch," Hua-Lung commanded when his mother sobbed. "Don't shut your eyes."
"Keep them open," another brother said as the knife appeared.
And Yut-Lung kept them open as they drove the knife in, only so he could hate them.
But now he didn't have to watch Hua-Lung, see his own reflection in his brother's glassy eyes, or the blank ceiling. He had no goals except that he did not want to be his brother's thing, but Hua-Lung was still too strong. But... I don't have to pretend anymore, at the very least. That part of him was free. His eyes squeezed shut, muscles around his sockets tightening. I'm not your thing. I'm not yours. I'm not you.
"Open your eyes," snapped his brother.
Yut-Lung refused to react. No matter what, he wouldn't.
"You are—"
Something creaked. The door? A footstep, two.
Panic simmered inside him. He didn't want anyone, not Wang-Lung or a bodyguard or a maid, seeing, even though they all knew. He preferred the lies. He pushed against his brother, eyes still glued shut. "Hua—"
"You bastard son of a bitch!"
Yut-Lung's eyes snapped open just as Hua-Lung's scream started and, as quick as it began, dissolved into a garble. Hot liquid struck Yut-Lung's face, his chest. He saw a curtain of red falling onto him, and then felt his brother fall onto him, pinning him, dead.
Blood leaked out all around him.
Yut-Lung didn't have time to think. He scrambled backwards, struggling to get out from under from a dead man. He was soaked in his brother's blood. He spat droplets out. He looked up, expecting to see that bodyguard, deranged, or—
Not Shorter, holding a stained knife. Lips parted. Shocked. And Ash, green eyes narrowed. Eyes hard.
The air pressed cold, parts of him too warm, and he heard his voice screaming then, and he had no control over it because he had no control over anything and this, this reality scalded because it shouldn't be happening and he'd now lose the one thing he wanted to take with him to the grave, the respect of someone he respected.
"I don't want you to see me like this!"
The words tasted metallic, honest, like blood.
He wrapped his arms around his body, trying to cover himself, but even if he could, the blood was everywhere. A stain. His brother was dead and he was still here.
They knew now. He wasn't just a hidden bastard child and a prostitute. I fucked my own brother. Again and again and again.
"Get out! Go away—why are you even here?" he screamed. "Go away; leave me alone!" He pounded his fist on the mattress, doubling over. Disgusting! Trash. Revolting. I'm a poisoned snake, writhing.
Something pressed down on his shoulders. Huh?
A jacket. Shorter wrapped it around him, covering him. He could tell who it was by the callouses on Shorter's hands.
Tears streamed down Yut-Lung's face. He couldn't look up at him. Or forward at Ash. You saw my brother fucking me.
Why are you doing this? A gasp tried to break through his lips. He couldn't let it. Help me.
"We're rescuing you," said Ash. "And ending this, but also rescuing you. You said it yourself before: I don't leave loved ones behind. Or loved ones of loved ones."
Huh? Yut-Lung knotted the blanket up in his hands. Blood squeezed over them. "I—you saw—" The only people who might care were Shorter and Sing and Eiji, and now that Shorter had seen and Ash would tell Eiji and Shorter would tell Sing and they would all know. Your terrifying mob boss is a little boy who lets his brother fuck him. How can he offer anything useful, when he can't even fight him off?
I never even tried. I always just laid down and opened my legs and let him. I learned what he liked and tried to make him happy. Tonight was the only time I so much as disobeyed by closing my eyes.
"I just reacted," Shorter managed. Yut-Lung focused on his knuckles, clenched so tightly around the knife that they were white like bone. "I'm sorry—I killed him without thinking—I just saw what he was doing and I—"
"I hate people like that," Ash said, and then he fell silent.
Yut-Lung lifted his head finally, looking at Ash. How do you do it? He didn't even know how to ask. He shook all over. His teeth chattered.
"Fuck," said Ash. "Fuck. Yut-Lung—dammit, I need Eiji—don't blame yourself for this, okay? No one deserves that."
Aren't you doing all this because you blame yourself? You don't believe you deserve to live? "What—I do." The words came out thick and slimy, but honest. He met Ash's gaze again. If you want to blame me, if you want to hurt me, here I am. You said once you'd kill me. Now is your chance.
"Bullshit," snarled Shorter. "He's the pervert, not you."
"We're going to get you out of here," Ash repeated, his gaze sliding towards the window. A full moon glowed.
But… "I thought—no one ever came." He realized Shorter's hand was still gripping his shoulder. He hadn't recoiled in disgust.
Help me.
You broke into my brothers' mansion to get me out.
"We came now," said Shorter. His voice cracked. His fingers stroked Yut-Lung's tangled hair.
"Why?" I don't know if I can leave this room. I'm scared. Part of me wants to die here.
"I don't know," said Ash, as if he understood exactly what Yut-Lung was asking. Why.
Shame settled in his stomach, weighing him down. A sob finally broke through his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Shorter snapped. Yut-Lung finally craned his neck back, looking up at him. His lips were pale, his sunglasses shifted down his nose, and his eyes were furious, but they softened when they met his.
Not at me.
You really don't blame me?
Ash swore as he checked his phone. "No offense, but Sing said we need to get moving." He yanked open one of the bureau drawers.
"Sing?" Yut-Lung managed. "He's here?"
"Yeah, plus all our gangs, and Black Sabbath with Cain Blood, because Arthur decided it was a good idea to piss everyone in the city off," Ash said.
"I don't want them to see me," Yut-Lung whispered. "I don't want them to know."
"Ash and I aren't saying a word," said Shorter. "Promise."
Ash grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt from the dresser, holding them out to Yut-Lung.
Yut-Lung swallowed. "I need to—rinse off. Quickly." The blood felt sticky on his palms.
"Yeah."
Yut-Lung ducked into the bathroom, quickly washing the blood down the drain. He didn't have the time to scrub it from his hair, or to scour his body like he usually did after Hua-Lung's assaults. He didn't even let himself think beyond the mechanics of getting the crimson liquid down the drain, which seemed ironic because this house was about to become a bloodbath. The shirt Ash had grabbed him was too large, but it worked.
He opened the door to find Shorter had pulled the sheets over Hua-Lung's body. He offered the jacket back to Shorter.
Shorter waved his hand. "Keep it; it's cold out."
Yut-Lung lowered his head.
"Okay," said Ash. "Our goal is to get you out of here and to Eiji. And I'm going to get Golzine, and—"
"I can—"
"I know you can. It's not about can. I wish someone had told me I didn't have to, sometimes," Ash said. His face flushed. He was breathing hard.
Have to.
I don't know what it'd be like to live without that.
You don't, either, but you understand.
Yut-Lung swallowed. He nodded. "Please make sure Wang-Lung doesn't get away," he requested.
Ash cocked his gun. "Not a chance."
"He wasn't—" Yut-Lung swallowed. "He'd never—not like—"
"Don't care."
"Good."
Ash met Shorter's expression. "Take care of him."
"Will do," Shorter promised. He tucked his knife away, brandishing a gun.
"Ash," said Yut-Lung.
Ash paused in the doorway.
"Don't die," said Yut-Lung. "Eiji will never forgive you." I'll never forgive you, either. Not for me. "You don't have to die."
"Okay," Ash said, before ducking away, and finally Yut-Lung understood what made Ash beautiful to so many.
Shorter's hand landed on his shoulder, wrapped in Shorter's jacket. "Let's get out of here."
Being stuck on rescue brigade while the others fight—you're really stepping down as Chinatown's leader, aren't you?
"Okay," Yut-Lung whispered.
Set it off, Ash told Sing.
He felt the pipe bomb go off even from his place on the second floor. The building shook. Ash gritted his teeth. Memories clawed at him, but he couldn't afford to dive into them now. Not when he had to survive.
It helped him survive, this repression. But otherwise—it was killing him.
After. To Eiji. I need to let it out. You won't run, will you?
You two are the same. Sing hadn't been wrong. Ash cocked his gun and whipped around the corner. A servant shrieked. "Golzine," said Ash. "Where is he?"
"Down-downstairs," stammered the woman.
"Get out," Ash warned, stepping around her. The hallway stretched down towards a darkened stairway. "Or else you'll die."
"You sure about that?"
The voice was familiar. Ash stiffened, turning around. He shouldn't have been surprised that Golzine would call him for assistance, especially since this man had made him who he was.
"Your weapon's not even aimed at me," Ash said. "Blanca."
"No," the man agreed. "Not yet."
"I don't care what you do to me," said Ash. "I never have. But—" His mind raced. If Blanca found Eiji, or Yut-Lung or Shorter—
"Same old, same old," said Blanca. "You'll lose them eventually."
"Not tonight," Ash replied. The sound of gunfire peppered another part of the house. I can't beat him. There's no way I can beat him.
He would try. And he didn't want to. His hand tightened around the trigger of his own weapon.
"Don't die," Yut-Lung had said.
Eiji hadn't even said it before he'd sent them inside. He'd just looked at Ash, and he knew. He was afraid. And he should be.
There's a part of me that didn't want to make it out.
But Eiji loves me. Even though I'm dragging my feet.
"You have a different look in your eyes," Blanca commented.
"Huh? Make some sense when you talk, old man."
"You're fighting."
"I'm always fighting."
"No," said Blanca. "You weren't."
Are you fighting to die or to live? Ash took a step back. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to start making sense or—"
"I already am." Blanca shrugged. "It seems I was hired to protect the Lee family, and to bring you in. But I see I can't to the latter, and as to the former, well, there are two on opposing sides. A bit difficult of a decision, don't you think?"
I don't understand. Of course you can beat me. You always could.
"Go," said Blanca. "Golzine's probably barricading himself in the parlor." He tossed Ash a key. "In case he's locked it. I have to go ensure the youngest Lee gets out alive."
"Fuck!" Shorter's arm flew out, pinning Yut-Lung back against the wall. He peered around the corner. One of Sing's gang members had bled out on the floor, and two bodyguards talked into their phones. The bitter scent of blood filled the air. They were trying to make their way to a side door, but—
The guards were talking in Chinese. "They say to get a guy with a purple mohawk. Taking him out is the priority."
What? Shorter's jaw dropped. The Lees are putting a hit on me?
Yut-Lung covered his eyes.
"Apparently they've heard exaggerated rumors about my skill with a gun," Shorter hissed as the men began to walk away.
Yut-Lung slid his eyes to him, brow furrowed.
"I mean, I'm good," Shorter said quickly. "Just not Ash-levels."
"That's not why they're after you," said Yut-Lung, his usually perfect hair tangled around his face. Shorter had to look away. Every time he saw that image in his mind—what that brother had been doing to Yut-Lung—he felt a visceral pain in his chest, like something with talons was grabbing his organs and crunching them. If he'd had time to think, he'd have made sure Hua-Lung suffered. But the moment he'd entered that room, he only knew he had to make that man stop.
A bruise marred Yut-Lung's cheek. Wang-Lung had probably kicked the shit out of him, too. Bastards. He hated them.
"I know, I'm the leader, or so they think." Really, Sing was.
Yut-Lung frowned but didn't say anything. Shorter almost missed his snark.
Oh.
Ohhhhh. Shorter's eyes popped.
A Lee does have a crush on me. Shorter's jaw dropped. And they know about it?
"What?" hissed Yut-Lung.
"Nothing," Shorter managed. You have a crush on me.
For real? Why?
"You smile at the strangest times," Yut-Lung commented.
"Someone has to." Shorter reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "We're going to get out of here, I promise. I'll protect you." I'm not going to let them hurt you again. And if that means I have to get out of here too, I will. Never again.
Yut-Lung nodded.
You went back here to protect me. The realization nauseated Shorter. He couldn't breathe. Yut-Lung, why?
A bullet struck the wall just above Shorter's head. Plaster and wood smacked into his cheekbone. Yut-Lung grabbed him, yanking him back.
Fuck! No, he wasn't failing. Not with Yut-Lung. Not today. You went back to hell for me, so I'm going to get you out of here. No matter what.
More gunfire erupted. The guards were coming back, but someone else was coming from the other direction and engaging them. Shorter whipped around the corner. "Stay back!"
Cain was there. Shorter took out one of the guards before they killed him. Two of his men were wounded. Cain charged the last guard, knocking the weapon from his hand and breaking it. He looked past Shorter. "That the kidnapped boss? He does look like a damsel in distress."
Yut-Lung's snake-like glare reappeared. Good. He never thought he'd be so relieved to see that expression on Yut-Lung's face.
"He's not," Shorter said. "I'm the one who almost got shot, but he yanked me back." He brushed the scrape on his cheek from the shards of wood. Blood stained his fingertip.
"Where's Ash?"
"He went downstairs," Yut-Lung said. "To the left of the dining room, and—"
Another bullet shattered the glass window behind Cain's head. Shorter whirled. Behind them, reinforcements. And more to the side. Oh fuck! Another one of Cain's men went down. Cain swore.
"This way!" Yut-Lung grabbed Shorter and gestured to Cain, kicking open what looked like a closet.
"Are you fucking—"
It wasn't a closet. It was stairs, to a basement. Shorter barreled after Yut-Lung, Cain on his heels. Cain locked the door.
"There's a door to the outside down here," said Yut-Lung, panting. A bullet fired behind them, shooting the lock off. "This way." He wove around some dusty, disregarded chairs. He made no sound when he walked, like a ghost.
A bullet flew from where he pointed to the exit. Shorter felt its wind on his face.
We're trapped.
He barely had time to realize it before Cain grabbed both of them, shoving them through another door. Dressers and desks were piled in dusty corners. There was no light.
"There's no way out of this room!" Yut-Lung screamed. He clutched his face, and Shorter saw the horror that they all just might die for him, and he wasn't worth it, because—
Fuck it! Shorter aimed the gun at the door. "Yut-Lung, get behind one of the desks—"
"No."
"Yes."
"No. If I try to—they might spare—" Yut-Lung tried.
It was a vain hope. Cain cast Yut-Lung a look of you poor child.
But Yut-Lung wasn't stupid. He had to know it wouldn't work. And still he was going to try, to save—stop! I'm not letting you hurt yourself for us again!
"Yut-Lung," called a voice from outside the door. "I suggest you open the door. Why don't you tell him to do so?"
Me? Shorter stiffened. Cain glanced at him.
"Shut up!" snapped a new voice.
Yut-Lung froze. Shorter almost dropped the gun. Cain's eyes widened in horror.
Sing.
Wang-Lung—that was who it had to be—captured Sing. How? Why?
Yut-Lung pressed his fists against his cheeks, as if screaming, but he made no sound.
"You killed Hua-Lung."
"No, actually I did," Shorter shouted.
"Why, Yut-Lung?" asked Wang-Lung, as if Shorter's words didn't even matter. "He was your advocate, you know. Your lover. I wanted to kill you like the gutless pig you are, but he stopped me, even years back, after your mother—"
Yut-Lung flinched. Of course Wang-Lung had said that out loud.
Shorter's fingers ached with how badly he wanted to pull the trigger right through the stupid door. But he couldn't risk killing Sing. "You're the pig, eating everyone in sight. You let someone hurt your own brother like that? I'd never let anyone treat my sister like that, or any of my friends either, and unfortunately for you, Yut-Lung is my friend. You don't deserve an ounce of respect. You're a monster."
"Oh, and he deserves respect?"
Yut-Lung gaped.
"Yes," said Shorter. "He's stronger than you or any of your other dead shithead brothers. He's above talking to you, but I'm not. You're going to die for what you've done to him. And if you so much as scratch Sing, I will make it hurt. I'm already going to kill you, you maggot. All you do is trample on people you don't see as necessary—"
"Open the door and we can—"
"You'll kill them," said Yut-Lung, his brow furrowing as if he was thinking of a plan. "No matter what."
"Open the door."
"Open the door," came Sing's voice, trembling. "Please."
Sing? If he was asking—what had they done—
Yut-Lung lunged forward, yanking open the door. Wait! Shorter and Cain both swore, aiming their weapons. A gun flew towards Yut-Lung's head, but before it could aim, it twisted. A gunshot went off. Blood spurted, but from Wang-Lung's throat.
What?
Sing disentangled his strings, rubbing his wrists. "Jesus, he was stupid." He'd used his string to twist the gun around and aim it at Wang-Lung.
"A trap?" eked out Shorter.
"Man, you had me going there, kid," Cain managed.
"Pretend hostage," Sing said. "Thanks for the idea, Shorter and Yut-Lung. I heard about you guys trying it from Eiji."
Yut-Lung nodded.
You suspected, didn't you? That Sing wouldn't have willingly become a hostage. Shorter rolled his eyes to keep from vomiting.
"Glad you're safe," was all Sing said to Yut-Lung. Yut-Lung swallowed.
"Well," said another voice. "Seeing as there's now only one Lee left, I no longer have a conflict."
"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Shorter as a massive man with a short brown ponytail came into view.
"My family's new bodyguard," Yut-Lung said. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
"Ash went to get Golzine," said the man. "I'll get you outside. I think you'll also find a majority of the guards have been taken out."
Shit. Shorter felt impressed.
"Sing," said Yut-Lung.
"On it," said Sing. Sing paused to grab Wang-Lung's weapon first. He waved to Cain. "Let's go." They turned towards the stairs, running back to Ash.
"You?" asked the bodyguard.
"I'm staying with him," said Shorter, gesturing towards Yut-Lung. That hadn't initially been the plan. He was to take him to Eiji and then return, but right now Yut-Lung looked like he was barely holding it together. No matter how wonderful Eiji was, Shorter didn't want Yut-Lung to slip back into his suffocating secrets. It's okay. I'll stay with you.
Golzine was with three guards who all went down with a single shot to each's brains. Ash held up the key as if to taunt the man about his latest betrayal.
Golzine stayed sitting at a desk, a scowl buried in his heavy face. Ash spotted the vials nearby. Banana Fish. Unending nightmares, the drug version of this man.
"Arthur ditched you too? A rat doesn't want to go down with a sinking ship," said Ash.
"You'll enjoy this," said Golzine. "Won't you? Because you like killing. You always have."
You're fighting me the only way you know how. Ash held up Banana Fish. "I thought about using this."
Golzine's eyes narrowed. "And who would I kill for you?"
Ash grabbed a lighter from his pocket and tossed the vials into the fireplace. He set them to burn. He remembered reading about how in some places, the dead were burned, because that released their spirits. He thought of Griffin in a public grave.
I hope this sets you free.
"What you're afraid of," said Golzine. "Is that I chose you for your weakness as much as for your strength. That you were trainable, that you were hopeless, that you knew there was no going back. A leader who knows the unforgiveableness of taking a life is far more terrifying than one who justifies himself. You'd never forgive yourself. It was obvious even at eleven or twelve. That's why Blanca agreed to train you."
Eiji—Eiji's forgiven me. I don't deserve it, but—he has. Ash believed Eiji. You used it as a weapon and a leash. My weakness.
Eiji doesn't see it that way.
Eiji—I can't do this to you.
I can't die. I won't.
"You know," said Golzine. "You're smart. You know how hopeless it is. Even if I die here, there will be someone else. You and Yut-Lung, and Shorter and Sing and Cain: there are millions and millions of you in the world, and millions of mes. And your friends are murderers just like you, but you make excuses for them—"
Ash almost laughed. "You run by fear, they run by respect. They respect people who respect others." He shook. "It will happen again. But at the very least, for whoever takes your place, I won't know them."
Eiji, I want to go to Japan with you. I'll go to Japan, Cape Cod, California, anywhere in between. I'll stay here.
I refuse to be a slave again.
And in that moment, as he aimed the gun, he saw a glint and knew. A syringe.
Fuck.
Sing paused outside the door. Cain cocked his gun, peering around.
"Boss!" shouted a group of Cain's guys.
"Looking good," Cain said, giving them a thumbs-up. Sing pressed his ear against the wood paneling. Ash and Golzine were bantering back and forth. Like usual. Instead of killing him.
You want to kill him, and you don't want to be a murderer.
His hero, afraid. His hero, ashamed. Sing thought of the shame pinching Yut-Lung's face when Wang-Lung had said—had said—
"Cain," said Sing. Ash, you don't have to do everything alone.
Cain nodded.
You do have a weakness. And because of that—I can be strong. And I can be weak, and that means I'm okay.
He heard a crash.
Sing flung the door open, his strings already shooting across the room. Golzine had a syringe inserted into his own arm, the top sliding down, a vacant look haunting his eyes as he rose. A guttural scream ripped from the man's throat as he lunged for Ash. Too stunned to move, Ash barely—
Sing's strings caught him. Golzine stumbled.
Cain's bullet flew into the man's skull.
Eiji was preparing an entire lecture that he was going to give to Ash completely guilt free after this was over to keep himself from biting his nails off. Alex had given him a gun in case he needed it. The popping of gunfire across the street struck his ears. He wanted to drown out the sound, or else jump into the fray.
I can't stand this!
Footsteps sounded. Eiji grabbed the gun, jumping out from behind the tree.
"Whoa!" Shorter held up his hands. Behind him was—
"Yut-Lung!" Eiji cried out, dashing towards them. "You're okay!"
The boy was pale, drowning in Shorter's oversized jacket and shaking like he was cold. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the house. "Ash—"
Fear gripped Eiji. "Is he—"
"Sing and Cain will make sure he's okay," Shorter said. "They're more than capable."
"I don't want anyone dying for me again," croaked out Yut-Lung. "My mother—she probably could have fought and escaped—if I hadn't—" He covered his mouth.
Eiji didn't know what he was talking about, but he had an idea. He gripped Yut-Lung's shoulder, wordless. See, Ash? I am useless.
"Thank you," managed Yut-Lung. "For coming."
Eiji nodded.
"I'm sorry I lied to you all," Yut-Lung blurted out, wringing his hands. "I—"
"Calm down," Shorter ordered again. "You can do this later, Yut-Lung. You have to keep it together right now."
Yut-Lung nodded. He tried to breathe. Eiji spotted blood on his shirt, gluing strands of his hair together. He swallowed. "It's going to be okay." I am so bad at this. Ash, you're an idiot. You were wrong. Again.
"They're dead," Yut-Lung said. "All of my brothers."
Eiji nodded.
"I thought it'd feel different," whispered Yut-Lung.
"I'm sorry," Eiji said. He wondered if Yut-Lung had killed them, or someone else, and if it mattered. You, like Ash, had so little choice, didn't you?
I want you both to have that choice, now.
"Not your fault," Yut-Lung muttered, as if the words sounded sour. Eiji almost smiled. You're still yourself.
Eiji leaned in, remembering the day in Yut-Lung's bedroom. He hugged the other boy, who stiffened for a second, and then rested against him. His chest shook as if he was trying to breathe, trying to stay calm. "I'm still sorry," Eiji said. "You shouldn't have to go through this." But since you do… since you do, Shorter's here, and I am too.
You won't be alone.
Yut-Lung covered his eyes. Shorter studied the shoes Yut-Lung had bought him. "I thought you'd leave me there."
"No," Eiji said. "I saw... I mean, a few days ago, what you said was right. In a lot of ways." And he felt grateful to Yut-Lung. "I wouldn't leave you there." It'd be like leaving Ash there. And he was tired of giving up, of not finishing anything. Ash is worth it. You are worth it. Maybe I can be, too.
"Not about everything," Yut-Lung said. He pulled back, and that was when Eiji noticed the bruise on his cheek, the smear of blood on his neck along with another, circular bruise that made Eiji feel cold from his fingers to his stomach. "You do love him. You don't hate him."
"I don't hate you either," Eiji said. "I can't. I called you a friend, and I meant it." Can we be friends? For real?
Yut-Lung's eyes misted.
"Eiji," said Shorter. "He'll make it. He's strong."
"I know," said Eiji. Why are they comforting me? I was supposed to comfort them. "I just… feel useless."
"I know," said Yut-Lung, studying him. "But you're not. You had a better life than Ash or I did, a happier upbringing—so if we have to use what we were born into, so do you. Am I making sense?"
"Yes," said Shorter. Eiji nodded.
"Eiji!"
He whirled around. Yut-Lung and Shorter scrambled to their feet behind him.
Sing raced towards them. In the distance Eiji heard wails splitting the night. Sirens?
"It's done," said Sing. "We have to get out of here, now."
But Eiji looked past him. The house was still lit up, but the windows were cracked and shattered. Inside people were probably dead. And there was Alex, rushing towards them, yelling about the cops. And Kong and Bones, and some of Sing's gang. Ash.
Limping, his arm slung around Cain.
But Ash.